#⭒✧ — the heart beats in silence » wish list

[coff33andb00ks]

20 Oscar

20: pressing the other’s hand against their cheek

warnings: author doesn't understand the meaning of the word "short" and (badly written) descriptions of a wreck during a race (no injuries)

driver + number = drabble/short fic <3

Piastri just doesn't give a fuck.

Oscar is just too chill.

Does he ever show emotion except when he's laughing at Lando?

You try to stay out of comments. Hell, you try to stay off social media, it's nothing but a cesspool of people with too much time on their hands and not enough brain cells to comprehend more than the surface level of what they're shown. But sometimes you like it, because there are creative people who put out beautifully edited videos of your boyfriend. Sometimes you show them to him, enjoying his giggling while he watches and shakes his head over someone finding him attractive enough to warrant a thirty second video set to a Rihanna song.

But the comments about his emotionless black cat behavior hurt. He's so much more than how he portrays himself. He's vibrant and so full of life, and you will forever appreciate the people who see beyond his social anxiety and notice his amazing sense of humor, his passion for racing and life. They'll never know the real him and will probably never understand why you fell in love with him.

Him. The sweet and shy guy who'd come to your defense when a rude customer had been berating you over a wrong order. His voice had cut over her yelling, calm and measured, and after your manager had kicked out the irrationally angry woman it had been Oscar that had approached you to check on you, frowning when he saw your tears. His gentle tone had calmed you, his respectful stance had won your admiration, and his calling the woman a fucking cunt had made you smile.

You wish you could defend him as he continues to defend you. When a video questioning how a nobody like you had bagged a formula one rookie had gone somewhat viral he'd taken to twitter and unleashed such a beautifully worded rant that people were still quoting it more than a year later.

It's come to my attention that some so-called fans are referring to my girlfriend as a nobody. Allow me to introduce her to you. She's funny, she's brilliant, she's beautiful. She's every word you can think of to describe the perfect person and she's so much more. She shines light in the darkest corners of my soul. Her eyes are a map of my universe. When you look at us together, know that I am constantly trying to be worthy of the love she gives me, and know that if you speak ill of her you will never have my respect but you will have my disgust.

You would never ever doubt his love for you. Not that you ever had but that had cemented it. You could never come to his defense in such a way. If you even tried you'd be sneered at for being a try hard.

And really, you didn't need to. Because the one thing Oscar did not give a fuck about was anyone's opinion. Only a handful of people mattered enough to him for him to care what they thought. You were blessed to be included on that list.

You love him so much that for a while it scared you, having never fallen into the this one person is my moon and stars mindset. But now you understand. He didn't just hang them, he is your moon and stars. Your one and only and if for some reason this doesn't end in forever you'll be ruined for any other man.

It was still a shock, though, when you felt your heart stop beating as you watched his car careen towards the barrier. The front wing clipped Max's rear tire and you can't breathe, watching in slow motion as the brightly colored car tips and lifts into the air. There is nothing but absolute silence around you in the McLaren garage and you're frozen, staring at the monitor while his car flips and rolls, carbon fiber flying in every direction when it lands upside down, his helmet just visible as it slides to a stop at the safety fence.

Silence. Then pandemonium. Your world has just flipped and spun and you can't breathe, ears straining to hear him but you can only hear the crackle of the radio when Zak and Tom try to get him to respond.

Then, finally, his voice. Shaken and scared. "Are they okay? Please tell me they're okay."

Of course he'd ask after the others involved. You can finally breathe but it hurts, not knowing that he's okay. And you can't do anything but wait, heart barely beating until he's finally out, he's moving, he's giving the fans a thumbs up as he's put on the stretcher. You still can't do a thing and you've never felt more useless than you do while you're waiting just inside the medical center with Zak and Lando, who'd come to wait during the red flag.

Then the most beautiful words you've ever heard.

"He's okay."

There's more after that, about him being transported to the local hospital for a complete check, the possibility of a concussion but he's okay. And you're allowed to go see him while the ambulance is readied.

He's sitting up, looking a little pale but he's not hurt, he's in one piece, and when he sees you he gasps. You try to be gentle when you embrace him, but he steals your breath, holding you so tightly it hurts, his face pressed into your neck.

"They won't tell me - are Max and George okay?" His voice is strained and you feel his tears.

"They're fine, my love," you promise.

"I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't know what I did. I was going good and then I was upside down." His voice shakes and cracks and he's trembling, one hand fisting in your shirt. You reach for the other.

