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whimsyfinny · 3 months

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Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 2564

—-MDNI—-

A/N: Sorry that this one feels like a bit of a filler - but I’m seriously hoping to get some spicy content out in the next chapter so pls pls stay tuned! Also this is only proof read by myself so pls let me know of any errors!

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Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 4

We spent a few hours researching and looking into the First Blades whereabouts after dinner, Dean and I only making work-related conversations after the pie ordeal. Every now and then when I looked up from the book I was reading I’d catch him looking in my direction, but I was far too tired for any more confrontation - I knew he'd act like an ass if I said anything. I decided to head to bed at around midnight, unable to read more than a few words and actually process said words in my brain. As Sam was still asleep, Dean showed me to my room which was tragically opposite his, and I could only imagine the noises that I’d be hearing coming through that door. Getting ready for bed, I dug out an old boyfriends T-shirt that I was still in possession of and threw it on, making sure to remove all other items of clothing except my panties. I climbed into bed - which was surprisingly more comfortable than I’d anticipated, though the sheets smelt a little musty - and set an alarm on my phone so I could hopefully rise before the boys in the morning. The moment my head hit the pillow, sleep whisked me away, not giving me a chance to think about the wild day I’d had and the total jackass that I’d met.

My alarm rang at 5am and I crawled out of bed, dressing in yesterday’s jeans with a clean, low-cut tank top and an open flannel thrown over the top. Pulling on my boots, I ran my fingers through my hair before heading to the en suite bathroom to brush my teeth. As I turned on the tap, the pipes clanged alarmingly as a small stream of water trickled from the faucet, the harsh noise echoing around the small tiled room. “That’s not concerning at all,” I mumbled to myself, the noise finally stopping as I turned the tap off. After I’d finished brushing I headed back into the bedroom to grab my phone before leaving the room to walk wearily to the kitchen. Upon arrival, I instantly made a pot of coffee, the smell alone already helping to blow away the sleepy cobwebs in my mind. I needed food. Something good, like pancakes. So I rummaged around until I found everything I needed, starting to memorise where the brothers kept everything after spending so much time in here yesterday evening. As I whipped up the batter, I threw some bacon in a pan and placed three plates on the table, along with some mugs, the pot of coffee and a big bottle of maple syrup. As soon as I started cooking the batter, it was like I’d used a summoning spell.

“You know when I first woke up I thought that I’d dreamt you up in some sort of weirdly tame nightmare” Dean said in a deep and raspy, fresh-from-sleep tone as he paced into the room and sat at the table, rubbing his eyes.

“Is that your way of saying that I’m your dream girl, Winchester?” I teased as I poured him a mug of coffee. He smirked, not looking up at me.

“You wish darlin’.”

“I really don’t,” I turned back to the stove and flipped the pancake, taking a sip from my own mug.

I’d made a stack of maybe twelve pancakes by the time Sam arrived, greeting me with that warm smile of his as he took a seat opposite Dean.

“Good morning (Y/n), something smells amazing.”

“Good morning Sam,” I smiled back at him before I looked over at Dean, “That’s how you greet someone in the morning Dean, not by telling them they were part of your living nightmare.” Dean shrugged, taking a long drink from his coffee.

Sam gave me an almost apologetic look on his brothers behalf, saying quietly, “as charming as ever then, Dean.” As he sat down I placed the stack of pancakes along with the bacon on the table and both men’s eyes lit up, immediately picking up their cutlery.

“Help yourselves,” I said, taking a seat between them, “just leave a couple for me at least.”

Dean was the first to pile about five onto his plate along with a good portion of the bacon. Without even looking at me he placed two pancakes on my own plate as he reached for the maple syrup. Before I could ask for the bacon, it was Sam who served some up for me before giving himself whatever was left over before handing me the syrup.

“Oh, thanks guys…” I said, a little shocked at how weirdly coordinated they were with that whole task.

“You’re welcome,” they both managed to mumble out through huge mouthfuls of food. We sat in a strangely nice silence for a few minutes, the only noise to be heard was the sounds of breakfast being totally annihilated. Dean was the first to throw his cutlery down with a very satisfied groan. He stretched, his T-shirt rising slightly to show his incredibly toned abdomen.

For fucks sake.

“THAT is what powers a man up in the morning,” he said, his fingers interlaced behind his head.

“Mmm hmm,” was all I managed to get out, finding it annoyingly difficult to look away, let alone to stop my eyes from trailing to where his leather belt hugged his hips and his old denim jeans gripped the thick muscles of his thighs. A few seconds must’ve passed when he cleared his throat and my eyes snapped up to be immediately caught in that moss-green gaze. Shit. I thought maybe for a second that he didn’t notice me looking. But then the corner of his mouth twitched up into that infuriating smirk. Luckily for me, he didn’t say anything, but I watched as he dragged his gaze over my figure, similar to how I did with him. It was Sam who spoke up next and I tore my eyes away, letting out a breath as he saved me from Deans silent interrogation.

“So I read last night about a possible case,” he started to say as he finished chewing the last bit of food on his plate before pushing it away and turning towards us.

“Go on,” Dean said, leaning forwards - finally covering his exposed stomach.

“I think it’s a haunting - some sort of item possession involving a ghost. All of the accidents that have been happening seem to occur either around or directly within an old antique store that’s connected to an old auction house. I think it’s worth a look,” Sam opened his laptop that he’d placed on the seat next to him, showing us all of the research he’d done overnight. Looking at the evidence he’d piled together, I think he was on to something. I nodded.

“Sure, I’m in. I’ll go pack a bag,” I said, standing up and clearing the plates from the table.

“Hang on a second,” Dean spoke up and I immediately knew he was talking to me.

“What?”

“What makes you think you’re coming with us for this?” His brows furrowed slightly.

“Because I never get to work out in the field - Bobby always had me on book duty and I want to see some real hunting in action,” I raised my voice a little starting to get defensive.

“If Bobby never let you do field work then neither are we. You’re staying here,” his tone was stern as he downed the last of the coffee and stood up, towering over me.

“What?!” I almost shouted.

“Dean, I don’t think it’s your place to say what she can and can’t do. I say we let her come along,” Sam intervened, his voice always full of reason and reassurance. I gave him a half smile - a small, ‘thank you for sticking up for me’.

“No way. There’s no way I’m letting Bobby’s girl put herself in danger. The old bastard would find a way to make us pay if anything were to happen to her; even from beyond the grave.”

“I don’t need you taking on his role, Dean. Bobby kept me safe my whole life, just him. I’m sure the pair of you could look out for me no problem on a little ghost trip,” I chided, coming up with a plan to get Dean to agree to me coming.

“(Y/n)s right, this shouldn’t be a hard case for us - if anything this is a small break from the real hard work,” Sam stepped towards Dean, trying to reassure him.

Dean looked from Sam to myself, and when our eyes locked I let a sly smile crawl onto my lips.

“Or maybe Dean Winchester isn’t up to the challenge?” I said, holding my hands up. He frowned, opening his mouth but I spoke again before he could get his words out. “Maybe….,” I stepped towards him, now only a few inches between us, “Dean Winchester is losing his touch, and isn’t the big strong man he used to be and really won’t be able to keep me safe…?” I flashed Dean my best doe eyes and I heard him suck in a breath as I reached forwards and tugged slightly on his T-shirt, making him look down at me with his eyes flicking between mine - dilating a little. I couldn’t help but bite my lip, looking up at him through my lashes and pressing my fingertips to his chest, feeling his heart rate increase with every beat from my touch. I liked to think that I was being very ‘persuasive’.

“I think you’re right (Y/n), I don’t think Dean is up to the task. He’s definitely been losing his touch,” Sam spoke up, catching on with my game and joining in with the verbal attack on his older brother. Deans eyes snapped up to look at Sam and the almost trance-like state he was in before was shattered.

“I have NOT lost my touch!” He snapped. Sam and I looked at each other and exploded into laughing very fake laughs, clapping and wiping away a pretend tear.

“Sure thing ‘sweetheart’,” I said, “prove it - keep me safe.”

“Oh I’ll keep you safe,” Dean took the bait and barged past us, “I’ll keep you safe from your own fucking shadow.”

After a few hours of packing and travelling, we arrived in a very well manicured town - even the motel was decent. Upon checking in, we got two rooms; one for me and one for the boys.

“Let’s drop our stuff off, freshen up and meet back here in ten?” Sam said, checking his watch. It was just past 11am.

“Sure, sounds good,” I replied, and Dean just nodded in approval. Their room was further down the corridor than mine, so I watched them leave before entering my room. It was the usual layout: one double bed, cheap linens, an old TV and an under-stocked minibar. At least the decor wasn't completely brown. I dumped my bags on the floor and started to unpack some essentials. I laid my clothes out on the bed - some of these outfits may come in handy later on. For now though, I’ll just stick to what I was already wearing. Lastly I grabbed a tin that was down in the bottom of my duffle - inside was a bunch of fake IDs that Bobby insisted on making me a few years ago. I smiled, remembering him always answering the phone to the Winchesters, pretending to be their FBI boss. I was always dying to know what they were hunting when he got those phone calls. I admired them a lot back then. I shook away the memory and pocketed the IDs, marching to the bathroom and splashing some water on my face before leaving, locking the door behind me.

The boys were already waiting for me.

“You boys ready?” I asked, to which they both nodded. “Where to first?” my question was aimed at Sam, but Dean replied.

“The old antique store just down here on the corner,” he grumbled as we started walking, still unimpressed that I was tagging along. I shot him a look as he practically glared at me from the other side of Sam.

“Get over yourself Dean. I’m along for the ride so deal with it,” I snapped at him, hoping he un-rustles his jimmies quickly. I wasn’t going to let him drag me down, not when I’m excited to actually be on a case. My first ‘out in the field’ case of all things. I wanted this to be a good memory. He scrunched his face up at my words, mouthing an angry ‘I hate you’ at me, to which I flipped him off.

“Guys just behave yourselves!” Sam stopped in his tracks right as we were outside our destination. “We are professionals so we need to act like it. We’re here to do our job,” Sam said in an authoritative voice - which undeniably sounded very attractive on him. I walked a few steps ahead of them and stopped with my hand on the front door to the store.

“Sam’s right. I’m happy to be here helping these people,” I smiled a little too sweetly before throwing a dark look at Dean, “so pull your shit together Dean, you’re making us look bad.” I heard him start to protest before I pushed the door open and walked into the shop, hearing the two brothers scurrying to catch up with me. As we walked in we were greeted by an older gentleman, with a kind face, a neatly trimmed pure white beard and round specs.

“Good morning and welcome to the store,” he said, his voice soft, “Can I help you?” He looked between the three of us. The boys reached for the fake badges, but they were lost for words when I beat them to the chase - obviously being unaware that I’d come prepared. Holding my badge up for the older gent to see, I spoke without missing a beat.

“Hi! Yes you certainly can help me - I’m agent Granger and these,” I jabbed my thumb to Sam and Dean who were standing right behind me, “are agents Crabbe and Goyle. We’ve got some questions for you regarding the strange occurrences going on around here recently.”

“Of course, it’s about time these things were investigated,” the older man turned and beckoned for us to follow, which Sam did immediately. Dean and I were left behind, staring each other down. I could tell he wasn’t happy that I had a badge, and I couldn’t help but smile at that. He scowled.

“This isn’t a fucking game.”

“You’re just mad that I got one up on you so early on,” I grinned up at him, his frown not budging.

“Just don’t do anything stupid,” he huffed.

“I’m safe from doing you then aren’t I?” I couldn’t stop the words from spilling from my lips.

“What?” He looked at me like I’d sprouted a second head, obviously not catching on. I chuckled a little, walking past him to catch up with Sam, leaving him standing there confused.

“Don’t think too hard about it Dean, you might hurt yourself,” I called back over my shoulder.

“Fuck y- hang on- oh you BITCH!” He shouted after me as he caught on finally. I laughed, not looking back.

“Only to you Dean.”

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Up Next:

Chapter 5

#dean x female!reader #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean x you #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #eventual smut #slow burn #reader insert

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sinsinsininning · 3 months

Text

A little bit softer

Chapter 1.

Eustass Kid x crew mate!fem!reader

Thinking of Kid who acts a little bit softer around you.

He’s still loud and moody and argumentative, he still throws things and breaks his projects when something goes wrong. But with you, he eases up, steadies himself before flying off the handle.

TW: Kid being himself, past DV, can one typical violence, eventual smut, smutty thoughts

Reader isn’t overly described in this chapter but I wrote this with a short, chubby reader in mind.

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When you first joined, you were the smallest out of the 5 rookies taken on, but you had great aim as a sniper and had already served on a different ship. Kid had been reluctant to take on ‘sloppy seconds’ (Killer had to explain that’s not what that term meant), but your skills were valuable and you didn’t trip over your own feet like the others. Eventually the group was whittled down to just you and one other rookie.

At the start you were like any other rookie, eager to spend time with the higher members of the crew, Kid being no exception. You were bold and even asked to show him your schematics for your dream sniper gun, asking to borrowing some of his tools to make it. Kid enjoyed the attention, preening as you and the others watched him train his devil fruit powers, stars in your eyes. He hadn’t meant to, but looking back, he’d been on his better behavior around you.

Kid spent a lot of time in his workshop, but every time he ventured out it seemed you were EVERYWHERE. Helping Killer cook lunch, repairing the ship with Wire, cleaning up the med bay with Heat. Anytime he came around a corner you were there, your eyes would light up at the sight of him, excitedly greeting your captain with an enthusiasm that rivaled Quincy’s.

But a few weeks after you joined the crew, he has his worst episode in a longtime. After a stand off with some Marines, the Victoria Punk had some serious damage, they had to rush to the port they’d just left and the cost of the repairs were pretty high. He hadn’t meant to hit Wire, but a pipe aimed at the railing ricocheting to strike the tall man on the side of the head harshly, your shocked face broke him out of his tantrum and he vacated quickly. He’d found out later you’d been the one to stitch Wire up.

Afterwards, he caught you talking with Killer, still brand new and unsure how to handle such an ‘unstable captain’. Killer reassured you that Kid meant no harm, he couldn’t see your face, but he could hear your whispered confession.

“That’s what my last captain said.”

Normally being compared to another man, let alone another captain, in any way would send him into a fit. But he held back as Killer tried to comfort you -as much as a pirate can comfort another pirate- and it seemed to cheer you up.

Your behavior changed around him though, you flinched when he shouted in anger -different from his normally loud voice- and you made yourself scarce when he was arguing with someone. You still did all your work, much more efficient than other rookies, and you were getting close with the senior crew members. Wire and Hip particularly liked you, and while Heat thought you were too soft, he still humored you with card games and fire tricks after dinner.

Kid felt like he had a ghost as a crew member, he’d walk into a room, his gaze zeroing in on you, then he’d blink and poof you’d be gone. No one else seemed to noticed, he tried listening in before entering rooms, no one spoke with you or each other about it. It’s not like he really needed to speak with you, Killer was the delegator of chores and unless there were strategy meetings he didn’t really need to speak with a sniper on a daily basis.

But he wanted to. And that was the worst part.

He wanted you around, looking at him like he was the greatest thing you’d even seen. He wanted your soft, teasing voice around, even though you never actually teased him, he still liked it when you wound up Reck or Dive with your wit. He wanted to watch you as you lost yourself in whatever task you were doing, no matter how mundane.

Quickly his thoughts turned to other ways he wanted you. He wanted you in his bed every night. He wanted you riding him after a long day. He wanted you squealing as he fucked you up against the wall. He wanted you sitting on his face, embarrassed but still cuming as he tasted you. He wanted you cock warming him in his workshop as he finished up projects.

It was driving him insane, making his mind work overtime as he tried to squash these desires down.

It got worse when you’d gotten more established, about 6 months into your life here. You still avoided him, and did a damn good job of hiding it, but every now and again he’d be nearby and could hear you tease your crew mates. No scratch that, you were flirting, maybe that wasn’t your intent but it sure sounded like flirting to him.

“Hip if you wanted to have alone time with me you could just say it.” Said as the blond woman yanked you away from lunch.

“Awww Wire, you didn’t have to dress up for me.” Said as the tall man arrived in a new outfit.

“Makes sense why they call you Heat, cause you’re hot.” Ok that one was to get Heat to break his concentration and lose at poker, but still!

You were avoiding him, your captain, and flirting with everyone else. Even Killer got a line about how you prefer blondes- said only so you’d get a second helping of dessert, which didn’t work but you tried. Kid was trying so hard to not show his struggles, but it was becoming obvious. To everyone but you that is.

Killer had tried to speak with him, to ask what his problem with you was, but Kid just shoved him away. He almost threw a punch, but the image of your scared face after Wire was struck kept him at bay. This didn’t go unnoticed by his first mate of course, but it was misinterpreted. Killer asked if Kid wanted to dismiss you and try to find a new sniper, but Kid shouted no before he could finish speaking.

That alerted the masked man to what was really bothering his captain. He wanted to laugh, Kid hadn’t shown any interest in dating since… well since Victoria. It made sense he was a little rusty.

Kid left before they could finish talking, but Killer made a point to have you regularly help serve the crew during meals forcing you to talk to the captain. He also saved you a spot beside him to eat, making sure you were as close to Kid’s chair as possible. The rest of the crew caught on soon as well, watching their captain clam up and blush, while you kept your eyes on your plate.

The entire crew tried to force the two of you into contact daily. Dive would ask you to get tools from Kid to help her make repairs. Hip and Hop would ask you to spar with them whenever Kid was on deck. Wire convinced you to let him alter some of your clothes to match the punk rock aesthetic more, you were excited until he paraded you in front of Kid and Killer. Kid was red faced as Wire demanded critiques on the clothes you were modeling, though you assumed it was from anger and quickly escaped the situation.

Heat was probably the only one who didn’t interfere, so you ended up spending most of your time with him. Of course that didn’t stop him from commenting on the situation.

“So what, you got a little crush on the captain,” he said breezily on day over drinks at a bar on shore. “Happens all the time.” You nearly spat out your drink.

“What? No I don’t!” You coughed out, he patted you roughly on the back. “Please don’t tell me people actually think that about me and Kid?!” Your face was red as you thought of the crew’s strange new habit of forcing you around the captain. Who was sat nearby in a booth, nursing a beer with Killer, hearing his name he strained to listen.

“You don’t? Oh, I thought that’s why everyone’s been trying to get y’all alone together.” He seemed genuinely confused, but shrugged and drank again willing to let the conversation pass. You however weren’t done.

“I have no idea why everyone’s acting weird. I thought it was maybe like hazing ya know?”

“Nah that’s at the beginning, you barely even noticed the shit we hazed you with.” He grinned, then got serious again. “So you really don’t like him like that?”

“No why would I?” You stared at him, Kid winced a little at that. “I’m honestly terrified of him, I never know when he’s gonna fly off the handle. Half the time I’m around him I’m wondering when he’s gonna just up and hit me.” Your eyes got misty and you fought back tears, knowing how Heat- really all of the crew- feel about crying. You couldn’t help it though, your last captain had been terrifying and sadistic. Compared to him, Kid and his crew were almost kind, but you couldn’t let your guard down.

“Kid wouldn’t hit you,” Heat said seriously slamming his mug down, Kid found himself hoping the loud, jarring action hadn’t spooked you. “He wouldn’t hit any of us, yeah he yells and stuff but he doesn’t hate us. If he wanted to get rid of us he’d just kick us off at port.”

“He hit Wire, made him bleed a lot. It took 13 staples to close that gash.” You leaned forward, meeting his gaze.

“That was an accident,” Heat sighed. “He’d never hit us before except as like, a brotherly smack on the arm or something. Besides, if you’re so sure he’ll hurt you why not leave?” You paused, shuffling your hands a bit.

“That’d make sense, but I love the crew, I love the sea. I can’t just give that up, my last crew wasn’t like you guys.” You glanced away, Heat blushed a little shocked at your sincerity. “I know, I know. I sound pathetic and soft, but it’s how I feel.”

“Heh- yeah you’re definitely the baby of the crew, even more so than Dive.” He laughed. “But I can’t fault you for being authentic I guess.”

You both smile, toast your mugs once more, then you go grab another round. Kid watches you, eyes hard, he wondered who your last captain was. And if he should pay him a visit.

#one piece #one piece smut #eustass kid #eustass x reader #kid x reader #kid x you #one piece kid

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frostironfudge · 1 year

Text

You Said I Was Your Favourite - Ari Levinson

Summary: You're taken from Ari. He's promised you many things but when his eyes don't meet yours and his present words begin to make you doubt his past promises. Will you go back to him?

Paring: Mafia!Ari Levinson x Female!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst, mentions of past self harm, scars of self harm mentioned, reader is clean since 3 months, canon level violence, reader kidnapped, swearing, guns, blood, injury, protective ari, smut, p in v, dirty talk, fluff, past is in italics, hurt/comfort, fluff/smut, nicknames: metuka (meaning sweetheart).

A.N.: honestly the lyric 'you drew stars around my scars, but now i'm bleeding' cardigan by taylor swift, was circling around my head for the most part writing this fic. this is sort of a self indulgent fic, plus Mr. Levinson just reminds me of this comforting bear, i adore him. wrote this amidst a writing block so it may not be top notch but i adore it.

