#i don't know why i feel as empty as i do about

[adventuringblind]

Entitled To You (3.6K words)

Norstaptri x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.

Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.

Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T

Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay. 

“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!

“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”

“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.” 

She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s. 

To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.” 

The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining. 

She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert. 

The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her. 

They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner. 

If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy. 

“Not so confident now, huh?” 

The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?” 

“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”

“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy. 

His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening. 

“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.” 

“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.

“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her. 

It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be. 

And then nothing. 

A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for. 

His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy? 

“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before. 

She blacks out. 

~~~♡~~~

Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes. 

When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound. 

Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her. 

Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry. 

She can't move. 

It's dark again. 

~~~♡~~~

The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot. 

The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute. 

“Max, she always responds.” 

“I know Lando.” 

“She always calls if she's going to be longer.” 

“Lando?”

“Yes?”

“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?” 

The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet. 

Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered. 

They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now. 

Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes. 

“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features. 

“What the fuck?” 

Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.” 

Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help. 

“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears. 

It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that. 

“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable. 

The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely. 

Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help. 

It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian. 

He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?

“When will they let us see her?”

“When she wakes up, most likely.”

He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name. 

“-She’s asking for us.” 

He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall. 

Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?” 

She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando. 

Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing. 

She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”  

“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one.  Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her. 

“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?” 

“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead. 

“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?” 

“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.

“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.” 

“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck” 

Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep. 

~~~♡~~~

Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained. 

On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated. 

The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution. 

Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort. 

Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off. 

“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.” 

The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”

“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.” 

“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment. 

It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?” 

“And what if I am?” 

She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible. 

They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.

Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’. 

Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.” 

“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.” 

“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes. 

Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”

“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”

“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.” 

He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble. 

“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?” 

“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him. 

Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.” 

~~~♡~~~

It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.

He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something. 

Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now. 

Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times. 

Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here. 

“Get out!” 

“We were just talking-” 

“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room. 

He’s not prone to violence. 

Really, he’s not. 

Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good. 

The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming. 

Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.  

“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.” 

“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”

Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.” 

“Equilibrium.” 

“Yeah that!” 

He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline. 

They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits. 

The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point? 

“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.” 

“Christian said-”

“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”