"Shh shh... It's okay my love," you whisper, your tears finally spilling when he guides your hand up, holding it to his cheek as he lets out a shaky breath. "Everyone's okay, you're okay."

His eyes meet yours and your world rights itself.

[inarretable]

general tags

⭒✧ —  out of armor  »  ooc

⭒✧ —  holocrons  »  prompts

⭒✧ —  weapons do not weep  »  study

⭒✧ —  holonews report  »  updates

⭒✧ —  transmission error  »  verse tbt

⭒✧ —  knock out‚ knife point‚ knightqueen  »  crack

⭒✧ —  eyes of vicious crimson  »  countenance

⭒✧ —  of violent devotion »  aesthetic

⭒✧ —  tales of the wretched »  threads

⭒✧ —  comlink  »  inbox

⭒✧ —  the heart beats in silence »  wish list

⭒✧ — holonews special! »  promo

⭒✧ —  database  »  verses

⭒✧ —  transmissions »  queue

⭒✧ —  out the airlock  »  tbd

[interstellarflare]

A Cinderella Story || Anthony Bridgerton

-PART FIVE-

Summary: Have courage, and be kind. Words that you tried to live by ever since the passing of your parents. Though your step-mother and step-sisters did everything in their power to hide you and your status away from the rest of the Ton, you never expected to catch the eye of Viscount Anthony Bridgerton himself.

Authors Note: This is my first Bridgerton series! I had an absolute ball writing this, and I hope you enjoy it! There is a tag list open if anyone wishes to be kept updated for future parts. Gif by @venusianbabie

|PART ONE| |PART TWO| |PART THREE| |PART FOUR|

With the house descending into silence, you allowed yourself a moment to collapse onto the lounge in the living room with a loud sigh. With tired eyes your gaze focused on the ceiling, staring at the crystal chandelier as it glittered brightly.

A small smile crossed your lips, grateful for the peace and quiet. Lady Worthington, Mary and Elizabeth had left for the ball mere minutes ago, all of them excited and nervous about their prospects for the night. You hoped that Elizabeth and Lord Burton would get a chance to speak tonight, she had been so beside herself before she entered the carriage to depart. They had travelled with the Cowper family, who had sneered at your person when you had helped the Worthington’s to the carriage.

The train attached to Lady Worthington’s dress was a nightmare to manage, all bundled up in your arms so as to not drop it in the mud at your feet. You were covered in it now, thanks to a harsh push from Cressida who sent you sprawling onto the ground. Luckily however, you managed to save the train though.

You felt the sting of tears prick your eyes, a sense of sadness overwhelming you. How had you become so unfortunate? To be stuck with a wicked witch for a stepmother, and two stepsisters that laughed at you upon your little trip in the dirt. Elizabeth hadn’t said anything, nor looked your way when Mary and Elizabeth started to cackle loudly. She merely turned away; her eyes downcast as she carried herself into the awaiting carriage.

You missed your father, you missed your mother. Their love and kindness was completely gone from this home, the home you had grown up in as a child. You cried into the cushions, sobbing loudly and desperately. You had never felt so alone, so vulnerable…so lost. You knew that they would want you to be brave, to stay strong, and to have hope that everything will work out in the end. Your mind flickered back to the book you were reading earlier that morning, of the fabled prince charming sweeping the princess off her feet, and living happily ever after.

Perhaps your prince charming was around the corner, perhaps he was waiting for you somewhere to take you away from this now horrid home, filled with heartache and distant memories-

There was a loud knock at the door, so loud that it echoed throughout the foyer and into the living room. You jumped with a small squeak, bolting upright in your position on the lounge. You wiped your eyes, drying your hands on your muddy dress and wiping your nose with your apron. It was unladylike surely, but you were not a Lady anymore. After trying and failing to make yourself look presentable, you hurried towards the door as the knocking sounded again. It sounded desperate, frantic even, your face contorting into a confused expression as you tried to think of who it could be.

It couldn’t be a visitor for Lady Worthington or her daughters, the rest of high society was at Lady Danbury’s ball, and it was way too late in the night for anyone to be here in the first place. So, who could it be? As you opened the door your breath caught in your throat, your heart skipping a beat as you recognised the man that stood before you.

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton smiled, staring down at you with kind and soft expression. His eyes never left yours as he spoke, seemingly examining every inch of your face as he bowed politely.

“Miss Y/n, I apologise for calling so late, would I perhaps be able to come in-“

“Why are you here!?” You found yourself exclaiming, your eyes wide in shock as you felt your heart began to beat wildly. Anthony Bridgerton, one of the most distinguished men on all of the ton was standing on your doorstep. Why?