Dividers: @firefly-graphics || Word Count: 4.1k

Main Masterlist || AO3

Burning gunmetal and rust, a leaking pipe of water. Rough, uneven ground digs into your skin. Your gaze searches the dark room, vision field limited at the angle your head is twisted upon.

The overhead light flickers with an inconsistent buzz. You groan when you feel yourself being propped up to your knees.

“Stupid bitch.” The man sneers, grip tightening on your hair, twisting harshly. Your clothes stick to you, uncomfortably so. Sweat and you fear some amount of blood might be the reason.

The door is kicked open, heavy footsteps each around the room. You can’t look up fully due to the grip on your head.

However recognising that cologne is easy, and the way your heart soars even in this most horrible situation. You know it’s him—Ari.

Another whimper is coaxed out of you, your head tilted further the warm barrel of the gun touches your jaw.

Ari’s gaze is cold, not the warm blue waters that you love to sink into, none of the fiery blaze present with which he would trace your form.

“I see you made it.” The man chuckles, tapping your jaw with the gun, “Here I thought apart from your long gone wife no one held your affections.” He laments.

Ari’s jaw tightens, lips pressed into a thin line. It is then you realise he isn’t sparing you a glance. His gaze is on the man only.

“What no words? I have your girl.” The man scoffs, Ari just shrugs.

“You should really fact check, Parson.” Ari tuts, retrieving the pack of cigarettes he carries and lights one.

One puff, then a second one.

He scratches the side of his mouth with his thumb. Eyes everywhere else but on your form.

You swallow, your heart trying to convince your mind this is a dream. You were sleeping.

You had gone out, the mall? Yes.

Picking up a dress for dinner with Ari.

You must have gotten tired and fallen asleep.

This is just a dream.

Ari would never let his gaze stray from you. He would never ignore you.

“So if I shoot her, you won’t be sad or mad?” Parson’s voice sounds full of doubt.

“Oh I would be, but it is because you killed an innocent person, not because she means anything to me. You have the wrong woman.” Ari takes another drag of the cigarette. It burns bright then turns to ash.

You feel tears brim your eyes, a wicked smirk on Ari’s face.

“Oh, did you think more?” He speaks in a mocking tone. You feel your heart crack.

Please be a dream. Your heart screams, wails in your chest. Your gaze shifts down, lips pressed together tightly not to let the sob break free.

“But, but I saw the two of you, your hand on her face. She’s in l-love with y-you.” Parson stammers, his clear upperhand being undermined.

“Half of the female population pines for a minute of my affection.” Ari drops the cigarette, stepping upon it with the heel of his boot.

“You should have had more women in here.” He gives a dry chuckle.

“There isn’t anyone apart from you, Metuka.” Ari whispers against your forehead, “After a long time my heart has thawed, waiting to place itself onto your palms.”

You stay silent, your heart hammering in your chest.

“Bear.” Your throat tightens, “I, I have feelings for you too.” You admit, “I thought, I thought you wouldn’t—,”

“Oh but I do, Metuka.” He smiles, the kind that melts your heart. He pulls you into his arms, engulfing you in his bear hug. You nuzzle closer into the crook of his neck.

You blink tears at the memory.

“I’ve seen you kiss her.” Parson still argues.

Ari clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.

Ari’s lips find yours, he walks in after his work day. You gave him your apartment key. A squeal leaves you when he lifts you up, arms wrapping around your waist pulling you flush against his broad chest.

Deep rumbling laughter fills the small kitchen. You tilt your head back looking up at him. He then brushes his lips against yours, your hand moves to tangle with his soft hair. A few of the strands tickling your cheek.

The kiss turns bruising, you tug on his hair, he groans into your mouth, hands tightening around you. Keeping you to him.

“You’re mine, Metuka, as I am yours.” He promises.

“Parson, you’re wasting my fucking time.” Ari roars, anger coursing through his voice. You close your eyes.

“So you won’t care if I hurt her?” Parson smirks, watching the man in front of him closely. He taps the gun to your forehead.

“No one will lay a finger upon you, Metuka.” Ari promises as you’re laying with your head in his lap.

“Ari, nothing will happen to me.” You look up at him, his palm brushing over your head pauses, eyes harbour a moment of worry.

You grasp the hand that is on your abdomen, bringing it to your lips you kiss his palm. The callouses memorised by you. Your thumb traces over them.

“You will always protect me, I know.” You assure him.

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of what I do. Ever.” There is a furrow between his brows.

“Bear.” You try to get him to smile at the nickname, he doesn’t, you frown.

“Metuka,” Ari struggles with verbalising, you sit up, effortlessly he makes you sit facing him, “I will protect you till my last breath.”

“Bear, don’t, say that.” Your hands cup his face, stroking over his beard.

“There is only you, I only harbour you in my heart.” Blue eyes study you as you take in his words, your skin heats.

“I love you, Ari.” Your words light him up, he rewards you with the prized grin that belongs only to you.

“Parson, I was told you have a negotiation for business.” Ari taps his foot, your eyes drop from his face, “I didn’t realise you’d rather discuss the women I fuck.”

The words are cruel, they make you question everything over the past six months.

Your brain mocks your heart, you almost don’t feel the blade sinking into your forearm. When you refocus, you see the torn sleeve, Parson’s smile drops when Ari doesn’t show a shred of care.

“Let's try the other hand.” Parson moves, gripping your left hand. You panic.

“No.” You whisper, you hadn’t let Ari see your arms, favouring full sleeves. Not letting him take off your shirt when things got intimate during heavy make outs.

You were waiting for the damn scars to fade. You try to pry your hand away.

Ari’s hands freeze under your shirt. The way you tensed had him pause. He retracts his hands and pulls his mouth away from your neck.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, attempting to shift away. Your hands grasp his shoulders urging him to stay.

“Ari, Ari let me explain—,”

“You just have to say no, Metuka. It all stops. I don’t want an explanation.” He shakes his head.

“I’m, no I want to do this, kissing you making out, I just, I’m not comfortable taking my top off yet.” Your skin heats, you gaze down at his half exposed chest. The hypocrisy makes you wince.

“Do you want my hands to explore beneath?” He questions, you nod.

“So the shirt is not off but I can try to touch your very pretty boobs.” He just laughs when you lightly smack his chest. Grasping your palm he brings your fingers to his lips. Placing soft kisses upon them as his beard tickles.

You giggle, Ari adores you.

His palms then cup your cheeks, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll take it further okay? I’m very happy making out as though we’re horny teenagers.”

That earns him another smack.

His deep laugh rumbles through your chest.

You try to shift away, Parson points his gun at Ari.

“He may feel nothing but I know you do, even if you’re nothing to him. Do you want him dead?” He chuckles darkly when your eyes shift from the gun to the towering man.

Ari still doesn’t meet your gaze, you don’t understand. Till this morning it was as if you were his world. Now he looks at you as if you’re nothing to him.

“Please don’t hurt him.” You look up at Parson. He only smiles, lowering the gun. Harshly grabbing your forearm you cry out, then bite down on your tongue to stop the whimpers.

Parson pushes the sleeve back harshly, the knife ready but then he pauses, seeing the lines strewn across your skin.

“Of course, big bad mafia man, Ari Levinson would never want someone broken.” Parson shakes his head with laughter bubbling past his tongue.

Ari finally moves his gaze on you, you’re looking down, biting back sniffles. The sight of your forearm though, sends his heart plummeting.

How had he not figured it out?

Why hadn’t you told him?

Is this why you didn’t want to show him all of you?

Why had he not asked you more often if you were doing alright?

How selfish and blind had he been towards you?

How long has this been going on?

Guilt fills him.

“No one would want someone this broken.” The disgust in Parson’s voice wraps around your mind, the scars ache beckoning you towards them yet again.

“I know.” Your voice is so small, you don’t look up. You don’t want Ari to see you this way. He wouldn’t care either way. You blink away the tears, it only makes them brim over.

“Parson, you have ten seconds to step away from her.” Ari warns through gritted teeth.

The man scoffs, “You’re without a weapon. You’re in no position to—,”

The mobster reaches into his jacket, retrieving a gun.

“H-how did you get that past my guards?” Parson sutters at the ammunition reveal.

“Oh, your guards? Did I say I came in here unprepared?” Ari chuckles darkly.

Parson presses the gun to your forehead, again.

“I won’t hesitate.” He warns.

“Nor will I.” Ari declares, “Close your eyes for me, Metuka.”

You look up at him, he finally meets your gaze. You close your eyes.

You hear the click, there is the echo of a shot fired followed by a clattering. You cover your ears. The gun no longer pressed to your forehead.

“Metuka.”

Warmth wraps around you, the scent of musk and jasmine surrounds you. Ari. You’re pressed to his chest. You want to cry, bury yourself in him.

You’re about to give in, take the comfort that belongs to you. Then you pause, you tense up.

Pushing at him, no, no, he wasn’t yours, he promised and everything Ari just admitted to, he doesn’t, he never said it and you know why, now.

“I’m sorry, I had to lie. Metuka, I’m so sorry, I should have been there with you. I sent you off alone like a fool.” He stumbles over his words,

“I promised you and I broke it, I couldn’t protect you, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry about whatever I said, I had to make him question his plan. I’m so sorry. Please talk to me, Matuka.” He pleads, large hands running up and down your shaking form.

You stay quiet, cheek pressed to the exposed flesh of his chest. His habit of having the top two buttons of his shirts unbuttoned was something you always found yourself drawn towards. Findinding your cheek pressed against it, hearing his breath and heart beating.

“You said it all so easily.” You whisper.

“I had to lie.” Ari explains, his hand cupping your face, trying to get you to look at him.

The wet tears gracing his skin breaking everything within him.

“Bear?” Your voice is low, sleep ridden.

He looks up from his files to you. You’re standing in the doorway of his office.

“Metuka? Why are you awake, is everything alright?” Pushing the chair back he stands, motioning for you to come closer.

“Bad dream…” you say, making your way to his open arms.

“Wanna talk about it?” Ari wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

You shake your head, wanting to dismiss the dream. It still gnaws at you.

“You won’t, you won’t lie to me right?” You whisper the question.

Ari’s brows furrow, “I’d never—,”

“About the way you feel, you won’t lie right? Saying that you have feelings for me when you actually don’t? If, if you just want sex then we can, you don’t have to lie to wait—,”

“Metuka.” The pain in that one word makes you pause.

Ari steps back, hands not leaving your face.

“I want everything with you okay? I don’t care how long I need to wait. I want you to be comfortable. I know I don’t express myself enough but please know I will never lie to coerce you into bed.” His blue eyes gaze into your own. Slowly you move closer to him again.

Closing the distance between the two of you. Ari’s hands move to your hips, aiding you in reaching up to him. He bends down, meeting your lips in a soft kiss. A promise.

When your lips part, as you breathe in you contemplate telling him.

“You can tell me what is on your mind.” His thumb strokes your cheek.

“Previous, previous partners have said sweet words and declarations of emotions… just to get into bed and then they leave.” You tell him.

“Give me the names.” He says so casually.

“Ari you aren’t going all Mafia Boss on them.” You warn him.

“They disrespected you, Metuka, they hurt you. Those who hurt you should not get a second chance at life.” He declares.

There is a pause, “Was your dream about me hurting you?” He hesitates in wanting to know, a fear so deeply ingrained.

You nod.

“I wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt you, please know that. I may have to lie or keep some truths half hidden, to protect you from the world I am a part of, I don’t want that tainting you.” Ari admits his worries, your arms wrap around him.

He seeks refuge in your warmth.

“I cannot have people use you or hurt you just to get back at me, for things I’ve done.” He continues, “I don’t want you to be caught in the crossfire and I will make sure of it that you don’t ever get hurt.”

“I’m so sorry.” He says again, you grab at his coat lapels, “I’m going to find who leaked our location—,”

“Ari, it hurts.” You finally register the wound on your forearm, looking at it you frown.

Then you look down at Ari’s sleeve, his jacket half off, the sleeve of his shirt torn to make a makeshift bandage for your wound. You stare up at him.

“Metuka, we’ll talk about everything at home. Can you stand?” He watches over you, the protectiveness within him brimming over.

You wince moving your leg forward.

“Alright, I’m carrying you.” Ari decides, shifting to your side and in a blink you’re in his arms.

“Boss.” Lloyd interrupts his step towards the door.

“Close your eyes.” He whispers softly to you, you bury your head against his chest. Closing your eyes. Breathing in his scent.

You feel Ari turn, “Keep him alive. I want answers, then I’ll take care of it. Metuka isn’t to be messed with, ever.” There is a dark edge to his voice, a judgement veiled between words.

Lloyd hums, “Alright, can I be creative with the keeping alive process?”

You don’t hear Ari’s reply, just feel him beginning to move again.

The distant yell has you know what his reply was to Lloyd.

Ari doesn’t take you to your apartment, you’re driven up to his estate. The first time you had seen his home post the lunch he took you to for your first date you joked if he was a mafia drug lord.

You giggle remembering his expression. Ari smiles when he hears the melodic sound. Nerves easing.

“What’s making you laugh?” He smiles as you meet his gaze with a smile. The dim lighting of the car did not dull the soft shine in his loving gaze.

“Just your face, when I asked if you’re a mafia drug lord when you brought me here for the first time.” You laugh again, he squeezes your side playfully.

“I was so scared you’d go running to the hills when I told you.” He admits. His free hand softly traces your left hand. Never over the scars just bordering around them.

“I wouldn’t, I mean, shady things yeah, but you aren’t in the whole drug thing so…” you trail off, the house comes into view.

“Come, I’ve got a medic on call.” Ari holds you protectively yet again.

“I think I can walk—,” you keep quiet at the look he gives you.

The medic is a sweet woman, she tends to your wounds, the cut isn’t deep for stitches, just a dressing. Her eyes linger on your scarred forearm, she doesn’t broach. You’re thankful for that.

The other scarpes littered over your form are checked and cleaned.

Ari enters the room, holding your favourite blue shirt of his and a pair of leggings you left here. He places them then moves to stand outside the room, waiting for you to change.

“I want to tell you about, about the scars.” You tell him, his face ashen as he turns.

“I, I’m sorry I didn’t pay more attention.” He doesn’t know what he should say, you shake your head.

“I hid them, I, I’m about three months clean now. I wanted them healed before you saw, didn’t want you to think I’m broken.” You quietly admit the last part.

“Metuka, I could never.” Ari gently grasps your hands, “You aren’t broken, this, this is hard, I just want to support you. The way you need. I don’t want you doing this to yourself ever again, but I know it’s easier said than done. I’m proud of you for being clean for three months. So immensely proud.” He peppers kisses all over your face, his beard tickling you laugh.

“You never have to hide any part of you from me.” Ari grasps your chin gently, tilting your head back, “I love you. Every part, even the ones you may keep hidden away from me.”

You stare up at him, the little flecks in his eyes, the sincerity of his words. Your chest tightens.

“Ari.” You remember to breathe.

“I love you.” He affirms again.

“Ari.” His name breaks as your voice does, “Ari, I love you too.”

“Metuka.” His own voice grows heavy with emotion, “No one is in my heart but you, no one holds my heart but you.”

Your hands move from his chest, up his neck, one cups his face the other runs through his hair. He sighs, basking in the warmth of your touch.

You reach up, gently tugging him downward. Ari complies with your wish.

Your lips meet, his hand moves over your back, towards your neck. His lips slightly chapped, bitten in worry, the lingering hint of smoke and the drink he probably took. His tongue moves over your bottom lip, parting your lips.

Your groan has him push himself closer to you. Your legs around his waist, Ari nips at your bottom lip coaxing another whimper from you. Your fingers tug upon his hair, a deep growl rumbles within his chest.

You can feel his hardening length against your core, you gasp when his hips move against you.

“A-ari,” his lips move along your jaw, nipping and humming at the taste of your skin.

Your clit pulses as he sucks upon the spot beneath your ear.

“I feel so content.” He hums, tugging on your earlobe, “Having you back in my arms.” His beard brushes over the spot he just etched his mark onto.

You keen as his bulge twists the fabric of your panties over your clit. Pleasure sparks across your spine.

“Mine, just as I am yours.” Ari says, biting down on your collar bone. His large form encases you. His lips on every inch of your exposed skin, the little gown coming off, your nipples harden brushing against the fabric of his shirt.

“Fuck,” you tug on the shirt, he shifts back letting you undo the buttons, his own large hands moving over your sides, eyes darkening.

“You sure you want this, Metuka?” Ari hisses when your nails scrape over his chest, your lips tracing over his sternum, making way to his nipple tugging on it, his grip tightens on your thighs.

“I want you, Ari. How much ever you’re willing to give me.” Your lips trace over his neck, to his jaw, then his lips. Hands moving to his pants, he aids you in undoing them.

His length twitches in your palm, you moan softly feeling the familiar vein on the underside as you trace his length. Ari groans as your thumb circles over his tip collecting the precum and bringing it to your lips.

Fingers hooking around the band, you raise your hips, Ari gets rid of your panties, discarding them to the side, you shiver as the cool air greets your wet folds.

Warm fingers have you arch, grinding against them.

He brings his soaked fingers toward his mouth. You moan when his eyes close as he hums at your taste appreciatively.

“Ari, please.” You plead, he chuckles.

“Impatient little sweet girl.” He teases, parting your thighs further, hooking them around his waist, his tip moves against your folds, you want to sigh at the relief of being so close to feeling him.

It turns into a moan melding with his own groan as your walls take his girth in, chest rising and falling, Ari sinks into you inch by delicious inch. The burning stretch dulling into pleasure as his thumb draws circles onto your clit.

“Ari, Ari, Ari—,” you choke on your words, his his flush against yours, your walls pulse around him. His lust blown eyes on your pussy.

“She takes me so well, fuck baby, look at you.” He gazes into your eyes, slowly pulling out halfway then sinking into you again. And again.

Your jaw slack, he shifts slightly, tip brushing over the spot that has you shuddering in his hold. Ari pushes you down, the angle making him go deeper, your back arched. The sound of skin slapping as his pace becomes relentless.

“Squeezing me so good, don’t want to let your cock go do you, Metuka?” His mouth latches to your taut nipple, your hand grabs at his hair tugging harshly lips only know to say his name—oh god, oh god, oh god.

You feel the pleasure build slowly then all at once he has you dancing along the edge. Your legs wrap around him tighter, not letting him go too far. His large hands squeeze at your hips, mouth latching onto the other nipple. His happy trail, rubs against your clit, sending you over.

You cum with a cry of his name, the wet sloshing sounds only increase as you gush around him. His pace doesn’t relent, pushing you further down, he hovers above you. Your leg now over his shoulder.

His hand wrapped around your throat, stroking over the sweat sheened skin.

“So pretty this way, one more baby, one more before I fill you up. One more,” he coaxes, you feel him move impossibly deeper. Tip hitting your cervix stars cloud your vision.

Can’t, I can’t, you think, “Ari,”

“You can and you will.” He growls, pinching your clit you shudder yet again, the pleasure begins to climb, taking over you nerve by nerve.

“Look at you, so pretty, taking all of me so well, I belong to you my sweetness, all of me, yours, yours to love, yours to hold, yours to claim, yours to fuck.” Ari swears as he feels your walls spasm, your nails dig into his forearms you shudder in his grasp as your orgasm triggers his own.

Ari moans your name, spilling into you, claiming your walls with his seed. He continues to thrust allowing you both to ride out your orgasms, he watches the mix of the two of you coat a ring at the base of his length.

“I’m not done with you, Metuka.” He says, softly kissing your forehead.

You look at him through glassy eyes, aftershocks lingering through you.

He slowly pulls out, you whimper, then moan when his lips move along your inner thighs, blowing softly over your clit.

“Ari—,” Your whine cut off when his mouth latches to your cunt. The way his eyes glaze and roll back at your taste, the moan that presses against your folds and clit. You cry out for more of him.

“I told you I’m not done. Have to have a taste of my pretty pussy.” Is all he says, beard gleaming with your arousal, before his lips latch around your clit again.

-x-

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themusingsofacurlyhairednerd · 3 months

Text

Datura Pt 4

Summary: A little (ok it's not very little this is 4k words) Rhysand x Reader training under the mountain

Content Warnings: Some suggestive content, nothing explicit, Rhysand is a tease and so am I, will get to the actual smut eventually ;)

Pt 1, 2, 3

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There’s water dripping somewhere, the splash against the copper tub echoing across the room in a steady enough rhythm it drags you from sleep. You’ve never been a morning person, especially after the last couple days, it takes everything in you to prop your head up on your hand, open an eye and try to figure out where the noise is coming from. With your luck there’s a leak, even enough to flood. You fully expect to find your slightly furnished prison to be underwater, your bed floating up towards the ceiling. It’s definitely a more reasonable answer than the truth. A flood in this ancient tomb makes sense, who knows how long these pipes had been here? But the violet eyed male sitting on the edge of the tub when you’d never heard the door open? You have no explanation for that.

“The dead sleep lighter than you,” Rhys says by way of greeting.

You drag your gaze to the door. It’s still shut, as if he’d walked right through it.