lando Can’t help but share her feelings.

~~~♡~~~

She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet. 

At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart. 

The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance. 

They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.  

She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her. 

She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see. 

Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say. 

She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.

The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage. 

Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.

The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been. 

She wins the next race. 

“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.” 

“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.

“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence. 

“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…” 

“You’re a genius Oscar!”

She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they��ve been so patient. 

“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her. 

She smiles back.

#x reader #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #fanficion #max verstappen #lando norris #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri x reader #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x you #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x lando norris #lando norris imagine #landoscar #lando norris x reader #ln4 #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x oscar piastri #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #op81 fic #mv1 #mv33 x reader

[littlemorningstarx]

Warning: this is fantasy, and only roleplaying between consenting adults would make this scenes okay outside of fantasies, if you can't comprehend consent, go away. I'm very serious about this.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Imagine having a 16yo big brother who loves you so fucking much he can't stand to not touch you all the time. So by the time you're 10yo, you're already used to big bro hugging you, pulling you into his lap and holding you there, and you think nothing of the big bulge in his pants and your little perky ass.

But you're little friends are starting to talk about boys and the forbidden wrong stuff their parents do at night and you're beginning to understand why you're big bro like you so very much:

You can make him feel so good

You're so proud to discover that

So one weekend while you're parents are out of town on a work trip and left you with your brother, you sneak into his room at night time after you're supposed to be asleep and finds him smoking a weird looking cig.

You've seen the older kids smoking these kinds of cigarettes and you're curious. So when you're big brother sees you as you enter the room, you ask him about it.

"It makes you feel good, sis. Com'ere" he says in a soft tone, scutching you in his lap and he's wearing just his boxers. You love the feeling of his skin in yours and cuddles up to him, feeling his cock —your friends taught you the word— twitch under you "try it"

You tale a drag, coughing as the smoke chokes on your throat. Your big bro laughs at you, caressing the exposed skin on your thigh.

"It'll get better, just feel it"

You obey your big brother because you trust him and wants so bad to please him. So you take another hit, then another and another. You squirm a little.

"I feel dizzy" you murmur as you feel your pjs sliding off your body, your skin so sensitive it feels like you're on fire.

"It's normal, sis, and I'll show you what else is normal" your brother tells you and you feel his hands sliding down to your princess parts.

You whine as his fingers brush your pussy, a sensitive button pulsating in the middle of your legs.

"This feels nice" you say and your brother hums in agreement.

"You're dripping so good for your big brother, love" he says in your year as he keeps playing with your pussy, his fingers making you tingly and hot. "Such a good little whore for me"

You moan an agreement even if you don't know exactly what he's talking about, just wanting to make him happy.

"You know, mom wanted to send me away because she thought I might try to hurt you when we were kids, but I don't get it. I'd never hurt my little sis like that." You moan once again, bothered by the idea of your mother sending your big brother away, a possessiveness you didn't know it was possible passing through your heart with all the warmth of big bro's fingers as well.

"It feels so good, so warm, you could never hurt me"

Your brother chuckles.

"Get on all fours for me, love, I'll show you how much your big brother loves you."

It's now, you think mindlessly as you get on all fours as your brother ordered you, although you don't know exactly what you're talking about. Your body seems to know, though, and you can feel your pussy juices making your little holes and thighs wet and sticky, you can feel your little k!d cvnt throb, painfully... Empty?

You don't understand this feeling, but as your big brother gets behind you and you feel something brushing the entry of you hole, it doesn't matter anymore. You don't care that you don't understand, that you don't know anything, that you're being a dump empty-headed toy for your brother.

All that matter is your hole and how much you want it to be full.

And big bro obviously knows that, he knows you better than anyone.

"Awn, my little whore wants to get dicked down by her big brother's cock like the slut she is, doesn't she?" He says in a condescending tone as he pushes his wiener inside you. The feeling is so good you can barely breathe, his cock brushing every place inside you, rubbing every pleasure point you didn't even know existed.

"Big bro, please... I need more. More." You crie as he enters you in a punishing pace. You need to feel him entering you, pushing against your cervix even if you don't know how to say it.

"You're taking it like a fucking r@pedoll just for big bro, huh? Moaning and begging for cock like I always knew you would, you were made to take my cock." He says as he pounds into your pussy, your whole world focused on how good it feels, how wet you are, how you wish for more. "A fucking perfect r4pedoll for a perv brother like me, I was ready to pump you full of me for years now. If it wasn't for mom keeping me away from you, we could've be doing this for a lot longer, k!dd0"

You hate your mother, then, for keeping you away from this, from feeling so full, so good, so drunk in something you can barely remember your own name.

"But it's in the nature of a fucktoy to spread their legs and let their owners use them, right? That's why you cane here tonight, wasn't it?" He speeds up, groaning as he grabs your hair, pulling it rough.

You moan and thrash around him, needing it all, the feeling and warmth too much for you, sending you into an spiral.

"Gonna breed that pretty little k!dcvnt of yours, love, pump you full of my seed, make you pregnant with your brother's child. Then mom can never keep us apart again" you moan at the idea, blissfully pleasured at the thought of being bred by your big brother, of carrying his child when you're also a child.

"Yes, big brother, make your k!d sister round with your child, please" you finally find your voice, moaning so loud you'd be surprised if your neighbors haven't heard you, but you don't care.

All you care about is the cock stretching your pussy to its limits and then some.

The thought is enough to tip your brother over the edge and he cums hard inside you, pressing his balls to your tiny entrance like he wants them to enter you too, and the twitching of his cock inside you makes you cum, the cummies so strong you see white and all you hope is that big bro doesn't pull out.

That he decides to keep his cock in its home, warm and securing his seed in the place where they belong.

#under4ge #1nc3$t #patriarchy kink #4gepl4y #4g3pl4y #4g3play #4geplay #r4ape kink #r4p3 kink #r4p3b4it #r4pepl4y #r4p3 m3 #send me r@pe threats #k!dd0 #weed intox #intox cnc #intox kink #brocon #big bro/little sis #p3rvlvr #!cky daddy #!nc3st #!cky brother #fauxc3st #fauxcest #cnc free use #consensual noncon #dad cock #consent #18+ content

[fuckmyskywalker]

𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈: 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬.

Summary: A week of chaos. From the end to the very beginning. You find yourself in the darkness, remembering how the light touched your skin first. When you fly too close to the sun...

CW: 18+. dead dove do not eat, non-con, gun play, knife play, knife riding, death threats, dirty talk, dark content. | word count: 3.3k

a/n: Hope you enjoy it! DNI if you don't like the topics listed and DNI if you are a minor. Happy riding!

Hitman!Anakin series.

"𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘪𝘦𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘺."

Sunday. 16th.

Comically, he could argue with any soul that crossed the empty streets that life doesn’t have a price. He could laugh at the soft-spoken, naive answer of self-value, laced with the dumb kindness of human nature. Humans are kind by nature, or that’s what idealists say; what— a sane person, he thinks— would say is that humans are selfish by nature, the realistic approach.

Since the start of times, the number two has been sacred. There are two worlds to join in the afterlife: Heaven and hell. Two deities to recognize: God and the Devil. Two spectrums: Good and bad. Two cycles: Day and night… and two options: To kill, or get killed. 

It could also be described as a constant phrase he learned while growing up: “The strong one will eat the weak one”, eight words haunting him like the plague, following him and patting his shoulder at every failure, and congratulating him at every success. Strength equals power, money equals power, intelligence equals power… but can a man have it all without losing his mind? Or perhaps he is just getting philosophical when he shouldn’t. Unlocking the windows with ease as his mind races with the never-ending turmoil of an unfair life, edging him to do unfair jobs, and win dirty money. 

Although Anakin Skywalker has learned that some hot dish soap helps clean the blood stains over dollar signs.

Twisting the knife— an anxious habit— Anakin stands beside your bed, watching your immobile boy. There’s a soft smile plastered on your face, you must be having a nice dream… too bad it won’t last long. Leaning down, the tip of the knife dances over your neck, careful— careful. Not yet. Those aren’t his instructions. Although his boss never specified the in-betweens. 

His lips ghost over the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps in your slumber. Your skin is aware of the intruder, the instincts kicking in. “Hey,” His voice is barely audible, but his warm breath sends a jolt of adrenaline like a lethal injection directly into your veins. “Wake up.”

Your eyes shoot open, body jolting forward only to be pushed back by the knife against your throat and his gloved hand over your face. There’s no need to use brutal force, it’s easy to fuel your fear; blue eyes staring into yours through the holes of the black ski mask. He can tell you are shaking— in fact, he can see it. 

“Don’t move, don’t try to scream. If you do, I’ll slice your throat from ear to ear. Smiley face, that’s why I like to call that,” He chuckles when he sees you shivering. Oh, to be the strong one grants him with a power that makes him feel alive. Who cares about repercussions when simple acts and sighs like your tears make him feel immortal? “Do I make myself clear?”

You nod weakly. Every fiber of your being is yelling at you to run, to push him and throw him everything within your reach but you can’t move. Your body is paralyzed and for the first time in your privileged life, you realize something frightening. When he pulls back and lets go of you, the loud exhale that escapes your lungs pleasures him even further. Good. Everything is going according to plan.

It doesn’t matter how much money you have. You can die just like anyone else. 

“See, I can imagine you already know why I am here,” Anakin continues, chuckling when you shake your head. “No? Uh, I thought you’d be smarter. Well, I guess money can’t buy intelligence.”

Your eyes flicker to his wrist, watching him twist the knife. At least he isn’t all over you. How can a human be so calm while toying with another’s future? As if it wasn’t a delicate situation, as if money was everything in the world— pathetic. 

Stuttering, you run toward the only option your brain knows. “I’ll d–double the price. I’ll triple it,” Your legs move, hanging them on the edge of your tall bed. Anakin arches an eyebrow, he could’ve killed you for moving. Yet, he is somewhat interested in your offer. “I can pay much more than whoever hired you.”

“Oh, really?” Anakin laughs. It’s a cold, bitter laugh. There is no humor in it. Only cruelty. “And what makes you think money was the only thing I got paid with?”

“Who hired you?”

He laughs again. It has been seconds since you heard him laugh for the first time and you loathe the sound already. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out, darling. Or maybe I’m lying. Maybe it’s just like the movies and I get a mystery envelope with money and your name. Would that make you feel better?”

He is definitely mocking you, which normally would raise your anger and bring out the worst in you— right now it seems like a bad choice. Anakin can’t blame you for questioning, every victim does, sometimes he grants them their wish— when they aren’t that important— sometimes he just does the job, hoping they die with their doubts as their last thought. Your life's on the line, it must be the first time someone has pierced your little bubble… so yeah, he can’t blame you. 

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll… I’ll do anything.”

There it is. Classic. His favorite words. Anything means anything. Everything is fair in love and war— everything is fair at gunpoint. “Anything?’ He repeats. “It’s not like I haven’t heard that one before.” His sarcastic tone flies over your head. You cannot pay attention to anything else besides the ringing in your eardrums and the palpitations of your heart. 

Anakin finds great joy in fueling the terror in your soul. It is something he wasn’t exactly born with— or at least, during his loneliest nights, buried in alcohol and money, surrounded by his guns and his ghosts. He isn’t afraid of them, they can’t hurt him. 

“Anything,” You confirm, lip wobbling and tears streaming down your cheeks. His task was awfully simple, yet, there is something he must do first now that he sees you more clearly. Anakin doesn't have the pleasure to witness such a pretty downfall often.

In a swift move, Anakin lifts the knife over his head, smirking wider when you raise your hands in a pitiful attempt at self-defense. Expectant, you sob one last time before the pain comes, before the burning sensation of piercing skin and crimson blood. 

Which never arrives. 

The sharp blade pierces through the sheets and the mattress. Ripping the stitches and creating the most awful sound you have ever heard in your life. That could’ve been your face. Did he miss his shot? Is his aim that bad? Your vision is blurry due to the thick coat of tears, crystal clear and salty that trickle down like tiny diamonds. 

“Money is not enough this time, sweetheart,” He coos at you, cupping your cheek and brushing your tears in a fake act of kindness. His pursed lips make your stomach twist. You never thought there’d be fates worse than death… but here you are. “I won’t kill you—” His words make your shoulder fall for a second as a smile dances on your chapped lips like the weak swing of a butterfly’s wings. “Yet.”

“What do you want from me?” You sob, placing your hands on your lap, not sure what to do with them. You are in no position to fight. You are under the mercy of a clear psychopath. Someone without morals, without ethics and values— under the claws of a monster. 

The worst part? You don’t even know who is pulling the strings tied over the monster’s claws. 

“Don’t be sad, sweetheart. I’m sure you will find it amusing— and if you don’t I don’t care,” If you weren’t begging for your life, his voice could’ve been attractive. Even his eyes. His fucking eyes that seem to pierce your soul. “You see that handle?” He points at the knife with his chin. “I want you to lift your cute nightgown and ride it. You can close your eyes and imagine a cock, I’m sure you’ve done it before from what I’ve heard about you. If I like the show, I’ll let you ride my cock— and if I don’t like it. I’ll kill you.”

“You cannot possibly ask me to—”

A small squeal escapes your lips when the muzzle of a gun comes in contact with your temple. The steel is frigid against your burning skin. There are no words left in your throat, if you weren’t terrified you would’ve thrown up. 

“You don’t like to think, you don’t like to listen— I’m starting to believe you are actually stupid, princess. You either fuck that knife or die.” Your whimper. Irritating. Infuriating. Fucking lovely. 

Lifting your hips from the bed, you kneel with the little strength you have left. Anakin never removes the gun from your temple, in reality, he presses it further, watching your skin dent slightly. Lifting your sheer nightgown, you clumsily hook your finger at the waistband of your panties, tugging them down with embarrassment.

“Please don’t make me do this,” You beg, losing balance momentarily as your panties hang from your ankle. 

There is a storm echoing in his laugh. Like pouring rain falling over your heart before it even reaches your ears. “If you don’t do it, I’ll force you. I will enjoy it more… and then you’ll die.”

The flat tip of the blade handle feels like steel against your folds. The touch is feathery light, perhaps unintentionally gentle. You are glad there is a thick leather wrapped around it— otherwise, it might hurt even more. 

Rocking your hips slowly, you close your eyes focusing on anything else. You will not enjoy this. You refuse to give him pleasure. If this is the way you die— at least you want to imagine you put up some kind of fight. Despite your constant thoughts— foolishly thinking your mind is stronger than your body— when the handle comes in contact with your clit, your body instinctively jolts. You stop. You don’t talk. 

You don’t want to die. You don’t want to die, and you don’t want to enjoy it.

“Spread your legs wider and don’t stop moving. Don’t make me go there and open them myself,” His voice is low. “Show me how much you don’t want this.” His voice mixed with the adrenaline brings you to a borderline dizzy state. 

Resuming your movements, you bite the inner part of your cheek, flinching when his free hand cups your breast. “See? Is not that difficult to obey. I know you are so used to getting your way, little princess. But not this time. Not with me.”

His thumb traces your nipple poking through the silk. You hate yourself for this— even more when you find a steady rhythm. Your clit grinds against the flat top and throbs, quickly begging for more. Hooking the barrel underneath the thin straps of your nightgown, Anakin lets them fall, exposing your chest. 

“Don’t come. If you do, your tiny brains will make a bloody mess over your lovely canopy and walls. Now fucking ride it.”

The leather glistens with your arousal. It’s pathetic, humiliating, miserable. When you position yourself above it, when you flex your knees to fit it— that’s when everything you are— breaks. 

The handle stretches your walls in a way that couldn’t be more uncomfortable. Your arousal helps but only much. Unhurriedly, you begin to ride it just like he commanded you to, just like you have to. Your pussy clenches around it, you can’t even fool yourself and think it is a dick. Nothing could help you now. No one can save you now.

“Seems to be you can listen sometimes…” Anakin observes, removing the gun from your skull to press it against the valley of your breasts. “Don’t think I can’t see how wet you are. Are you that deranged you are enjoying this?”

Are you?

Is he?

You just have to do this. Right?

Too many questions, no answers. 

“Faster.”

Increasing your pace, the tears make themselves known again. You are enjoying it. Your walls are dripping, your pussy is begging for more. The slick sticks to the leather like a second layer of shine, the sounds your body is making are against your will— but you can’t stop moving. Anakin breathes loudly, his own excitement evident. You cannot see the outline of his erection underneath his black cargo pants but he feels it, throbbing, leaking, eager to bury itself in you. Hear you sob and feel you clench after every cry.

“So fucking wet,” He mumbles, pressing his lips against your sweaty neck. The soft cotton of his ski mask brushes over your skin, bringing you a nasty comfort. “Remember, if you come… you die.”

The muzzle now dances over your nipple, distracting you from the burn in your lower stomach for a second— when his hand finds your clit. Circling it quickly, roughly, Anakin exhales again right in your ear. 

“I can’t wait to fuck you. I hope you are ready to die while I bury my cock inside you.”

A loud moan, mixed with a throat-ripping wail falls down your lips, body writhing and hips trashing. The handle is as deep as it can go, and before your vision goes white you feel the gun poking underneath your chin. Your hands curl around the hem of the nightgown you are still lifting, almost piercing the expensive and delicate fabric. Your orgasm is strong, it clouds your senses and for a moment the euphoria makes you forget how you just marked your destiny. The handle is sticky just like your thighs. The world is spinning.

Your life is ruined.

Just as your vision goes white, it goes black.

Monday. 10th.

Politics are known to be comparable to walking on thin ice. One false step and you sink— all the way to the cold and lonely bottom. Made only for the ones who can twist and turn others under their will and for those who aren’t scared of the nerve-wracking possibility of being a hero or a villain. 

When your father offers you the vacancy for Campaign Manager you don’t hesitate to take the opportunity. Daddy dearest always serves opportunities such as these on a silver platter. Why would you refuse? Sure, a week before the presidential elections might be signing a death sentence, but why would you care? Even if you fall, your safety net is insured, secured and endorsed. 

“Are you sure you can do this alone?” Natasha Andrews, your father’s assistant lowers her clipboard, focusing her dirty blue eyes on you from beneath her thin-gramme glasses. “We have a week before the election, these last days are crucial.”

“I’ll be fine!” You answer confidently. To have such confidence and naivety that being young gives you. You just feel invincible. “I read some of John’s final projects. A few venues and bookings won’t scare me.”

“I don’t think you are seeing the big picture here,” Natasha calls your name patiently. Removing her glasses, folding them and placing them next to her clipboard, you can already imagine a boring lecture about responsibility. You’ll be fine! “Your father has an image to maintain, a reputation to hold and the statistics are growing in his favor. This last week is to secure the win. Your father chose you for a reason.” Another way to say ‘There are high expectations. You better fulfill them.’

Huffing, you take her words as a weak attempt at an insult. You understand the big picture. You’ve been surrounded by the big picture since you can remember. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Natasha runs a hand through her ginger locks, taking a deep breath. She’s too old to deal with all this. “Look. I know you are young and I’m sure you have wonderful ideas for the campaign, but our time is limited. We can only continue with the schedule and hope for the best. If your ideas can be incorporated into the events then you are more than welcome.”

Always used to getting your way, you find baffling how someone who doesn’t know can defy you— or in your eyes, Natasha is doubting your capacities. Standing up, you point at her. Your manicured nail, painted a crimson red holds an almost accusatory tone. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone— not even your father. There is no chance of failure, because when you are young… you are on top of the world.

“No, you look. I know you are worried but I can do this,” You reply, not bothering to hide the patronizing tone in your voice. “My father knows I’m more than capable. You may not know me but you will. If I want to change the date of a venue, or if I want to make a goddamned pool party we will. I know what’s best, I know what will work.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow at your words, her expression hardening slightly. “I never doubted your… abilities, Miss. We have a schedule we must follow. Nothing personal. It is your first day in your position. Can you even name three key supporters of Jonathan's campaign? Have you planned a meeting with potential donors for when your father wins the elections?”

The assistant has a point, but you won’t give up. You will never lose a fight. 

“Easy, everything you say is too easy,” You narrow your eyes, placing both palms on the desk to hide how they shake from frustration. “If I say the word, my father will fire you. It doesn’t matter how long you have been working with him. I’m his daughter.”

That’s your wild card.

And as usual, it works. 

Sighing through gritted teeth, Natasha rubs her temple. How can an educated girl like yourself be such a despicable person? “Go on.” 

The smile that brightens your face beams like flames. Threatening to consume everything on its way. Everything is easy when you have the influence. You were born with it, what’s wrong with using it? “Alright… key supporters….”