Anthony chuckled, his charming smile widening as he shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?” he replied lightly, finding amusement in your expression as it changed from shock to pure bewilderment.

“If you are here to see Lady Worthington or her daughters, they are gone” You replied shortly, your gaze falling nervously to the floor as you suddenly became very aware of your current state. You were completely covered in slowly drying mud, bloodshot eyes from crying, you no doubt looked like a complete wreck…wonderful.

Anthony hummed “I’m not here to see then, thank god. They arrived at the ball shortly after I left-“

“Why did you leave? Surely someone will notice your absence, and what will the ton think if you are found here, alone…with me-“

“My brother is good at coming up with excuses, I’m sure he’ll spin some wide tale about my whereabouts”.

“And is that something you wish to deal with?”

“Benedict can be a bit excentric at times, but I trust him wholeheartedly…” Anthony finished, clasping his hands behind his back and standing tall, “..now Miss Y/n, may I come inside? Or are you to leave your visitor out in the cold?”.

It hadn’t occurred to you until now, but as Anthony stood before you, you couldn’t help but notice how tall he truly was. You hadn’t noticed it this morning, but he towered over you, the top of your head just barely reaching his chin. You stared up into his eyes, searching for any sign of jest, that this was all some sort of joke, and a complete figment of your imagination conjured up by your saddened state.

But he was real, and he was here.

You released a short breath, a soft smile crossing your lips as you stepped aside and gestured for him to enter.

Tag List:

@infectedbypedropascal @erysione @spookystitchery @scoopsahoyspidey

@misscaller06 @slayqueenizzy @everythingmarveltopgun @idek-what-to-put

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@f0x33 @123iloveyou456 @kaygilles @spilled-coffee-cup @maddielovesurmom321

[sexlapis]

Ho! I loooooooveeee your actor toji fics! Is it possible to get added to the taglist? Thank you ~

Also an idea: a bts scene of reader getting sick on set(perhaps even collapsing) due to fatigue and toji taking care of them- I feel like that'd be such a hit ship moment irl :D

thank you for liking my fics <3 you can be added to the tag list 🩵.

and omg yeah i love that idea of reader overworking themselves and toji looking after them :’). and yeah i didn’t make it a behind the scenes clip i made a short fic abt it bc i do not know when to stop.. like give me an idea and i will fly away w it like a bird liek..i don’t even think this is what you asked for srsly…i hope you don’t mind (but i’ll add it to my tojiyn headcanons hehe)

cw: actor toji x actress reader, hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, swearing, petnames (‘kid’, ik people don’t like this one but i think it’s so sweet & so toji :)), collapsing, mentions of skipping meals/not eating, poor sleeping habits, feelings of loneliness & inadequacy, crying, toji taking care of reader, i made this way more angsty than you asked sorry :(

wc: 2k+

you dragged yourself through the doors of the studio, immediately bombarded by directors, stylists, scrip writers and other cast members on your way to the dressing room, only fuelling your fatigue and stress.

sleep was a foreign concept at this point. five hours at most. so were healthy, filling meals - the last time you ate was yesterday at noon, and for breakfast today all you had was a cup of coffee, not helping your nervous, exhausted state.

admittedly, you were not doing very well. you felt that your acting was subpar and you felt lonely and isolated on set. while everyone went with their friends for a break or lunch, you sat by yourself in your dressing room, your only company being the silence.

sure, toji was also on set too, but he played a very minor role, so he wasn’t always there. and even when he was sometimes, he would hang out with the other crew members, which wasn’t a problem of course, but it did sting a little when he chose them over you.

you just felt so lonely, anxious and quite frankly upset at yourself and the circumstances you find yourself in.

there are a few knocks at your dressing room door and you weakly tell them to come in.

toji peeks is head in. “hey, kid. we start in five..” he takes a look at your weary face, dark eye bags prominent even through the makeup the stylists caked on and the frown on your lips and just knows something is wrong.

“are you ‘right?” he asks quietly, like you’re a deer who’s about to run away at the slightest of sounds.

“yes, i’m fine.” you lie, a voice in the back of your mind wishing he’d just ignore you like everyone else on this damn set does.