You pull the pillow over your head, it’s too early for all this nonsense. “Go away, Rhysand.” Maybe you shouldn’t be so flippant with him after the power he’d displayed last night, but you’re too exhausted to care.

“Rhysand?” He says like you’d cursed at him. “I thought we were friends?”

Friends? He doesn’t give you away to his evil Mistress one time and suddenly you’re friends? He’s as delusional as he is powerful and you can’t stop yourself from sliding an arm out from under the sheets to give him the finger.

“You wound me.”

You close your eyes and let sleep try and claim you again, the blissful darkness quiet for the first time in days, no Calanmai visions to haunt you. For a few hours you’d been able to forget where you were, why you were here, why the male hovering at the edge of your bed is here. Perhaps if you go back to sleep it’ll all be a terrible dream.

“You stink,” he says as he yanks the sheets off you and tosses them across the room.

You’re more bare than you’d like to be, still wearing that mud stained shift, too tired the night before to even attempt to get clean, you’d just crawled into bed and cried yourself to sleep. Conscious of your lack of dress, and suddenly very aware of the male’s gaze on your nearly exposed ass, you grab the edge of the pillow and swing at him with all the strength you can muster.

It’s apparently not a lot because Rhys catches it before the blow can lend and wrenches it from your grip. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Eat shit,” you snarl.

“Not a morning person I take it?”

“You’re the most infuriating male I’ve ever met in my life,” you hiss as you crawl off the mattress.

Rhys grins, eyes glinting playfully. He likes this, you realize.

“I promise you’ll never find another male quite like me, Darling,” he retorts.

You look away from him, at the steam curling off the water in the tub, filled almost to the brim. A bath would be nice… but there’s no door, and Rhys is hovering like a puppy just given a new owner. There is no trace of the male you saw last night, the monster that laid beneath his skin.

“I don’t… have any other clothes,” you mumble, forgetting what you were talking about before.

He holds out a hand and a set of perfectly folded clothes appears in his outstretched palm. “I’m not a monster, I wouldn’t have you walk around naked. At least not out there,” he says with a wink.

“It’s too early for this,” you grumble as you take the clothes from his hand. There’s a pair of pants, socks and a sweater, both black, and surprisingly soft. You carry them into the bathroom on instinct, only remembering at the last moment that there is no door to give your privacy and he’s now sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Will you leave now?”

“I’m in charge of training, remember? There’s no escaping me.”

“Is this training happening in the tub?”

His eyes gleam, “I can think of a few exercises.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. This version of him is better, better than watching him rip people apart with nothing but his mind, but he’s getting on your last nerve. You can’t remember the last time you’d eaten. He’s going to push you too far and the morning is only just getting started.

“Rhysand-”

“Fine, I’ll turn around,” he does so as dramatically as possible, but his back is finally to you.

There’s little else to do but strip and climb in. The water is blissfully warm, easing your stiff muscles, swallowing the chill that feels like it’s carved it’s way into your bones. You groan as you settle against the side, eyes drifting shut for a few moments so you can savor it for as long as possible.

You’re not sure how long Rhysand’s civility will hold out, so you don’t wait too long before you grab the cheap soap and start scrubbing the grime from your skin. Truth be told, you’d need a good couple of baths to be completely clean, but you make the most with what you have before scrambling out and into your new clothes. They fit like they were made for you, everything the perfect length and size, and they’re warm. After spending so long in your shift, the chill of the mountain is beginning to feel permanent. This takes the edge off, just a little.

Rhys’s turns as you leave the bathroom like he’s been listening to your footsteps, two pastries in hand this time, one half eaten. “Hungry?”

“Where do you keep pulling this stuff out of?” You ask.

He eats the other half in one bite as he holds the other one out. “I’ve got deep pockets.”

You’re too hungry to care.

“Or pocket realms, I should say,” he amends as you take a bite. It’s not warm, if anything it’s a little stale, but there’s something sweet, maybe honey in the center, and it’s filling, easing the ache that’s been steadily growing in your stomach for awhile now.

“Thanks,” you say around a mouthful of the pastry.

He stands and brushes a piece of it off the corner of your mouth with his thumb, like he just can’t help himself. He’s always finding an excuse to touch you. “Can’t have you starving to death before we’re done with you, now can we?”

You frown at that. “Right, that. And here I was thinking you cared about my well being.”

“I can multitask,” he says.

You scarf down the rest of the pastry, manners be damned, “Let’s get this over with then.”

With a wave of the hand, the door opens to him. “Right this way, M’lady.”

“Nope, you’re definitely not calling me that,” you counter, biting down the obvious surprise that he’s letting you out of the room. After last night, you’d expected to be locked in your room until Amarantha deemed you ready--whatever that was supposed to mean--the chance to get out and explore with fresh eyes is a promising start to the day, Rhys’s company be damned. He’s been pleasant thus far, but you’re wary of how long it’ll hold out, you can’t waste any opportunity to explore by worrying about what he’ll do on his next whim.

The halls are scarred from your claws on them last night. You trace their path forward, before they veer left, opposite the way Rhys is leading. You make a mental note of the paths: Left will eventually lead to the throne room, right will be something for training?

Rhys is less chatty in the halls, hands deep in his pocket as he strolls ahead. It looks like he’s trying to be leisurely, but his shoulders are stiff, muscles tight, even if his pace is slow.

The path goes right for a long while, then rounds into a downward spiral. The torches are few and far between here and there’s something beneath the rock scratching and hissing. At one point you’re sure you hear screaming.

“Where are we going?” You ask as you wrap your arms around yourself. This place is creepy, a giant dungeon filled with monsters.

“Some place where you can’t accidentally bring the mountain down on our heads,” Rhys says.

“You’re very confident I have powers you can use,” you reply.

Rhys continues on, but says over his shoulder, “Why are you so sure you don’t?”

“Because…” Because what little has manifested has always been an uncontrolled mess that had a tendency to disappear just as quickly as it would come. Because your uncle had always made it sound like these things weren’t a big deal, they were something everybody had and grew into overtime. Because two days ago you were a simple girl with a simple life and you had liked that, and now suddenly that wasn’t true, you weren’t simple at all and never would be again.

Rhys slows until you’re walking side by side with him. “You shouldn’t have to be scared of what you are,” he says softly, like he thinks the walls might hear him.

Maybe that was part of the problem: What even are you?

The path levels out and straightens back into another hall, the ground more rocky here. A soft breeze whistles through a crack in the wall, but there is still no light to be seen.

Rhys stops at a door covered in ancient markings and pushes it open. The old stone creeks like it hasn’t been opened in centuries, a bit of dirt from the ceiling falling on your heads as you enter. The space is pitch black, the air stale.

“Is this the part where you turn into some giant monster and swallow me whole?” You ask in the darkness. It’s so dark you can’t see your hand in front of your face, let alone him.

He chuckles from somewhere ahead of you as he lights one torch, then another. “If you’re a slow learner maybe.”

He uses the first torch to light two others, anchoring one in each corner of the large room. Like the throne room, the roof is held up by carved pillars, each one shaped like a warrior in battle. There’s a rack of old weapons against one wall, the wooden shelf holding it full of holes and sagging dangerously. A stack of training cushions has been stacked in the other, all coated heavily with dust. Some sort of old training room.

“I take it Amarantha doesn’t do much training,” you say as you step up to one of the carvings. Time and dust have worn down the face’s features, leaving one visible eye beneath what might have once been a helmet. The fae male had once been depicted with wings, but only one remains in tact, the other a pile of rubble collecting at it’s base.

“She doesn’t get many challengers,” Rhys says so low it’s almost a growl.

You turn to face him just in time to see the shadow that flashes across his face. He’s pretty good at hiding his emotions, but every once in awhile the mask slips enough for you to see something beneath. It’s anyone’s guess if it’s real or another one of his tricks to get you to let your guard down, but still, you find yourself asking, “Why not?”

“They’ll loose.”

“Why?” You shouldn’t be so open about your disdain in front of one of her subjects, but even after the little display last night, you’re not so totally afraid of her that you won’t ask questions.

He cocks his head like he’s thinking. “You don’t know do you?”

You walk to another pillar, a woman this time, half her body shaped like a giant snake. “That seems to be everybody’s favorite question to ask me.”

Rhys scratches at his chest, “She has the power of all Seven High Lords.”

Shit.

No one had ever given her a name, they’d always said she was a Blight on the Land and left it at that, as if they feared saying her name would summon her. There had been rumors about her, of course, whispered in taverns in the middle of the night, about a female who had ensnared the High Lords, a female who had snatched them all off their thrones. You hadn’t thought it was true. Tamlin was still in Spring.

“How?” It’s a nice story, but who could manage a feat like that? She was an intimidating force of course, but she hadn’t personally done that much. Everything had been done for her, she’d just been there overseeing.

“As I said,” he sits down in the middle of the floor and motions you to do the same. “She is what your father made her.”

You shiver and desperately need to steer the subject away from all things Hybern. You’ll cross that bridge in three months when he arrives. For now, getting out is the objective-- even if that means partnering with a monster to do it. “So why are you here?”

“Siphoning away our power isn’t a one time thing, since they’re regenerative, so she bound us to her so that she could tap into it continually.”

The information takes a moment to process.

“You’re a High Lord?”

He holds out a hand and lets a few tiny stars glitter from his palm, the glittering balls of light forming constellations and shapes before flying away. “Was,” he says sadly.

Not just any High Lord, there’s only one that can summon stars--something you realize now should have made it obvious from the get-go--Rhys was High Lord of the Night Court. And if memory served, the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history. Everybody feared him. And he was here, sitting in the dirt with you far beneath a bunch of rock.

Cauldron boil you, you’d told the High Lord of the Freaking Night Court you were going to rip out his throat!

You can’t look at him. What are you supposed to do with the knowledge that you’d kissed the High Lord of the Night Court? You wish the ground would open and swallow you, but Rhys just stares at his hands, like he’s thinking about all that he has lost.

“How long have you been here?” If this was true, if Amarantha had really managed to steal from and ensnare all the High Lords than Rhys was just as trapped here as you.

“Going on fifty years,” he says.

The room spins. “You’ve been trapped here for fifty years?”

“But who’s counting?” The grin he offers doesn’t reach his eyes.

Before you can ask more question, he rubs his hands together and says, “Now let’s work on those shields.”

Your mouth opens to get back to the previous topic, the next question on your lips, but he misreads it and says, “Yours are nonexistent, any half trained daemati could walk right in and turn your mind into mush.”

The image of that male last night, blood trickling from his eyes makes all questions die in your throat. You can’t suppress the shiver. Is that what he’d done? Gone in and turned his mind into soup?

“You have to picture your mind like a hallway,” he explains, “each thought is a doorway into your memories, and each door needs to be locked and guarded.”

You scratch absently at your head.

“Close your eyes,” he instructs. “Now picture a hallway.”

The first hallway your mind can conjure is the winding path you’d taken to get here, the dark, ancient stone cold and unyielding.

“Try again,” he says like he sees it. Maybe he can.

You give yourself a little shake and try again.

“Relax, you’re too stiff.”

“You’re too stiff,” you retort.

Rhys snorts, “You have to let go of the tension in your shoulders. Take a deep breath. You need to let go of the focus you have on the room and look inside yourself.”

How philosophical; you’d roll your eyes if you weren’t squeezing them shut.

“Right now, you don’t exist here in this room, you’re body is the only tether you have. Let your thoughts drift and form the hallway.”

This is probably a skill you need--maybe a skill you should have possessed a long time ago, as unsure of all of this as you are, you owe it to yourself to at try and master your powers. You know if you don’t that he is perfectly capable of reaching into your mind and taking over them for you. If Amarantha would kill a male just to scare you, it’s not beneath her to use her puppet lordling to reach right into your skull and wield your powers anyway she sees fit. You have to try to master them. This might be your only chance.

You let yourself drift, letting go of all the questions and concerns that tug at you, letting your mind relax. With a few calming breaths you start to think about the farmhouse and the little hallway that leads from the stairs to your bedroom, the walls lined with your bookshelves and the collections of things your uncle had found in his travels.

“Good,” as he speaks he slowly begins to appear in your mind’s eye. This mental version of him reaches out a hand and picks a book up off the bookshelf: Enemy Kiss. Of course the first book he’d pluck out of your memories was one of your smutty romance novels.

With a squeak, you reach out and snatch it out of his hand. “Ok no touching the books.”

His grin is wicked as he turns into nothing but shadow and drifts right past you to another shelf. “Seduced by the High Lord,” he reads, fingers grazing the collections. “My Werewolf Harem.”

Your embarrassment makes the walls rattle, when you toss out a hand to grab the book from him the shelves go flying, sending books in all directions.

“Quite the collection you’ve got here,” he teases. “What’s in here, I wonder?” The shelves had been separated by doors, more doors than had been in your actual house, and when he opens it, it’s not a room at all, but a memory, playing out before you like it’s somehow detached from the body you use to move through the hallway. It’s a strange feeling, knowing that physically your body is sitting on the floor, but mentally, you have a body that moves and walks and touches, while your own memory plays out like it’s attached to a third body. When Rhys steps through the door, he steps right into a memory from last year’s Calanmai.

It might have been any other night, were it not for the drums pounding outside the windows, his own voice an echo on a phantom wind. You watch, somehow separate, yet connected to the body laying on the bed in front of you. Moonlight streams down on you as you lay in bed, sweat clinging to your skin, the sheets kicked off. The drums rattle the windows, begging, pleading you to come out and play. Memory you gives a frustrated growl as you roll onto your stomach, pulling a pillow over your head.

A normal memory, much to your relief. You know there are other ones in here that are…

The room spins, a blur of colors and sounds.

“What’s happening?”

Rhys is in shadow form again, a blur of darkness among the flash of color as the memory morphs and settles. Again in your bedroom. Again with the drums and Rhys’s call inside your head. But this time… this time you’ve got your shift bunched up around your hips, legs spread, your hand between your legs.

With a shriek, you spin towards the door and slam it shut.

Rhys finally takes a corporeal form again, now leaning against the door frame, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I’d praise your quick learning abilities, but I think we could have had more fun if you hadn’t slammed the door so quickly.”

Your cheeks heat, “No more touching the doors, Rhysand.”

Despite the fact that his physical body is across the room from yours, when he moves so that he’s standing ahead of you, your back now flush against the door to keep him out, you can still feel the heat of him. He braces one hand above your head, the other coming down to stroke across your cheek. “See, but you brought that memory up, not me, Darling. I walked into last year out of sheer curiosity, but you started thinking about another night, and brought it right to me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you grumble. “It just happened.”

“It’s cute that you’re so scandalized by it,” he says as he leans in, lips brushing against your ear.

When you shiver, a door across from you flies open.

“I’ve seen a lot worse in people’s minds,” he continues. “You’d be surprised how often people are thinking about sex.”

He’s the last person you want to be talking about sex with, or at least, you’d like to tell yourself that, but over his shoulder you can see into the room you’d opened, and it’s very clear that memory is of how his hands had felt on you that night. How close you’d been to begging for him to touch you.

You concentrate your energy into slamming that door shut before he can turn and see it--if he hasn’t already-- imagining a lock on it, sliding it into place, no matter how bad it makes your brain pound in your skull.

He glances over his shoulder than, grinning. “Good girl.”

You’re not sure if he can feel the confusion while he’s in your head like this--and you pray to every god you can name that he can’t because than he’d also know that, despite all your attempts to deny it, being called a good girl makes your stomach do flips--or if it shows on this version of you’s face because he adds, “It takes some people years to be able to shut their memories out, let alone lock them away.”

He knocks a knuckle against the wood of the door you’re still barring him from. “It’ll need reinforcing, but you’re making good progress.”

Maybe it’s him, maybe it’s you, but the hallway fades away and you open your eyes, blinking as the lights suddenly feel too bright, dim as they are. There’s a dull throbbing in your head that has you reaching out to rub your temples.

“Is it always going to hurt?” You grumble.

“No, with enough practice you should be able to check and lock your shields without having to be in a meditative state to do it. Which is something you’ll need to master within a couple weeks.”

Hadn’t he just said it took people years? “Why?”

His eyes are dark again, dangerous. “Hybern is sending your cousins to evaluate you and Amarantha’s hold on the Courts.”

You’re sure that’s supposed to mean something to you, but it doesn’t.

“The twins are daemati, like me, but…” he flicks some dirt off his knee, the cobalt and ruby gems on his rings gleaming in the firelight. “I don’t enjoy going into people’s minds like this. It’s an intrusion, not just of your privacy, but of your consciousness. It… it makes me feel like I’m violating people.”

There’s something in his voice that makes you think he might be showing you what kind of male he is underneath all the layers of flirting and show boating, like there’s something haunted and damaged beneath.

“I do it because I have to,” he holds your gaze like he needs a lifeline, like he might beg you to understand why he’d done what he had yesterday. “But the twins aren’t like me and if you give them an inch, you will find yourself a slave to their every whim.”

You shiver.

“You’re shields have to be up at all times, Y/N, your survival depends on it.”

You find yourself nodding. This is a dangerous game you’re now involved in, monsters lurking on every side. As much as you want to pretend that you can go back to a simple life when you finally get out of here, you know, deep down that to get out, life may never be as simple as it had been again. To be free, you’re going to have to dig deep and figure out exactly what you are.

“Show me more,” you say, meeting his gaze. You’re not sure what lies beneath your skin, if Hybern wants it, it very well be a monster as bad as any of the ones that lurk beneath this mountain. But if it means getting out of here, if it is the key to your freedom, you’ll do it. And in the end, you’d rather be the one to awaken it, before anyone else dared try.

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#rhysand x reader #rhysand x reader smut #rhysand acotar #rhysand acotar fic #rhysand x reader fic #utm!rhys #utm!rhysand #utm!rhysand x reader #my writing #my fic #acotar fic #slow burn

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promitto-amor · 6 months

Text

Should Something Happen

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x You

Summary: While working as Jigsaw Apprentices, Amanda spoils some quality bonding time between yourself and Hoffman.

Warnings: Cursing!

Might this actually be a little bit of fluff? I wanted to do something involving the main Jigsaw crew and a protective Hoffman. 👀

Perhaps the only aspect of being an apprentice Mark enjoyed was the opportunity to work alongside you. Every trap crafted, every game played and every eventual death led Mark one step closer to his freedom. A life no longer in servitude for an impulsive act of vengeance. Mark had always struggled to quell his impulsiveness. It made him good in the field, Mark had earned a fair share of promotions for his quick actions, but his greatest mistake had cost him almost a year of servitude to Jigsaw himself. Until his sentence was up, until mark could be certain both John Kramer and his helper monkey were dead, he would carry out his part in the games with minimal complaint. In the meantime, he could find a steady contentment in watching the slackened, dream-like expression on your face as you fiddled with some shards of broken glass.

“Careful,” Mark finds himself saying, “It’s not intended to spill your blood.”

You drop the shards back into the glass coffin and wander back to the workbench you’ve commandeered as a desk, “There’s so many traps,” You whine and if it were anyone else Mark would be grinding his teeth together. You flip your notebook onto a fresh page, “Who is this one for again?”

“I try not to make a habit of remembering names.” Mark answers, “Once you name something you get attached.”

You nod, “You’re right.” You pick up your pencil and hover it over the page. “Sadly I don’t have that luxury.” Mark keeps one eye on you as he cleans up his workbench, placing a set of screwdriver heads back in their assigned places. You think for a couple more minutes, your expression growing more pained till you drop the pencil again. “How can I write the tape for someone I know barely anything about?”

“Don’t ask me,” Mark says. “I’ve never been one for words.”

You give him a shrewd look, as if confirming his words. “You have special uses.” You say, jumping off your stool and heading over to a stack of boxes, freshly delivered.

“Oh yeah, like what?”

You send him a small smile, “Brawn, muscle, inside info…”

“Is that all I am?” Mark can’t help the flicker of irritation he feels, “A meathead?”

“No,” You return to him, catching on you may have offended him. “You…” A couple teeth sink into your lip, “You’re the only one whose behaving.”

Mark glances towards the open door, connecting the room to the rest of the Nerve Gas House, “Go on.”

You turn cagey, “Ever since Mexico…”

“Ah,” Mark nods, “Say no more.”

“I don’t like what I’ve been hearing.” You admit, “The aim of all this was never revenge.”

“Was it not?” Mark enjoys how your head lifts up to meet his gaze, “Was that not why you got mixed up in all this?”

You fix him with eyes of steel, “Maybe…” You admit, “But not anymore. Seems we’re cut from the same cloth, Detective.”

Mark likes how you say his title, pronouncing every syllable distinctly, “You don’t know me. Not really.”

“Maybe we should work on that?”

Something gives a leap inside Mark. Before he can answer you’re back at the delivery boxes and Amanda is thudding through the door. Her steel toe capped boots echo on the wood, little patches of dust springing up where she steps. She pauses on catching Mark stood in the centre of the room, “Admiring my work?” She asks, tilting her head.

“I thought John made this one?” You pipe up, before Mark can.

“He did.” Mark confirms, “That’s why this one has some refinement.”

“But it was my idea to add the…” Amanda’s points to the walls and then places her hands a couple inches apart. She presses them together slowly, applying pressure. The visual is enough for Mark to look away.

You busy yourself with the boxes again, “There’s nothing but syringes.” You take out one to show the two apprentices.