The redhead scribbles down as you talk, from all you know she is playing hangman with your face on the stick figure, not that you care, of course. Your mood heightens as she just listens and comments on trivial things such as locations and schemes. You knew it would be easy. You just need people that follow you. 

“We can do the last meet-and-greet at Cafe Serenity. My father invested in the project and the owner owes him that. I’m sure if we present the petition he will accept,” You talk, tangling the wires inside your head. “I can schedule an interview with Channel 7, Global News Network, and Insider Globe, they do most of the coverage during the elections and my father knows the actionist in GNN…”

“The meet-and-greet sounds good. It’s the perfect strategy to calculate the supporters Jonathan has. Plus the media coverage will be wonderful,” Her jaw clenches as she talks, but you are too busy staring at your nails to see the daggers coming from her eyes. “You’ve got a good grasp on this.”

“I know,” You smile, ignoring the fake smile. 

Suddenly, your phone rings. It’s an unknown number. A frown etches on your face as you pick it up. Excusing yourself from the table, Natasha nods, her blue orbs gluing to your back; if looks could kill…

Closing the door of the meeting room behind you, you bring the phone closer to your ear. “Hello? Who is this?” 

Silence.

“Hello?”

A feminine voice breaks the silence. The unknown woman calls your name and your heart stops momentarily. It sounds vaguely familiar, and it carries a heavy accent that you can’t pinpoint from where. 

“Lisseth? Is that you?” Your chirp echoes through the empty hallway. “I can’t believe you are back!”

Thank you for reading! ✩

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes! #ꨄ︎𓆪 anya's series! #hitman!anakin #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin smut #anakin skywalker fan fiction #anakin skywalker au #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin x reader smut #anakin star wars

[gremlingottoosilly]

Idk how a bimbo!reader would work in monster!konig's universe, but i know this woman would constantly get made fun for walking into doors and saying the most stupid shit

You're a model human for the monsters who never saw one before, and now the whole base is convinced that all humans are stupid as fuck horny pets. Which may or may not save the rest of humanity from the fate of being massacred completely. The thing is...you're adorable. With your doe eyes and cartoonish expressions, with your dumbest questions that are going to be asked with a straight face - not because you want to make fun of anyone, but because you really are this fucking stupid. Konig doesn't know what to make of you, with his wife being such a dumb girl, but he is trying his best to show everyone that you can't be messed with. Even if the results of said messing could be really fucking funny. You ask if Konig is partly fish. You ash where Krueger's head is, and why Horangi can't purr like a cat does. Your eyes are betraying you, always showing just how empty your pretty head is. Never allowing you to forget about how dumb you are - but you don't even care. It doesn't matter, as long as you can press your face against Konig's chest and let him fill your pussy with eggs. It's been a while since his last clutch - you feel uncomfortable in maternity clothes that isn't stretched around your belly. Your pussy feeling empty without constant pressure of his cum bubbling inside. You somehow become more lucid, less dumb in this state - and you're asking question. Bad questions. "Where is my friends and what are you doing to these humans" questions. Konig can't let his pretty wife be upset. He kisses you all over, prepping you for the stretch of his egg-laying tentacle entering your pussy. You're going dumb immediately, eyes rolling back as you cling to him, beg to be filled. You're still asking stupid questions - but not dangerous ones, finally. You're pretty under him, all glazed and adorable. Konig wants to eat you right up. Wants to fucking devour you. Everything to stop you from being upset. Everything to keep his dumb wifey happy.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #monster!konig #tw: monster fucking

[acotarxreader]

Shadow and Flame pt. 1

Azriel X Reader

Synopsis: Azriel is down bad in his feelings for Elain when a new female crosses his path. The job of the Shadowsinger is to know all and yet you evade his knowledge.

Warnings: None

A/N: Hello. This is my first time writing a fanfic for this series. I hope you like it ✨

Part Two

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

“Whilst we wait for Lucien, let's play a game. Fuck, Mate, Kill, High Lords edition, our own brother excluded of course. I mean there's days I want to do all to him”

“Ugh Cass” Nesta recoiled at her own mates idea of a bar game, the group laughing. 

“Hardly fair to Feyre when she's done or almost done those to more than two already” Rhys growled at Mors joking tone, the table continuing its howling. Rita's music swelled around the booth of the best friends, lightheartedness well and truly arriving once again to the group. 

“Az you go first”

“I politely decline Cass” protests followed his words 

“Leave poor forlorn Az alone”

“I am not forlorn Amren” the Shadowsinger tried his best to not grit out the words.

“I would consider pining after Elain to be pretty forlorn” Amren gestured with her head to the middle Archeron sister making her way  back to the booth balancing a tray of drinks.

“Stop saying that word” this time Azriel couldn't hide his annoyance.

“-Right well anyways, I think we'd all kill Tamlin -” the group hummed in agreement to Cass as Azriels mind disengaged from the conversation. 

Was that how he'd been feeling? Had the feelings of creeping crawling rising abandonment at the hands of his brothers for their mates affected him more than he thought? Why couldn't he have what they had with Elain? It made sense to him, but why didn't it make sense to the Mother? He shook this from his head as he frequently did. Elain joined the table once again, passing around the drinks. 

Azriel tore his eyes from her movements and landed them on the crowd of dancing Velaris residents, when a new figure approaching the bar top had his eyes transfixed.

He watched the female dip between the crowd so masterfully as if she was made of the same shadows that rested peaceful around him. She effortlessly passed the dancing Fae in candlelight.

“Earth to Az” Cass’ hand waved in front of his hazel eyes pulling Azriel back to the booth for a moment to sweep away his brother's paw. His eyes darted back to the room to find the female gone again. 

“What is it Lassie, Timmy stuck down the well?”

“What does that even mean Cass?” Azriel couldn't ignore the bizarre statement.

“I'm not sure, I read it in a human book once”

“I didn't know you could read” Cass feigned hurt at Feyres comment, the table of friends laughing. 

“Up until about last week you definitely couldn't Feyre” 

“Uncalled for!” Freye laughed hard at Cass’ comeback.

“Anyways, what is it Az….Az?” Cass found the seat next to him empty, the Shadowsinger long mingled into the crowd.

You reached the bar top skillfully, your hand reaching up and retrieving a drink ordered by someone else and dipping back to your side before the bartender noticed. You gave a small smile into the tumbler of icy brown liquor as you turned back into the room, ready to push back off. Your gaze immediately caught the Shadowsingers eyes as he leaned on the back wall watching you. He simply raised an eyebrow with a small smirk. You sighed lowly, replacing the drink back on the bar top next to a tea light candle without removing your eyes from Azriels. You narrowed your eyes at him, the crowd dancing and swirling across your sightline. Azriel finally blinked and found you gone from the spot when his eyes flickered back open. 

You crossed the threshold of Rita's into the streets, a little startled someone had seen you, a new occurrence. 

“You don't care for another drink?” The males voice stopped you in your tracks at the mouth of the adjacent alley. You curled your hands into small fists and exhaled out. Caught. You had been caught.

“Don't go shy on me now” you slowly span on your heel to face the male. Azriel felt his breath hitch slightly at the sight of you in the firelit street lights. He felt a bit dazzled by your beauty, piercing copper eyes previously inhibited by the dim and smoky light of Rita's. 

“Can I help you Azriel?

“How do you know me?” He couldn't hide the hint of surprise in his voice. You closed your eyes gently, sighing deeply at your foolish slip up before opening them again. 

“I don't”

“Why don't I believe that? Who are you?”

“If I told you that, I'd have to kill you” you gave a small smile, angling your head gently, tempting him to step in closer to your magnetic eyes. 

“I'd like to see you try”

“That can be arranged Shadowsinger” he scoffed at your cocky tone. You turned back to face the alley, quickly dipping down it but not fast enough. Azriel flashed before you, sidestepping you to where your back met the cold brick of the alley. 

“I asked your name” he stepped in close to you, your eyes looking to the exit to the side of him, only to have his wings open slightly to trap you inwards. You sighed, looking up through your eyelashes to find his eyes fixated downwards on you. 

“I'm not anyone important”

“Nonsense, every resident of Velaris is important“

“And who said I was a resident of Velaris?” you couldn't hide your smugness from him as he seemed to scan your face further, checking it again the rolodex of Fae in his mind to find a gap in knowledge. 

His shadows leapt around him in alarm at being caught out with a stranger. A true stranger. Who were you? Shadows crossed his face to try to relay information and when they settled again you were gone from in front of him. 

His wings dropped, his head turning uncharacteristically frantically from side to side only to now find you across the street. You gave a small wave with just your finger tips with a small gloating laugh before running down and into the winding streets of Velaris. Azriel moved to follow you only to crash right into Lucien.

“Are you never not in my way?!” Azriel couldn't help but bark at the emissary.

“Hello Azriel, how are you? I'm good thanks for asking? Yes I do forgive you for walking into me, of course I-”

“Just leave it” Azriel signed, ducking around him to run to cross the street. It was no good, you were gone he thought, but how? And who? 

*************

“Az stop pacing, you're not helping the hangover” Cassian ran his hands down his green tinged face, regretting going as hard as he had the night previous. Lucien giving a small laugh to the Illyrian, picking himself up from the sofa to head to the kitchen for tea.

“I have no idea who she was and that's my job. How could I not know who she was?”

“I'm not sure Az but Cass is right, please sit down, you're giving us all motion sickness” Rhysand joined the group in the sitting room of the town house, a soothing tincture for Feyre in his hands. She smiled up lovingly at her mates gesture, more pangs of jealousy passed through Azriel. 

“Let me see into your mind Az, I'll draw her, maybe one of us knows her” Azriel weighed up Feyres offer. He hated letting them behind his shields but he needed to know who you were. He thought of your face in the candle light again, did he want to share you with the world? He weighed up the options before agreeing, Mor having already retrieved a scrap of paper and a pencil for Feyre. 

The group gathered around the sketch of you freshly drawn. One by one group shook their heads, unsure of the Fae in front of them, sending Azriels heart sinking again. 

Lucien strolled back into the sitting room, tea tray in hand. The crash of the tray had the group's startled reaction landing on the Emissary. 

“Oh my Gods seriously! My head” Cassian groaned, covering his face with a throw pillow. Lucien took almost erratic steps over the broken china towards the drawing, snatching it from the knee height table and gathering it into his chest. The group now entirely addled by his reaction.

“Lucien?” Feyre was the first to break the quizzical silence. 

“Nothing! This is no one!” Lucien's skillful way with words was now long gone.

“Who is that?” Rhysand and Azriel almost asked in unison.

“It's no one I said! Leave it! I have to go, sorry for the mess!” He darted for the hallway, Azriel hot on his heels. 

“Lucien, who is that? What do you know?” The Shadowsingers sharp tone tried to stop Lucien in his tracks.

“It's no one, you didn't see her, forget it, stay away from her”

“Which is it, stay away from her or I didn't see her?” this silenced the Prince of Foxes. 

“I have to go!” His panicked tone was betraying him. Azriel went to catch him harshly, Lucien winnowing out avoiding capture leaving Azriel once again confused and alone

*****************

Part Two

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel fic #cassian #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #acotar fluff #azriel shadowsinger #shadowsinger x reader #sarah j maas #fanfic #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #rhysand #feyre archeron

[muwapsturniolo]

✯𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐝✯

chris x black earthy/boho!reader

IN WHICH…Y/n finds a peace of mind with her lover, and his two brothers.

WARNINGS: nothing besides smoking.

5 a.m.

It was 5 a.m on a Sunday and Y/n couldn't sleep, her mind racing intangible thoughts. With a sigh she carefully sits up, attempting to not wake up her sleeping boyfriend. She successfully does so and begins moving around the room, gathering the items she would need.

She exits the room once she gathers everything, and walks down the hallway, peaking into the guest room to check on Nick and Matt. They decided to come over with Chris and ended up spending the night. She didn't have a problem with it, always hating being alone.

She found their company relieving.

Seeing that the two are still sound asleep, she continues her trek through the big house. She arrives in the kitchen where she grabs a bottle of kombucha out of the fridge, making her way outside barefoot.

She shudders as the crisp california air nips at her skin, not use to the cold that comes in the early morning, and leaves before it even hits 12 p.m. She takes a seat on her poolside couch and sets up her camera, pressing record before rolling up.

"It's currently 5 a.m. and I couldn't sleep, so I decided to come outside and journal while the sun rises." She speaks to the camera softly, her eyes trained on the grinded-up plant in front of her. "The boys spent the night and are currently still sleeping. It was nice having them over, not having to be alone." She lights the joint and inhales the smoke, holding it in for a few seconds before exhaling.

"I'm not sure why I hate being alone so much, I think it's because I came from a big family and I'm not used to quiet...Granted it's never quiet considering my thoughts are always loud but I digress." She stops talking and flips open to an empty page, starting to write all of her thoughts and feelings down. She leaves the camera rolling, figuring she would just make it a time-lapse with some copyright-free neo-soul music playing over it.

She wasn't a typical YouTuber, never doing big fancy things and showing off. She was a more peaceful and serene one, her videos consisting of her lifestyle and talking about her feelings.

Her videos that have done well so far are her lifestyle vlogs, the main points being her smoking, painting, cooking, and shopping for crystals. It seems as if the viewers also love her monthly vinyl reviews, finding the way she expressed her love for music interesting.

That's how Chris found her.

He was looking for a YouTube video to watch before bed and he saw a thumbnail of hers. She was smoking in the thumbnail, a wall of vinyl's behind her as the title read, "fav vinyls this month".

He won't lie, he clicked on it because she was pretty, but he stayed for her personality and the raw emotions she expressed as she talked about the Fugees.

To say the least he went down a rabbit hole and watched all her videos that night, adding some of her favorite songs to a playlist.

Speaking of the boy...

She turned around hearing the patio door open, a soft smile gracing her face seeing her half-asleep boyfriend making his way towards her. "Why the hell are you up so early? And why did you leave me?" He questions plopping down next to her. "Couldn't sleep and I didn't want to bother you with my tossing and turning...Why are you up so early?"

"You know I can't sleep without you." He fixes her legs so he can lay in between them, sighing out as his head meets her soft and plush thighs. She smiles softly and runs her nails along his scalp, caressing his face at the same time. "What were you thinking about?" He mumbles when he notices the journal and pen.

She shrugs, "I'm not sure... My mind was just loud." He opens his eyes and looks up at her in worry. She notices and shakes her head, "Nothing bad, don't worry baby." He nods and relaxes back against her body.

The two lay on the couch in comfortable silence as they experience the twilight, listening to the birds chirp as they awaken from their peaceful slumber. The pool rumbles softly as it begins to clean itself, the water rippling due to the vibrations.

"This is nice," she looks down hearing Chris's groggy voice. "Hm?''

"I said this is nice... Laying here and watching the sunrise with you, not having to worry about what the day brings." She hums in agreement and watches as the skies turn from dark blue to hues of pink, purple, and orange.

The sunrise reflects off of the rippling water of the pool, casting a warm glow on the two bodies. Y/n tilts her head back as she basks in the warm rays. It seems as if her thoughts finally quieted down, giving her a chance to be calm.

Chris stares at his girlfriend, his heart swelling in admiration seeing her in her natural habitat. He truly believed she wasn't meant to be in LA. She was meant to be somewhere that had a bunch of greenery, somewhere that had a waterfall right under the sun so she could bask in it like a cat. Somewhere where she could be free and at peace.

"I can feel you staring at me," she looks down at Chris whose face has a hue of red. "Just admiring you. I can't admire my girlfriend now?" She giggles and motions for him to sit up. She pulls him into a soft kiss, enjoying the warmth of his lips.

"It's six thirty and you two are already being gross." The couple pulls away and looks at a half-awake Nick, and a sluggish Matt. The two make their way over and sit on the ground in front of the couch. "Shut up, I was enjoying time alone with my girlfriend since you two decided to crash last night." Y/n watches as Chris and Nick go back and forth, their banter not making sense since they are both still tired.

"Can both of you shut the hell up? It's early and you two are bitching for no reason." Matt grunts. Chris huffs before settling back down against Y/n, burying his face in her stomach. He kisses the brown skin before fiddling with her waist beads.

The quad dives into a conversation, not talking about anything important per say but just talking. They soon fall into silence, enjoying the peace before they have to go back to their busy lives. Not long after, Y/n's brown cat Janelle, joins them causing Matt to gasp in excitement.

As he plays with her, Y/n rolls another blunt. "I wish I could do this every day. Your house just makes me feel at home." Nick breathes out.

"That's funny considering I only find it to be homey when you guys are here." She grabs her lighter and sparks the pink wrap, inhaling it before handing it to Chris. She watches as the smoke cascades in the sun, creating shapes of different sizes.

"Wouldn't it be crazy if we all just lived with each other?" Matt voices, his tone light as he plays with the cat.

"I wouldn't be opposed to it...We are always with each other anyway." Nick adds.

"I would like that honestly," Chris eyes Y/n as she speaks, his heart racing at her words. He knows it's too soon, the two of them have only been with each other for 7 months. However he knows she's the one, his family loves her, his friends love her, he loves her. She came into his life and watered him like a plant, helping him bloom into something more.

"Fuck it, let's do it!" Everyone turns to Chris in surprise.

"Huh?"

Chris sits up and turns his body towards Y/n, "Let's move in with each other...I mean you hate living alone and we are always over anyway. Let's move in with each other."

"Are you sure Chris?" Y/n wants to scream and dance in excitement at the thought of her best friends and boyfriend living with her, but the sensible part of her isn't sure. Granted they have been friends for a year but she and Chris have only been dating for 7 months. "Yeah, I don't have a problem living with you, I think it would be great... I want this relationship to go somewhere...I think you're the one for me."

Y/n feels her eyes burning as the salty tears form, slowly descending down her face. Chris chuckles and pulls the girl into him, holding her tightly.

They all sit in silence, letting Y/n get her emotions out.

After a few minutes, Y/n sniffles and pulls away from Chris.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"I'm in... I want you guys to move in with m-" Before she can finish her last word, she's dogpiled by the three boys, all of them laughing and shouting in excitment.

"Yes! This is so exciting! I'm going to love having a fully decorated house!"

"I get to see Janelle every day!"

"And I get to love on you every day!" Chris pulls her into a deep kiss, ignoring the groans of Nick and Matt.

The two brothers stand up and walk back into the house, leaving the couple alone once again.

They pull away from the kiss, their foreheads touching as they look each other in the eyes, both of their bodies full of love and tranquility.

"I love you," Chris whispers, his voice holding nothing but affection.

"I love you too"

The two lean in once again, their lips touching softly and tenderly.

The sun shines directly in front of them, the camera only able to see the silhouettes of the lovers.

i was in a fluffly mood so i hope yall like it💕

TAGLIST 🍑

@bernardsgf @bernardsleftbootycheek @blahbel668 @mattfrfr @gdsvhtwa @sturniolo-aali @lily-loves-struniolos @kynda-avery @causeidontlikeagoldrush

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#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris girl #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt girl #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #fluff #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo triplets fluff #Spotify

[vbecker10]

Loads of Fun

Laundry Day (Loki x female reader Y/N)

How Could This Not Fit?! (Loki x fem reader Y/N)

Pairing: Bucky x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to admit that he hasn't quite gotten used to all the new technology since he was freed from the Winter Soldier and his latest issue is with the dryer. Y/N catches him mid-struggle with the machine and comes to his rescue.

Warnings: some light swearing, feeling a tad useless and old, Bucky struggling hard with the laundry, Y/N being super awkward

A/N: So in Laundry Day (linked above) I wrote an off hand little comment about how much laundry Bucky needed to do and @alexakeyloveloki comment inspired me to write a short fic about it so... enjoy 💚

This is not the same Y/N from Laundry Day & How Could This Not Fit?!, this is a different one. Apparently a bunch of women in the Tower have the same name as you (haha sorry that's dumb but I wanted them both to be Y/N fics so here we are)

"Oh.... I messed up," you close your book and get up from the couch quickly as you suddenly realize it's almost midnight. You had meant to only read one more chapter but you had gotten lost in your book as always.

You grab your detergent from the closet, drag your overflowing laundry hamper to the door and slide on a pair of flip flops. "Every freaking time," you mumble to yourself as you open the door. Once again, you put off doing laundry until you completely ran out of clothes.

The elevator doors open and you step out into the basement. "At least no one should be down here," you think out loud thankfully.

You had tried to do your laundry this morning but you gave up on that idea as soon as you opened the door. Loki's girlfriend was sitting on top of one of the dryers with her legs around his waist. You put your hand on the door and shake the images of the two of them away, you don't need that to be stuck in your brain.

"Damnit," you whisper as you freeze completely, the door halfway open. Bucky has his back to you as he stares at the dryer, unaware of your presence. You had developed a crush on the super soldier and decided the best way to handle it was to avoid him at all cost like any other mature adult. You were terrified that you might say or do something embarrassing so you thought your best option was to never be alone with him.

You sigh, knowing you're out of underwear and options so you open the door the rest of the way. Before you can say anything to him, the dryer Bucky is focused on begins to beep loudly.

"I don't know what you want from me," he says to it, his voice full of frustration.

He opens the door and the sound stops, you are both completely still but as soon as he closes the door it begins again. He pushes the button on the panel to start the dryer but the beeping continues.

"Why are you so complicated?" he asks the machine, clearly unaware that he is no longer alone. He pushes another button that does nothing to quiet the sound then he groans loudly, nearly ripping the door off the hinges with his metal arm.

"Do you need help?" you ask quietly from behind him.

He closes the door quickly as he turns around to face you. You can see the frustration in his expression turn to embarrassment when he realizes you were watching him. As he opens his mouth to answer you, the dryer starts to beep again.