“‘you sure? ‘cause you don’t look-”

“i said im fine! just get out.” you snap, heart beating and breathing heavily at your own outburst.

fuck. you didn’t mean to say that.

but toji doesn’t look offended. he just nods and walks away footsteps fading as you put your head in your hands and sob.

so there you are, acting in front of the camera with your colleague in a scene where toji appears in too and you just seem off. everyone assumes it’s just not your day today and they’re not exactly wrong. you lines were slightly forced, tired and you were jittery and clearly apprehensive, like you didn’t even want to be here.

“cut!” the director calls out, more than annoyed with your behaviour. it was the sixth take and you’re really trying to make it believable, but it’s futile.

“this is the sixth take _____. this is ridiculous. get your act together. let’s take five.”

you look down at your shoes, face hot and chest thudding with embarrassment due to the director calling you out in front of everybody. tears well up in your eyes and you sigh, blinking them away as everyone starts talking again, walking away leaving you standing there like an idiot.

it all becomes too much for you. your empty stomach, oncoming headache, exhausted body, dry mouth, furrowed eyebrows, sweaty palms-

you let your script fall out of your hand as you stumble off the green screen, trying to get to your room before a hand is grabbing your arm. you turn around and it’s toji again.

“hey..” he leans down slightly to your height, scanning you over once. “you don’t look so good, _____-”

you shrug him off, vision becoming blurred with black static and limbs heavy and shaky. “i-i jus’ need to go. to my..uhm-” you stop, rubbing a hand down your face harshly. “i just-”

and then there is black.

౨ৎ

you come to and realise that you are laying on your dressing room couch, staring up at the ceiling. reaching up, you feel a wet, cool cloth on your head. you take it off. still fuzzy and body essentially lethargic, you try to sit up.

“hey, hey, hey.” toji whispers.

oh, toji’s here.

“take it easy.” he helps you sit up on the arm of the couch. he hands you a bottle of water and you drink it like a god.

“wait, what happened?” you ask, still confused and disoriented.

“you fuckin’ fainted that’s what,” he states bluntly. “scared the fuckin’ dogshit outta me.”

“oh.”

toji sits beside you on a chair, looking at you closely. you look down.

“the med team checked you out.” he tells you. “said you fainted, collapsed-whatever the fuck. ‘cos of stress and exhaustion. they even checked your blood sugar and said it was low as fuck.” he pauses. “not dangerously low,” he adds at the sight of your worried expression, “but.. low enough.”

you sigh, falling back on the couch. you think back to how the director shouted at you, how annoyed he was, and how humiliated you felt. tears start to form again and you cover your face with your hands, not wanting to cry in front of toji. you felt like you’ve had enough embarrassment for today.

toji leans forward. “what’s happening with you?”

the way he said it, so soft and concerned, makes the tears fall down and cause sobs to escape your mouth, hiccuped breaths falling from your mouth.

“hey, hey, hey..” toji coos. he reaches to you and makes you sit up again so he can take you into his arms. you let him, sobbing into his shoulder and sucking up all the comfort he gives you. toji’s big hand strokes your hair and the other caresses your back softly.

“shh, sh, sh…” he calms you down a little, you sobs turning into sniffles. he leans back and gives you space but his hands stay planted on your back. “tell toji what’s wrong.”

you hum sadly, looking down and gulping. “i’m..i’m tired. i wanna sleep..”

toji waits for you to continue. he can see you want to say more so he doesn’t hurry you along, he just rubs your back and nods to let you know you’re listening.

“i..” you take a breath, “i dunno what to do..i can’t do this fucking role.. i’m fucking tired half the fucking day and my so called colleagues don’t even like me!” you try to calm yourself down, taking another shaky breath. “and i just feel..lonely all the time..” you cry out the last few words, feeling another sob session coming up and toji pulls you close, letting you ruin his shirt with your tears as he rocks you back and forth in his arms.

“it’s okay, it’s okay..” he coos, resting his face in your hair.

you both stay like that for a few moments, you weeps dying down before toji talks.

“you can play this part, _____. ‘you have any idea how good your are, huh? you can act circles around half ‘these guys.”

you scoff, pulling your lips together. “i dunno about that..”

“‘m serious. _____, you can act, okay? ‘wouldn’t have made it this far if you couldn’t.”

“yeah but..this one’s hard..” you sigh, voice cracking but toji doesn’t let you start again.

“yeah, acting’s hard. but i can help you,” toji cups your wet face with his hands, wiping the tear streaks that paint you face, “we can all help you. the crew, your friends, that bitchass director. i’ll put a gun to everyone’s head to make them fuckin’ help you with this.”

you giggle at his seriousness and he huffs, relieved that you’re relaxing a little.