Mark tosses you a pair of gloves, “Put them on, they probably aren’t clean.”

You make a face and drop the syringe you’re holding, “Great. I’m going to need a check-up after this.”

“Be thankful you’re not the poor bastard diving in there.” Amanda smirks, heading over to inspect the coffin trap. “Is this one done yet?”

“Just needs a couple tests,” Mark says. “Any volunteers?”

“You first.” Amanda holds her arms up as if she’s a presenter, “Get in there, Detective.”

“What about you, babe?” Amanda slinks over to you and throws an arm around your shoulders, “The glass isn’t in yet, it’ll be like taking a good nap.”

“Stop trying to scare her.” Mark’s voice comes out with more bite than he expected.

Amanda’s eyes flash, “Why you protective all of a sudden, Hoffman?”

Mark would never confess to the bitch before him, but he’s made a mistake and Amanda knows it. “We’re not testing anything without John here.”

Amanda makes a noncommittal noise.

“If John approves it, I’ll test it.” You offer, “I trust him.” Amanda jumps back into performance mode, “Aren’t they precious?”

“If you put this on.” You gingerly remove from another box a very familiar contraption and hold it out for Amanda to see. Mark grins behind Amanda’s back. He can just picture the colour draining from her face. Amanda doesn’t move as you walk past her with the Reverse Bear Trap in hand, “Very funny.” She calls, trying to reclaim some of her bravado.

“I thought so.” You counter, placing the device on the workbench.

Amanda’s scowl only becomes more prominent the longer she stares at her old trap, “Why is that here?” “Inventory.” You supply, “Or so I’m guessing.”

“Something old can always be re-used.” John wheels himself into the room. Wheelchair bound, he surveys the glass coffin standing pride of place in the middle of the room. “Is Laura’s test finished?”

“Almost,” Mark busies himself with checking over the gears situated behind the coffin.

“Laura,” You repeat, scribbling something on your pad. “I couldn’t for the life of me remember.”

John appears amused at your choice of words, “Writer’s block?” You look up as John wheels himself over to you. The Reverse Bear Trap is sat just a few feet away, Mark doesn’t like how close you are to something so barbaric. With you showing John your tape speeches and Mark still preoccupied with the gears, Amanda sulks in the middle. She makes her way over to Mark’s toolbox and grabs a wrench, right in John’s line of sight. Mark thinks it’s pathetic behaviour, how co-dependent she’s become since Mexico. He can see that your worries were justified. She makes her way over to the trap, but Mark has left her with nothing to do.

“There’s one glaring issue I see with this entire game,” You say in a low voice. You glance over to Amanda, “Won’t they all get suspicious if every one of them has a trap but her?”

“What did you say?”

“Amanda,” John cautions as his apprentice as she wheels round on the spot.

“I just worry that something will happen.” You say, closing your notebook and leaning against the workbench. “Are you really betting on all them failing and Daniel just being the last one left alive?”

“He doesn’t have a trap either.” Amanda points out, “I’m not the only one.”

“He isn’t being tested.” John states simply, “That is why you are there, Amanda. To protect him.” He turns back to you, “Nor is Amanda being tested.”

‘I still think we should put something in there.” You hold up your hands, “I think it’s foolish to leave it to chance.”

“Not if you can predict the outcome.”

Mark has heard it all before from John Kramer. He knows your attempts are futile, so he finishes up his work on the coffin and with nothing else to do, makes his way to the door. “I’m done for the night.”

“Thank you, Mark.” John says, “The game begins tomorrow. I presume you’ll be in position?”

“On the monitors.” He nods.

He’s been excused. Mark should go home and rest up for a long day ahead tomorrow. But he can’t quite bring himself to leave. John has resumed helping you with writing out the tape for the trap, but Mark doesn’t like how Amanda won’t leave the two of you alone. Her new behaviour has made him protective. Mark would have liked you to finish up at the same time as him. Perhaps he could offer to drop you home and they could work on getting to know each other.

“You want to put me in that.”

You, John and Mark all turn to Amanda, “What?” You ask.

Amanda nods, “That.” She points to the Reverse Bear Trap, “You want that to be my test. You want me to do it again?”

John glances imperceptibly to Mark. He swallows, so John shares their concern about his favourite apprentice. “Do you know how stupid you sound?” Mark cuts in, taking up what he hopes is a casual position beside you. “Everyone knows you already escaped it. 24/7 news coverage.” You’re still leaning against the workbench as Amanda walks around it, her eyes fixed on you as if you were prey.

“It’s not a bad idea,” You taunt, “Some poetic justice”, but Amanda doesn’t find it clever.

She shoves the Reverse Bear Trap toward you, “You don’t deserve to be here.” She hisses. Mark swears he can hear a ticking sound as you brace your arms on the table, “Of all the people to win, it had to be you didn’t it?” “Fair and square.” You return and Mark finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what your own game was. Before Amanda, before Mark himself joined Jigsaw, you were tested and won. His eyes fall on the scar on your neck, all that remains of your own brush with death.

“Use your brain,” You counter and your face is far too close to the trap as you glare back at Amanda Young. “You’d have to wake up in it, or someone would have to put you in it. I don’t think either of those are going to work in this game.”

“How about you wake up in it, you bitch?”

Mark’s hands snake around your middle and yank you back just as the trap rips open with a loud bang. The ferocity makes both you and Amanda jump. You would have fallen off your stool if not for Mark’s chest breaking your fall. He can feel the sharp breaths you take as the Reverse Bear Trap cools down and lies dormant once more.

“Amanda, take the trap and put it in my office.” John says. His apprentice turns wide, teary eyes on him, but John’s face is expressionless. “Now.”

She obeys instantly, taking the trap and striding out of the room.

Mark slides you back onto your stool, “Thank you.” You murmur, hand jumping instinctively to your neck.

“Are you alright?” John asks and you nod. Mark can see right through you, he could feel the tremors of your body against his. That was a close call.

“She’s out of line, John.” Mark says, “I don’t know what the fuck happened over there, but it’s messed with her.”

“Amanda will be fine.” John insists, “She will play her part, so long as she isn’t provoked.” You nod, understanding your own fault but Mark refuses to admit to his own. “Now Detective, I believe we’re finished here. I will see you both tomorrow for the final preparations.”

Mark watches John wheel himself out. The moment he’s gone you rest your forearms on the workbench and place your head on them. You let out a deep sigh. Mark’s never been good at consoling anyone. It’s just not what he does. Not since Angelina…

He spots your fallen notebook and places it beside you, “Need a ride home?” “I don’t think I want to go home.” You say, your voice weak.

“You don’t want to stay here.” Mark says, “You can’t anyway. They all…arrive tomorrow.”

“How can you do that?” You lift up your head, “How can you willingly put people in here knowing they will probably die?” Mark meets your eyes, “I convince myself they deserve to suffer.”

“You don’t lie awake thinking about it?”

“No,” He’s being honest. “I think it’s one less shitty person out there.”

“Then you must think that about me.” You push some hair out of your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself. “I’m not…you know what I did-“

“And you know what I did.” Mark takes you by your forearms, “Do you think I’m a monster?”

Your eyes dart around the room and then land on the glass coffin, “Sometimes.” Mark allows himself time to digest that, it isn’t what he wanted to hear. But your hands come to rest on his own forearms and then you’re pressing your forehead into his chest, “But you make me feel safe. You help me.”

He didn’t expect to earn such close proximity again, this time deliberately. Mark pulls you closer, your hands slide up to rest on his chest and Mark curses his choice to remain in a jacket. Your warmth is tantalising as it seeps into him. Mark tucks you into his large frame and winds his arms back around you.

It feels good to be wanted.

With your face smushed into him, Mark rests his head atop yours. He doesn’t know what else he can do, so he lets his eyes close. “We can look out for each other.” He proposes, “Should something happen.”

“I’d like that.”

#mark hoffman #Mark Hoffman saw #Mark Hoffman x you #Mark Hoffman x reader #amanda young #john kramer #reverse bear trap #protective!hoffman #saw franchise

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maliciouslove · 11 months

Text

𝕃𝕚𝕝𝕒𝕔

SFW, shopping district!AU, aged up characters (21+)

pairing // todoroki shouto x reader

summary // a story you’ve never shared with anyone before is how you came to love flowers as much as you do. it’s simple really—it all started with him. it all started with the boy who brought you a single flower every day of the week when you scraped your knee riding his bike. your first love. but how long will it take for him to come to understand it?

word count // 4.2k

tags // CEO!shouto, florist!reader, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, (hurt) comfort, mutual pining (except shouto doesn’t know he’s pining), shouto with long hair, shouto is dense af, jealousy

Do you believe in soulmates?

You could understand why so many people thought of soulmates as some sort of far fetched, overly romanticized pipe dream, but honestly—you knew better. Because you had already met your soulmate.

The evidence pointing to that?

You’ve known him since birth basically, being born less than a year after him. You grew up together, living two houses down from each other. You spent your entire youth together: from playing in the sandbox, making pretend meals out of mud and stones and using leaves as money, to being classmates throughout middle school and highschool, always walking home together and doing homework in your living room late into the night.

The two of you were truly inseparable and shared everything—so when he got a bike at the age of six and you didn’t, of course he was more than willing to share. He wanted to teach you how to ride, put his little blue helmet on your head and fastened it under your chin, calming you down because you were nervous.

“But what if I fall…”

“I’ll catch you.”

And the way his big heterochromatic eyes were fixed on you, full of promise and safety, gave you all the courage you needed for you to get on that bike. And he tried, he really did try to catch you when you lost control of the bike and swerved right into your front yard, trashing your mother’s flower garden and falling face first into the peonies.

That little boy was so worried, mortified by the idea that you got hurt because of him, he simply could not stop apologizing. Even when you told him through tears that it doesn’t really hurt that much. I just scraped my knee a little, I’m okay!

But it wasn’t okay for him because he promised to keep you safe and failed. So he stood by your side, tightly holding your little hand in his as your mother was cleaning up your wounds and lecturing you about safety. And his tiny chest would feel tight every time he looks at your injury, eyes heavy with guilt and worry.

For the next week until your scrapes were fully healed, every time he’d come to your house to play he would bring a small flower with him to give to you.

The first day, he brought you a daffodil, clutching it in his hand as he nervously presented it to you. The second day, it was a tulip, most likely stolen from his mother's garden. On the third, he had a wild rose, a few cuts visible on his fingers, proof of his struggle to get the flower for you. On the fourth, he had three geraniums in hand that quite frankly looked bigger than him, but he smiled brightly as he gave them to you. On the fifth, he got you marigolds and taught you how to make a flower crown out of them, and on the sixth he got you peonies, bringing some for your mom as well as an apology for ruining her garden. And finally, on the seventh day, he got you lilacs.

“To congratulate you on your recovery.”

“It was just a scrape, Shouto…”

“So?” He was then crouching down to inspect your knee, satisfied that the scrape wasn’t going to leave a scar.

“Why flowers?”

“Because they’re pretty like you.”

What a simple, yet powerful answer. Despite your young age, you thought long and hard about his answer as you tentatively took care of the lilacs. With every day that the flower wilted, a fondness bloomed in your heart, and you learned that you like flowers, that you very much like the boy that gave them to you.

After that, there was nothing that could tear you two apart, not even college. True, you’d spend a lot more time apart, face timing every other night and texting on the daily, but you’d still hold onto old traditions. You’d always be at his door at exactly 00:00 on his birthday, singing (poorly) a birthday song holding out a dessert you made yourself—a muffin with a candle stuck in the middle, strawberry shortcake (his favourite), cheesecake, cherry pie, even some pudding once.

He would always pick matching Halloween costumes, and he’d always walk you home every chance he could. He remembers all your favourite coffee orders and, without failure, texts you good morning and goodnight. He watches out for you and holds your hand when you cross the street, squeezing once before he lets you go. And without failure every year for your birthday he gives you a bouquet of lilacs that’s simply twice as big as you are.

You always believed that with time, Shouto would notice the longing in your eyes. After all, you weren’t really hiding it. Quite frankly, your love for him was seeping out of you: far too large for your body to contain. Every word you spoke to him was harbouring feelings, but alas, they were feelings that never reached him, their fingertips millimetres away from his heart. So close, yet too far away.

But that’s okay. You loved him just the way he was—kind, reliable, and just a tad clueless. What he lacked, you made up for, and the same was true the other way around. You fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. He just didn’t know what that puzzle was yet. But that’s okay. You loved him just the way he was.

And before you knew it, college was over too. Shouto went off to become the CEO of a big company. He was brilliant at his job. But then again, he was brilliant at most things. He could play the piano at the age of four and the violin by the time he was six. He was an incredible athlete, and he always had the best grades. Valedictorian. Graduating summa cum laude.

You? You stayed true to your heart and did the thing that brought you most joy. You opened your own little flower shop in the old shopping district where you grew up. You’ve wanted one since you were six, and you’ve held the vision of what your workplace will look like since you were ten. You studied hard and went on multiple internships to polish your skills as a florist so you could stand where you are now.

Your dream was slowly coming to life.

You had just finished furnishing the store and setting up for your grand opening the next day when you heard a soft knock on the door, and a familiar face smiling behind it. And there they were—lilacs.

“Congratulations.” His voice is low, serene, but his eyes hold a sparkle of excitement, a glimmer of pride. “You always wanted to have your own little shop. I’m so proud of you.”

His smile is enough to silence all your worries. As you lead him up to your little apartment above the shop, you tell him all about how you almost weren't going to be ready on time for the opening, about the delivery service that brought you the wrong order and now there were no red roses in your store. What self-respecting florist doesn’t have red roses in their store?

He told you about his work as you were placing the bouquet of lilacs into a big marble vase. Something about the stock market that you didn’t really understand, but you nodded along and listened closely anyway. He loosens his tie and makes himself comfortable in your home as he always has, but he doesn’t notice how long you stare at his tie. How much you wish you could just… pull him in by the tie. Does this man even know how good he looks in a suit?

It’s always the same: He comes when he can, stays for dinner, talks about everything and anything—or nothing at all. His presence is soothing, yet so large; it fills every nook and cranny in your apartment. He belongs. With you. After dinner he doesn’t stay long, his workdays are longer, harder, so he can’t stay as long as he wishes to. But that’s okay. Because he kisses your forehead every time, and it sets off fireworks in your chest.

“I’ll come tomorrow too. For your opening.”

He was so big now, he took up the entire doorway. How time had changed him. His childish round cheeks were now gone, instead, he had a defined jaw. His big round eyes now had laugh lines around them. His hair was also longer now, combed and tied in a ponytail. He didn’t wear short jeans anymore but rather an expensive suit and watch. But he was still your Shouto. The boy who has always been there for you.

“You don’t have to, you know, your schedule is busy enough as it is.” You offer him a way out, but you secretly hope he comes anyway. You want to see him again. You want him to say he’s proud of you again. You want him.

“I insist.” He smiles reassuringly. “I want to see your dream come true.”

At this you can’t help but laugh a little.

“I owe it all to you.”

“Nonsense. You got here all on your own.”

You shake your head. It’s not what you meant. I fell in love with flowers the day I fell in love with you. But the words never come out. They become a part of the graveyard of unspoken words that rests on your lips. But that’s okay. This is all you need.

It’s okay.

Once he leaves the apartment feels much colder and your arms ache. Your heart feels just a little heavier once again. Just a little though. You’ve become exceptionally good at keeping these thoughts to yourself and channelling them into your work instead. You let your flowers talk for you.

Carnations—I miss you.

Forget-me-nots—Please remember me. Selfishly, I hope you never forget me.

Amaryllis—the pride that stops me from revealing my feelings.

Pink camellias—I long for you. To hold you. To call you mine.

Yellow tulips—a symbol of my hopeless, unrequited love.

And of course, lilacs—you are my first love.

This is the great thing about flowers. Like relationships, they require a lot of love and care, and like long-lasting friendships, they carry so much meaning. Friendships, just like flowers, carry countless memories hidden between each petal, they carry expectations—the sun will rise each morning, the flowers will bloom, and he will always be right by your side.

Flowers hold so much meaning—for every feeling blooming in your chest, there is a flower to symbolize it.

The petals of unspoken words lie heavy in your chest, but perhaps one day those petals will get scattered, and at least one will reach his heart.

But for now… this is okay. This is enough.

It’s already the end of May, but it’s extraordinarily cold tonight, and the wind is unkindly bending tree branches under its will. There is no moon, nor any stars, just clouds of uncertainty and doubt. Flowers cannot bloom in darkness, so they wait for morning light. The same applies to people—hope comes to us at dawn.

Shouto wakes up promptly at 5:55AM, exactly five minutes before his alarm. He’s barely awake, but his mind drifts to you. Would you be able to take an hour off for lunch? Perhaps dinner would be better? He wants to celebrate the happy occasion. He wants to see you, even if it’s for 10 minutes only. Even if it’s less, he wants to be close to you, to feel the comfort of your presence, to see you smile and hear you laugh.

He doesn’t think twice as he picks out his suit, a neat lavender coloured tie to match his little pocket square. He has four other ties like this one, something about the colour just feels right to him. The first half of his day goes by in a blur, practically working on autopilot as his mind just keeps going back to you. Are you smiling right now? Is the opening day going well?

He imagines you happily buried under a pile of flowers and chuckles to himself—something Midoriya doesn’t fail to notice, but evidently chooses not to ask about anyway. The green-haired man had a pretty good idea what was on his boss’s mind anyway. Which is why around 11:30 he practically kicks Shouto out of their shared office and reassures him that he has things handled.

“You have more important things to do now, go on.”

His heart is beating quite fast in his chest, so he deliberately slows his pace in an attempt to calm himself. But it appears that the closer he gets to your little shop, the faster his heart seems to race. He briefly considers consulting a cardiologist, but shoves the thought aside as soon as he can make out your silhouette behind the register. Your voice carries through the shop like a melody, and for a while he just stands by the entrance and listens.

“It’s been sooo long, I’ve missed you Denks, you should swing by more often! I never see your face anymore.”

Shouto can’t quite see your face from the broad shoulders of the blonde man in front of the register, but he can hear the little pout in your voice. He can vividly picture it.

“You’re absolutely right, let me make it up to you! Let me take you out to dinner sometime? I’d love to catch up, spend some quality time with my favourite florist.”

There is a pang in Shouto’s heart. Who is this? A friend of yours? But he knows all your friends?

“You know what, I’d love that. How about sometime this weekend?”

“Perfect! I’ll text you the details, okay? I gotta run for now, but thank you for the beautiful flowers! Almost as pretty as you are!”

The unknown man leans over the register and places a tiny kiss on your cheek, grinning widely at you and waving his hand goodbye. He doesn’t even look at Shouto as he passes him by at the door.

“Shooo! You came!” He barely has time to compose himself and react to you throwing yourself on him and wrapping your hands around his neck. The moment you touch him all his previous thoughts fly out the window. Nothing else matters but you being in his arms.

“Of course I came, it’s my girl’s big day today.”

Once again, everything feels easy, natural. It feels like home, like you are a place he can return to whenever he needs to, a safe haven. The rest is easy—talk, have lunch, laugh, discuss visiting your parents soon, having a family dinner together since it’s been some time. But the question remains, gnawing at him.

“Hey, um… who was that blonde man you were talking to right before I walked in? You two seemed familiar?” He hated how the word tastes in his mouth: bitter and unpleasant.

“Hm? Oh, Denki? Old college mate, but he quit his study midway because he moved away for a while. Apparently he kept my number, reached out to me the other day saying he’s back in town so I told him to stop by my shop!” You smile fondly, and it tugs at Shouto’s heart. It feels strange. His hands are sweating.

It doesn’t feel easy anymore.

It doesn’t feel natural.

As usual, he walks you back home, wishes you luck with the rest of the day, and gives you a forehead kiss, yet it doesn’t give him the same feeling of calmness it usually does. It feels stiff. Rushed. Why are his legs carrying him out of your shop so quickly? Why is his mind racing without having any particular direction? Why?

Once back in the office he thinks he could bury these feelings with work, he hoped it would be a sufficient distraction until he can schedule an appointment with a good doctor. But Midoriya beats him to it.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, just have a lot on my mind. Need to focus.”

“Uh, no. Spill. What’s on little Shouto’s mind?”

And Shouto knows better than to argue and evade. They have been friends for years, and Izuku Midoriya is known for his persistence and his need to help others. A good man, a man he trusted with half his company, so why shouldn’t he trust him with the mess of feelings in his head?

So he does. He tells him about the other man, the conversation, the date plan for the weekend, the ugly feelings that it gave rise to, the struggle to understand them. The youngest Todoroki bared his heart to his friend, hoping that he would have some insight, an answer as to why he feels so strange.

But he just laughs. An exasperated chuckle, and he buries his face in his hands, fingers running through green locks as some sort of ritual to help him remain calm.

“You cannot possibly be this oblivious, Sho…”

“What do you mean?” he replies in earnest. Izuku sighs once again.

“Okay, uhm… is this the first time you feel like this?”

Shouto ponders for a moment and searches his memory. The answer comes quite fast, no, this wasn’t the first time. It has happened before—in middle school when you got paired to do a science project with another boy and you stayed with him after school. He felt a similar pang when you would laugh at that other boy’s jokes. When you would lend him a pen, or your notes.