He pulls the door open and turns towards you again. With a look of utter defeat he says, "I think it hates me."

You cover your mouth to keep from giggling at the fact that a super soldier is losing a battle with an appliance. There is no need for you to add insult to injury, you think, but he does look like he is in desperate need of a hug.

You walk over to him and drag your hamper in front of an empty machine. "I'm sure it doesn't hate you," you reassure him with a smile and he shrugs, clearly not believing you.

"Can I take a look?" you ask pointing at the dryer and he nods, moving away from it as if it might explode at any second.

"You can try but I'm telling you, this one is evil," he laughs nervously.

"I think I can handle it," you try to sound sure of yourself. "Oh, I'm Y/N, by the way," you suddenly decide to introduce yourself as you close the door.

"I know," he answers and you turn your head to look at him over your shoulder, the beeping continuing. "You work for the IT department," he says and you feel yourself blushing. "I've seen you around the Tower a few times."

"Yep, that's me," you respond, trying not to sound as if your internally screaming. He remembers my name? When did we even talk? I definitely would remember if we talked. Focus, focus, you yell at yourself, you've been staring at him for too long.

"Well, they don't train us to handle haunted appliances but I think I can handle this one," you say then immediately cringe. Why do I talk? You think, this is why I avoid him.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Bucky laughing. You turn towards your new favorite sound and he smiles at you as he leans on a nearby washer.

Ok, you think to yourself, time to show off and fix this stupid thing. You check to see what settings he's used but they all look right. Well, there's that, you think a bit annoyed but you're determined to figure it out. Suddenly you get an idea.

"Sometimes these things get weird when they are unbalanced or too full," you explain as you open the door and bend down. You reach in to level things out. A second too late you realize your holding a pair of his damp boxers and throw them back inside.

"Yep, these look fine," you close the door quickly and stand up, hoping he didn't notice but you can tell he saw you pick them up. "No. I mean... not that the boxers look fine, just like the load is fine. I- I'm just gonna..." you say, as you turn to face the dryer again. "I'm gonna die," you whisper as you rub your face with your hands. Good job dummy, you managed to make this even more awkward.

"Damn dryer is going to beat both of us," he says after a moment of continuous beeping and you can't help but agree with him.

"I think you might be right-" you pause, your eyebrows scrunching as a blinking red light catches your attention. "Has this been blinking the whole time?"

"I think so," he guesses. "Is that important?"

You sigh and nod, "It means I'm an idiot."

He tilts his head, his arms folded across his chest as he watches you open the dryer door again. You pull open the small door at the bottom and groan. He walks closer to see what you are doing but you don't notice until he leans over your shoulder.

"What is that?" he asks and you jump at how close his voice is to your ear. "Sorry," he laughs. "Thought you knew I was in here."

"Yea I just thought you were over there," you wave you hand towards where he had been and almost hit him in the face with the back of your hand. He dodges it easily and laughs lightly as you cover your mouth. "I'm so sorry," you mumble from under your hand.

"Its fine, you missed," he says with a grin. "So what's wrong with it?"

You pull out the lint trap and show him, "This thing is full so it won't run until we empty it." His expression tells you he has no idea what it is so you explain how a lint trap works and that if you don't clean them out you could potentially start a fire.

"Oh," he responds. "Wouldn't it be helpful if the stupid thing said that's what was wrong with it instead of just beeping?"

"It did," you groan then point to the light that is no longer blinking. "That's what the little light was for."

You wait for him to be stunned by your stupidity. You work for the IT department at Stark Industries, the most technologically advanced company in the world and you barely fixed a not broken dryer. You turn it on for him then turn your attention to finally loading your clothes into the washer.

Instead of responding the way you think he will, he sighs and takes a seat. "I don't understand any of this new technology," he admits.

You turn over your shoulder to look at him and see that he seems defeated again. "Don't worry," you try to make him feel better. "Stark likes new toys. He gets all the fanciest tech, no one knows how to use this stuff."

"I don't know how to do anything," he rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. You turn on the washers and walk towards him. "Nothing is simple anymore."

"What do you mean?" you ask as you sit in the empty chair next to him.

"Everything is a computer now and the whole building talks. The fridge has more technology in it than the last car I drove, the toaster is voice activated, hell even the sinks are motion sensors," he says, his eyes focused on his hands as he talks.

You cover your mouth quickly to hide your laugh but it slips out. He looks at you and you lower you hand to ask, "I'm sorry but... who told you the toaster was voice activated?"

"Sam," he says then his eyes widen, "It's not is it?"

"No," you shake your head and can't hold back your laughter.

He groans, lowering his head again, "I'm gonna kill him."

"You didn't really believe him did you?" you ask in disbelief.

"I spent five minutes yelling 'toast' at it this morning before he said it was probably updating," he admits, covering his face with his metal hand.

You smile and imagine him getting more and more annoyed at the poor little appliance.

He sits up, resting the back on his head on the wall behind you. "I just don't know why everything is so complicated," he says and you suddenly feel guilty for laughing.

"I'm sorry," you tell him, looking down at your feet. "Have you tried talking to Steve about getting you up to speed on some things?"

"I don't want to keep bothering him every time I can't turn on a light or get ice out of the fridge," he says. "Steve adjusted fine so I just have to keep trying to figure all of this out."

"Who told you Steve adjusted well?" you ask before you can stop yourself.

He looks at you but doesn't answer so you continue talking. "I was part of the team that helped wake him up. Trust me, he freaked out plenty of times and he was confused by pretty much everything in the beginning."

He shakes his head, "I didn't know that, it's one of the only things we've never really talked about."

"I'm sorry we didn't have a team prepped for you when you joined. I guess we just sort of figured you had been awake a lot more than Steve," you say. "As the uh... other guy," you add awkwardly, trying to avoid calling him the Winter Soldier.

"Technically I was but..." his voice trails off and his flesh hand covers his metal hand as he looks down.

"The other guy didn't do much cooking or laundry, did he?" you ask, finishing his thought.

"No," he answers.

After a short silence you say, "If you want, I can help get you up to speed. A lot of the tech around here is actually pretty easy to use, if you know what your doing."

"You don't have to waste your time," he shrugs. "I'll figure it all out."

"Helping you wouldn't be a waste of time," you tell him with a smile. "Besides, I have a lot of free time. I pretty much do nothing but read when I'm not working so I'm always around if you need me," you add and groan internally. Try to make it sound like you don't have a life at all, good job, you think.

He smiles and makes eye contact with you, "That would be really helpful, thanks."

You get lost in how his smile lights up his face but the long beep of the dryer finishing thankfully means you don't stare at him until it gets awkward. He gets up to empty the machine and you grab your book from the top of the washer before sitting back down. As you open the book he sits next to you again.

"Oh," you close the book and look up. "Sorry, I thought- you don't have to stay down here. I've got a while left until it'll be done."

He looks at the time left on the washer and says, "I just thought we could talk for a bit but... if you would rather read, I can leave you to it."

"I can read this later," you smile. You mean to gently toss the book on the table used to fold laundry but you over shoot and it hits the floor, sliding away from you. You cover your face with your hands and get up.

"I've got it," he laughs. He places the book on the table and sits next to you.

"I'm not usually a disaster," you tell him and he chuckles. "Actually, I kind of am. That's why I'm way better off with books and the tech stuff then with people," you admit. "I always do something stupid or say something weird," you feel yourself shrink back in your chair.

"I think it makes you interesting," he replies with a smile. "I'm never quite sure what you're going to say or do."

You laugh nervously, "Me neither." A second later your brain turns on, wait did he say I was interesting?

"There is actually one thing you could help me with now, if that's ok?" he asks, keeping you from focusing too much on what he had just said. He takes out his phone, "I think there's something wrong with it."

He hands it to you and you almost drop it when your fingers touch, "Ha, I've got it. Sorry." You open the settings and start looking for usual problems but things seem fine. You look up at him, "What's wrong with it?"

He smirks and says, "It doesn't have your number."

"Wow," you can't help but laugh. "That was really smooth."

He laughs and says, "I'm a bit out of practice but I thought that was good."

"It was," you blush and add your number before handing him back his phone.

He looks at it then back at you and says, "Okay, but seriously, how do I text you cause I'm not sure how exactly to do that."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

(I don't have a Bucky tag list yet so sorry my Loki list didn't get a choice lol)

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @cabingrlandrandomcrap @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @jiyascepter

#bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky au #bucky fanfic #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky drabble #bucky imagine #former Winter Soldier #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky mcu #bucky marvel #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes marvel #bucky barnes fandom #sebastian stan #seb

[fangsandfracturedhearts]

Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Chapter 15: Reclamation

Summary: You helped Astarion complete the Rite of Profane Ascension and become the Vampire Ascendant. You agreed to become his spawn soon after. Once the Netherbrain was defeated, Astarion claimed the Szarr Palace, renaming it the Crimson Palace, for himself and set about his plans of domination.

Word Count: 6.6k

Pairing: Ascended Astarion x female!Tav Spawn

Warnings: [Will try to continue to add more, but in general expect explicit content for mature audiences]

Possible spoilers. Eventual Explicit Content. Slow Burn. Thoughts of Suicide. Violence. Blood. Injury. Mature Content. Self-Harm. Mentions of in-game content. Completely fabricated camp events. Mentions of Astarion's Trauma.

If you notice a very critical tag missing, please don't hesitate to let me know

Rating: Explicit 18+ - [Meant For Mature Audience]

A maelstrom of emotions dithers over the union you share. He seems unsure of what exactly he should be feeling as it fluctuates between fear, doubt, and bewilderment in a tumultuous outburst. His thoughts are akin to walking on the dark side of the moon - frigid, wilful in their grip on him with an undecipherable sapidity.

“What do you mean?” He shakes his head, eyes bouncing around as his brows pinch, creasing his forehead. His voice is detached and reticent, a masterpiece of regret and dolour. “I wouldn’t do such a thing, surely. Would I? Hells below. Did I?”

“You must have,” you conclude, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “I don’t remember you doing it, but I can’t hear or remember it.”

Astarion jumps to his feet, nearly pitching you off his lap in haste, but he grabs you at the last minute, dragging you up with him. He pulls his trousers up but leaves them loose as he paces fitfully, muttering and mumbling to himself and wracking his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t understand,” he utters, half to himself and half to you. “I just do not understand. Why would I do such a thing? How long ago did I do this? What the fuck is wrong with me?”

It’s not your fault.

“I think it was before I…” you trail off, squeezing your eyes closed at the memory of Astarion stalking you through the Crimson Palace hallways like a predator, caustic venom spitting from his lips, every word eating away at your soul.

“Left me,” Astarion finishes with a note of despair, like a cold hand laid upon your bare soul. “You can say it.”

You nod sullenly, dropping your head, deject and wayward.

His emotions are flickering through your mind and body like a kaleidoscope of lightning strikes, each blinding flash incomprehensible in its intensity. You focus, but Astarion stops dead as you try to catch and hold them, and the connection is severed.

You are once again empty, a barren midnight sky that’s misplaced the stars and moon. Your eyes snap to Astarion, but the scarlet of his eyes looks hollow with madness as he regards you with the wariness of a wounded animal. He looks at you like he doesn’t know who you are, and it sends a wave of alarm coursing through you, causing your palms to heat.

He retrieves his shirt from the floor, always keeping a close eye on you as if you might pounce. He’s unreadable and cold, the iron countenance of the Vampire Ascendant shrouding him like an icebound veil. Without a word, Astarion darts out of your room, descending the stairs at a whirlwind pace that would be perilous for anyone who wasn’t so agile.

“Astarion?” In confusion, you chase after him without much thought, nearly tumbling down the stairs, and grab his arm. “Where are you going?”

He rips his arm out of your clutches with a bestial snarl. “Don’t touch me!”

“Just wait,” you plead with him, casting Misty Step and blocking his trajectory to the door. You can’t make heads or tails of this shift. “Please. Tell me what’s going on. Let me help.”

“You can’t help me.”

Astarion tries to get around you, but you won’t secede any ground and hold your position with foolish defiance. He grabs your arm, pivots, and thrusts you backward, throwing you to the floor. When you look up at him, those crimson eyes are starting to flick and fade like a star in the throes of death.

“Do not try and stop me again,” he growls, taking stalking steps toward you with a choler tinge in his voice. “Bad, pet.”

Astarion laughs, leans down, and grabs your ankle. He squeezes until the bones are wailing and threatening to break under duress. You whimper, beseeching cries for amnesty, trying to crawl away.

“Master, stop! Please.” You barely recognize the word as it jumps off your tongue in your agony. The haunting palette of bruising is immediately stained on the ghostly white canvas of your skin.

His grip is suddenly snapped away, and he springs back, grabbing his head with a pained groan, shaking it from side to side furiously as he roots himself in place. His breath falters as his eyes meet yours with a hysterical acidity as their claret shifts from deep and warm to shoal and dull as if covered by a thick layer of dust.

“Sorry,” he totters unsteadily on his feet, his lips parting with erratic breaths that make his chest jump aperiodically. His heart beats so hard in his chest that the sound is almost ear-splitting. “Hells. I’m so sorry. I— I— must go.”

Astarion does not even close the door in his urgency, and you’re left naked, clutching your ankle on the floor, staring into the street with your mouth agape. You cast Telekinesis to throw the door closed and limp around the manor, closing the heavy drapes to block the sun.

“Fuck!” You scream at the emptiness surrounding you as you pull yourself up the stairs on your lame ankle.

As you bathe, you allow your body to submerge into the spacious tub. You force yourself to forgo the useless impulse to breathe the air you no longer require and sink. The water’s surface contorts above you like an uneven mirror, twisting and warping reality. Everything is falling apart, and you feel like the sand of a beach being dragged away piece by piece with every crash of another wave upon the shore of your life.

Your heart would be beating recklessly in your chest if you hadn’t been alleviated of life. Colourful promises of love and breaths of forever in a realm of temporary fill your eyes with tears that seep into the water. Time stands still, and your doubt settles and masks your bravery. You’re one step closer to losing him entirely, but you must be fearless. Neither you nor Astarion can afford for you to fall.

Closing your eyes, you run headfirst into memories, searching your soul for all the places that feel like home.

The thudding of boots, the drip of rain that sneaks through the fissures in the bricks, the skittering and squeaking of vermin — everything echos off the stone in Moonrise. The fire throws foreboding, eerie shadows in slinking shapes across your tent that make you uneasy. No one wanted to camp here for the night, with the Absolute Cultists only floors below, but it had been a long journey through the Shadowlands, and the hungry shade had sapped everyone’s strength.

You flop restlessly on the furs in your tent, unable to trance. You had been counting the cultists inhabiting this wretched place as you made your rounds, trying to familiarize yourself with the layout. The omen of the arduous battle hangs over you, and you’re trying to devise some semblance of a plan to wipe them out in stages. You were never a very strategic planner. Typically, showing up and raining fire, violence, and death have worked for most of your life. Even with the help of the Harpers, one mistake could spell disaster.

Your ears twitch as you hear the rumbling murmurs bounce off the walls, and you’re out of your tent in a blink with fire ablaze in your palm, fearing the cultists have figured out that you don’t fit within their ranks. Taking a lap around, you take a quick headcount, checking your friends off one by one until you hear a soft, breathy whimpering.

Astarion…

Crouching by his tent, you whisper his name, but he does not answer. You recognize a nightmare when you hear one, and your hurt lurches in your chest, fingers hovering just over the door of his tent, but you don’t open it. Your proximity is usually enough to calm him without waking him, and this time seems no different. The trashing has stopped, and his muttering has ceased.

You sigh, relieved, and lay down at the door, curling up on the hard stone. You will rest here tonight if it means you can bring him even a scrap of peaceful rest.

“Darling,” Astarion purrs in a rugged timbre, heavy under the weight of drowsiness. “Whatever are you doing?”

You smile and flop over to peer into the hypnotic, heavily-lidded eyes. Astarion yawns, fangs peeking from his lips, and grins back at you.

“You were having a nightmare,” you whisper, making sure to keep your voice down so it doesn’t wake the others. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. I’ll stay here tonight.”

“You were going to sleep out here on the stone?” He cocks his head, quirking a brow at you. “Why?”

“It seemed to comfort you,” you shrug.

"I meant, why would you sleep out here when there's a perfectly good bedroll in my tent with me?”

“Oh,” you say, sitting upright with a jolt. “That’s okay, Astarion. Really. I’m perfectly fine out here.”

“Get in here, weirdo," Astarion giggles, grabbing your arm and giving it a gentle tug.

You hesitate, but he tows you harder, and eventually, you relent and crawl into his tent. You sit in the corner, trying to make yourself small, wrapping your arms around your knees.

Astarion huffs exasperatedly, “You do realize that we’ve had sex, yes? You were hardly shy during our little late-night expeditions.”

“I’m not shy, not with you,” you giggle but avidly watch how Astarion’s jaw clenches, fingers tangling into the furs. “You’re hungry. I can see it. I can’t imagine it’s comfortable to be so close to a food source in a confined space.”

“I’ll admit, it’s not easy when you’re so very delicious with that lovely neck, begging to be tasted,” he grins, an artificial smile meant to put you at ease. Astarion notices that he cannot fool you, and his fingers rifle through his hair. “I’m fine. Truly. You’re not in any danger around me. I can control my hunger.”

“Danger? Oh, Gods! No, Astarion.” You shake your head at him, offering your hand, and he takes it. His thumb sways softly over the back, “I’m not afraid you’ll hurt me. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. When’s the last time you fed?”

“Oh, I don’t know, darling. There was that cultist I made a snack of a couple of days ago. You needn’t concern yourself with it. I’ve gone much, much longer without a meal.”

There’s a bleakness shading the sculpted angles of his face that makes your heart palpate with empathy. You don’t have to ask for confirmation. Cazador obviously starved him as some form of punishment. It makes your palms heat in reflex as you seethe. You don’t care what it takes. You are going to kill the motherfucker who dared torture this man that’s stolen your heart.

“Astarion, whenever you’re hungry, I’m happy to offer my neck. All you have to do is ask.”

“That’s very… sweet, but the very shadows of this place are hungry.” Astarion sighs, wrapping his arms around his waist to smother his hunger pains. He smiles, “As much as I would absolutely love to take you here and now, you need your strength. We have many battles ahead.”

“Don’t be dumb," you tut, moving your hair away from your neck. “I need you strong. I am capable of deciding this for myself. I don’t need you to do it for me.”

“Dumb? Darling! You wound me.” He theatrically scoffs, hand to his forehead, falling back as if you slapped him, with a shallow chuckle, “I have received many slights in my life - Insufferable, insolent, insignificant, but this might be the first time I have been accused of being dumb.”

“Well, they say there’s a first time for everything,” you smirk, levity uplifting the lilt of your baritone. “Consider this your first.”

“You are racking up quite the catalogue of firsts,” he chuckles, shaking his head, propping himself up on his elbows. “Are you sure? I am truly of sound mind. No one is in any danger.”

You crawl toward him, heart rate accelerating with every forward movement of your hands and knees, “Will you please shut up and bite me already? Before I berate you for believing I think you’re a danger.”

Astarion’s hand wraps around your arm, persuading you closer with pressure, but he does not so much as glance at your exposed neck. He’s fixed on your eyes as if he’s found heaven hidden within them.

“Then allow us to dine together,” he nods slowly, eyes still moored to yours as he sits upright, prompts you to turn, and holds your back steady against his chest. He kisses under your earlobe and hints his lips down the column of your neck until he settles on that rhythmically pumping vein. He kisses it, long and lingering, and groans, “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” you sigh, barely able to contain your body’s excitement as it trembles in his arms.

His fangs puncture your skin like icicles, impaling the soft flesh, but it ebbs and dulls to a paradisical strumming before your mind has time to react and withdraw. For a vampire that has not fed on thinking creatures much, he’s remarkably gentle and has only become more tender since you started these little meals. He draws from you in unhurried pulls, tallied and modulated as he listens, and his palm splays across your chest over your heart to determine its pace in case he does not hear it accurately.

You feel your ethos skimming through his veins, warming his skin, flushing the tips of his ears, an antidote to his pain. You sigh mellowly, and your fingers untwist from his trousers, going lax. His arousal hardens against your back as he removes his fangs from your neck, tongue lavishing at the residual weeping wounds with broad, flat strokes and moaning a chilled breath over the shell of your ear.

Astarion turns your head toward him, catching your lips in a blistering kiss tinged with the coppery piquancy of your blood. His hips buck into you with a growl, and his hand veers toward your aching clit. You stop him short, grabbing his hand with a shudder.

“What are you doing?” You breathe against the needy, silken embrace of his mouth.

“You’ve been ever so generous,” he purrs. “Allow me to repay your charity in a language I speak proficiently.”

“No,” you break away from the kiss and his arms. Your head swims, bloodless and faint. Your heart hammers, trying to pump the blood no longer within your veins. You sway on your knees, and Astarion supports you with a hand on your shoulder lest you faceplant, “This isn’t a tit-for-tat offer, Astarion. There is no repayment. I am just one friend assisting another. That’s all.”

“I— You don’t want me?”

His genuine confusion encases your heart in a boiling bubble of sorrow, “You know I do, but not like this. I don’t want you if it’s compensation for my blood.”

“I’m sorry. It’s the only thing I know,” he looks bashful. If you didn’t know better, you would say he’s blushing, but that must be the rush of your blood through his veins. “Would you at least rest with me tonight while you're woozy? I will hear if anything untoward happens in camp, and I can protect both of us if need be.” He puts his hands up innocently, “I will keep my hands to myself. You have my word.”