And then again in high school, when all the other boys were raging with hormones and would stare at your legs a little too long. I made him frustrated, angry even. Why? When one of his classmates hinted he had a crush on you, it made his chest feel heavy. It made him green with envy, it made him lose sleep that night. Yet his heart felt as light as a feather as soon as he learned you rejected his advances.

It had happened before. He had been jealous before.

“And why do you think you were jealous?” Izuku pressed further, giving Shouto enough room to sort his own feelings out.

“Because… I respect her, and I want the best for her?” He still sounds puzzled, so the green-haired man gives him another gentle nudge.

“I’m sure that’s true, but is that all it is? Do you think anyone is ever going to be good enough for her?” Izuku raises his eyebrow, lips curling into a knowing smile.

“No.” Shouto shoots out immediately, eyebrows furrowed and chewing on his lower lip.

“No. Nobody will ever be good enough, I… Fuck.” His foot was furiously bouncing under the table, his whole body felt tense, on edge. Like the eerie feeling that you’re forgetting something important. Like when a certain word or phrase is at the tip of your tongue, but refuses to roll off and come to reality.

“So, you care for her, you respect her, you feel jealous when other men approach her with a romantic interest, and you think nobody will be good enough for her. Sho, you’re a brilliant man, so tell me, what do you think that means?” Izuku gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and a little squeeze, giving him the courage to come to terms with reality.

And surely, almost like a movie, all the memories of you play inside his head. The first time you tried coffee jelly and scrunched up your nose in disgust because it was too bitter for you. When you cut your hair short and ended up hating it, refusing to come out of your room for a week. When you got drunk for the first time at a karaoke bar and sang “My heart will go on” while on top of a table. You, in your prom dress, posing for photos as the sun sets behind you. It was probably a beautiful sunset, but he couldn’t care less for it at the time. He only had eyes for you.

Everything you did was wonderful.

He found the way you scrunch your nose at things you dislike to be adorable. He thought you looked as beautiful as always with short hair. He adored how happy you look whenever you sang. To him, you were perfect. To him, you were his entire world.

It makes sense now. All the puzzle pieces fall together and the realization makes him feel like he could fly.

“I’m… I love her.” He finally looks up at his friend only to find him smiling back at him.

“Well, what are you standing there for? Go to her!”

The sky is dark. When had it gotten this late? His feet were carrying him through the narrow streets, lavender tie discarded a long time ago. As soon as Midoriya said those words his feet moved on their own. Didn’t even stop to get his car, he just ran out the office, sprinting like his whole life depended on it.

He loves you.

He has to run faster, God he needs to tell you. How can he be so blind? How could he miss that the colour of lilac reminds him of you? Or miss the fact that you’re always on his mind? How can he not see that you’re in every detail in his life? All the feelings that previously had no names are back, swallowing him whole. Longing. Jealousy. Regret.

His hair is no longer tied in a neat ponytail, it’s loose and wild from the wind, it’s as messy as his feelings are, but that doesn't matter right now. Two more blocks, and he’ll be at your apartment. What does he say? What is his plan? What if he’s too late?

Heart hammering in his chest, he takes the stairs up to your apartment two at a time. God, his hands are shaking, his face feels warm. Wet. But his hand is already knocking on the door. It’s not soft like the usual, it’s urgent, it’s desperate. His mind is spinning, why is his face wet?

The door creaks open and there you are in your sunny yellow dress, perfect. Always been perfect. For him.

“Shouto, what ar—”

“I love you.” It’s barely above a whisper, and the silence following these three words is deafening.

The sound of the TV fades into the background, there are no birds, no cars outside. Just the two of you. The moment feels static, completely still, yet still buzzing with energy. It stretches longer than it should, as if time warps and stops to make way for love. The world feels small right now, it shrinks and the entirety of it fills the tiny hallway.

You don’t say anything, you simply brush his tears away with your thumb, searching his eyes. His hair is dishevelled, chest heaving. He ran here?

“Again.”

It takes a moment for Shouto to register what you’re asking of him. He takes a step closer, shortening the distance between you two.

“I love you. I have for… for quite some time now.”

The words make you simultaneously feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and also as if there is an elephant sitting on your chest. It’s hard to breathe and your eyes feel prickly, even your voice quivers.

“Again.”

He takes another step and he’s impossibly close to you now, his large warm hands cradling your face, heterochromatic eyes staring into yours.

“I love you. You’re the only one for me, I’m… sorry it took me so long, I—”

Now it’s your turn to cut him off by pulling him by the collar of his white shirt and kissing him. His lips are soft, and a little wet from the tears, but so sweet. Gentle. Another step forward and then another, and you’re slowly being pushed back into your apartment, your back hits the wall as he deepens the kiss. When his own desire and impatience finally slip through the cracks he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing himself impossibly hard against you.

“Sho.. m’not goin’ n..ywhere.” You try to mumble through the kiss, but it only elicits a smile in response. When he finally pulls away you can see his face is dusted with pink, eyes raking over you as if he’s seeing you for the very first time.

“Please… please be mine?”

There are many emotions in his tone—desire, fear, jealousy, pure excitement. Hope. They’re the words you’ve always wanted to hear, and now that you have, you can’t help but wonder if you’re hallucinating. If this is just a very vivid dream. If it is a dream, then surely, the next part won’t matter once you wake up. Right?

“You silly man, I’ve been yours since I was six. God… You made me wait so long.”

You’re smiling, but there are tears streaming down your face. All the feelings that you had to express through flowers, all the unspoken words, the longing, it’s flooding your senses like a broken dam.

You feel the rough pads of his fingers under your eyes, wiping the tears the same way you did for him. Once again, he kisses your forehead, after which he simply presses his own to yours.

“Let me make it up to you. Please.”

Your name sounds so sweet coming from his lips right now. A plea for consent, a plea to allow him to finally have you. Make you his own. Erase everyone else from your mind until there is only him. Permission for him to be selfish.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

#holytext.exe #shouto #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto #shoto #shoto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto sfw #todoroki shouto sfw #bnha sfw #todoroki shouto comfort #shouto comfort #todoroki shouto hurt/comfort #shouto hurt/comfort #bnha hurt/comfort #cw.jealousy

235 notes · View notes

bee-writessstuff · 2 months

Text

Home Run

Authors note:

Hi, I hope you like this there will be more to come. Also, I don't own little Pootis that belongs to @quazies.

- Bee

The sun had just begun setting now, starting to cast a warm glow to the shop. It was almost closing time. You were helping a man with a flower arrangement he wanted for his wedding while his son scoped around your shop like it was his new adventure.

You showed the man examples and some references with some flowers he was interested in.

You heard the bell chime atop your door, to immersed in the man infront of yous order you didn't check to see who entered.

Once the man was finally finished with his order, his sin joined him at the counter. The boy looked at you, and you handed him a flower pot with a pipe cleaner sunflower that looked like it was growing from dirt.

The boy smiled brightly, showing his missing tooth. "Thank you, Ms.____"

"It's no problem, sweetheart," you said, returning the boys smile. "Have a nice night," the father said, taking his sons hand. "You too."

You waved at the pair before greeting your next costumer "Hi what help you with today-"

"____!!"

"Hi," you said with an awkward smile. "You're here, you're ok? I thought you...?" You shook your head, answering his question.

An orange figure on his chest caught attention. A bird was sitting in a baby carrier that's slumg on his chest.

You raised a brow, looking at the bird. " Who's that?" Confused Jeremy looked to your line of sight." Oh, Pootis? He's kinda like my son or whatever."

Pootis looked at you with a curious look. "Looks like you've been busy," you said, casting a sad expression grabbing one of the flower handouts for the kids.

Jeremy mirrored your expression, looking down, scratching his cheek. Pootis gave his "mom" a concerned look, looking at both of you confused at the situation.

You sighed, picking a lily of the valley you handed it to Pootis, patting his head.

Pootis looked at the flower with admiration, chirping a thank you.

This brought Jeremy's attention back to you both looking at each sporting a somber expression. "He's adorable, you know."

"Thanks, uhm, it's been y'know kinda lowsy back at the Tuefort without ya." You chukled, looking at the bird and seeing how was fairing with the flower you gave him.

Jeremy was honestly glad you weren't looking at him right now his face and ears were flushed. He watched you pinch Pootis' cheeks lightly before grazing your thumb on his cheek.

He smiled lovingly at the scene before him. He really did miss your presence, nothing, had really been the same since you left.

No one even touched your room, leaving it the way you left it, only for someone going in to clean it when needed.

"You should really come and visit sometime with this little guy again or even with the other merces."

This pulled the man from his trance. Looking at you again, he smiled. "We would love that."

This made him ecstatic he'd finally be able to spend time with you again, and you'd finally get to know Pootis. It felt like a dream come true for him.

Thanks to the help of Jeremy and Pootis, although he did try to eat the flower foam a few times, closing up went a lot faster.

Locking up the front door, you stood outside holding Pootis in your arms with Scout to you left.

"I'm sorry, I should have sent a letter or something," you said with tears starting to form in your eyes.

Pootis saw your sad expression and hugged your arm that made you smile a little.

"It's alright, I-I'm just glad that you're ok and all." Jeremy stuffed his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor trying to hide his flushed face with the flap of his hat, which would have worked if his ears didn't go red too

"I'm glad I got to see you too, Jeremy. " Jeremy just gave you a dopey grin, "I-I mean yea, why wouldn't you be glad?" Pootis looked at him like he said the most atrocious thing to you.

When Jeremy looked up and saw Poootis' face, he straitned his posture. With an awkward caught, he scratched his neck with sweat drooping from his forehead.

"Well, I uhm just'a hope this won't be da last time we see eachother." Jeremy turned his face away from you.

His words made Pootis sighed in relief. At least he wasn't as dumb as he thought. You placed Pootis back in his baby, not before kissing his cheek and wishing him good night.

With a smile on your face, you looked at a flustered man you couldn't help but fall in love with time and time again.

You kissed his cheek, making him short circuit. He gave you a dopey grin flashing his gapped teeth in the process, making you smile more.

"Good night, Scout." That brought him back to his senses. As much he did want this to end, he knew he had to, but there was always tomorrow.

"Good night, Rabbit."

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purplelupins · 2 years

Text

Sweet Dreams

|The Black Phone|

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V

Part VI

Grabber/Albert x fem!reader

Summery: Getting away from her life as a human punching bag took her somewhere she never could have imagined. But it seemed that even a basement with a masked man watching her could become home.

Warnings: depictions of physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, pet names, power imbalance, sexual tension, mild swearing, mentions of medical trauma, nsfw

Note: PLEASE READ

This is a nsfw DARK story so if you are a minor DO NOT ENGAGE. If you are offended or triggered by the mentioned material, DO NOT ENGAGE. Simple as that. Please note that I do not condone what the Grabber has done in cannon, and I am only using him as a character in my story. If you message me with negativity or harassment, I will not respond. This is Tumblr, not Twitter. Please block the Grabber x reader tag if you are disgusted.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was almost a war on sleep for y/n. Sometimes she would sleep soundly, and have calm dreams, while only waking up once; other times she would barely sleep an hour before a new nightmare began and she would awaken with a start, sweating and shaking.

But every time, he was there.

That man would stroke her hair and have her rest against him, cooing sweet nothings into her ears. He would hold her close and rest his masked chin stop her head. And the more it happened, the more y/n began to let herself grow dependant on his kindness. She needed it.

And he knew it.

He knew she needed him. That he was her safe haven, but she still wasn’t where he wanted her to be. He wanted her to want him, as well as need him.

He wanted her to be completely his. She had become his favourite game out of them all-

“Mister?”

He snapped his head over to the shut bathroom door. It wasn’t locked anymore, but she still liked to have him open it. He turned the knob and pulled, but she wasn’t waiting right inside the door- she was by the mirror with her shirt pulled up her back to expose the skin.

“Can you check this old cut? I think the scab came off again and I’m worried about it getting infected.”

He stared at her exposed back for a moment, but nodded.

“Sure. Let’s see.” He walked inside and shut the door out of habit; she turned around for him, and tried to not shiver when he touched her skin. “Yeah it looks sore. I think I have some ointment and bandaids in here, why don’t we go out to the kitchen to get a better look.” He said.

She nodded, and let her shirt fall down before walking out of the bathroom. She could have gone to the kitchen, but she didn’t. As he went through the cupboard to find the first aid items, her figure standing in the doorway caught his eye.

She was waiting for him.

He looked at her for a minute, and grinned to himself. She wasn’t even staring at him expectantly; she just stood there making faces at Sampson in the other room like it was normal to be led around by him.

Albert finally took what he needed, and closed the cabinet. “Alrighty, let’s go.” He said, walking to the door. She took a few steps so he could exit and shut the door, and took his hand as he led them into the kitchen.

She sat with her chest against the back of the chair to give him better access, and he took his time with mending her. She shivered at the feeling of his rings when they would brush against her skin. He traced the old scars and down her spine; he revelled in her shivers. But he cleaned and bandaged her wound, then took her shirt and dragged it down over her back.

“Good as new!” He piped up.

“Thank you…”she murmured, standing up.

He took her hand from his crouched position and swing it a little.

“I have to take care of my pretty girl, right?” He said, tilting his head to the side.

She shrugged and rubbed her arm bashfully.

“I mean you don’t have to-“

“I asked a question, y/n.” His voice gained an edge to it, and his hand held hers a little firmer.

“Right. You’re right.” She said nodding. “You take care of me.” A small smile made its way onto her tired face as she stared down at the older man.

He sighed from under his mask, and nodded, “That’s my good girl. Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He stood and she fell into step with him, clutching onto his arm.

“Do you think you’ll sleep well tonight, bunny?” He asked her as they walked to the small bed.

“I hope so…” she sighed. “You don’t have to stay, I know it must be annoying to stay here every night.” She looked down, at her hands in her lap then back up at the devilish mask.

He said nothing for a full minute, but then he did something she certainly was not expecting. He sat down beside her, and reached behind his head; he unclasped the bottom portion of his mask, careful to not disturb the top half. She was transfixed. He had never taken off the bottom part, only the top.

The mask came away, and she found herself staring at the part of his face that she hadn’t seen. He had a beautiful jaw and a soft looking mouth. They both seemed to notice that she was staring at the same time; she looked away and bit the inside of her lip, while he grinned. Albert stood and walked to the head of the bed, and sat down with his legs stretched out in front of him.

“Come here bunny.” He said cheerfully, holding an arm out to her.

Her eyes widened at the gesture but she did not protest. She crawled to him, and tried to pull the shirt down a little more to cover her panties as she sat next to him.

He, however, did not miss the action of hers to attempt modesty. He felt her warmth settle next to him but he wanted more. He tsked her, and grabbed her waist and pulled her onto his lap with her legs across his thighs. He could feel her heat radiate through his pants, and he sucked in a breath when she shifted against him to get comfortable. Such an innocent gesture with such vile possibilities.

“What am I going to do with you?” He perched his chin atop her head, and she rested against his chest. Of course she didn’t understand the sinister connotations, but he certainly did. What was this game? It certainly wasn’t like ‘Naughty Boy.’, it was different. He didn’t get the same rush, but he was stimulated in other ways.

“I don’t mean to make you pity me…I just don’t know why you’re okay with doing all these extra things…” she mumbled into his shirt.

“You know why.” He whispered. He wanted to hear her say it.

“Because I’m your bunny.” She repeated his answer to everything with a small laugh.

“Mhmm that’s right.” He hummed satisfied.

She pulled away from him, and stared at his changed face. It seemed so strange to finally see his lips. It felt almost wrong that she could see him after so long of him keeping that part of himself hidden.

He was handsome.

He must have been an absolute heartbreaker back in the day…

“That girl was stupid.” She whispered; she had meant to say it in her head, but the words just came out.

He blinked, and tilted his head to the side.

“Which girl?” With his voice unmuffled, she realised how nice it was.

Y/n looked down at his shirt, regretting saying anything.

“I said which girl, bunny?” He tilted her face up to him, and did not miss the fact that she sucked in a breath. His opposite hand was clenched tight, betraying his light voice.

“…the one who left you…she-she must have been crazy.” She muttered with a melancholy grin that didn’t reach her eyes. His mouth was neither frowning nor smirking, but somewhere in between.

Her heart began to race as she assumed she must have crossed a line when he was silent. He must not like to think about her, or what happened.

But then, that mouth of his spread into a small grin. “That’s sweet of you to say.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, and a fire exploded under her skin. Her eyes widened in surprise when her cheeks warmed, as did her hands.

That was new.

She wondered what it would feel like to have him touch her, or kiss her properly-

No. Stop it. This man is caring for you and is your friend.

“I think I just sent my bunny into shock.” He laughed, watching her wheels turn.

Y/n looked up at him, and studied his face for a few moments. He seemed to do the same. She reached out a tentative hand to his lower face, but stopped when he sucked in a breath. “C-can I…?” She asked nervously.

He stared for a moment, and nodded slightly.

She reached out and brushed her fingertips against the slight stubble on his sharp chin, and up along his lower lip. Then, as quickly as she had began, she pulled her hand away, satisfied.

“Thank you…” she whispered.

He placed his hand on her head and drew her back to his chest, and placed a kiss to her hair.

She smiled secretly to herself at his affection. It had been years since someone had shown her anything similar to it, and with his small touches, she felt safe. The gentle rhythm of his breathing let her relax, and within minutes, she fell asleep with the beating of his heart under her ear and his arms wrapped around her.

The next morning, she found that she hadn’t woken up once. She had hoped her strange companion would still be there for her to share her good news, but alas the bed was empty. She even looked around the room to see if he was crouched against one of the walls watching her, but again, her eyes only met with the concrete walls.

When he came with her breakfast, she could barely contain her excitement to tell him how she had slept the entire night. As soon as she heard the door unlock, she bounced right up to him and hung onto one of his arms as he walked them to the mattress.

“Someone’s bright and bushy today.” He said in his happy voice.

“Yep! Guess what!” She chirped to him as he sat down with her.

“I think if I take the time to guess you’ll explode. Why don’t you tell me?” He chuckled and smiled under the mask.

Shes so fucking cute like this…She’s excited to see me.

“I slept the entire night without waking up!” She beamed.

He clapped and rubbed her back. “That’s my girl. I think someone deserves a new gift today.”

She blushed and looked down at her hands, “You don’t-“

“You know I have to.” He tutted her and pulled her closer.

“Well…Surprise me.” She smiled, and without a second thought kissed his masked cheek. Time seemed to freeze as soon as she pulled away and realised what she had done.

She didn’t know why she did it.

At least not at the time.

She was just so happy.

What she did know was that she didn’t know what to say, and neither did he. To her relief, he continued the morning as usual, and slowly fed her himself; periodically raising egg to her lips and helping her drink her coffee. She didn’t need his help, but the attention was addictive.

Their talk was quiet and simple- sticking mostly to the weather and a new film at the cinema. Then when he left, he left quickly and quietly. She could barely even look at him. Mortified.

She spent nearly the entire day in silence. She listened to three tapes, but she barely moved from her spot on the edge of her bed.

Why did I kiss his mask?

Why did I do that?

Why do I feel these things around him?

Why do I want to be so near him?

Did I cross a line?

Is he angry with me?

Is he going to kick me out?

Is he going to tell my father I’m down here and lock him in here with me?

Her mind was overtaken with a million questions. She barely heard the music, and she certainly didn’t hear the door open. It wasn’t until he was just a few feet away from her that she finally noticed his tall figure there.

Y/n looked up and took the headphones off quietly. She wasn’t sure how to behave after what she had done- so she braced for the worst.

But instead of telling her to leave or yelling at her, he placed her dinner down on her lap, and knelt down infront of her. She watched him closely, not taking her eyes off him. He knew he had her attention. He knew she was waiting for him to initiate their interaction.

He was looking at her expectantly.

She was confused at first, but then he tapped the edge of the tray and she looked down, and she saw why he was waiting. Right beside her dinner was a cassette tape with a little pink ribbon wrapped around it.

“W-what’s this?” She voice was barely audible.

“I told you I’d get you a gift.” He chided her playfully.

After a day of stressing, seeing him gift her with anything made her heart beat quicker against her ribs. A tear threatened to spill over as she grasped it, and removed the cover.

It was an older tape, she could tell by the worn edges.

“Ritchie Valens…” she whispered as she read the title and flipped it over.

“I recommend side two, track 11.” He pointed to the cover. She squinted to read the small writing. It read, “We Belong Together.”

Y/n smiled.

“Thank you. I’ll…I’ll give it a listen.” She said gently, still expecting him to tell her to get out.

“You’re not going to listen now?” He asked, a little demanding.

“I don’t want the food you made me to get cold.” She said, picking the fork up.

“But I want you to hear it.” He said, his voice growing rougher.

She thought for a moment.

“Well I can listen to it while I eat, if you don’t find it rude.” She offered.

“Okay.” He said, satisfied. She picked the player up and popped the previous tape out and replaced it with the one he had just given her. She placed the headphones on, and began fast-forwarding through the tape until it reached around the right point. It caught the tail end of the previous song, but sure enough, the 11th track began.

“You’re mine…

And we belong together…

Yes we belong together for eternity…

You’re mine…”

She chewed slowly, listening to the lyrics. It was a sweet love song, and he had been right to suggest it. It was exactly the kind of song she had been listening to all day. It was slow and calm. She swayed to the tune, eating away with a small smile on her face until the song ended. When she took off the headphones, she found him watching her, entranced.

“I loved it. Is it a favourite of yours?” She asked, finishing the food.

“Recently.” He murmured lightly.

“You have very good taste .” She nudged him slightly.

They smiled at one another, though she couldn’t see his expression, and their night continued as always.

It was shirt night that evening.

He held her hand, and popped a chocolate onto her tongue just as he always did, then took her to bed.

Normally, they would have chatted about small things- she knew he loved to talk. And she loved to talk to him.

Even as she got under her blanket, they were quiet. Like there was some kind of elephant in the room that they wouldn’t address.

“Sweet dreams, bunny.” He whispered.

“Goodnight…” she whispered back.

He gazed at her for one more minute, thinking, but he turned and left without another word. She sighed and fell back against the mattress with a thud.

She found herself thinking about that sweet song he had insisted she listen to. She closed her eyes, and let it play in her mind as she began to drift off to sleep.

At first, her dreams were calm. She was riding a bicycle on a summer day down a nondescript road, but the further she went, the more ominous it seemed. Then she heard footsteps behind her running, just like the night she ran away. Her name was called, and when she looked back, her father was running after her with a bloodied hatchet. Her bike wouldn’t go faster and he finally caught up with her. He grabbed her hair and yanked her off. Then, just as his axe was about to land through her head, she woke up.

Y/n bolted up straight, her shirt soaked and hands shaking uncontrollably. Her heart hammered in her chest.

“Another nightmare?”

She gasped and looked at the doorway. It was closed, but she could see the half mask illuminated in the very little light. She swore his eyes glowed even in the near darkness.

She nodded.

He took a few steps towards her, and she saw that his muted blue shirt was open. She didn’t blame him- it was a warm August night. She did blame herself for staring at his beautiful chest. She wanted to run her hands over it…just to feel his skin.

“Why are you so quiet today, bunny?” He murmured, voice a little rough. He walked to her and perched beside her on the bed. She wondered if he was offended when she was quiet.

She shrugged, not even knowing where to start.

You saved my life and I’ve been living in your basement for a month and a half, and by the way, I have a massive crush on you.

Oh perfect, y/n. Sounds great.

“Don’t lie to me.” He growled.

She let out a sigh and picked at her nails.

“I guess…I’ve just been thinking a lot.”

His fists tightened in his lap in excitement. Was she finally giving in and wanting to leave?

“What about?” He asked slowly.

She bit at her lip as she tried to find the right words. “I was nervous…I am nervous.”

“About me?” He subconsciously moved a hand to his belt buckle

“No…not exactly. I was…I’m nervous because I kissed your mask and I was afraid you were mad.”

His fists loosened.

“If I made you mad you might send me away and I don’t want that…” she whispered.

“I’m not mad.” He stated, and shifted closer to her.

“Are you sure?” She whispered.

“I’m not a liar.” He said playfully.

She nodded, and scooted over to be closer to him. She laid her head on his shoulder, her nose just an inch away from the exposed skin of his collar. He must have had a shower not long ago- the smell of his soap was a little more prominent. It made her head fuzzy as she thought about him in the shower.

She heard him sigh from behind the lower mask, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Can I tell you a secret?” He whispered.

She nodded.

“I hate my name.” He admitted.

“Really? Why?” She asked.

“My father chose it.” He murmured. His voice was so much smaller than usual. She knew he was going honest, perhaps a little vulnerable too.

“He wasn’t a nice man, was he?” Her voice was gentle and she ran her hand down to his and held it.

“No. No he wasn’t.” His tone became dark. Y/n knew he was remembering him, and if he had a similar relationship with his father and she had with hers, she didn’t want him to think about it

“Can I tell you a secret?” She asked after a minute.

“Of course you can, bunny.” The man replied, his voice a little more normal.

Y/n sucked in a breath. “I’ve…I’ve had terrible thoughts about…doing things to my father. They scare me sometimes.” She whispered

She felt him go still.

“What would you do?” He asked slowly.

Her breathing became heavier as she thought.

“I would do everything he did to me. I would make him bleed, and cry and beg…I would destroy him.” her eyes glazed over.

That surprised him.

They sat in silence for well over half a hour before she slowly began to lay down again. She expected him to leave, especially after her confession, but he didn’t. He stayed, and watched her. His strange, strange girl.

She felt his eyes on her, and she couldn’t sleep, not with that song playing around and around in her head like a gramophone.

“You're mine

Your lips belong to me

Yes, they belong to only me

For eternity

You're my, my baby

And you'll always be

I swear by everything I own

You'll always, always be mine…”

Around and around and around theose words played. She wondered if it was some sort of hypnosis test, and she was sure it was working.

She felt his hand play with a piece of loose hair, and as if he could hear her thoughts, he began humming the same song in her head. She laid there for another fifteen minutes before rolling over to face him. He looked a little taken aback by her suddenly staring at him, but not completely uncomfortable. Like he knew she was awake the whole time.

“I’m sorry did I wake you?” He asked a little sadly. As if he wanted to watch her sleep.

But she shook her head and sat up.

“If the humming helps I can keep doing it to get you to sleep?” He asked. But she didn’t say anything as she scooted back to where she had been by his side.

“You’re all quiet again, I don’t like it when you’re quiet.” His friendly tone slowly lost it’s kindness. “Answer me-“

He was cut off by her reaching around behind him and pulling him into a tight hug. She waited until his arms came around her waist and pulled her closer before she moved; her small fingers worked quickly. Before he could stop her, she untied the strap of the lower mask and ripped it off his face. His large hand gripped her upper arms, and a growl formed in his throat once he realized he was bare, but everything stopped when he felt her soft lips on his.

She placed her hands on either side of his strong neck, and brushed her lips against his again. It was strange, but it was exactly what she needed. Then, humiliation and horror set in when he didn’t move. She was about to pull away and apologize, when a large hand held the back of her head and the other gripped her waist, pulling her into his lap. She couldn’t help the soft moans she let out as her legs settled on either side of his thighs.

She pushed his open shirt off his shoulders, and he removed his arms from her momentarily to throw the garment away. The shirt she wore quickly followed, as he almost ripped it off her. As soon as he returned his gaze to her nude form, however, his eyes caught two small scars on her lower abdomen.

Y/n knew what he was looking at before he even asked.

She looked down and tilted her head to the side and took his hand. His sharp eyes snapped to hers, but he watched as she brought his hand to the scars. His brows furrowed and his gaze darted from between his hand and her eyes.

“I…I can’t have children.” She whispered. “My dad told me he was giving me a gift by having it done…I was seventeen.” Her eyes were glassy at the memory. How she had screamed and cried herself to sleep for months as the incisions healed.

His hardened face softened as she explained. He traced the marks, and she watched him.

After a moment, he sighed, and finally looked back up to the girl watching him. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, and he felt her relax under his touch. Y/n sighed and caught his lips as he moved away, and he pulled her closer against that strong chest she had been admiring for longer than she would care to admit.

Now with his burning skin flush against hers, she was certain she would combust.

He nipped at her lips and barely waited to slip his tongue inside her sweet mouth. Her hips rocked against him, panties soaking through by the second.

She raked her nails along his shoulder, and he quickly pulled away. She took the time to look at him fully without a mask or tears in her eyes. The little bit of light hit the side of his face. She reached up and hesitated a second but he didn’t waste any time bringing her hand to his face. She grinned and felt along his jaw up to his cheeks and nose and through his hair. His breathing seemed to come harder with each touch of her hand. She kissed his jaw to his ear, “Can I tell you a secret?” She whispered.

“Yes.” He breathed out.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a very long time.” She placed another kiss there, but a hand in her hair yanked her back and brought her down to the mattress. He gripped each of her wrists in his large lands as he looked down at her.

“And here I thought you saw me as a new daddy.” He teased her, enjoying how wide her eyes were and how she looked away when he spoke. “No? No I don’t think you want me to be a fucking father at all…” he leaned down to her neck and inhaled deeply.

Y/n watched his every move, intoxicated by him. A rush of heat enveloped her limbs as he spoke; he pulled against his grip fruitlessly as she ached to touch him. Pull him closer.

His nose tickled the shell of her ear as he savoured her panting breaths.

“I thought I was going to have to do this myself…but look at you.” He chuckled, and placed both of her hands in one of his to allow him to touch her, “You’ve been thinking about me, haven’t you? All those nights…” his hand trailed down her neck to her breast where he rolled her nipple, and she arched into his touch, “…that I stayed with you as you slept…” he continued to move his hand lower until it reached her panties, “…did you think filthy things about me? Think about if I fucked you as you slept? If I touched you…” his large hand pulled her panties down, “…or maybe if I touched myself? Because I damn well almost did all of them.” He confided in her darkly but still with an eerie joy. He had lost count of the amount of times he had sat next to her in that mattress with his cock straining against his pants and deranged thoughts of forcing himself inside her as she slept ran through his mind. And the times he had emptied his cum into his pants by her sleeping touch alone.

He pulled away then, and gazed down at the young woman at his mercy. He had to admit that this was far more addictive than any young boy screaming during a beating, or running from him. Hell he could barely even compare them.

Having her mewl and keen for him made him want more.

More.

He wanted her heart.

Her soul.

He wanted her to be in love with him.

“Do you want me to help you feel better, my sweet girl?” He murmured. Against his finger, he felt that hardened bump pulse and he felt a surge of pleasure when he stroked it and she jolted.

She could barely form a response with him surrounding her. His smell alone made her brain fuzzy and his touch on her clit made her want to beg.

He sipped his hand lower until his fingers stroked through her soaking folds, she let out a gasp and bucked her hips. The embarrassment she felt for the deafening noise of how soaked she was disappeared when he chuckled, “Do you like that? Do you like when I touch you.”

He rocked his hardened length against her thigh when she gasped.

She breathed out a response. “Yes…”

A slow smirk twisted his face, and he leaned down to her, his grip on her wrists still harsh.

“You want me?” He asked condescendingly, rubbing against her more deliberately. He knew he needed to stop or he would come right there in his pants.

The young woman nodded, “Yes.” Came her whisper.

“Only me?” He slipped his hand to her clit, circling that sensitive bud that begged for attention as much as her.

She nodded helplessly, “P-please…”

“How long have you wanted me?” He leaned down and smelled along her abdomen. He sucked and bit at the skin.

“Since- since the second week…” y/n did her best to not moan and whine the entire time, but it proved to be nearly impossible.

“My, my…and you’ve just been trying so damn hard to be good, have you?” He cooed.

“Yes sir..” the title slipped out, and she hoped he didn’t notice, but he did.

Of course he did.

“What was that pretty girl?” He murmured with a sadistic grin.

Her breathing came harder as she fought to not pass out, “I said Yes sir.” She breathed out.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Say it again.” He growled out.

She watched his mouth as he spoke, revelling in the fact that she could see him. “Yes sir.”

As soon as the words left her, he slipped a long, veined finger inside her. It was far thicker than she was used to and stretched her like two of hers. He effortlessly stroked that spot inside her that she struggled to reach herself. She gasped and pulled against his hand holding her down. “Please sir!” She mewled.

“You want something, bunny?” He rasped. He curled his finger and added another inside her.

“You! Pl-please you, sir!” She cried out, a moan mixing with her words. She felt so full already.

“Such a good girl…” he slowly released her hand so he could undo his pants, and she quickly sat up to help. Her version of help was kissing up his chest, worshiping his skin. He let out ragged groans and breaths as his painfully hard cock was released from his pants and underwear, which he pushed off quickly.

A part of him wanted so badly to fold her in half and force his way inside her. Make her cry out in pain and fuck her stupid until she wasn’t sure if she was begging for him to stop or for more.

But he fought that side.

He pushed her back down to the mattress, and she let out a small giggle. Her smile was quickly snuffed out when he crawled over her and pinned her to the bed even tighter than before. He hovered above her for a moment, and y/n leaned up as best as she could to brush her lips against his. His hesitation made her wonder how long it had been since someone showed him affection.

While the moment was sweet, she rolled her hips in hopes of getting his attention, which she did. The older man released one of her wrists and took his cock in hand, barely teasing her before pushing the thick head inside her. She cried out at his size, feeling him stretch her neglected pussy. He gazed down at her, and fought to keep from snapping his hips to push himself inside. But then, after a moment of having so little of him ruining her tight little pussy, her hips began to rock almost instantly for more, to his surprise. He half expected her to tell him to stop, that it was too much. That she changed her mind, that she didn’t want it. But she only begged for more.

And he would give it to her. The older man felt his cock swell even more as her little body asked for him; he firmly thrust forward a little more, and stopped when he literally couldn’t fit anymore inside her.

Y/n breathed out shakily and he felt her twitch and shake against him. He pulled out completely and thrust back into her when she suddenly tensed and her mouth dropped open, “W-wait I….I can’t! Wait!” She cried and he felt a sick pleasure bloom.

“No? You can’t take it?” He mocked her and thrust in a little more, and he felt her shake again.

“I-wait please I- I’m gonna c-come-“ she gasped.

That shocked him. He wasn’t even fucking her yet. But he rocked against her, and sure enough, he felt that tightness become unbearable.

Oh fuck she’s not lying-

A surge of slick cum enveloped his cock and he felt it coat him. She twitched and cried uncontrollably as she moaned and bucked her hips.

He stared down at his little bunny as she came and fucked herself on his thick cock to make sure he was slick enough to fuck her senseless. What a considerate little girl he had.

“Did you just come on my cock bunny? Did it just feel too fucking good?” He teased her harshly, though he was fighting to not empty every drop of his cum into her.

She nodded, clearly embarrassed, but serene.

“Does my pretty girl like that?” He growled as he sunk inside her fully, not caring that she was still sensitive. “Fuck.” He placed his hand back on her wrist.

“Yes sir-“ she gasped, and whimpered. “I-I’ve wished y-you would do this-Ah! E-even thought about asking you to shower with me-ah!” She moaned out as he began to thrust inside her.

“Did you now?” He rasped in a mocking tone. “Naughty girl.” She clenched around him at the name, and his blue eyes snapped to hers.

She looked away, embarrassed.

“Ah ah, Eyes on me, naughty girl.” He purred dangerously. She clenched again deliciously.

She looked back at him, and bit the inside of her cheek as she felt herself growing sensitive. He stared down at her spread for him, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. Her lips parted in ecstasy and her skin glowing with sweat.

She had expected him to set a punishing pace, but she found instead that his movements were slow and intense; his thumbs stroked circles on her wrists where he held them. He was far from romantic and gentle, but he had a certain precision that made him even more powerful. It made her trust him even more.

He leaned down to her neck and bit and sucked at the skin, marking her as his. Then, she let out a gasp of surprise when he flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up and slipped back inside her. His hands gripped her hips tighter, and y/n found herself hoping it would leave bruises.

“P-pleAse.” She whimpered out, grasping at the sheet until her knuckles turned white.

“What was that? Did. You. Fucking. Say. Something?” He punctuated each word with a thrust that almost made her scream.

A breathy moan emitted from her. “Please- ah!” He smacked her hard on her hip, and she realized her mistake. “Please sir…” She whispered.

“Does my little bunny want something? Hmm?” He rasped, before gripping her hand and pulling her up so her back was arched against him. He slipped his large hand to her neck, and he felt her tense for a moment; a part of him revelled in it- the Grabber side. He wanted her scared. But his other half wanted her tamed for him, and him only. So he settled for something that pleased both; he tightened his grip but stroked his thumb along the column of her throat. Her muscles relaxed almost instantly, and he felt her little hands hold onto his arm.

Her brain began to lose all function. Having him all around and inside her was almost too much. His strong chest scorched her spine as his hips snapped against hers, each one harsher than the last.

“I- w-wan-na c-come-“ she stuttered out as her breathing became shallow.

“Yeah, you wanna come? Again?”he stilled and growled into her ear. “If I let you, you’d better make it worth my while.” He let her go, and she collapsed to the mattress. He knew she was close, very close. But he wanted to see her. He wanted to witness her falling apart for him.

He pulled himself from her, and sat with his back against the wall and barely had beckon her before she was settled on his lap. Like this, she could see him entirely. He was unbelievable handsome, so much so that it almost made her stop and admire him.

Later.

She stared into those blue eyes and waited for him to tell her to go ahead. His chest swelled at her good behaviour, and placed a hand on her lower back to bring her over the tip of his cock, and let her sink down onto him. She released a whimper at the new position as it left no room for anything but his entire length to pulse inside her. His cock brushed against that spot inside her.

“Look at me.” He rasped

She locked eyes with him and began to fuck herself in his cock. He guided her hands to his shoulders and held her hips to make sure she knew he was in charge. Her lips parted as she began to let go.

“That’s my pretty girl…” he rasped, “You’re mine. You know that?”

She nodded, her brows pitching up and that heat inside her began to be too much.

“Say it.” He growled, gripping her tighter.

“I-I’m yours, sir!” She cried out, teetering on the edge.

“Such a good fucking girl. My good girl. That’s it…” he voice turned encouraging, and he even slipped his thump over her clit to send her over the edge. He needed her to come for him. He needed to be the one to make her come.

To his pleasure, she began to shutter and grip his bare shoulders until it hurt. A gravelly moan emitted from him as she gave in to him. He could feel her tighter around his cock until a rush of cum drenched him. She moaned and whimpered uncontrollably as she rode out her orgasm. He watched her every move, obsessing over every gasp and twitch.

Then as she slowed, she put her head against his shoulder and took a breath before pulling away and staring back at him with a fierceness he wasn’t expecting. She held his gaze as she lifted herself up until just the tip of his cock was inside her. Then, slammed herself down until every inch of him was inside her. She began riding him again, put she leaned down to his neck and kissed along it until he was breathing heavily and he took a handful of her hair and pulled.

She let out a surprised mewl, but did not stop her pace. He made her hold his stare, and he revelled in her blown pupils that were clear as day even in the dim light.

She was far from faking anything.

She wanted him.

With that thought alone, he let go. His hand on her hip tightened and his hips stuttered too meet hers as she helped him ride out his orgasm. She gazed at his face, watching him as ecstasy washed over his form. His eyes shut and his mouth parted as his breaths came in heavy gasps.

She felt his cum coat her insides, fill her until she felt it leak out of her. She rested her head against his collarbone, breathing heavily as she tried to steady her heart rate. After a couple seconds, his arms wrapped around her, and squeezed her close.

“Let’s get you washed up, bunny.” He whispered into her hair.

Her surprise must have shown, and he grinned, and took her in his arms; she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face there while his other arm held her legs. He carried her upstairs, and placed her on the tile on the bathroom floor as he ran the water for the shower. She looked down at her hands still not sure if she should look at him in the light.

“In you get.” He said to her, and took her hand. She stepped into the shower, and let the warm water wash away the sweat and slick between her thighs. But to her surprise, he got in behind her. She slowly turned around to face him, but trained her eyes on his chest.

“Look at me.” He murmured.

She blinked, and wondered if she had imagined his voice telling her to, but then she heard it again.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” He said, placing his finger under her chin but not moving it.

This time, she let her eyes travel up his strong chest, to his collarbone, to the prominent vein that run up his neck, then to his chin that she was growing to love; past his lips and his nose until she met his eyes. “There you are, bunny.” He grinned.

Y/n slowly returned his grin, and her eyes lit up. She could see him. She took in his features properly, until she had been staring for well over a minute as the water rained down on her back.

“Can I tell you a secret?” She whispered.

“Of course you can.” He murmured.

“You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.” She confided in him. “And I like this line between your brows.” She reached up between then and traced the prominent line there. He smiled , took her hand and pressed a kiss to her inner wrist before turning her away from him. She felt his fingers in her hair, and realized he was washing it.

He washed every inch of her, and took his time touching her. He inspected the marks he had left, grinning at the large handprints on her hips. He shamelessly squeezed her breasts and played with her sore clit, drinking in her whimpers, as he pried one more orgasm from her; he took note that she never moved away or told him to stop.

He wrapped her in a towel, then himself, and led her out into the kitchen where he placed a chocolate on her tongue. He was acutely aware of her burning gaze now that he was maskless.

A part of him hated that she could see him, that he let her. But then the other half reminded him of the game. He needed her to trust him, if he wanted control.

He gazed down at her, and she couldn’t help the smitten grin that eased onto her lips. Then, instead of taking her down to the basement, he took her hand, and began guiding her through the house, past the living room. She resisted ever so slightly, having gotten used to the basement and it’s security, but he tugged on her a little more and she followed him into a new territory. There was one light on coming from a room down the hall, and upon arriving there she recognized it was his room. It was oddly orderly, and she wondered if that was something instilled in him from childhood. If his father had served in the war, chances were that he indoctrinated his family with militant organisation like her uncle had with his family.

He pulled her inside the room, and snapped his fingers; a moment later Sampson came and sat at the door. She felt a little safer with him there, and she smiled at his pitch black face.