“Do you think--" you trail off, bringing your hand to your forehead that seems to beat in time with your angry heart and groan. “That is to say— Could we —“

“Good Gods, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “Spit it out already before you lose consciousness. I did not take that much.”

Your arms drop by your sides, and you giggle with him, suddenly lethargic, “Never mind. I’ll sleep over here.”

“Now, who is being positively dumb,” he scoffs, clicking his tongue at you. “If you want to cuddle, you have but to ask. You know I do rather like cuddling with you.”

“If you know what I want,” you huff, rolling your eyes. “Why are you making a spectacle out of me?!”

“Entertainment,” he shrugs, laughing carefree and alight with humour.

“You’re terrible,” you mutter.

“I know,” he smirks, lying back and extending his arms, twitching his fingers in the come-hither motion. “Come on, love. Let’s have a cuddle, shall we?” 

The bath water has turned cold by the time your eyes slide back open. You’re still lying at the bottom of the tub, in a watery grave like a sunken ship. How long have you been in here? Once your brain recognizes that you haven’t taken a breath in what could be hours, instinct takes over, and you propel yourself upright, coughing, sputtering, and gulping down the air furiously.

You scoff at yourself with antipathy. How long will it take for these responses to abate? When will your body just accept that you’re fucking dead?

Wrapping a plush towel around yourself, you listen for the comforting thud of Astarion’s heart but are only met with tomblike silence. It frightens you, making your stomach feel aflutter in your abdomen, reminding you of the Gur attack when you thought you lost him.

You slip into a long-sleeved, purple dress and tentatively peek outside. The velveteen embrace of twilight has cloaked the sky, but the cloud cover is thick, eclipsing the moonlight. You can smell the rain before the heavens have decided to cry. Reaching out to the bond, Astarion does not answer your call.

Fuck this.

You trot through the street, smelling the air. You wince with every step as the injury to your ankle smarts, but the bruising is already receding. It will not be long until it’s healed.

Unfortunately for you, the streets are still relatively busy, and your bloodlust is ever-present and a daunting task to control as you swerve and juke around people. Your mouth waters, and you shake your head like a wet dog to rid yourself of the smog that dampens and threatens to dwarf your self-restraint. The rain starts to drizzle, just as you predicted. The drops plane down your face, and you curse the skies because the scent of the rainfall on the dry stone of the street hampers your ability to detect much else.

You arrive at Wyrm's Crossing and follow the strong scent of blood outside a structure you are familiar with - the flophouse where Astarion's siblings were. The building is ominously dark and far too quiet. You sniff the air. It tastes almost bitter on your tongue, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the metallic richness, but you vaguely make out notes of rosemary and bergamot. You try to open the door, but it’s locked. Locks are hardly a challenge. You cast Knock and crack the door open. The fragrance of blood wafts so thickly in the air that you swear you almost see technicolour as you swoon.

It’s pitch-black inside, and your feet immediately come into contact with a stiff, cold mass on the floor, tripping you. Fire bursts to life in your palm, and mutilated bodies greet the illumination with milky eyes. Some have their intestines spilling out of their abdomens like gooey red ribbons. Others are missing the bottom of their jaw with their meaty tongues lolling out. These people were not just merely killed. They were brutalized, mutilated, and mauled.

A thick slick of congealing blood sloshes around your boots. It drips off the ceiling and down the walls like scarlet raindrops shed from dark skies, softly signifying sorrow's sharp sting. If your heart had not already hardened to macabre scenes like this, you imagine you would be sick. Instead, true to the monster you’ve become, it takes considerable effort not to drop to your knees and start lapping up the sanguine nectar like some thirsty mutt.

You are veritably shaking under the duress of temptation as you crawl over bodies to the one heartbeat that remains. Astarion sits at a table in an alcove in the back with a bottle of spirits clutched in his hand, several more littered around his feet on the floor. He stares abstractly at nothing, a million miles away, bleak and cold.

“Astarion…” you whisper, trying to get a decent look into his eyes.

“Darling?” His brows round when he looks at you, frowning and narrowing his glossy eyes. “You are afraid. Oh, no-no. Don’t be afraid. I didn’t mean to…” He’s confused, and it breaks your heart. “I killed them all, but I don’t remember. I am me now. I’m me - Astarion.”

“I know,” you purr, noticing that he seems to have to remind himself of who he is. “It’s okay.”

“Okay?” He scoffs, bringing the bottle to his lips and tilting his head back. He sways in his chair, causing it to creak, “This is about as far from okay as it gets. Did you not hear me? I killed them. I killed all of them.”

“I heard you,” you cradle his cheek and walk his gaze away from the body he seems fixed on. “We need to go home, Astarion. Before somebody finds us here.”

“Why?” He snaps, gesturing around with a satirical chuckle, “I will probably just kill them too. Or perhaps I will simply compel them to forget their names or their entire lives. Why stop there? How far do you think my power goes? Do you think I could compel them to forget how to breathe?”

“Astarion, please,” you slip the bottle from his fingers and crouch with your hand on his thigh. “Come with me.”

“I hurt you again today,” he sighs, staring at his empty hand with furrowed brows. “How do you sleep with me in the same residence? The same bed? How can you even stand to look at me? Gods. You must fucking hate me.”

“I don’t hate you,” you cannot help the tears pricking your eyes. He looks lost as his eyes roam aimlessly, climbing toward the ceiling. “I love you.”

“You love me… Do you regret it?” He whispers, curling his empty hand into a fist repeatedly as if he’s unsure if the hand he’s looking at belongs to him, “Helping me complete the Rite, allowing me to turn you, falling in love with me.”

“No,” your answer is immediate, and the uncompromising intonation surprises even you. “The only thing I regret is that we did not know enough about the Rite.”

“You’re lying,” he concludes, hollow, distant, and abject.

“Open the bond and check my truthfulness if you wish,” you retort. Your whole body shakes as you try to make sense of this broken man before you, “I wanted to be with you for eternity. Everything has a cost. I paid it willingly.”

“Do you know why I turned you?” He asks, face contorting with an anguish you did not believe you would ever see adorn his features again. The corners of his mouth are downturned, eyebrows dropping at the ends, “Do you know why I was so adamant that this was the only way our relationship could continue?”

“I don’t know, Astarion,” you sigh soft and sullen. “I don’t care. What’s done is done.”

“Tell me!” He snarls, slamming his fist into the table and cracking it down the middle, “Tell me why you think I did it! Tell me why you think I fucking killed you!”

You finally relent and sob openly. “Why do you do anything now, Astarion? You wanted to possess me, control me, own me, and make me your obedient puppet.”

“No, my love,” he heaves a tremulous sigh, shaking his head. His eyes are vacant and unseeing, blinking slowly. “Nothing so sinister as that. I was afraid. I was still fucking afraid. I knew you would age and die while I remained the same forever. You would leave me alone again, and I feared a world, a life, without you. I took your life and bound you to me for eternity for no other reason than selfishness, but I always was remarkably selfish. Wasn’t I?” Astarion gazes around at the grisly affair of his making, “Why can’t I remember? I am sick. Aren’t I?”

“We will save you,” you slip your finger under his chin like he’s done to you so often and direct his gaze to yours. Your eyes blister with resolve, and your voice bleeds the same, trying to fill him with strength, “But I need you to keep fighting, Astarion. You must not give up.”

“For you,” he murmurs as his eyes finally appear cognizant. Astarion slides out of his chair, descending to his knees before you like you made you do a lifetime ago, and wraps his arms around you. He presses his cheek against your stomach and whimpers, fingers curling into your clothes. “I will fight to my last, my love.”

Sunlight filters into the window, golden rays bathing the room as your eyes flutter open. You nuzzle against the silk pillowcase before your mind bombards you with memories of your skin loosening, dripping, cracking, and the agony that arrested even screams from your throat. You nearly leap off the bed in terror, but solid arms wrap around your waist, pulling your back against the strong muscles of a warm chest.

“It’s okay,” Astarion purrs, grappling with your trashing. He places a soft kiss on your shoulder. “I am here. The sun cannot harm you. I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

It takes your still hazy consciousness a moment to accept the promise of safety before you relax in his embrace with a sigh and roll over to face Astarion, looping your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck. You can smell his blood pumping through his veins just below the surface of that pristine, silken skin, and your mouth waters. Your body urges you to bite, stomach knotting into cramps with the promise of that aromatic, richly decadent blood.

So close.

Before you know what you’re doing, your mouth is open, fangs hovering, and your body seizes. Astarion laughs genuinely, such a sparkling, airy rumble from his perfect lips as they pull into a smile against your cheek.

“Well, good morning to you, too.” He giggles, pushing you away, shaking his head with that playful glower, “Can’t get enough? I’m not surprised.” Astarion sinks his fangs into the fanning veins of his wrist and holds it out to you. “Remember, no biting and mind your teeth.”

You’re almost drooling at the oneiric vision of the weeping wounds. The scent of his blood is intoxicating - warm, full-bodied ferrous. The bright red drink of the Gods is a stark contrast to his pale skin, and it takes everything you have in you not to lunge for it. The offer of his blood is new and a little unsettling if you’re being honest.

“Go ahead,” his eyes dart to his dribbling wrist, brows furrowing at your hesitation. “This is no trick. Feed.”

He looks contrite, but there is a new tenderness in the way his eyes are fixed on you like you are shelter from the storm brewing behind his scarlet irises. You cannot handle it any longer. You take his wrist as gently as your fumbling fingers can possibly manage in your near frenzied bloodlust, bringing your lips to the wound. It tastes even better straight from his body, and your eyes roll back with a moan as you focus with a substantial amount of effort on drawing in slow, measured sips instead of trying to drain him dry in an instant.

“That’s enough,” Astarion instructs eventually, tugging his wrist just slightly. You could never get enough of this ambrosia on your tongue, descending into your stomach and making your nerves combust with delight. Your grip tightens on his wrist, and you growl at him, low and throaty.

“Hells,” Astarion groans pleasurably, eyes rolling back. His body trembles with excitement and pleasure. He enjoys this as much as you. He shakes his arm roughly and commands a little more harshly this time. “Love. I said that’s enough. Don’t be a greedy thing now.”

It’s enough to crack the haze that’s fallen over your mind, and you throw yourself from back, detaching from his wrist with panicked breaths. You’re sure when you look at him again, you will be staring at the embodiment of Mephistopheles psychosis, “I’m sorry, Astarion. I’m sorry.”

“Hey-hey,” Astarion coos deeply, like a warm auditory hug on a cold winter’s night. “It’s alright. I’m not angry.”

“You’re not?” You cannot help the stain of surprise that blooms in your voice.

“No, love,” he chuckles, his fingers pressing into your waist, encouraging you to cuddle, and you curl up against his side. He sweeps his thumb across your lower lip, gathering the blood smeared on it and pops it into his mouth with a sly grin. “I was a young vampire too, once upon a century, and I was certainly over-enthusiastic with my consumption of you the first time. It takes time. I can help you with it. We can practice like this.”

Your brows furrow, creasing as you try to think through the residual film of mist. This man is entirely too perplexing. It feels like you’re always trying to run from him, convincing yourself that everything is a trick, that you must be on guard at all times so you don’t get close, but is this just a way for you to hide from what you fear most of all - that you will be unable to save him, and you will lose him all over again.

There’s just no fucking time for this anymore. There is no more time to lose.

Astarion directs your gaze to him, “What’s going on in that beautiful mind?”

“Do you remember what you said last night?”

Astarion’s brows round, and the corners of his eyes crinkle, “Yes.”

“Was any of it real?” You murmur, pushing yourself upright so you can look at him. You request the bond, and Astarion and you unite, transcending time and space, melding together. It takes you a moment to gather yourself, “Or were you just drunk?”

“I meant every word.” Astarion turns suddenly serious, sitting and sagging against the headboard, “I wish to speak to you about something.”

“Are you okay?”

“I am fine.” He combs his fingers through his hair, “You called me Master. I do not wish you to call me that - think of me in those terms. Is that how you see me? As your… ugh,” he casts his eyes to the ceiling, “Master ?”

“No,” you snap, but it’s a lie, and you know it, which means he knows it through the union. You backpedal, “Yes. It is what you are, Astarion. Whether you or I like it, I am your spawn, and you are my master. This is just reality. It will do us no good to pretend that the dynamic of our relationship is different.”

Disappointment slashes across the bond like a blade cutting into your heart. It’s so strong that it physically aches in your chest, and you splay your hand across it and whimper.

Astarion shakes his head, eyes downcast, “I do not want to be your master, little love. I never did. I did not make you a regular spawn.”

“I’m not sure I follow, Astarion. What do you mean you didn’t make me a regular spawn? What other kind of spawn is there?”

Astarion squeezes his eyes shut momentarily, taking a deep breath, the muscles in his jaw twitching. He leans, opens a drawer and produces a book that looks ancient. Its cover is dulled by timeless centuries, and its spine is broken with loose pages precariously tucked in. His fingers tap the book, staring at it as if he dreads what he’s about to do.

He gives you a skeptical sideways look and passes you the book, “Page 152.”

Opening the book, you flip through the musty, yellowed pages until you reach page 152, titled “The Dark Kiss.” You scan the page, reading it once, twice, three times while Astarion stares at you with an unreadable expression. You can feel him in your head, looking through your eyes, thrusting into the folds of your mind, penetrating the softness of your soul, caressing your most intimate thoughts.

There’s trepidation in him. Your soul practically quivers under the weight of his unease. He is afraid of your reaction, and the entity within him is stoking those glowing embers of worry with its babbling breaths of affirmations, trying to ignite an inferno of fear that will melt through the shackles of his control.

“You need to explain this to me, Astarion,” you gawk at him, swallowing thickly as the information slowly sinks in. You’re unsure if the nervousness making your stomach warp is truly yours or his.

“I made you my bride – consort,” he does not look at you when he speaks. His eyes stare blankly at his twitching fingers. “How many times did I bite you that night?”

“Uh,” you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to recall the memory fogged over from blood loss, “Three. Once when we had sex, once on my wrist, and then my neck.”

Astarion nods, “I don’t remember much from that night, high as I was on the power of 7000 souls, but I do recall my intent. I bit you three times, as described in the book you’re holding, and then gave you my own blood. I told you this bond was unique to you and me because it’s only shared with a bride.”

“I’m sorry.” You rack your fingers through your hair, tousling it into an incomprehensible mess to match your whirling, tangled thoughts, “Are you trying to tell me that we are - what? Vampire married?”

Astarion smirks at the bewilderment adorning your face but looks bashful, “I suppose that’s an accurate description, yes.”

“And you declined to tell me this until now because?”

“Honestly?” Astarion’s eyes drift once again to the ceiling, “I meant to. I had every intention of telling you the truth, and then... I enjoyed the power, the superiority I had over you. I saw fear in your eyes when you looked at me, and I liked it. I liked you believing you were nothing. I wanted to revel in it. It fed the sickness within, and then I was... lost for a while.”

“What does this mean for me exactly?” It takes incredible effort to keep the rising panic from your voice.

Astarion’s eyes widen as your whirlwind of terror is added to the mixture of emotions between you, “It means you’re not quite a spawn, not quite a True Vampire, but as close as one could get while still being bound to me and under my control should I choose to exert it over you. I believe it can be reversed, should you wish it so. I’d have to do a little research--”

“No!” you blurt out in a yelping retort that makes Astarion flinch. He assumes your anxiety is due to being bound to him in such a way, you realize. The truth of it is your panic is a shadow looming over the increasingly dire odds of everything you stand to lose.

A friend. A lover. A partner. A... husband?

You smirk at the notion, pushing away that worry - you have time to worry later. Right now, you want to enjoy this. It’s the closest you have gotten to Astarion telling you he loves you. Perhaps, the closest you will ever get, and some sad speck of your soul laps at that wound and dabs it with this new information as if it might cure the incurable.

“Well,” you shift into his lap, leaning into the asylum he’s promising you through the bond, “I’m definitely going to start calling you husband now. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

“HA!” Astarion giggles, shaking his head with an endearingly lop-sided grin. His unkempt silver curls fall and bounce carelessly, “But of course. I can deny you nothing, wife. I wish to try and undo what he,” he corrects himself. “…I did - your name. I might be able to reverse it, but I’m not entirely sure how. You need to trust me, and I can feel you do not.”

You’re a little bemused that there is something Astarion doesn’t know how to do, and you grin at him, your fangs peeking out of your lips.

“Good Gods,” he rolls his eyes at you with a heartwarming smirk. “I am all-powerful, not all-knowing. Compelling is instinctive. Releasing it is another story entirely.”

You want to trust him. Gods above, you long to trust him like you used to, but how can you, given what you know? You wrench on the tide of the bond, causing it to spill and break over you as ocean waves crash upon boulders that dare protrude from its surface. You scour the chords of the harmony, picking them apart note by note, feeling for any sign of manipulation, deceit, or ill intent. Astarion flinches, squeezing his eyes shut with a wheeze, but he does not attempt to stop your search. You find nothing, but then again, he is the Vampire Ascendant. If he wants to hide something from you, he will.

If you want to get your name back, you have little choice.

“Do it,” you confirm.

“Look into my eyes,” Astarion purrs in a deep baritone. “Remember, I don’t know exactly what I’m doing.”

Bringing your eyes to his, the crimson in his eyes sparks alive, like little matches aglow in the red sea, and you have never seen sparks quite so beautiful.

The sensation starts mellow, like the flow of a calm spring, as it trickles through your mind. It feels like liquid fingers whispering against your psyche. The sensation makes your skin prickle, and goosebumps erupt all over. You want to shudder, but your body cannot move. Tributaries branch off and stream until your whole brain feels like it is being grasped by a hand.

And that’s where the pain begins in a sudden influx, a steely, jarring stab, and it feels like his fingers are in your brain, parting every crimp, crease, bend and wrinkle like you are a tome to be read. You’re unsure how long you can take this as he picks your mind apart, looking for whatever compulsion does. You manage to let out a whine, and his eyes flick.

“I know it hurts,” he soothes. “Just a little more, I think. Can you hold on?”

You can only whimper your response. You’re not sure if it sounds like a no or a yes. He continues his dismantling forage, ferreting around in your mind. Suddenly, something changes. All those tributaries and calm, flowing springs snap into one spot, and white-hot pain blooms in your eyesight, blinding you. You’re positive he’s cutting a piece of brain matter right out of your skull. You want to writhe, to scream, to beg him to stop, but you cannot.

You wonder if you might pass out, and then you hope you pass out as the pain becomes more than you can bear. Sharp, like a red-hot blade, has punctured your skull, pierced your brain, and is now broiling against your grey matter. Your vision starts to tunnel, black borders encroaching, blurring everything but the glow from Astarion’s eyes.

Just as you think you're going to lose consciousness, a knot untangles, an invisible barrier crumples, and the bondage on your body eases.

“Hey,” Astarion jostles you, fingers brushing sweaty strands of hair behind your ear. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you breathe shakily. “It’s fine. Did it work?”

“I think so?” Astarion rubs the back of his head. “There’s only one way to know for sure. Do you remember your name?”

You think hard, trying to pull it from the deepest recesses of your memories, but you can’t remember it. “No.” You sigh, “Can you say it to me?”

“Illyria?” 

Big thank you for everyone who takes the time to read/reblog/comment, and all the other magnificent things. As always, please enjoy ☺️

AO3 [Crossposted]

Master List of Chapters: Fangs and Fractured Hearts

If you're interested I write another fic with Spawn Astarion x Tav called - Shadows of the Past

Small Notes:

Yay! Tav can hear her name, but does she actually remember it?

I'm leaning into the "Dark Kiss" bride/consort theory because why not?

#ascended astarion #astarion fanfic #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion smut #astarion x oc #astarion x named tav #fangs and fractured hearts

[aleskyyy]

Saved — Kyle Garrick x F!Reader

Three years of marriage with your husband who you thought would change for the better and he didn't. And finally being saved by someone who has been around you all along but both of you didn't know it.

Warnings — fem!reader, light angst, unhealthy relationship, cheating (not reader), attempt of sexual assault, a bit of violence/blood, fluff, fingering, oral [fem!receiving], cum eating, 18+ MDNI, etc.

3,2k words (maybe I'll make a second part, but I don't know when).

Main Masterlist COD Masterlist

You know this is not a healthy relationship to be in. But you still hope your husband can change for the better, giving you the attention you deserve like when you were still dating. Even though you know all this is tiring, you still try to serve your husband well. Cooking food for him, cleaning the house and running errands for you and your husband.

Like right now, you are cooking dinner for you and your husband who will soon be home from work. You cook his favorite food and you hope he comes home from work in a good mood. Especially since today is the third year anniversary of your marriage. You really hope that tonight will go very well.

After your cooking is done, you look at the clock on the wall and it's already seven in the evening. Your husband should have been home half an hour ago. Without thinking about it anymore you immediately arrange the food onto the dining table. After finishing you hurry to clean yourself, you want to look very good in front of your husband.

After cleaning up, you return to sit at the dining table while waiting for your husband to come home. But until the clock strikes ten at night your husband hasn't come home. You tried calling your husband many times but there was no answer. You are very worried about him. You sigh and prepare to clear the dining table.

While clearing the table you hear the door being rudely opened making you rush over. You see your husband come home drunk and with his clothes all messed up. You rush towards him wanting to help him walk but he pushes you roughly.

"Dante, why are you home so late? I've been waiting for you and called you but you didn't answer," you tell him in a worried tone.

You again try to help your husband walk ignoring the smell of the woman's perfume and the color of the lipstick printed on your husband's shirt. You try to get rid of the bad thoughts that cross your head. This must be a one time mistake, your husband won't do it again. You're sure of this.