As she looked around, she felt large hands remove her towel, and heard him walk away. When she turned back towards him, he was on the edge of the much cleaner mattress. “Come here bunny.” He cooed to her.

The adrenaline that had pushed her to follow through with her actions just an hour ago had worn off. In it’s place, were some nerves. She wrung her hands as she walked to him obediently. He watched her intently, and soon as she was close, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto the bed next to him. They laid together, and she curled up in his arms. He didn’t look away from her for a minute, and she found herself to be almost hypnotised by his eyes. She stared back at him, and traced his face.

“Are you real?” She whispered.

He nodded.

She grinned and kissed his cheek, before draping a leg over his hip and closing her eyes. His arms pulled her closer to his chest and he could feel her sigh contently. He stroked her hair as she fell asleep in his arms. “Sweet dreams, y/n.”

She was exactly where he wanted her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

@lxdyred @ethanhawkestan @honeycovered-bandaids @theroadreader @eth1calcannibal @ratpackash @doc-blu @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @dogmatic255 @funandfancyfree

#ethan hawke #the grabber x reader #the grabber #the black phone 2022 #the black phone #sweet dreams

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tigersullivan01 · 11 months

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Alma Peregrine x Reader- kitchen chaos

Y/n pov

“Hugh! Stop it, you’re getting it everywhere!” I let out a sigh as I grab the bowl with half of the pie dough left in it and puts it on the counter.

“Go and take a bath, I’ll clean up this mess” I muttered as I looked around the kitchen, how can one boy cover the hole kitchen in pie dough? And how can you fail so spectacularly in making said dough? Even myself is covered in the sticky mess, I grab the cleaning stuff and start working on the mess.

Finally after an hour of scrubbing the kitchen is finally clean so we can cook dinner, i sigh and head upstairs and change my clothes to clean once and head downstairs. Standing in shock at the doorway to the kitchen as I see flour, eggs and milk all over the counter and floor, Clare standing on a kitchen chair covered in the stuff and Millard, Emma and Olive only covered in flour.

“What happened in here? I was gone for five minutes”

“Ops we are baking cookies but we’re out of flour and eggs” Emma explains giggling as Millard continues the catastrophe. I sigh heavily and put Clare back on the floor.

“Emma give Clare a bath and clean up yourself. Olive and Millard go clean yourselves up and head down to the village and get four eggs and a pack of flour, of you go”

After they scurry out I repeat the process of cleaning the kitchen AGAIN before starting dinner, hearing a small explosion behind me and feeling the back of my shirt being covered with a wet and sticky substance. Wiping my head around I se Enoch with a smirk on his face with one of his little alive thighs with an empty catapult arm.

“What did you throw on me Enoch? Why are you throwing things at me anyway?”

“Oh just some water and cornstarch, I wanted to test my creation”

“You had to do that on me? And why that mixture? It’s horrible to try to wash out of clothes”

“Because it’s thick and heavy”

“………*-*………go to your room immediately”

Finishing dinner and putting it on the table, getting Alma from her office and changing clothes AGAIN, we finally sit down for dinner. I just pick at my food as the others eat, having lots my appetite completely and being bone tired.

“Why aren’t you eating dear?”

“Mmmm not hungry”

“Are you sure? You didn’t eat much for lunch”

“I’m sure love”

Me and Alma have our quiet conversation as the children eat.

Alma and I stay a little later at the table talking with each other as the children put their dishes in the kitchen, as me and Alma enter the kitchen afterwards I can’t help myself, and luckily there were no children around.

“How the f*ck can they get the kitchen so messy?! All it takes is FIVE minutes and there is food on the ceiling, a book it the fridge and milk in the cupboard! HOW!” Alma slammed her hand over my mouth.

“Clean this up and then go to our room, your sleeping on the loveseat tonight” She practically growled as her blue eyes turned cold, doing as my wife tells me without a word as she goes to the children for the movie. Tears prickled in the corner of my eyes as I wipe off the counter and wash the plates, when I’m done I simply turn into a fox and run silently upstairs with my tail between my legs. Curling up in the corner of the room under the dresser, together with the cobwebs and a small spider I don’t even bother getting outside I fall asleep.

Alma’s pov

Cursing at the children really? That was low and unjustified of them, they didn’t even have a reason! Yes the children mess the kitchen up occasionally but that’s nothing to curs about! I lean against the doorframe as I angrily puff on my pipe as Horse shows his dreams, it’s the usual clothes and stuff. After that we head out to reset, I feel someone tug on my skirt.

“Yes Clare?”

“Why isn’t Mx Fox here? They’re always here!” Smiling softly and pulling out my pocket watch.

“They said some bad words about the kitchen before, so they have to go to bed early” Enoch chuckled

“That’s the second time they have cleaned the kitchen today”

“No….if they cleaned up after you then that’s three times” Emma chimes in and my eyes widen a little.

“No! Four times! I accidentally messed the kitchen up too” Hugh says as he scratches the back of his neck, my eyes are probably the size of plates and I nearly mess up the reset.

“FOUR TIMES?!” I look at the children in shock.

“Get ready for bed, now” I quickly walked inside and upstairs to our bedroom, opening the door quickly and looking around. Not here? I check the bathroom, hallway, library, kitchen and living room, looking under every furniture. Why do they have to be so good at hiding? I walk back to our bedroom and look everywhere i can think of, finally I find them in the corner under the dresser curl up in a tight ball…. I grab a pillow and blanket and lay down outside the dresser looking at them sadly.

“Love?……….baby?……..please come out….” Slowly reaching under the dresser and rubbing my finger gently over their snout as they slowly blink their eyes open

Y/n pov

Blinking my eyes open and seeing Alma laying on the floor, a sad smile on her face as she gently scratches the top of my head.

“Please baby can you come out? I’m sorry for earlier…..I should have asked you why you reacted like that…” Hesitantly crawling out and into her arms as she picks me up into her arms and hugs me tightly.

“I’m so sorry love, i didn’t know what had happened. Do you feel up to saying good night to the children?” Contemplating for a bit before getting out of her arms and transforming into my human state and offering a hand for Alma to get up.

“Just….please don’t look at me with those cold eyes again” I whisper before going to the children to tuck them in and say good night. As I return to our bedroom i see Alma standing in her nightgown with a small smile as she pulls me to the bed and makes me sit down as she changes me into my pjs before laying me down, tucking me in with my green frog stuffy and spooning me from behind.

“You can be your adorable little orange fur ball if you want” she whispered in my ear, well I’m in heaven. How can someone be so comfortable? Snuggling close to her as I fall asleep.

In the morning i sleep in a little while Alma scolds the children on proper ways to be in the kitchen and how to clean it after themselves, the bird was quite angry.

A little sad but fluffy in the end. I’ve had no good ideas for stories lately so I gave you what was good enough of my many failed attempts, I hope it’s good enough and feel welcome to request ideas you want to read about. -Tiger

#alma peregrine x reader #alma peregrine #fluff

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abandoned-anemoia · 11 months

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Time of Love pt.2

☯ Pairing: Dad!San x reader ☯ Genre: fluff ☯ Word count: 1.1k ☯ Summary: A day in the life of you and San being parents can be quite eventful. ☯ Warnings: none? ☯ A/N: Please Let me know if I need to add any warnings! ☯Disclaimer: None of my work represents any of the idols included in any way. This is merely fictional and all based on my opinion as a joke! I have nothing against any of these idols and love them all dearly.

This can be read as a stand alone, but here is pt.1 if you want to read it :)

Please do not copy, translate, or post as your own!

The smell of the piping hot pancakes wafts through the house, drawing San out of bed and into the kitchen to see your frame standing in front of the stove, flipping the doughy circle in the pan. A stack of the breakfast food sits on a plate next to the stove as he watches you add another to the pile.

He makes his way over to your form, sneaking his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek before lying his head on your shoulder, "Good morning, Angel."

"Good morning, My Love." Smiling as he squeezes you tighter, you turn off the stove, having finished making breakfast only moments after his arms wrapped around you.

Not wanting to leave his embrace, you turn your body to face him. Puffy cheeks, pouty lips, and squinting eyes come into view, your heart swelling at the sight of your very sleepy looking husband.

Unable to stop yourself, you press a soft kiss to his pout, watching as a smile replaces it when you pull away, "Will you go wake Minjae up while I fix a plate for him?"

San hums, leaving a kiss on your forehead as he retracts his arms from around you. Just before he turns to leave the room, Minjae wanders in, seemingly being led by his nose as he sniffs the air, same puffy cheeks and furrowed eyebrows as his father.

"Hey, buddy! You want some pancakes?" As if San had said the magic words, Minjae's eyes shoot open impossibly wide, a bright smile forming on his lips as he bounds toward the table, ready to climb into his chair and eat breakfast.

Letting out a joyous laugh at his son's excitement, San moves to lift Minjae into his chair. You turn back to the counter, grabbing a small plate for Minjae, cutting up the pancake and drizzling some of the sweet smelling maple syrup over it before walking it over to him. Carefully setting it down, you hand Minjae the fork, shooting a look towards San, silently telling him to watch the young boy while you fix plates for the two of you.

Minjae had a dream to tell you about over breakfast. A dream involving you, San, and a magical fairy that pooped butterflies and shot rainbows out of her fingers. His very detailed descriptions of the strange dream had you and San struggling to breathe through your laughter while he continued his very serious retelling.

After breakfast, San cleans up the plates as you wipe down your very messy eater of a son and ask him what he wants to do for the day. His eyes light up, an idea immediately popping into his head, "Can we go to the zoo?!"

You glance at San, silently asking if that would be okay with him, but his bright smile and excited eyes answer your question. Turning back to Minjae, his eyes glossy and sparkling, you give him a nod, confirming his hopes.

You walk through the entrance of the zoo, one of Minjae's small hands in yours, his other in San's while you swing him between the two of you. San asks Minjae where he wants to go first, your son quickly begging to see his favorite animal first—the elephants.

When you reach the elephants, Minjae sits happily upon San's shoulders as he copies the elephants, an arm in front of his face, waving around, and making a trumpet sound with his mouth. San quietly mimics Minjae's trumpeting, a subconscious but endearing action.

Minjae's giggles are hypnotic, addicting, like a drug you just can't live without. The sound is a common occurrence throughout the day. Minjae has full conversations with the parrots that know just enough words to convince the little boy that they can continue his conversation. He excitedly roars at the lions and tigers resting in their enclosures. He mimics the monkey's every move as he walks along beside the glass. No matter how many times you had gone to the zoo and seen the same animals, Minjae still had the same wonder filled amazement—just like his father.

The day was long and hot, but fun nonetheless. Minjae happily skips to the car after the successful zoo trip, ready to go home.

Once you make it home, Minjae is bounding around the house acting as different animals and somehow managing to successfully scare San on multiple occasions. You decide that both of your lovely boys still have too much energy. To counter that, you suggest a movie night, convincing your boys to help you build a fort using the couch cushions and a bunch of blankets.

Sitting inside of the now built fort, you open the end facing the television, "What movie do you wanna watch, Min?"

The little boy taps a finger on his chin in thought, the dramatics making you and San chuckle before the make believe light bulb above Minjae's head seems to click on, "Shrek!"

San sighs, knowing you both have been forced to watch 'Shrek' one time too many, "Don't you wanna watch 'Puss In Boots' instead?"

"Noooo." Minjae wasn't exactly upset by the suggestion, but you know you will be watching 'Shrek' again, one way or another.

The movie starts with you and San leaning against the couch, his arm around your shoulders and your head lying on his chest. Minjae lies on his stomach at your feet, entranced by the movie playing on the screen. But as the credits start to roll, Minjae has crawled into your lap, draping himself across San's as well before falling fast asleep. Your eyes are droopy, sleep threatening to overcome you. San squeezes your arm causing you to look up at him in question.

His voice is quiet, trying not to wake Minjae up as he speaks, "Let's head to bed so our backs won't hate us in the morning."

Nodding in agreement, you carefully lift Minjae into your arms and crawl your way out of the fort, San following closely behind. You carry your toddler to his room, ready to tuck him in and call it a night when he wakes up, his voice hushed, "Can I sleep with you and daddy tonight?"

Not being able to say no to his big doe eyes and sleepy voice, you nod, carrying him back to your shared bedroom. San is curled up under the covers, a confused look on his face when you tuck minjae between the two of you, "Cuddle night?"

"Cuddle night." You confirm, pulling your son closer to you as San pulls you both into his arms, planting a kiss on top of Minjae's head before pecking your lips. His fingers trace shapes on your back as Minjae snuggles into his chest, the three of you falling into a peaceful sleep.

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milfswriter · 1 year

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So i heard you want alma peregrine requests -well ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE!!

fem!reader doing ALL alma's work for her so she can get a day/s off. pls mommy bird NEEDS it.

Prompt, fluff; “i want to spend the day with you doing nothing.”

Alma is my baby. I'll never not write for her, reading the books hurt me so bad cause her brothers are fucking dicks :(

Day Off

Alma Peregrine x Telekinetic!reader

Summary: Alma is taking the day off, according to you.

Notes and warnings: this takes place before jake comes into the loop.

You woke up unnaturally early that day, stretching your arms before seeing Alma sleeping soundly next to you. She looked so exhausted as you watched her face contort as a result of whatever dream she was having.

You sneaked out of bed, quickly did your morning routine, and went downstairs to start breakfast. You took out the pans and the cutting board and used your powers to make the scrambled eggs and cut the salad while you set up the table.

You saw a book flying in the air, approaching the living room, and sighed. "Millard, Clothes. now!" you ordered and saw the book fall.

"Miss Y/n? Why are you up so early? this is my reading hour" he asked, you couldn't see where he was at this point.

You told him about giving Alma a break and that he should wake the others now for breakfast. He gave you a hum and you heard his footsteps as he walked away.

In turn, you followed him after making sure everything was set up and went to your and Alma's shared bedroom. You approached her slowly, placing a hand on her shoulder to gently wake her up.

The Ymbrine stirred before opening her eyes to see you smiling down at her. "Hm?..did I sleep too long? are the children okay?" you nodded.

"Everyone is okay, it's actually pretty early. I made breakfast" She raised a skeptical eyebrow at you before getting out of bed and checking her pocket watch.

You let her get dressed before going back downstairs to see the children sitting at the dining table sleepily.

"What's this about?" Enoch asked grumpily and you turned to face him with a questioning look.

"It's earlier than usual..what happened?" You shrugged, "nothing happened. Miss Peregrine needs the day off..I want each and every one of you to behave yourself today. And Enoch, if I see you in Victor's room again, I won't be answerable for my actions"

You felt soft hands on your waist with a tutting voice. "Threatening the children now, are we?" Your wife husked in your ear with a chuckle.

"more like warning them" you pulled out her chair for her and let her before sitting next to her and eating.

After they all finished eating, you asked Emma and Bronwyn to clean up and took Alma's hand before she went to the kitchen.

"No work for you today, Birdie" you crossed your arms as you sat her on the big couch, levitating her favorite book to her and lighting up her pipe.

She raised a brow. "Darling? what's up with you today? you woke us up early and now I can't do anything?"

You hummed in agreement. "Even ymbrines need some time off, no?" she was going to fight you off but decided that you were right.

She took your hand in hers, kissing it softly in gratitude. "I want to spend the day with you doing nothing. Which I know you'll be struggling to do but try not to worry about anything until reset" she gave in and nodded, knowing nothing will change your mind when it comes to her rest.

You laid next to her with your head in her lap, her fingers running through your hair as you looked up at her with a smile as she read her book.

Later, you were called to the garden by Millard to referee while they played and help the children with their daily work. Getting the ball from the tree every time Hugh kicks it too hard.

Little did you know, Alma was watching you from the window with a smile as you tackled Hugh playfully for cheating with his bees. "

Taglist:

@ara-a-bird @mmemalwa @multifandomfix

#alma peregrine x reader #miss peregrine x reader #eve green x reader #mphfpc x reader #miss peregrine's home for peculiar children

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theladyofbloodshed · 4 months

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Chapter 6

(Sorry you had to wait 6 months)

Limbs aching from holding the heavy bow, Nesta was ushered into the home by Lucien as the sun began to set. If there was any sort of frostiness between her and Vassa as the queen emerged for the night, Lucien’s warmth melted it quickly. Although she did not know the mortal queen very well, Lucien ensured the conversation flowed easily amongst them then when Jurian arrived back, the conversation was taken up a notch. Nesta was happy to sit beside the stove as words were parried amongst the group although a deep longing for something like this began to grow inside of her. Somehow these three mismatched people had come together and a friendship had bloomed. Although she had Emerie and Gwyn, who she loved dearly, their interactions were always shaped by Cassian or he was always nearby as if to oversee it. Nesta did not have friends she could go and visit without assistance or Cassian lurking near.

She was broken out of her wistful dreaming by Lucien’s hands on her shoulders, encouraging her to get to her feet.

‘You’re a guest so do not need to help us to cook,’ he explained. ‘If you’d like a bath, I can run one for you or you can get comfortable in the lounge. Vassa has a few books you might like.’

‘There was one in your room actually that intrigued me with the burgundy cover.’

Lucien swept his head downwards. ‘Help yourself. Shall I run you a bath?’

Nesta stood rooted to the spot, blinking at him. Surely this was a trick of some kind? She waited for Lucien to lead into a line about massaging her or helping to wash – like Cassian would – but, instead, he merely waited for her answer.

‘A bath, please.’

When the water had been running for long enough, Nesta entered the bathroom with clean clothes bundled under her arm to find Lucien using his magic to heat it. He swirled his hand through the water, ensuring the heat was thoroughly mixed.

‘I wasn’t sure how hot you liked it. Vassa prefers it scalding.’

For a moment, Nesta had forgotten they were beneath the Wall where magic could not be employed to heat the water in the pipes. She remembered the days of heating buckets of water over the fire after pumping it from a freezing well – then the bath being cold by the time the second bucket had heated.

‘You do this every time?’

‘It’s good to let magic out.’ He added, ‘I don’t always do it for Jurian.’

With only the sounds of water hitting the metal tub, Lucien continued letting his fire magic crawl beneath the metal tub until steam rose up towards the white tiles.

‘That’s deep enough,’ she said.

There was only five inches in it, but that was deep enough for her.

‘It’s not a problem,’ replied Lucien. ‘My family have a strong streak of fire in them.’

‘It’s not- It’s not that.’ Nesta stared down at the shallow water. ‘It reminds me of that day. I don’t like the water very deep.’

To anybody listening, it ought to have sounded pathetic. It really was pathetic. After all this time, Nesta still could not take a bath without guiding herself through it with a constant inner monologue to reassure herself. But this was progress for her. Long gone were the days of standing in an empty bath and using buckets of water to pour over her bare body. Cassian didn’t understand. Couldn’t understand how she wasn’t over it yet.

Lucien glanced between her and the bath tub before realisation dawned on his face. The tap was turned off.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’

‘It’s alright,’ she reassured him. ‘Nobody does. This is perfect.’

Lucien left her to bathe with an expression of hopelessness on his face that Nesta wished she could scrub away. None of this was his fault. Once, maybe, she blamed Lucien for the Cauldron but he’d been collateral damage, just as she had. Ever since, Lucien had made amends, serving another court, a different high lord than the one he’d pledged his life to.

Her arms and shoulders were sore from archery. The bath had done nothing for the ache except bring it to the surface. Thankfully, she managed to button up the last few buttons without assistant but her muscles burnt afterwards. From all of the trainings with Cassian, Nesta had presumed she was at the fittest she would ever be, but clearly her feeble arms required improvement.

At the bottom of the stairs, she caught the tail end of a conversation.

‘Give me one good reason.’

‘I’ll owe you,’ replied Lucien.

Vassa’s laugh sounded then, ‘Jurian, being in an Autumn princeling’s favour can’t be thrown away so easily.’

Jurian swore then she heard the back door creak open.

‘The things we do for love,’ said Vassa with a sigh.

‘It’s called being kind. Perhaps you can look into it.’

The kitchen door opened, flooding in light to the darkened hallway and both Lucien and Nesta jumped.

‘Oh. Dinner is cooking,’ said Lucien in greeting.

Instead of joining them in the kitchen, Lucien guided Nesta through the corridor to the lounge where pillows and blankets were piled onto the lurid couch. The book that she had been after was placed on the small table nearby with a freshly brewed cup of tea and Lucien encouraged her to take a seat. Without asking, he lifted her bare feet onto the other end and tucked a blanket around her lap.

‘Where are your socks?’

‘I knew I’d forgotten to pack something,’ she said. ‘I’ll wash the ones I have later.’

Lucien made a tutting noise. ‘We may not have a magical house that does the work, but you are a guest here.’

‘I don’t mind to help,’ she insisted.

Lucien gave a laugh. They came so easily from him but were never sarcastic. ‘I grew up amongst high lords. Vassa is a queen. Jurian is the best chef among us – but I doubt any help you can give will salvage our meal. It will be edible. That is all I can promise.’

There was something alluring about his expression that Nesta could not take her eyes from. Lucien had a way of making her smile. Perhaps because he wore his own readily that it encouraged her own one to make a shy appearance. Everything that he did was easy or carefree. Not in the way that Rhysand did what he wanted and damned the consequences, but in a more natural way that suggested he’d bloom no matter the season.

‘Enjoy your book.’

It was strange to be doted upon. Stranger still to not have to pay as a result. Cassian was offended if Nesta wanted a night in the library alone to read so had to make it up to him, or if she wanted to see Emerie, he’d want payment in the form of her body. Lucien did not expect anything. He’d sat her down here because he’d known that was what she wanted.

Nesta was two chapters deep into the book when Lucien returned. Without a word, he raised the blanket from her feet and began putting a pair of his own socks onto her feet.

‘I cannot bare to see cold feet.’

With a soft patter of rain and a belly full of tea, Nesta could not stop her eyes from closing tucked up on the couch. It had been so nice to just be her for the day. No mate to tip-toe around, no inner circle to disappoint, no training, no desperate need to prove she was worthy of being around them. Each moment that she was away from the Night Court made it more difficult to return. What did she have to look forward toby being there?

The sound of the front door opening had Nesta bolting upright in anticipation.

Surely, she’d receive a warning if it was Cassian?

Her fingers gripped the blanket, heart thudding louder.

Jurian, with hair damp from the rain, shucked off his boots and entered the room carrying a package in brown paper. He winked at her. ‘You are a lucky, lucky girl.’

‘Am I supposed to know why?’

The mortal man gave a rough laugh. ‘You’ll figure it out eventually.’

The dinner was ready minutes later. A roast of lamb had been prepared with buttery mashed potatoes, parsnips, carrots, and cauliflower. Whilst mortal food lacked the same strong tastes as fae food, it was still good. When her arms began to ache, Lucien wordlessly took her plate and sliced the meat for her to save her a job.

‘What a good little exile he is,’ mused Jurian.

Jurian wasn’t wrong. There were no other males like Lucien. She could not think of another male who would be willing to leave his mate well alone when his desire was likely telling him another thing. Elain had been granted space and patience while Cassian had encroached on her space and worn her down until she’d given up her choices.

Nobody protested when Nesta collected the dishes and insisted on washing them up – as a good guest should.

Vassa called, ‘Are you making the tea, Jurian?’

‘Oh-ho, I’ve got something better.’ Four bottles of wine were placed on the table. ‘None of this faerie-piss. And – as requested – for the silver witch.’

The brown package was unpeeled to reveal a cake smothered in thick frosting.

‘Uh, no calling her a witch, thank you.’

It took a moment for Nesta to realise that the cake was for her – and Jurian had decided upon a new nickname for her which Lucien promptly shut down.

‘The cake is for me?’

‘You better share it,’ said Jurian, pointing a knife at her. ‘Carrot cake. The good stuff.’

‘There’s a little mortal bakery in the village,’ explained Lucien. ‘You probably know it.’

‘He is obsessed with this cake,’ added Vassa.

‘And now Nesta needs to try it,’ he finished.

It was a marvellous evening with each one clutching a bottle of wine in one hand and a knife in the other to chop slivers off the cake. It was divine; the frosting complimented the sponge which melted on Nesta’s tongue. They reasoned that carrot being a vegetable meant the cake was healthy too.

‘If I wasn’t a faerie, I’d have my face pressed to the glass as soon as it opened,’ said Lucien before licking his knife clean of frosting once the cake had been demolished. Nesta was fascinated by his tongue. It took an effort to snap her eyes away from him.

They talked and joked with laughter coming easier and easier as the wine went down and inhibitions loosened. There was a camaraderie amongst them that Nesta was envious of. Lucien and Jurian were the butt of most of the jokes, but it never went too far. Occasionally, a joke was made about Vassa but never did they mock Nesta despite her having lots to prey upon. The mortal pair had taken Lucien’s lead when it came to approaching her, to which Nesta was thankful.

Late into the night, Jurian clapped his hands together and announced that he was headed to bed. There was a pointed look given to Vassa on his exit.

It did not take long for her to make her own excuses – that she needed to return to her room for a while – despite the curse being lifted for only a few more hours.

Above their heads, they could make out two sets of footsteps rather than just Jurian’s.

‘She can never resist his summons.’

Nesta’s mouth fell open. ‘They’re not?’

‘Oh, they are. For many months. But they refuse to acknowledge it. I’m not allowed to acknowledge it. There’s a silent agreement that we don’t speak about it.’

‘They’re good together,’ said Nesta.

Lucien snorted. ‘They’re good at each other’s throats.’

‘Sounds like my mating bond.’

Lucien pushed the last dregs of his wine towards her so she could drown her sorrows. There was no denying it that from the start, she and Cassian had been at each other’s throats. It had not eased. Arguments were their common currency.

In the dim light of the final candle still burning, Lucien’s golden eye shimmered. This was a male who had suffered enormously. The Night Court was the third court that he’d found a home in – and Nesta could not understand why he’d risk that safety for her.

‘Why are you helping me, Lucien?’

Say it’s because you’re my mate’s sister, she thought. Give me a reason to stop staring at you and longing for what you could offer.

Lucien tracked a finger against the scar on her thumb. ‘Because you deserve better than he gives you.’

‘And what do you deserve?’

He stopped stroking against her thumb. Their eyes snapped to each other. They had suffered, both of them. From the ashes of the flame, maybe there could be something new.

The temptation to lean and press her lips to his was growing stronger. Rather than let the thought take root, Nesta stood. ‘I should go to bed.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed.

In darkness, they both took to the stairs. She was painfully aware of the warmth of Lucien’s body behind hers as they moved through the house.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair. Elain always had the better luck. She had their father’s love, their mother’s blessing to be herself, and now a mate who would move the heavens if she asked. And she did not want him.

Not fair. Not fair.

It blared through Nesta’s head as she crossed through the doorway into Lucien’s bedroom.

This was a male worthy of love, a male worth loving. A male who had treated her better than her damn mate with nothing to gain.

Nesta fumbled on the dresser for a way to light the lamp. Her hands trembled.

‘Here,’ he murmured, stepping into the room. Fire kindled on his fingertips as he leaned across her body for the lamp. The lapel of his jacket swept against her ribs as his fire swirled about the wick. ‘It will burn all night – until you blow it out.’

‘And if I want to keep it?’

Lucien stood upright. Each time he inhaled, she felt the brush of his chest against hers, so close they stood. He was so handsome. Not a man from her mortal stories of dashing knights, but a faerie prince who could enchant her. He already had.

‘Then its yours.’

Despite the small voice in her mind that told her Lucien was off-limits, Nesta raised a hand to cup his face. Her thumb brushed against the knotted scar tissue. He leaned into her touch, eyes closing at the intimacy.

‘We shouldn’t do this,’ she whispered, still not lifting her hand away.

‘No,’ he replied. His hand went to her waist, tugging her the final few inches so their bodies pressed into the other. ‘But I still want to.’

Nesta did not know who moved first. It could have been her. It could have been him.

Their lips met and she saw stars.

#lucien x nesta #lucnes #be consumed by the flame

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zici · 3 months

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You love me

Hello, this is my first time writing and posting a fanfic! The people on the server are so amazing, that I want to share this experience with them and everyone who loves #varadeva. Though it’s already a new day for me, I hope it’s still Valentine’s Day somewhere else. Hope you enjoy! Oh, strong language and implied nsfw, so strictly 18+

Chapter 1

"Deva make sure you bring the orchids to the venue tomorrow, I'll have to leave early to make sure the arrangements are perfect" yelled Kateri. Her son Deva just nodded while making his spiced hot chocolate. Kateri just shook her head at her son for only having consumed this drink in his entire life and not knowing the blissful pleasure of all the sweet dishes under the sun. At least he enjoys this despite being an ardent chiliphile she thinks. He brought his cup of piping hot drink to room and started enjoying it. He finds bliss in the little drink and hopes life’s gonna be like this forever with just him, his amma and his spiced hot chocolate. Oh how he’s proved to be wrong very soon.

“Deva, the owners community is rising hell saying they’ll withdraw their consent on selling their lands, as they are expecting way too much money. They are threatening to sell their lands to a big shot named Ranga and get this; he wants to develop a commercial space there” says Bilal. “Didn’t we already sign the agreement and pay the agreed amount? How can they raise their expectations now?”, Deva thinks. The project is already halfway through. The kids need this, they need a school, a place where they can learn and dream and not follow their parents’ footsteps towards labour. He instructed Bilal, “Let them sue, find a good lawyer to represent us for the lawsuit”. Though Deva was not showing any emotions, Bilal knew him enough to know he’s ticked, Deva put his mind and soul in wanting to gift the kids a school, it’s apparent he took this personally and not deal with his usual charm and chill.

“Tinsukia Architects firm is retaliating sir. They’re searching for a lawyer and are ready to deal with the lawsuit” said Ranga’s assistant on the phone. Ranga just cut off the call and looked up to his boyfriend, and started whining “Look Rudra, a nobody architect is going against me when he should calmly step aside, I’m angry”. Rudra just clicks his tongue while lighting up his cig. Ranga could be a real pain in the ass if this continues, so he decides to fuck Ranga to shut him up and made a mental note to send Varadha as a Trojan horse to lose the lawsuit.

“Represent his case, make sure you lose, try to be of some use, instead of being a deadweight” spits out Rudra. Varadha just rolls his eyes and sighs. Here we go again he thinks, as he always won all the cases he represented and yet his dear brother is dead set on ignoring them, well he doesn’t care for his validation anyway. He heard about an architect pissing off Rudra’s boy toy and now he has to clean up this mess. Varadha wishes to be anywhere else than here and starts flicking his jingle bell bracelet he made with his mother. He reminds himself that he’s doing this for his brother Baachi and he has to continue doing it to not be disowned by the family. He wonders about the guy that’s about to experience the Mannar family’s wrath. Well, he doesn’t care as long he and his brother are left alone.

“The Mannar Law firm has agreed to represent us Deva, they agreed to send the CEO’s second son himself. This definitely smells fishy. Let’s reject them Deva, we can find some other firm” requests Bilal. It really does smell fishy Deva thinks. One of the topmost law firm approaches to represent him for social good? He calls bullshit they surely want to jeopardise them but he’s intrigued and wants to pivot the situation. He asks Bilal to accept the offer much to Bilal’s dismay.

“Sir these are meeting documents submitted by the Mannar Law firm , the lawyer would be here anytime soon”. Deva gets all the materials handed over to him and he starts skimming through them, surprised with the neat and precise information and appreciates that someone went out of their way to prepare this when they are planning to betray him, maybe to induce trust and stab later, he smirks. Just then, the door opens. In enters a man with an air of a prince with confident stride. Deva’s eyes widen a bit, losing their arrogant gaze. He forgets the reason they are in the room. His eyes, oh his eyes. So expressive, yet restrained and Deva wants to drown in his pupils and find his soul. He now notices his lips, so full and bee stung. And at the chin cleft, Deva lost his battle with rationale as he desperately wanted to bite on it. He subtly takes a breath in and scans the rest of his body and made up his mind to pursue this beautiful man. A small part of him hates that they have to go through this meeting but he has to remain professional and level headed to win this lawsuit and he offers his hand saying “Hello, I’m Deva Mahara, your client for next couple of weeks, hope we win this lawsuit”.

“Of course this man had to have a deep baritone voice, just my luck”, thinks Varadha. He sucks in a breath quickly, thinking he shouldn’t have agreed do this. Thinking it would be very difficult to work with someone who is his exact type. This man must be a good foot taller than him. His droppy eyes are razor sharp, disguised with indifference. A small smirk playing on his lips as if luring you in to trust him, to let go of yourself for him. Oh he’s definitely willing to, willing to let of his being if his brothers life wasn’t on the line. He schools himself to not be an amateur and get this over with as he has to maintain his image of an overachiever in front of the entire world. And he takes Deva’s hand, “Nice meeting you Deva, I’m Varadharaja Mannar, you’re representative for the lawsuit from Mannar Law Firm and rest assured, you are in capable hands”.

The handshake must have ignited their repressed emotions towards each other as they stare into each other’s eyes. As the first thing Deva observed was the bracelet Varadha was wearing and thinking how well it suits this enigma of a man. And Varadha wondering how a man’s hand could be this big.

“Shall we start the meeting?”, coughs Bilal.

@purgeprincesskore

#varadeva #salaar #varadevaloveday

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come-on-darling-honey · 1 year

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stupid and heartbroken. [Embry call x reader]

You and Leah Clearwater have something in common, heartbreak and a inclining to stupid decisions. Slowly you and Leah find the secrets of the Reservation that took your best friend, Embry, slowly unravel themselves to you. But not without a little blood, tears, and love.

word count: 1.7k. this will be multiple chapters. please enjoy <3

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

Chapter one: stupid and impulsive decisions made by the heartbroken.

"I’m not angry at Emily." Leah had told me. I banged my head on the door frame, turning around too quickly. She’d spent the last few days at my house ranting mercilessly and rightfully about Emily and Sam, the lack of loyalty, and the pain of betrayal. I’d held her hand.

She gasped and ran over to me across the small kitchen. "I didn’t think it’d shock you this much." She muttered, and I could hear her grin, so I slapped her leg lightly, groaning about the throbbing pain in my temple and nose. I'd sat down on the floor, Leah clutching my arm. "I think I should get my mom to look at your head."

I had tried to protest, knowing the last place she wanted to be was anywhere near Sam.

“Hush.” I never won a fight against Leah.

It was a twenty-minute drive from Forks to La Push; normally it would speed by like nothing and the beautiful winding trees would hold my attention, but this time all I could see was a green haze. I could smell strong iron as if someone had placed a spoon under my nose. Why in the hell would I have a spoon under my nose? When I raised my hand to my nose, I discovered it was wet with a red haze. Wincing Leah told me to stop touching my nose.

"What the hell happened?" I heard Leah’s mom Sue yell. I had closed my eyes while in the car; my head kept spinning, and I could’ve sworn the road was swirly, like literally a swirl. Leah guided me into her home, explaining—and suppressing laughter—about my incident. She’d conveniently left out the part where she’d forgiven Emily; I made a mental note to mention that later.

Turns out there were lots of people at the Clearwater residence, all of whom kept mentioning how much blood I was covered in. I heard a soft gasp and a hand grab mine, Seth. He’d always been a little brother to me, sweet, kind-hearted, and concerningly chaotic.

"The two of you are on your own for four days, and you turn up like this?" Sue was not enjoying this.

I attempted to mutter a sorry as she attacked my nose with tissues, hushing me. I couldn’t help but remember how alike Leah and her mom are. Harry Clearwater's laughter fills the room.

"You two do more damage than the boys!" He was right; Leah and I had a record for roughhousing. This, however, was not fighting. This was stupidity, lack of sleep, and genuine surprise.

The house was full of laughter, and I cracked an eye open, seeing a lot of boys in the other room. Jacob was there, and he slowly came over to me.

"What the hell did you do to her, Leah? She looks like Carrie!"

"No, she did this to herself."

Jacob's laughter became more hearty and fucking annoying. I didn’t have the energy to hit him. If I could just close my eyes again.

"Nothing's broken, and you only have a light concussion." My chances of getting some sweet, sweet sleep seemed like a pipe dream for a cold man. I groaned and slouched on the wooden chair. Seth started talking about how good it was that nothing broke and how he wouldn’t be able to stomach it if he saw his mom "fix" my nose if it was broken.

All the blood had been cleaned up, and I stole one of Leah’s shirts, yearning for her bed. It looked so beautiful. So soft. I would marry that bed. Honestly, any bed. I think I’d take a pile of rocks and a blanket at this moment.

"Don’t even think about it." Leah scolded, pulling my gaze away from the alluring dream castle.

"I’m tired, though." With how weak my voice sounded, even I wouldn’t let myself fall asleep. It hurt to speak after not doing so for so long, no doubt due to the pain pulling and contorting all my muscles into a tangle of strings. Leah put on a TV show we’d both seen before, clearly unnecessarily loud to keep me awake, and sat me on the hardwood floor. Sitting opposite me, it was clear how tired she was too.

"So, you aren’t angry at her?" I didn’t mean to say that aloud, but I think that head bang knocked out any sense I had in my head, I always knew it would come to this. I’d have to live the rest of my life as an idiot.

Although Leah didn’t look taken aback, it seemed like she’d been expecting me to bring it up, just waiting for the clogs in my head to move faster.

"No. If she is in love, I don’t think I can hate her for that. But it still hurts, you know? She’s my cousin; we grew up together, and she just..." She pulled in a deep breath and continued, "It’s so fucked up. I think I’ll resent Sam for it forever. But Emily’s family. That's stronger than this." Leah and I had always been friends, but only recently had we been this close. Being two years younger than her, I grew up closer to Jake, Quill, and Embry and Leah than Sam, but just recently we’d gotten closer. Pre heartbreak.

"Even if it hurts, its love?" I ask. I can’t help but think of Embry when I speak of love. I can feel the warmth of his touch even when I am so far from him. His brown eyes, long, dark hair, and smile—a smile that held every gasp of reassurance—I don’t think he was with Jacob earlier. I wish he was. I just want to hear him.

"It’s love, especially if it hurts, I guess."

Maybe Leah wasn’t the only heartbroken one. I felt a hot tear rise. Fuck off. I wiped it away, hanging my head down, but, dear lord, that hurt my nose.

"Stop thinking about him. He left you. That isn’t a friend." Leah said, can she read minds?

"What do you say to some reckless activities?" I asked, smiling. Grabbing my backpack from her desk, I pulled out the pain meds I had stashed for cramps. They’d work well for this. Swallowing three down without water wasn’t a cheerful experience, but it got Leah to laugh.

"Cliff diving? In your condition?" Leah and I didn’t tend to make good choices. But heartbroken people rarely do. We were defiantly going, Leah had already stood up, grabbing her keys.

"I can’t get any more hurt!" We started putting our shoes back on. "Plus, I won’t tell your mom if you don’t."

"Ah, secret cliff diving, even though you are 18 and I’m 20." I didn’t respond as we left the house. only talking again as we drove away. The meds had thankfully kicked in rather quickly.

"I mean, if Emily and Sam get married, there is no way I’d go to the wedding," Leah continued, her eyes plastered on the winding road in front of us. I couldn’t think of anything to say in return. Going through what she has gone through in the past week, my anger would probably lead to stupid, impulsive decisions. Speaking of stupid and impulsive decisions, we drove up to the bottom of the cliff and decided to walk up so we wouldn’t have to walk up again after we were soaking wet.

"So how high up do we go? I’m thinking high or stupidly high." Leah’s tone was harsh, the wind was harsher, and I could feel nothing.

"Stupidly high, but only if you go first," I tried to laugh, but the wind was sucking all the air out of my lungs.

"Deal," she laughed. Her face seemed peaceful, devoid of the knitted brow she’d been sporting lately. The wind circled around her, picking up stray hairs from her braid that lay on her back. "Fuck it’s cold." We took off as many layers as we could and left them in the car, only wearing our shoes, jean shorts, and a black t-shirt for Leah, and cargo shorts and a white vest for myself. It was brutal. My arms weaved around myself; Leah did the same. When we reached the very top of the cliff, I remembered the first time I reached the top. It had been with Embry. before he left. His thin frame was swamped in layers upon layers of clothes. His hair swirled. He held my hand anxiously the whole time. His tall stature looked like the wind would pick him up and take him away. He’d gained muscle since I’d last seen him—at least that’s what Leah had told me. that he’d become one of Sam’s puppies. He called them the hall monitors on steroids, and he joined them?

"Ready?" Leah pulled me out of my stewing anger.

"Ready." I laughed, looking down. Since the first jump, the sense of impending doom has remained. It rushed within me. "Are the currents too strong?" The waves collapsed over each other. People do jump from this height; we’ve seen them. The puppies jump from this height. So, I guessed we’d be fine doing it. But it wouldn’t feel good. It’d feel cold.

"They might be; we can go back if you want." Leah said, holding onto my arm as if she were trying to tell me something that I couldn’t hear. But I knew from the look in her eyes that she wanted to do this, and I wasn’t going to let her down. She’d go down with me if I changed my mind; Leah wouldn’t leave me alone.

"Let's do this," I said, my teeth cold.She grinned back, and we both took a few steps back. As she ran to the edge, I heard something in the woods behind us. I watched as she jumped down, her lean body struggling against the wind. Watching her land was amazing. She reappeared on the surface and gave me a thumbs up.As she swam to the beach, I could see the strength it took.

I could hear more rustling, it felt like I was being watched. Turning around giant glowing things caught my eye. Were they eyes? Is that a bear? Am I gonna die right here because that’ll be embarrassing. Maybe the painkillers were too strong, or maybe I was just an idiot who could look a massive bear in the eyes and not feel fear? That’s not a bear. It moved back slowly, like I hadn’t seen it. And I definitely wasn’t an idiot because I felt fear. It hit like a fucking hammer. The massive not-bear looked human. That wasn’t a good sign. I turned quickly and jumped. The air pelted my skin.

end of chapter one.

ATTENTION. please do not copy any of the actions made by the characters, they are reserved for the stupid and heartbroken. Lots of love, em x

embrys pinterest board

leah’s pinterest board

#leah clearwater #embry x you #embry x reader #embry call #embry twilight #embry call imagine #twilight imagine #twilight saga #twilight #leah clearwater x reader #leah clearwater imagine #new moon twilight

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