It's been two weeks since the incident with your husband you are currently shopping for supplies that have been emptied. You're so serious about looking at every shelf in the super market that you accidentally bump into someone in front of you with the trolley you're using. Your eyes widened and you tried to apologize to the man in front of you.

"Oh my God, I'm really sorry. Does anything hurt?" you asked in a panicked tone. The man in front of you just laughs softly while shaking his head.

"No, ma'am. I'm fine," he says casually.

But you're not sure he's really okay, you're sure you hit him a little hard earlier. You try to look at him to see if he's really okay. But your gaze is distracted as you look at his handsome face, which is very sweet in your opinion. A gentle look on his face as he turned to look at you.

"I really apologize. I should have paid more attention to my surroundings," you say feeling embarrassed.

"It's okay. I'm Kyle by the way," he introduced himself with a smile on his face.

"Kyle..." you spell his name softly. Then introduced yourself to him with a smile.

"So, did you shop alone or with someone with this much groceries?" Kyle said as he pointed at the items in your trolley.

You look at your almost full trolley, you didn't think it would be this much. Especially since you came here by taxi. You really regret it now.

"Ah no, I'm alone," you reply as you push your trolley again.

You thought Kyle would leave after hearing your answer but you were wrong he walked after you. You walk side by side while talking casually, Kyle even helps you pick up the items on the high shelves. When you have finished shopping you smile happily because you were faster than usual, thanks to Kyle. You looked at him with a smile full of gratitude.

"Thank you Kyle, you shouldn't have helped me. But I'm really grateful and once again sorry for bumping into you earlier," you say to Kyle who smiles at you.

"I said I was fine, and I was happy to help you too," Kyle replies.

"But I made you stay longer, even though you didn't shop as much as I did," you say pointing at the groceries in his hand.

Kyle just laughs. He walks with you to the cashier. After you guys finished paying, Kyle took more of your shopping bags and helped you carry them out. You try to take your shopping bags from his hands but he still wants to carry your stuff.

"So where's your car?" Kyle asks.

You feel embarrassed again, you should have brought a car but your husband's car suddenly didn't start so he brought your car to work instead.

"I took a taxi here, just leave it and I'll find a taxi," you reply as you put down the groceries you're carrying.

"Let me take you home," he invites.

You can only shake your head. You've just met, you don't want to take any chances. Besides, it's not good to go home with another man when your husband isn't home. Kyle seemed to know what you were thinking, trying to calm you down.

"Believe me I'm not a criminal who would kidnap people," he said with a laugh.

You laughed stiffly at his words, Kyle who saw your expression at his unhelpful words scratched the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile.

"I'm sorry, I just want to help you that's all," he said.

You tried to consider his request. If you went with Kyle you wouldn't spend any more money than you had to. Finally, you nodded your head in acceptance of Kyle's invitation. Hopefully you made the right choice. Kyle carries your groceries back to the jeep that you believe belongs to him.

You try to help Kyle put your groceries in but he takes them all and puts them in by himself. Then he opens the passenger door and lets you in. Even your husband when you were still dating until now has never opened the car door for you. You thank Kyle and he follows you into the car. After starting the car Kyle asks where you live.

"What?" Kyle says after hearing where you live. You think he didn't hear you so you repeat yourself.

"I heard what you said, I just didn't expect you to live there," he says with a chuckle.

You looked at Kyle with a puzzled expression. "Why?"

"Because I also live there, if you know the house at the end of the street is my house," he said.

"That's your house?"

"Yes."

"But as far as I know it's often empty," you confirmed.

Kyle just nodded in confirmation of your words. "Because I rarely go home, if I come home from duty I always sleep in the barracks."

"You're a soldier?" You asked in a surprised. Kyle just nods answer your question while smiling at you briefly then refocuses on the road.

When you got to the road, you showed Kyle which one was your house. Until now you still don't believe that you and Kyle are neighbors because you've never seen him. Or maybe it's because you have a hard time socializing, is what you think.

When you get to the front of your house you panic seeing your car in the garage. It's a sign that your husband is home, but it's still noon and not even lunchtime. You and Kyle get out of the car to get your groceries. Before you can thank Kyle you hear your husband's voice yelling your name. You're so grateful that it's quiet in your neighborhood so you don't become the talk of the neighbors.

"I'm sorry, it looks like my husband came home early," you say while holding your groceries.

"Husband?" You hear the hesitant tone of Kyle's question.

"Oh God, I forgot to tell you that I'm married. I'm really so–"

Once again your husband's voice rang out loudly calling your name. You see your husband standing at the door looking at you and Kyle. Your heart was beating fast, you were afraid that your husband would get angry and do something bad.

"I apologize in advance and thank you for your help, Kyle," you say as you run a little with your groceries.

Kyle who saw you struggling to carry the groceries wants to help but he doesn't want to interfere in someone's household. But Kyle felt angry when he saw you struggling to carry the groceries but your husband didn't help. Still standing by his car, he saw your husband violently close the door to the house. Kyle sighed harshly, he was just attracted to someone but it turned out that the person he liked was married.

It's been three days since he met you, but Kyle is still thinking about you. He feels something odd that makes him not stop thinking about you. He knows he's wrong, you're married and he shouldn't be thinking about someone else's wife. But Kyle felt something was wrong. Since that day, every morning he did his morning running past your house but didn't see you come out of the house. He didn't even see your husband go to work.

It was the fifth day he saw you come out and it looked like your husband wasn't home. You were watering the plants in the yard. Kyle walked up to you and called out to you, making you startle and accidentally splash Kyle with water.

"Kyle!" you yell in surprise at him.

You frantically disconnect the water hose and walk towards Kyle. You tried to dry his face with your hands, Kyle could only laugh and said it was fine. Hearing the sound of his laughter makes you laugh too. Your hands return to your sides. You look at the surrounding area which is quiet because people have gone to work.

"Is your husband home?"

Hearing Kyle's question about your husband makes the smile on your face disappear. Ever since your husband saw you coming home with Kyle he had become more grumpy, especially with your husband having been fired from the company making him dare to hit you when he was angry with you.

"He went out," you reply. The truth is that you don't even know where your husband is at the moment.

Seeing the change on your face made Kyle try to change the subject. But before he could ask about anything else Kyle's eyes caught the bruise under your eye. Even though he knew you were trying to cover it up with makeup, he was sure it was a bruise. Kyle walks slowly towards you and holds your face gently which makes you surprised by his actions.

"What's wrong with your face?" he asked. His voice sounds different in your ears. You instinctively held the bruise under your eye. The bruise caused by your husband last night. You try to smile and answer that you fell in the bathroom last night and hit your face. But Kyle can see through your lie. He moves away from you a little, afraid that if anyone sees your closeness, it will become a problem for you.

"You know I'm here if you need anything, right? I can help you anytime, if I'm not home you can call me."

Kyle looked for something in his pants pocket and found a pen and a small book that he always carried around. He wrote down the number and tore off the paper to give it to you. You can only be silent while accepting it. You are so grateful to have someone like Kyle in your life even though you have only known him for a few days.

"Thank you Kyle, you have no idea how helpful you are right now," you say with a grateful smile.

Tonight you're cooking for your husband who hasn't come home yet, the rain is pouring down with thunder and lightning. As you finish cooking you hear your husband's voice with someone else's voice that you never heard. You walk up to your husband and see a man who looks older than him.

"Dante, who is that?" you ask. But your husband is only silent while looking at the man who is with him. He whispers something to the man then walks out and drives back in his car.

"You know I paid a lot of money for this with your husband. I hope you taste as good as he says," the stranger says.

You try to process the situation in front of you. You try to run towards the door but are quickly stopped by the man. The man pulls you towards the sofa in the living room, he tries to rip off the clothes you are wearing. With all your might you try to escape his grasp. You grabbed the man's face and pressed your thumb on his right eye until he screamed and blood came out of it. He immediately releases you and holds his eye.

"Bitch!" he yelled at you.

Before he could touch you again, you picked up the vase on the table and smashed it on the man's head. After that you ran outside barefoot. The area near your house looks empty because of the heavy rain. You run towards Kyle's house at the end of the street. You hoped he was still home and not on duty.

When you get to Kyle's house, you knock on his door with all your might. Tears are already mixing with the rainwater on your face. Your body shakes with fear and cold. You feel like you're going to faint if Kyle doesn't open the door. He looks at you with a worried face and brings you in. Kyle hugs you from the side to take you inside his house. He finds clothes and towels for you to wear. He takes you to the bathroom and asks you to change without demanding any explanation from you. When you come out of the bathroom Kyle takes you to the kitchen and makes you some hot tea.

"If you're calmer and want to talk I'll listen," Kyle says as he places the hot tea in front of you.

"He wanted to sell me, my husband wanted to sell me to someone and that person was still in my house when I ran away. I wounded his eyes and hit his head with a vase. And I don't know if he's still there or not," you explain in a trembling voice. Your tears fall again remembering what just happened to you.

You see Kyle taking his cell phone out of his pocket and calling someone, you can only hear a little of what he's saying. All you know is that he's on the phone with someone he calls captain and there are strange words like 'ghost' and 'soap'. You try to calm yourself down and drink the tea Kyle made. Kyle sits back down next to you and holds your hand gently.

"Everything will be fine, maybe tomorrow I need you to answer some questions. So you can sleep here, I'll prepare a guest room for you," he said while stroking your hand.

And sure enough, the next day Kyle somehow got all the information about your husband. Even your husband was linked to the drug dealer. Kyle also got information about the man last night that you confirmed with his picture in the file. And a few hours later you hear the news that your husband and the man last night were arrested by the police but unfortunately the car carrying them crashed leaving your husband and the man dead on the spot. You know this all seems strange, but you ignore it all. In fact, you feel relieved when you hear the news. You didn't even come to your husband's funeral and let his family take care of it.

You're washing dishes when you feel hands around your waist. You feel little kisses being placed on your neck. You can only laugh amusedly when your neck is bitten lightly.

"Kyle! I'm washing dishes here. Don't distract me," you said with a laugh. Kyle just laughed while kissing your cheek lightly.

It's been two years since that night, and one year since you and Kyle got together. He's been patiently waiting for you to open your heart to someone else ever since that night. He even moved out of the neighborhood and took you with him so that you wouldn't remember what happened that night. He took you to a house near the house of a man named John Price. And you know John Price is his captain and also the person who helped you that night.

"I want to take you out to dinner tonight. I hope you'll wear the red dress we bought earlier," Kyle said. His hand moved to graze your inner thigh which was only covered by his t-shirt.

"Tonight?"

Kyle just cleared his throat and went back to kissing your neck while giving a small bite there. His hand slowly touched your pussy from outside the underwear you were wearing. Kyle carried you straight to your room when he saw you finished washing the dishes. He immediately laid you on the bed and pinned you there.

"What are you doing, handsome?" You ask in a flirting tone that makes him laugh.

"You know what I'm going to do," Kyle said as he took off his your t-shirt. Leaving you with only your underwear.

Kyle kisses you passionately again, he plays with your breasts making you moan his name. Kyle is always gentle with you and focuses on your needs first. His kisses move down your neck and bite there, leaving a lot of hickeys. Then he brings his mouth to your breasts, taking turns sucking on them. He sucks one of your breasts and lightly nibbles on the other.

Kyle goes back down to your pussy and kisses it from outside the underwear you're wearing. His tongue plays with your pussy and makes you moan loudly and your back arches. Kyle quickly takes off your underwear and throws it in a random direction. His lips went back to kissing your pussy and suckling your clit.

Kyle puts one of his fingers inside your pussy and moves it slowly. Soon he fastens his movements after inserting another finger there and curls his finger on your tight walls which makes you cry out his name loudly. He also goes back to kissing your pussy and gives your clit a gentle bite. Your breathing has become ragged and your lower abdomen is tightening. Soon you will come and Kyle knows it so he quickens his hand movements and kisses your pussy even more.

"Kyle I'm coming, please, please, Kyle..."

"Come baby, come in my mouth."

Your hand gripped his hair as you came. Your body trembles and your toes curl. As you came Kyle kept licking your pussy which was leaking cum.

"Tonight baby, tonight I will fuck you so hard. I love you so much," Kyle said. He glanced at the bedside table drawer for a moment. Let's hope tonight goes well.

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #kyle garrick x fem!reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw2 #kyle garrick fluff #kyle garrick smut #kyle garrick imagine #gaz x reader

[romanticintheory]

Okay but could u write something fluffy with soap. Tbh I feel like he'd be the best friend to lovers kinda thing.

AND YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT i love friends to lovers so much guys u don't understand :(

also, i realize now that this isn't super fluff-heavy!! apologies </3 i got carried away.

johnny "soap" mactavish x gn!reader

warnings: horrid scottish slang from a non-scot (i am sincerely sorry), my writing from 2 am on three hours of sleep (also sincerely sorry)

-

-best friend to lovers with soap except there wasn't really a specific moment you two become each other's. it just... kind of happened.

-growing up with him and supporting his dreams to be a soldier while he supported yours. the first time he came back from a mission, you were the first person he wanted to see once he was allowed back home.

-you used to fuss over any injuries he got from being himself as a little kid, and the worry only heightened when he'd come back from missions with real wounds.

-his mom would always have a cheeky smile seeing you two together. she never said it, but it was always hinted in the way she acted. she was always talking to johnny about how you were such an impressive and loyal young person, often doting on you and insisting you stay for dinner (which, of course, you couldn't refuse).

-the first time johnny started dating someone, it was hard for you to deal with, but it got easier the more it happened.

-what you didn't know was johnny would take it even worse whenever you told him you started dating someone. he'd act all proud and protective in a brotherly fashion, but behind closed doors he was scowling to himself without knowing why.

-one day, you're visiting him in his apartment after he had been away for a few months. you're strangely more subdued than usual, and of course he notices.

-"hey," he calls to you softly, a strange contrast to his usual loud self. "what's wrong?"

-"nothing, don't worry about it," you reassure him, fiddling with the little plushie he got you from his travels--one of the many trinkets he's gotten for you. he always says it's to make up for the fact that he won't be there to bother you in person, but it's actually because every precious little thing he sees reminds him of you.

-"ah ken you're lying," he tells you in a warning tone.

-"i got broken up with, is all," you admit, turning your head away from him.

-"what?" he booms incredulously. how could anyone leave you? "is he insane? after getting an apartment together?"

-"there was this girl from his work and, well, i don't know," you shrugged, fighting back the tears you thought had dried days ago. "he wants the apartment. i mean, he did pay for more of it so-"

-"come live with me."

-it was your turn to be in disbelief, turning your head to face him with a confused look on your face.

-"what?"

-"th' place is empty with me at work. no rent, 's away from yer stupid ex, and ye get to be around me," he added jokingly. you rolled your eyes, but how could you not take him up on his offer?

-from then on, you're living with your best friend and taking care of the place while he's away. if you're staying rent-free, the least you could do was try and be as neat as possible (he insisted it was okay with the place looked like it was lived in, but you refused).

-when he'd come back from his missions, he'd still shower you in little gifts he'd get along the way when possible. you always tried to have some kind of meal ready for him, too.

-"you're always cooking for us, a'm feeling like i should do it sometime," he says, already knowing the answer to that proposal.

-"absolutely not." (the one time you let him cook was when you were both in college. he caught a pan on fire, somehow.)

-"you hurt me!"

-"oh, please."

-eventually, the routine becomes more and more domestic to the two of you. soap's mother always calls out how you two are living like a married couple, but the both of you just laugh it off like neither of you have noticed.

-you eventually notice changes in johnny's gifts. it went from gag gifts and plushies to little pieces of jewelry or intricate pens. sometimes you even think you catch him staring at you, but maybe it was just wishful thinking. he hasn't mentioned being interested in anyone in a while, either.

-it all comes to a head when johnny doesn't come home the day he said he would. sure, it happened at times, but this was the longest amount of time he's been late.

-eventually, he finally walks through the door with too many injuries, a bruise on his lip, and walking with a rough limp.

-you tend to him immediately, of course, interrogating him on what his doctor told him he should do to take care of his healing wounds. the rest of the night goes just like how the others have gone, with you making sure he's fed, warm, and resting.

-by the time you're closing his window for him, you're absolutely exhausted. you had barely gotten any sleep because of johnny's delayed return. normally, you would've let him do more for himself, but the extent of his injuries was worrying you.

-"ye ken am alright, aye?" he asks you in that low, rich voice, searching your eyes for something other than worry and sleepiness. he's sitting up in his bed by the time you walk back to him (despite the fact that you told him to lay down).

-"you're injured. you came home late."

-"what? ye have no faith in me?" he mocks hurt, trying to put a smile on your face or at least get an exhale of amusement out of you, but you weren't in the mood. he could tell by the way you didn't respond and the permanent but subtle frown on your face.

-"i know you're good at your job, johnny," you finally say, ready to call it a night.

-"good. then ye know i'll always come back home to ye, aye?"

-you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded, too tired to overthink about what he just said.

-"come here," he orders quietly, reaching out to you.

-gently, he coaxes you into laying next to him. the last time you ever slept in the same bed as johnny was when you two were kids. you were having a sleepover at his house with you in his bed and him on a spare mattress. you had a nightmare so bad it woke johnny up, but instead of brushing it off and making a joke of it, he jumped into bed with you and hugged you protectively. he said it was a good way to train for becoming a soldier, and you couldn't help but snort with laughter.

-just like back then, you had an easy time falling asleep in his arms, now.

-you woke up that morning well-rested and still encased in johnny's arms, which was impressive considering the fact that most times he sleeps in a position that looks like he flung himself across the bed.

-when he wakes up, you sit up with the intention getting breakfast up and running, but johnny doesn't like that idea.

-"johnny, it's almost eleven. we have to eat something," you chide, trying to get out of his impossibly strong grasp.

-"ye get all sad when am gone but yer trying to leave, now?"

-"well, i suppose if you're well enough to joke, you're well enough to clean the rest of the house and cook, yeah?"

-he lets go of you immediately in a comical fashion, and you have to catch yourself as you hurl out of bed from the built momentum of your escape. you look back at him with a seriously? look on your face as he laughs at your near fall.

-"doesn't that hurt?" you question him, remembering the bruise and cut near his lips and throat.

-"maybe a little," he admits. "kiss it better?"

-the grin on his face makes you think he was setting you up for that one. how could he be so confident?

-just like the times when his mother called you two a married couple, you laughed it off and headed to the kitchen to start breakfast.

-that wasn't the only time johnny's behavior changed noticeably. now, his longing stares at you were more blatant than ever. he'd hold you by the waist if he was moving past you and even told someone flirting with him "oh, i've got someone at home," while he was on call with you on the other end.

-what more could you do than accept it? it wasn't like you didn't like it, anyway.

-one night, you're both in the dining room with you standing and him sitting down on a chair. his hands are on your waist with his legs on either side of you as you reapply a band-aid to his temple (something he could very well do on his own, but any excuse to be close to you, right?).

-as you finish putting it on, your attention draws itself to his lip nearly healed. gently ghosting your finger across the barely visible bruise, you murmur, "good to see this one's basically healed."

-"awe, but it isn't," he corrects you, a slight pout on his face.

-"it isn't?"

-"no, still hurts like hell." you should've seen this one coming. "kiss it better?"

-"that's the second time you've asked me," you were rolling your eyes as you withdrew your hand from his face, but he caught your hand in his.

-"am being serious, (n/n), only a kiss'll make it better," he insists, that damn smile back on his face.

-you couldn't help but wonder if he was actually being serious or just pulling your leg.

-"how could you be so sure?" you challenged him.

-"seen it in ma dreams." oh, that was a funny one.

-"you dream about kissing people to heal your wounds?" you ask through the remnants of your laughter, but he's still looking at you with that same far-off smile on his face.

-"no, just of you."

-there's a pause between the two of you as you process what he said.

-"oh."

-he squeezes your hand with an expectant look in his eyes, like he knew you were head over heels just as much as he was for you.

-you cleared your throat and tried to ignore the searing burning in your cheeks. "well, i guess if you dreamt it, it must be true," you tell him.

-he places his unoccupied hand under your chin and guides your face to his, but he doesn't close the gap. it was like he was waiting--making sure you really wanted to go through with this.

-but you do, so you press your lips to his and he lets go of your face to put his palm on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer toward him.

-later that night, when you're back in his arms watching your guys' favorite show and he's calling his mother to tell her the news, you can hear her shrieks of excitement coming through the phone.

-the only thing you don't hear is when she asks, "when's th' wedding?"

-"soon, hopefully," he looks at you leaning against him, head pressed against his shoulder and arm clinging to his like it was meant to be. "but there's no rush. a've waited this long, aye?"

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #call of duty x you #soap x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #johnny mactavish imagine #johnny soap mactavish imagine #soap imagine #cod mw x reader #soap x y/n #johnny mactavish x y/n #rarawrites

[elisysd]

12. Don't give me up, cause what about, what about angels

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: What About Angels - Birdy

Charles saw you tensing after your mother’s cold greeting. He hated how you flinched as she was reminding you that being late was disrespectful towards your dad’s special day, that being away from home and in a big city had made you lose sight of the values they had taught you. But he hated even more how you simply smiled and apologized. He needed all his self control to not take your side, he knew how anxious this whole situation was making you feel, he didn’t want to make it worse by saying something he knew wouldn’t be well received.

The first thing he noticed in the house’s hall was the amount of family pictures, but instead of four people on them were only three. He recognised your mom, assumed the man beside her was your dad and when he thought he would notice you, it was instead your little brother. He couldn't be wrong, he looked exactly like you. The pictures were cut in a certain way that didn’t take him a long time to understand that you had been cut out of them. He felt a wave of rage hitting him. Why make you come here if your parents had gone to such an extent as to erase every trace of your existence? It was a twisted joke.

“You don’t even call anymore, Y/N. I knew it would happen, I’ve always said that being in a world full of sparks and empty promises would change you. You’re too gullible. You don’t even have time for your own family anymore. Not that you ever had.”

“You’ve never tried to ask questions about my job…” you mumbled as Charles put a comforting hand on your hip.

“I don’t need to. I know exactly what you do, you’re the talk of the town. The small town girl made it to the TV. There is no reason to be proud, playing a pretty face on tv… that is not what I raised you to be. And now you’re associating yourself with fair-weather friends…” she said, darting judgmental eyes on Charles. “I know exactly who you are.”

He didn’t have the time to reply as your dad entered the room and sat on the chair without a word. You sat too, Charles close to you as your mom joined your dad’s side. 

“How nice it is to finally see you alive.” he said, making you gulp.

“I’m Charles, your daughter’s boyfriend. Nice to meet you.” he introduced himself in a desperate attempt to drive the conversation away from you and the relieved sigh you let out made him think that you appreciated it. 

Lunch was awkward, punctuated with snarky comments here and there that you tried your best to ignore. Charles was trying to do the same but it was getting harder and harder for him to keep his calm. But it was when cake was brought that resentment and unspoken words finally came out in the open. You had taken your phone out of your pocket, wanting to show your parents all the beautiful landscapes you had the chance to witness. 

“Aren’t you ashamed?” your mom muttered.

“Why?” you turned your head to look at her in disbelief.

“Ashamed of following the sport that killed your brother. Ashamed of being with the man responsible for his death.” she sternly said.

You felt like a million daggers stabbing your heart all at once. You took a deep breath, putting your hand on his thigh, squeezing it lightly to indicate to him  not to react. It was something you had to do alone.

“F1 and Charles didn’t kill Luc, it was his leukemia, not anything else.” you replied, feeling a lump in your throat.

“If you had not introduced your brother to that stupid sport, he wouldn’t have been a fan and his illness wouldn't have turned that bad so quickly. He wasn’t talking about anything else than that sport and you. Until his very last breath. His last words were about Formula 1. It took my baby away from me and this is your fault. Both of you.” she finished, turning to Charles this time.

“If I can add something… I know I have no right to comment on this situation but even if I understand your pain, Y/N is not the one to blame. She…” Charles started, quickly shutted up by your dad.

“You’re right, you have no right to say a  thing. You don’t know what it is like to lose a son.”

“Maybe I don’t, yeah. But I know exactly what it feels like to lose a parent. I understand your pain. Truly. But with all due respect, you’ve already lost a son, you should be more careful to not lose a daughter by pushing her away and making her feel like a stranger in her own family.”

“We’ve already lost her the minute she decided to not show up at the funeral.” your mom spitted, making you close your eyes, trying to not cry. You wouldn’t give that pleasure to your parents.

“I think it’s best if we leave. It was a bad idea to come here, anyway.” you ended up saying, standing up, Charles following you. “You shouldn’t have invited me in the first place, if it was to treat me that way.”

You took Charles’ hand in yours and dragged him out of what had been once your safe place. Without a word you made your way to his car and rushed inside and it was only when the door was closed and that he had taken place behind the wheel that you broke down. He didn’t hesitate to pull you on his lap and let you cry on his shoulder, holding you tight.

“It’s okay, babe… you’re okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t have to feel bad, you have nothing to feel bad about. If you were believing your mom’s lies, I understand why you were so mean to me at the beginning now.”

“She is not entirely wrong, you know.” you sniffed in his neck. “At least about one thing, I should’ve been there for Luc’s funeral. But it was too hard for me. I didn’t want to face the fact that I would never see him again. I didn’t want to make the nightmare I was in real. because if I was going, it would happen exactly that. It would have made the pain real and permanent. I couldn’t.”

You put your forehead against his, trying to find a way to ground you. Charles drew small patterns on your hips, comforting you the best he could. 

“Let’s get some fresh air, okay?” he whispered against your ear.

You got out of the car and hand in hand you started to wander the streets of your childhood, telling him anecdotes and facts of any buildings and streets you were walking on and seeing.

“Tell me about Luc.” 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Everything. Whatever you want. Whatever you feel comfortable sharing with me.”

“He was passionate. About many things. History and art mostly. He wanted to work in a museum. And passionate about F1 of course. He knew a lot of mechanical stuff, more than I did. He taught me as much as I did, I swear. Maybe more. I was spending my weekends at the hospital with him to watch the races. When he was hospitalized, it was what kept him going. It was our thing, you know. Wait, I think I have a picture to show you.”

She took a photo out of her wallet and gave it to him. If he didn’t know it was a hospital room, he would have had a hard time guessing it. Everywhere were Ferrari and monegasque flags as well as a lot of merch. He was recognising one of his caps on the bedside table. Posters of his podiums were hung on the walls, his Monza’s win right above Luc’s head. Small replicas of his trophies were there too as well as miniatures of his helmets.

“A real fan.” he smiled.

“The best.” you sighed. “ You don’t know how happy he was when you won in Monza. It brought so much joy in his life. Even if it wasn’t for long. It was a tough time, he had just started to get hospitalized, he was very sick and pale and the shell of what he once was. And suddenly, he was feeling a little more alive. Because of you. Then, time went by and I had to leave for New York. It was the toughest decision I had to make in my life. At some point I was ready to take a year off so I could be with him…” 

“What made you change your mind?”

“Him. With time my dream became his. He wouldn’t have forgiven me if I was giving it all up because he was sick. He was talking about how amazing it would be if I was interviewing you. I bet he is the happiest up there.” you smiled, looking up. “One of his dreams was to meet you.”

“Maybe it is not too late?” Charles hesitantly said and you looked at him curiously. “Is he buried here?”

You nodded and he felt you stiffened.

“I've never been on his grave.” you confessed after a moment of silence. “It’s too hard and too painful to go there alone.”

“Good thing you’re not alone anymore, then.”

As you were making your way to the graveyard, Charles had to hold you closer to his chest with each step you were taking. You sobs were getting louder and your legs were shakier. It was breaking his heart, trying to see how much you were trying to keep it together.

When you finally reached the grave, at the back end of the graveyard, you fell on your knees in front of the black grave. Luc hated black. A black and white picture of him was also in the middle of the gravestone. It made you shiver. It was well kept, your parents were coming often. The lump in your throat had not gone away in the slightest, it was even bigger now, making you choke up on your own saliva. Charles wanted to hold you, wanted to get you out of here. The emotional devastation you were in was making him want to join you on the ground and cry with you. But he also knew you needed it. It was the closure you needed to move forward. He took a few steps away, giving you privacy.

“I’m so sorry, Luc. So sorry. Sorry about how I wasn’t there for you when you needed me most, sorry to have let you down, sorry to not have stepped up and measured up when I should have, sorry to not have been the sister you deserved. There is not a day that goes by when I don’t regret not being by your side. There are so many things that I should have done differently, so many things that I feel guilty about but none of them compare to how guilty I feel to not have said goodbye. I acted like a coward and I know how much you felt scared about dying. And how I promised you I would hold your hand until the end. I didn’t. I chickened out and I failed you. If I could go back in time, I would, just so I could look into your eyes one last time and hold your hand tight. I wouldn’t hesitate. I would trade anything for one last smile of yours. I hope you can forgive me, I sure can’t do that alone. But despite everything I’m happy and I’m not sure I should be. I fell in love and you would be ecstatic to know who I share my life with. He is supportive and kind and perfect for me. I wish we would have had enough time so you could have met him. But maybe after all, it’s you I should thank. Maybe it’s you who sent Charles on my way. Maybe it is your way of telling me that you are not mad at me. That you want me to be happy. If only you could give me a sign. I just want you to know that everything I do, I do it for you. Because I love you. Forever.”

You felt Charles’ arms around your shoulders as he crouched down beside you.

“Hey, Luc. I know we don’t know each other but your sister talks about you so much that I feel like I already know you. I would have loved to meet you, I know how big of a fan you are of F1. I would have loved to show you around the paddock, maybe I would have let you sit in my car. Anything to make you and your sister smile. You are brave and strong and I have nothing but pure admiration for you. I wish I could have met you. Don’t worry about your sister, I take good care of her and I don’t want to let go of her. I’m here for her for as long as she lets me but I hope it is a forever kind of thing.” he whispered as you looked at him with big and glossy eyes.

He helped you stand up, asked if you were alright and if you wanted to leave. He didn’t mind staying but he wanted to make sure you were alright, the day had been emotionally draining enough. When you nodded, he took you in his arms, engulfing you in his jacket so you weren’t cold and kissed the top of your head as you headed out.

“I’m so proud of you. So proud.” he said as you finally reached his car.

“Thank you. For being there. I don’t think I would have been able to do it alone.”

“You’re the strongest person I know. You would have done it at some point.”

“Did you mean it? What you said up there… About us being forever.” you shyly asked.

“I’m sorry it was not the best time to say it. But to answer you, I do. I’m not kidding, Y/N, I swear I can’t explain it. I don’t know how either but I just know. You’re the love of my life.”

Author's note: In laws meeting incoming... how do you think it will turn out? .

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[matthew-gray-gubler-lover]

A picture-Perfect Hello.

Spencer Reid picture-perfect.

Spencer Reid had no idea when he came home from a long case that his new neighbor would be the love of his life. And together they would create the picture-perfect life.

A four-part series.

Warning Contains spoilers for Season 13 as well as Season 12. Post prison Spencer Reid.

Ages 18 and over. Contains oral sex. Penetrative sex. Reader on birth control pills.

Spencer came home from a long case. A six Day one to be exact. He was surprised to see a pile of boxes sitting in the hallway in front of an apartment building that he assumed was still to be empty when he came back home. It's not that he didn't want new neighbors. He just didn't expect there to be any, given that that apartment has been vacant for the past seven months.

he was So exhausted from the trip back home that he really just wanted to go to sleep. But he knows that that would be rude not to even try to offer Any help to his new neighbor. So he unlocked his door and put his satchel inside. Going over to the refrigerator to grab something to drink, leaving the front door open So he could see if the new neighbor passed by. After a few minutes, he decided to shut the front door and go stand out in the hall. He made it to the front of his sofa before he saw a pile of boxes walking by his door.

"Oh, here, let me help you" he said, running out of his door.

" Oh my gosh, thank you so much that this so kind of you." He heard a woman's voice coming from behind the pile of boxes.

" Sure, no problem. Let me just grab these" he said, pulling two boxes off the top of the pile.

Spencer couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the woman that was behind the box. a Brunette with Short hair. And blue eyes.

" Hello" he managed to get out. " My name is Spencer, Spencer Reid. I live in this apartment right here". He told her, using his thumb to point back at the door.

" Hello my name is y/n It's so nice to meet you. I didn't know if anybody lived in this apartment. I've been moving in for the past two days and I haven't seen you."

" I was at work. I.. I'm, I'm an FBI agent, so I wasn't home for six days."

" Ohh wow. An FBI agent? That must be really exciting."

" It can be. It has its moments that it's exciting. Yes, I, you know, I I definitely enjoy the work that I do, putting away the bad guys and all that. Definitely rewarding, yes. Kind of tiring though as well if I'm being honest. But still, it's.. it's really nice work." Spencer began to ramble.

" Would you like to come in and put those boxes down?"

" Boxes? Ohh yes yes. But I would love to put the boxes down" Spencer answered, not even realizing anymore that he was holding boxes.

" Just try to find a place to put them down at. I'm sorry I haven't really officially moved in yet. I'm staying with a friend of mine while I get everything out of my dirtbag ex boyfriend's apartment." She explained to Spencer she was waving her finger around the room with her other hand on her hip.

"Oh, sure, no problem. It it's going to take some time to move in. I'm sorry about your boyfriend."

" Oh, don't be. He was a lousy piece of crap that wasn't even any good in bed. I mean, it is seriously Exhausting having to fake orgasms all the time. It would have been nice if I could have had a real one during the two years we were together." She huffed out angrily.

Spencer's face must have lost all color or the opposite turned as red as a strawberry when she was saying this. As she stopped right in her tracks and they started apologizing.

" Oh my God, I am so sorry. I don't know why I said that. I mean, I just met you like what, 5 minutes ago if that. And here I am already talking like this. Please forgive me. I understand if you don't want to help me bring in any more boxes and if you want to pretend that I don't even live here, I completely understand. Have a tendency to over share my feelings when I'm angry and Needless to say, I'm angry."

" no need to apologize. I understand you being angry and you know, I hear a lot of stuff being an FBI agent. Plus I do have three women on our team, so, you know, I I hear things."

"Wow. Three women on your team. That's impressive. I just assumed that the FBI thought that that was men's work. You know? Good to see that we're making a little progress in the world."

" Ohh no. The FBI is full of women. You really have made a lot of progress in the work world. You know, it's been statistically proven that women are more effective at catching serial killers than men in some cases." He Explained to her.

" Really? well. I guess if you piss us off enough, we'll hunt you down."

" I guess you could say that, yes. Uh, there's three agents that I work with that are women. And then there's our technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. She's wonderful as well."

" Well, that's good. Got to get rid of those bad guys, right? And bad ladies, I'm sure as well."

"Yep" He said, rocking back and forth from his toes to his heels. Kind of uncomfortable now that the conversation has ended.

" So do you have more boxes you need me to help you bring in or?" He asked, waving his hands around nervously.

" Yes, I do. I have five more boxes out in the car."

" OK, well here let me help you with that."

"So does you being an agent mean that I'm not going to see you much? Because that would be really sad. I think you're really cute. And you obviously are smart."

"OH no. I'm home when I can be most of the time. And if I'm not home or out on a case, I spent a lot of time on a jet too. You know, going to the crime scenes. It's a lot easier for me when it's local because then I get to come back home. It gets a little tiring having to be in hotels all the time. Sometimes it's really nice to just come home to the comfort of your own apartment and bed, you know?"

"It is."

After Spencer helped her bring in the rest of her boxes, she went over to a box marked kitchen and pulled out a coffee pot.

" Would you like some coffee? I love coffee and I can't live without it." Asked, holding up her pink coffee maker.

" Really. I love coffee too. Yes, I.. I.. I would love some. My friends always put me down. Well, my my coworkers. But they're like my friends. Actually. They're like my family. They make fun of me sometimes for loving coffee so much."

" Why would they Make fun of you for that?. Oh well. Between you and me, we could probably empty out the entire state of coffee beans."

" Yeah, we probably could." He said with a big grin on his face.

" So how long have you lived here?" She asked him.

" 14 years."

"Wow, 14 years. That's amazing. Must be really nice here. Well, for the amount of time that you hear, I guess you couldn't really judge."

" Well, I've been here long enough, yeah, to know that. That's. It really is nice. Yeah, but you're right, the amount of time that I'm actually here for. Really can't judge, but sometimes I am here for a week at a time."

She walks into the kitchen and plugs in the coffee pot.

" I know exactly where my coffee beans are. They're in that box over there marked coffee."

" Spencer Looks over at the box. "Ohh here let me get it for you."

" Thank you. You're such a gentleman. I mean, not only helping me move in, but also helping me make coffee. You'll find mugs in that same box, by the way."

When Spencer opens the box, he sees 5 bags of coffee and seven mugs.

" Ohh wow my friend Penelope. She would love your mugs. She's the queen of coffee mugs. Although in her case sometimes it's also hot tea, so mugs in general."

" I think I'd really get along with this, Penelope."

" She is wonderful." Spencer tells her where the chuckle.

Spencer hands her a bag of coffee, a pack of coffee filters and two mugs. A pink mug with a rainbow on it and a black mug that says I love coffee.

" I think this will be my favorite mug" he told her, holding up the one that says I love coffee.

" Well then, we will make that your special mug for when you come over, and that is if you want to ever come back."

" I want to come back. I I look forward to it."

Spencer Reid being a man of science, never really believed in love at first sight. But there's something about her he feels that he could spend the rest of his life with, even though he's only known her for about an hour tops at this point.

"You know, if you come back tomorrow, I have been known to make some pretty good muffins. By then I should be able to find my baking stuff. But that is only if you would like to. I understand. If you don't want to, it's. Completely understandable."

" No, not at all. I would love to come over. Muffins sound really good. Muffins and coffee? That's. That's really good. Yeah." He said with a chuckle, so happy that she would like for him to come back.

" OK then uh 8:00 be OK?"

" That'd be great. I don't start teaching until 10:00, so. 8:00 would be good."

" I thought you were an FBI agent".

"Ohh. Well, yeah, I ...I am. I am an FBI agent. But I also teach sometimes because I'm not Fully on the team at the moment, but that's a that's a long story for. Another time so". Spencer said nervously. What was she going to think if she asked him why he wasn't on the team full time? What if she doesn't like that he was in prison even though he didn't really commit the crime he was arrested for?

" OK, well, another time it is."

" So I can be here at 8:00." Spencer asked, wringing his hands.

" Unless 7:30 would be better for you."

" 7:30 would be great. That would be great. That would give me half hour more to be able to get ready to go and teach my class."

" OK, 7:30 it is. I should already be started by the muffins, by then"

" Great" Spencer said.

" Do you take your coffee?"

"Black with sugar." Spencer answered, placing the two Mugs next to the coffee maker that was just about done.

" Black with sugar, You got it."

There was a little bit of awkward silence as the coffee finished brewing. Before y/n Poured 2 mugs of it, adding the sugar into both mugs and going over to the refrigerator to get some Creamer.

" I know it's strange. I already have Creamer in my refrigerator, but says I said I've been moving in for a few days, so I don't really know why I have Creamer in my refrigerator. Didn't even have my coffee maker yet, but I'm a weird one. "

" Not at all. " Spencer said.

After the coffees had been made, the two of them sat down at her little kitchen table.

" You know, this table was actually left behind from the previous renter. I don't know why, but hey, I was happy to have it. " y/n said.

" Yes, well left behind furniture is always good. Unfortunately, nothing came with my apartment. "

" Wow. Usually somebody leaves something behind. " she says taking a sip of coffee.

" So can I ask what you do? Or do you not have a job yet in between jobs?"

" Ohh yes, I'm a Blogger."

" Spencer said, not really knowing what that was.

"Do you know what that is?" She asked him. Putting down her mug.

"No, not really. I'm sorry."

"No problem. I have a blog. It's a computer thing. It's on the Internet. It's a page Where I show you how to do things like highlight your hair and things I used to do. I also show a lot of cooking things, like how to make the muffins I'm going to make tomorrow, along with other things that I make."

" Oh, so you teach people how to do things via the Internet?"

" Yes, exactly."

" Ohh like life's important things like faking orgasms." He said with a chuckle as he took his first sip of coffee.

y/n Almost spit her coffee out at his response.

" Yes, exactly. I I really did do one of those. It was my most popular video to date, actually." She told him, laughing.

" Well, at least you're helping people with the important things in the world. Ohh my gosh, I'm so sorry. I really need to be getting to work. Umm, so I can come back tomorrow, right?"

"Absolutely. I look forward to it."

After Spencer went to teach another class, knowing that people really weren't going to be paying him any attention anyway. He was just kind of going through the motions. His mind, even though he was trying to teach about serial killers, just kept going back to His beautiful new neighbor and how he couldn't wait to get back to her apartment tomorrow.

Once class was over and he stopped at the grocery store to pick up something for him to eat for dinner. He went back home. He was so tempted to knock on his neighbor's door to see how she was doing. Or really just to see her face again. To ask her if she would like to come over and share his dinner, but he didn't want to be too forward, she said. I'll see you tomorrow morning, so tomorrow morning it would be.

He ate his dinner, took his shower, got in his pajamas, brushed his teeth and went to bed. Unfortunately though, for Spencer, sleep did not come easily to him. He just kept thinking about the beautiful woman next door. But was she doing? Was she sleeping? Was she lying awake, thinking about him, The way he was laying awake? Thinking about her?

He really needs to stop these Thoughts that are running through his head and try to get some sleep morning would come soon enough and he would be at her front door again, tapping on the wood, waiting to get inside.

Eventually, morning came and he did just the thing that he said he was going to do, ran out his front door before smoothening out any wrinkles that may be on his sweater. Before knocking lightly on her wooden front door.

" I'm coming, he heard being shouted from The other side of the door. He waited for a few seconds before he heard the deadbolt on lock the door opening, revealing the woman that he's awaiting all night to see. Wearing a light pink tank top and a purple apron. That had some baking flour stuck to it.

In all honesty, she was so beautiful and the fact that she was making muffins for him, it took all he had not to drop to one knee right now and ask her to marry him. It wasn't just because she would serve him muffins. It was because no one was willing to make anything like this for Spencer and his entire life. And even though he had only met this woman one day prior, he knew he was in love with her. He knew that this was the woman that he was destined to spend the rest of his life with.

" Hi, come on in. I'm so sorry I had to run to the store. So I'm a little bit later making the muffins and I thought I was going to be. I didn't have any flower. I forgot that I threw it at my ex when he told me that he didn't need my cooking anymore. It was juvenile, I know. But it was in the heat of the moment. So I just threw it at him."

" Oh, wow. OK, no problem. Take your time. If if you don't have the time to make the muffins right now, it's OK. I can come back tomorrow."

" Ohh no no, she cut him off. I have the flour, I'm just measuring it out now."

"OK, sure, can I help you make the muffins? I've never really baked anything before."

" Really. You would like to help me make muffins? OH my gosh yes. Thank you so much. I would love for you to do that. You know my boyfriend Will, my ex sorry-ass boyfriend never would have offered to help cook with me. He thought that cooking and baking was stupid and that it was just. Useless hobby."

" Well, that's not nice. Baking is a wonderful hobby. Cooking. We all need to eat to survive, right? So he didn't have any right to pick on you for that. I'm so sorry that he was like that to you. I promise I will never be that way to you. I mean, not that we're a couple. You know, I'm not presuming that you would want to be in a relationship with me. I'm just saying if it should ever come to that, I wouldn't be that kind of boyfriend. I'd be loving and supportive and help you with anything that you wanted." He began rambling.

" That would be wonderful, you know, if we ended up being together and cooked together, married one day. Just think. We would tell our children how we met and they would think it was so sweet."

Now Spencer's mind was really racing again. She's considering a life with him. She's actually thinking about a life with him and having children with him and telling them about how they met one day.

" Spencer?" He heard her saying.

"yes?" he answered.

" Would you like to come into the kitchen and help me?"

"Oh, Oh my gosh. Yes, yes, I would love to. OK, umm, So what do you need me to do?"

" Well, unfortunately I don't have a spare apron. And if you're planning on wearing this Sweater. You may not want to mess with the flour, but you can wash off the blueberries for me.

"Oh yes, of course." Spencer said, opening up the pints of blueberries and pouring them into a pink strainer to wash them off.

" I'm so sorry that you have to wait longer for the muffins because I forgot to get flour.

" It's OK. I'm actually happy that it happened because now I get to be a part of the muffin making process." Her as he finished straining the rest of the water off of the blueberries.

" That's so sweet, you can take and dump them into the bowl right there with the sugar."

The two of them stood side-by-side preparing muffin batter.

Before placing the batter into baking cups and putting them in the oven. y/n Pouring some coffee for them while they wait.

" So how did you sleep last night?" She asked, putting the two mugs of coffee down.

How did I sleep? OH my gosh how can I tell her that I couldn't sleep? Because all I could think about was her. How much I wanted to come back over here and see her. How I know she's the love of my life. How can I tell her that without her thinking that I'm crazy? Spencer thought to himself.

" I slept rather well, thank you." He told her he feels so bad about lying to her, but how can he tell her about his true feelings without scaring her away?

Once the muffins were done and they started eating them, it was the most delicious blueberry muffin Spencer had ever had.

" These are incredible" he told her before stuffing and other piece into his mouth.

" Thank you so much. I'm so glad that you like them. You know, I also make coffee cakes and strudels and stuff like that, so, you know, I could keep feeding you if you're interested."

If Spencer could have his way, he would make breakfast with her every day for the rest of his life.

" I would like that. he told her with a smile.

The next two weeks went on like this, meeting every day. Went to teach, unfortunately his teacher. Come to an end and he was forced to go back to the station.

" I'm back on FBI time now, so I may be gone for a little while. I'll let you know if I have a case. That way you don't start making something for me and I'm not here to get it." Told her, looking down at his thumbs that he was twiddling.

" OK, well, I'm going to miss you if you have a case, but I have a lot of muffins leftover. Would your team like some?" She asked him.

" I I think they would, yes, they're amazing. And if they don't want them, well, I'll gladly eat them."

" OK, great. I'll pack some up for you."

Spencer reluctantly left her apartment to go to the station, carrying with him a large basket of blueberry muffins. They placed them on the table of the round table room.

Luke came into the room and saw the basket of muffins along with Spencer sitting in his usual chair.

" Hey, welcome back Reid" Luke said to him.

" Hey, Luke. Thanks. It's nice to be back."

" Muffins. Are those for anybody or are they just for you?" Luke asked.

" There For anyone. My new neighbor Likes to bake, so she sent me to work with some muffins for you guys."

" She Ohh. I'm I'm not prying just is she someone that You might be interested in. I'm. I'm not meaning to pry. I just. I worry about you. You know, you go back to your apartment all by yourself and you don't really get any visitors. It would just be nice for you to have someone."

" I really like her, Luke. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know how to tell her. You know, I know that I'm the age that I am, but I don't have much experience with women. The only girlfriend long term that I really had got murdered in front of me. So I don't know how to talk to women." Spencer said sadly.

" Well reid. I can honestly tell you if a woman is willing to make you muffin's. And allow you into her apartment, I'm assuming."

" She did. I helped her move in."

" Then yes, she likes you." Luke told him before taking a bite of muffin.

" Really?" Spencer asked.

" Yes, really. And if she makes muffins like this my God man, go back home now and ask her to marry you. These are delicious."

Unfortunately for Spencer, he was going to have to wait to see his ladylove again. he had to go away on a case. The next three months' time continued to go this way. He would be home for a day or two enjoying the baked Goods with Her before having to go away on another case. They really didn't get to spend much time together anymore. They were both afraid that the feelings that they had for each other would fizzle away. But maybe, just maybe, people were right. Time apart does make the heart grow fonder. It left them both wondering though. Feel this way about each other. They're just neighbors, and they've never even kissed. Just enjoying talking about things over coffee and baked goods that Spencer often helped make. He really enjoyed the baking process and the fact that it gave him more time to spend with y/n but all of that changed quickly after Spencer finally had some time off since he was teaching again. So she invited him to come over and watch a movie. That was for the best, considering that Spencer really didn't have any movies that weren't foreign films.

"She picked (your favorite movie) To watch She Thought that Spencer would really enjoy it.

" I can't believe you've never seen this movie. I've seen it about 1000 times and can say just about every line with it". She told him.

" Well, I haven't seen very many movies that aren't in foreign languages, so this will be a fun to experience for me."

That night was a turning point in their relationship. As they sat on the sofa together, they realized neither one of them was really interested in the movie. They were more interested in each other. They've been away from each other for too long, and tonight was the night they were finally going to kiss.

However, Spencer Reid being amazing at everything was also in the world's greatest kisser. We've got turned on so much by the kissing that it wasn't long before Spencer was asking against her lips. "Can we take this to the bedroom?"

y/n Moaned a Yes, against his lips.

If Spencer picked her up off the couch and carried her into her bedroom, he knew exactly where it was. Not because he's been to her apartment so many times, but because the layout of her apartment was exactly the same as his own. Before he knew it, he was peeling off her clothes and kissing her passionately.

Shouldn't she was doing the same to him with the same urgency.

However, before Spencer removed her underwear. He asked if it was OK for him to do so.

y/n Couldn't get the word "yes" out fast enough. As soon as she was bare to him, he looked up into her eyes to make sure that She was OK with what he was about to do.

She panted out a yes before he licked right up her center. Causing her to moan out his name. Something that, if he was being honest with himself, was something that he was dying to hear over the past 3 1/2 months.

He took his time with her, loving the way that her fingers felt running through his hair. After he gave her two mind-blowing orgasms, he couldn't wait anymore. He needed to be inside of her. 

"Do you have any protection?" He asked her, praying to the gods, anyone of them that she would have something. 

"I'm on the pill and I'm clean". She panted out

 the smile on his face, almost taking up his entire face at this point. 

"Good" he panted out. Before slowly pushing inside of her. They both moaned out at the feeling. Something that they were both longing for, for so long. As he slowly moved inside of her, his fingers intertwining with hers.

The only sounds in the apartment at this point was the sounds of their moans and lips smacking.

" Where do you want me?" Spencer asked y/n Feeling that he was close told him.

" Inside, inside Spencer, I want to feel all of you."

And be more thrilled at these words. They both orgasm together and it was like pure heaven.

Spencer helped her ride out her high, and as he did, he couldn't help but stare into her eyes, seeing how beautiful she is.

Spencer eventually had to pull out. So sad for both of them since they both waited for so long. Both of them hoping that it would happen again.

They laid in her bed. Spencer's arms, holding her tightly to his body.

" Are you sorry that it happened?" Spencer asked sadly. As y/n Hasn't said anything since they orgasmed.

" No, not at all. Are you?" She asked with full of worry.

" No, absolutely not. I was worried that you were going to be sorry. I mean, it's been silence for a little bit." Spencer said with a gulp.

" No, I'm so happy that it happened. I waited for so long, you know, Honestly, I wanted you from the very first time I saw you, but I didn't want you to think that I was Trashy." She told him, running her hand up and down his bare chest.

" I would never think that, and honestly, I was the same way about you." Spencer told her with a smile.

"Who would have ever thought that me walking by with a stack of boxes would have led to this? that just a simple hello would have led to where we are today."

" I know. I guess you could say it was a picture-Perfect Hello." Spencer said before kissing her again.

Thank you so much for reading. Comments will be greatly appreciated and I look forward to writing the rest of this story. there should be another chapter out by the summer.

@thebloomingeagle

#spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #mgg #dr reid #reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #matthew gray gubler #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler x reader #matthew gray gubler imagine

[midastouch-zaza]

What if AESPA is sharing an (incredibly lucky) boyfriend?

(_shy new kpop fan anon_)

Hi there, new anon! Welcome in this strange yet fantastic world called kpop. You end up in the naughty side of this world, but don't worry, even if we are a bit odd, we're all friendly 🫂

Now, regarding the lucky dude...I guess fate has really its favorites, uh? No, because imagine all four the Aespa girls and all the good things coming from that. Of course it would be like a dream because they are so funny, caring, sweet and nice girls, but there's actually more...🤭

They won't be too jealous of you, sharing you according a fair sex schedule:

Being the leader and waking up earlier than the others, Karina would be the first to make a good use of your cock. Yeah, because Karina loves being awakened by your cock, pounding her pussy while you suck on her tits. Feeling pleasure as first sensation in the morning is the best way to start the day, even better if the second feeling is your warm cum filling her tummy. She feels full even before of breakfast 🌝

Right before of lunch instead, it's Ning turn. She always complains a lot about being bored and hungry at that hour, so why not keep her busy till the food is ready? You bring her in an empty room, you push them on her knees and start to fuck her face, reducing the bimbo maknae in your sex toy, making a mess of her make-up and hairstyle, before releasing directly in her stomach.

We all know that moment in the afternoon when we just have nothing to do, right? Well, you don't since when Giselle started to reserve your time, after all who's gonna fuck her ass otherwise? She would offer you her bare booty, making it jiggle to tease you, but everytime you punish her, ravaging her ass until after you're done with her, her hole is leaking and gaping.

And in the end we have that cutie of Winter; the night she becomes always so cuddly and clingy, but we know that she can't resist to your bulge rubbing against her body. So just pulls her pants off, letting you fuck her until she's exhausted, too tired by the orgasms you gave her. With her pussy swollen and reddened, she falls asleep between your arms.

#kpop smut #kpop thoughts #girl group smut #kpop x male reader #girl groups x male reader #aespa x male reader #aespa smut #aespa giselle #aespa winter #aespa karina #aespa ningning #giselle smut #winter smut #ningning smut #karina smut #karina x male reader #giselle x male reader #winter x male reader #ningning x male reader

[thefoolishone666]

Kickin Chicken once said

@hiwelcometothemonstersancturary gave me the go to do this, which is mistake one for them, so here is my go at giving them what they encouraged while I pray it works well. And if not...well I at least tried.

* (Refering to Bobby) She is called Captain Heartbeat cause she will squeeze love out of your heart...and blood, but mostly love.

* (After speaking pr-bt for a 2 minutes) You ever forget your first language?

* Mods, take their swimming privileges away and put them in the pool.

* I would go evil, but I am going to follow dad's steps of being good...plus I saw they went shoe shopping so...

* What do you mean I can't seduce myself!?

* (Loud thud off Camera) PERCEPÇÃO DE PROFUNDIDADE!

* Our ship has a pool, an omelet bar, tons of rooms for you to sleep in, one would say that is a cruise, to which I say, fair, but have you seen the plank, cause I am about to get you real familiar with it.

* I heard some demons were touched starved. I got more than enough buckshot to help with that.

* Bubba, reading chat: "Kickin isn't the sharpest knife in the group," Well that is rude...

Kickin: I did eat packing peanuts when I was younger to be fair.

Everyone in room:

Kickin:...Wait is this new information for you?

Everyone: YES!?

* Wonder how many people come on to see me stream thinking "Oh hey, the voice actor for Kickin does streaming," or "Hey is this the official channel for the Smiling Critters show?" And they just come in on me saying something like, "I HAVE BUILT A TO SCALE JOLLY ROGER WITH POPSICLE STICKS!"

* Hey Theo, it's you! (Gets empty bottle thrown at head) Ow.

* White is the color of evil, cause nothing exists in it! Delight taught me that!

* I would cry, but I am too dehydrated to do such a thing. (Goes to drink some water, pauses, puts water bottle back down)

* It is always funny to see people react to my complete indifference to horrible stuff.

* I needed to find a way to get a gambling addiction, so I thought space could have the answer.

* (Seeing Bubba being affected by the blue screen) Bubba, I know you always wanted to become the one thing I love, but this is ridiculous!

* I am just saying revenge is amazing, ok? Yeah, you gain a tremendous amount of regret sometimes, but it is amazing.

* Cool motive bro, still murder!

* (In response to Angel giving them food) It hasn't been that long since I started streaming, it has only been...5 hours...

* This is my favorite bird. (Holds up middle finger before pointing to self) It is the chicken.

* (Wearing VR) The future is today!...I might need it adjusted though.

* Does dying take away time away from my vacation days?

* IT IS ALL A CONSPIRACY TO END ME! IF NO ONE EVER HEARS FROM ME AGAIN, IT IS CAUSE THEY KILLED ME, CHOPPED ME UP, AND FED ME TO THE WOLVES DANG IT!

* Fursuits are getting so good you can now subject yourself to your own form of trauma to fuse into it. Brought to you by Playtime.

* I have seen the internet and honestly, have seen worse. Which is saying alot.

* (Looks at Candy Cat in his lap before looking at camera)...Help. me.

* Theo: You finally did it! Did it help when you imagined it was me you were fighting?

Kickin: Not at all...worked when it was Dogday though.

Dogday: WHAT DID I DO?

Kickin: Hell if I know. As long as it works though.

* (Playing I Expect You to Die, dies trying to do an action pose)...(Starts singing the James Bond theme notes)

* (Reacting to "Unnecessary Feelings") Bubba, I was promised a crime drama, not a reminder that no one in this house knows how to feeling well, including us!

* I would boop you, but I don't want a pirate hook this early in my character development.

* William then preceded to commit several hours of joy, on at least an entire classroom of kids to learn why death does.

* You can have one hit Hoppy...Ah não, ela tem uma cadeira!

* Don't worry, I won't hurt you, I am just going to turn into a nuke to fall on you.

* (Stares at camera while winding music box)

* Chica, you wouldn't hurt your brother, would you? Or would you want me to be you and Foxy's kid, whichever makes you more merciful on me.

* I am here to break the stereotype that parrots can only be pirates and no other reasons at all.

* (Refering to how much money he has in game) $60!? I can finally afford 1 AAA video game! (Pulls up Balan Wonderworld steam page) I am going to buy this one guys!

* Kickin, coming into Crafty's stream: You mind if I borrow a picture.

Crafty: Uh sure...Why?

Kickin, taking one of the monsters: A reminder.

Crafty: A reminder of what?

Kickin: Of who in this family is an actual threat. (Leaves without elaboration)

* Don't make fun of me, I will cry will I beat you up.

* We don't even own a game cube, I just want to find a copy of Skies of Arcadia to display.

* When you get into a certain mindset for so long, it is so jarring to have to go into a different line of think, like you just suddenly ask, "Wait I don't have to ration this sandwich for the entire year?"

* WHY DID I LET THEO TALK ME INTO PLAYING THIS!?

* I am still surprised I recovered so well from all of that.

* What would the others do without me? Minus not having a heart attack everyday.

* I SURVIVED THAT FACTORY FOR OVER 10 YEARS, I WILL NOT LET A SLIDING PUZZLE DEFEAT ME!

* Have good night everyone! I don't remember how I end these...I will make you walk the plank! No, that is not it...

#is it clear I used Google translate cause I don't know the language? #i am very sorry for that #poppy playtime #smiling critters #au #smiling critters arg #smiling critters poppy playtime #kickinchicken #poppy worldwide

[misc-obeyme]

Thinking about petty Mc...

What are you getting us this year for our birthday Mc?

Nothing.

..huh?

Nothing, except for Mammon, asmo, and purgatory hall y'all are getting anything.

Why?

Diavolo knew belphie would kill me, and let him, so did Barbatos. Lucifer tried to kill me multiple times not to mention his own brother and a young angel. Levi almost killed me over a movie series, Satan got mad cause I didn't want to make a pact with him, beel tried eating me alive, belphie, well I'm sure you know.

Do you need more? I can get into specifics.

No, that's quite alright...

Ok

As you can imagine Lucifer's pride was extremely damaged after this. Belphie was no wear to be seen, the fridge was emptied quicker than usual, Levi stayed in his room longer than normal, Satan won't come out of his room, and diavolo and barbatos have been awfully quiet lately...

I'm done for now

Bows for barb

Hmm I dunno is it petty to be upset over your life being threatened (and in one instance actually taken, resurrected or not)?

I'm kinda with MC on this one.

I think that's why a lot of us tend to think of our MCs as going through more intense reactions to those exact events.

Don't get me wrong, generic OM MC is absolutely the love of my life, but they can roll with anything. It's funny but also like what are you doing there lil sheepie??

Anyway, let those demons stew about things for a bit.

Then again, when I think about it in terms of my actual self instead of my MC, I'm like noooo forgive them all! Maybe I'd feel differently about it if they weren't fictional lol.

#it's always interesting to consider different reactions from MC on this stuff #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me mc #bows for barb anon #misc answers

[shineon3]

I have no control impulse. Inspired by this masterpiece from the lovely @blamemma (also hello @summer04rayne @jisblooming <3)

Or how I ended up writing a streamer!Max AU

° ° °

“What's got you smiling like that, mate?”

Max blinks, zoning back into the conversation.

“What?”

Alex, his best friend, the traitor, chuckles at his confusion, and when he looks at his screen, the chat is doing so too. Max flushes, quickly locking his phone before focusing back on the stream. Alex is grinning widely at him on the screen. Ugh, what a pain.

“Tell us, Maxy, come on, what got you giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush, eh?”

That fucker! Alex laughs knowingly, and the chat goes wild as usual when they get to tease him, and Max knows he'll have to answer now. He clears his throat, trying to sound as unruffled as possible.

“I just- found a really cool looking Instagram page, that's all…”

The Thai's grin somehow widens even more, almost shark-like, and Max just dug his own grave, didn't he?

“Yeah? Wouldn't it happen to be a certain travel vlogger's page, perchance, Maxy?”

The blonde feels heat rising in his face, and he doesn’t need to look into the screen to know that he's blushing furiously. It's probably spreading to his neck too, god. Max hides his face in his hands, embarrassment making his skin crawl. Him and his big mouth and his lack of self-control when it comes to a certain curly haired brunette.

“That's- it's not- ugh!”

He stumbles over his words, and he hears Alex laugh harder in his headset. He knows it's good natured, though, and that's the only thing keeping him from just ending the call.

“Tell them more about Daniel, Max! Look how excited they are, you can't deny them that, come on!”

Max shakes his head, drinks a sip of his Red Bull to try and regain his composure. Alex got the chat involved now, and that means he can’t just brush it off. Well, he could, and honestly, apart from some trolls here and there, his little community is really nice and understanding, and they know not to push on things if Max doesn't want to elaborate. But… this is kind of harmless, he guesses, so he can play their game a bit.

The blonde sighs, glancing at the chat, and yeah, they're going wild. Thanks, Alex

“I don't even know why I'm friends with you, at this point.”

“Don't say that! I know you love my pretty face and my humor.”

° ° °

Half an hour later, Max wraps up the stream, a faint blush lingering on his cheeks after all that had happened during what Alex had described as “gushing over Daniel for more than ten minutes”.

He gets up, tidying his desk, throwing away the empty Red Bull cans and water bottles, as well as any wrapper he could find. Finally, he leaves his streaming room, shutting off all the lights and closing the door.

There's no sounds in the small apartment, which probably means his roommate is already asleep. It's like, 3am, so, fair. Max gets ready for bed before slipping under the covers, practically melting on the soft mattress. Just as he reaches for his phone to plug it to charge, he sees it.

Daniel Ricciardo uploaded a new video

He clicks on it with neck breaking speed, a beginning of shame curling in his gut when he sees it was posted barely thirty seconds ago. He likes it, saves it in a playlist for good measure, and lets Daniel's australian accent drown his self-loathing and lull him to sleep.

#f1 #f1 fic #ficlet #wip #daniel ricciardo #dr #mv #max verstappen #maxiel #alex albon #aa #just a lil taste of the other au im working on hehe #streamer!max au