“they don’t hate you, y’know. everybody on set. the cast. they just think you’re a little shy and quiet. they don’t hate you, okay?” toji reassures you. you nod absentmindedly and he shakes your head from side to side to make you pay attention, making you smile, eyes crinkling even though they’re still tear stricken. “there she is..who the fuck could hate you, huh?”

“ugh, toji.” you roll your eyes, sniffling and rubbing your face. you pull away from him. “ugh..i just want my bed right now.”

“yeah..i know it ain’t my place but told the director that you’re taking a few days off. you need a break, kid.”

you didn’t even argue with him. you couldn’t.

“yeah, i do.” you agree.

suddenly, a loud rumble from your stomach erupts, it was like an earthquake.

toji laughs. “someone’s hungry.”

you groan. “‘m starving. haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“we’re getting you something to eat.” he states, leaving no room for objections.

toji stands, holding his hand out for you to take. you do, his large, calloused hand dwarfing yours as he helps you stand up. “can you walk?”

“i will if there’s food involved.”

“that’s good.” toji chuckles, “how’s takeout sound?”

a/n: had to write a whole fic abt this i apologise 🥸 will add the tag list later i just keep forgetting the users </3

[kentophilia]

𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐞 '𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐞!

synopsis: the pleasant anniversary dinner with your husband has you dining between his legs later on.

contains: rimming, fellatio, fingering and prostate massage (male receiving), lots of lube, sub-ish atsuya, food and wine consumption, atsuya being a sexy ass man, footsies with his dick, established relationship, petnames (love, darling etc.), fem!reader (wears makeup, a dress and high heels), intended lowercase

word count: 2.8k

a/n: this is for @honeybleed's underrated character collab! also first fic on this blog teehee, enjoy!

reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!!

minors, ageless / empty blogs will be blocked immediately!

ping!

the notification sound on your phone broke you out of your daze. it meant that atsuya was near to pick you up for your anniversary dinner.

you had dressed up in your (and your husband’s) favorite dress, its fabric hugging your figure in all the right places. you finished your makeup and put on your shoes and coat to wait for him by the door.

you had felt giddy the whole day, barely concentrating at work at the prospect of a nice dinner and possibly getting a little frisky, too. both you and your husband had been working a lot, barely finding time to spend with each other. both of you were constantly tired and your frustration grew to a point where you would have even sneak a little orgasm in during your lunch break.

so the anniversary dinner was the perfect opportunity to let off some steam afterwards. you knew that atsuya was also growing more impatient. his hands would be wandering a little more, gripping you a little tighter each morning, the goodbye kisses lingering for a little too long.

while you were waiting for your beloved, your mind started to wander. you had watched a few…. interesting videos in hopes of bringing those topics up with your husband and bringing a little more excitement into your dreary day-to-day life. maybe you’d be able to try something out today.

you were coaxed out of your thoughts by your husband's car turning into the driveway. he stepped out, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in his hand. he walked over to you with a crooked smile, a toothpick between his teeth to soothe his oral fixation.

“happy anniversary, my love.”

his deep voice reached your ears and a smile spread over your face, cheeks burning and heart bursting.

taking the toothpick from his mouth, he leaned in to kiss you. his cologne was overtaking your senses. you wished you could just jump him right there and then and forfeit your evening plans, desire coursing through your veins. he pulled away too soon for your liking but you masked your disappointment, taking the flowers and inhaling their sweet scent.

atsuya offered his arm and guided you to the car, opening the passenger door for you. as you stepped in, your husband got a glimpse of what you were wearing underneath your dress, sucking in a deep breath.

he was in for a hell of a night.

the drive was short, his hand on your thigh warm and comforting. you filled the silence with some comfortable small talk until it was time to step out.

the restaurant atsuya had booked was stunning and on your to-go list for a long time. there was gentle jazz playing in the background as you were guided to your table.

as your eyes scanned through the menu, you felt your husband’s sharp gaze on you. you felt your face growing hot yet again. his ability to make you bashful with just a look was astounding.

“i already know what i’m gonna eat tonight,” he spoke, a smug grin playing on his face.

a giggle escaped your throat, your hand fanning yourself as you felt your whole body getting hotter.

“atsuya, we're in public!” you fake gasped, lightly swatting his hand that reached out to hold yours.

“and we're married, everyone knows what married people do! don’t act all shy on me now!”

your husband’s low laughter had your heart skipping a beat. you had truly missed him and couldn't wait to get your hands on him.

you ordered your food, along with two glasses of wine, your favorite. the waiter smiled at you both while taking your menus before turning and walking away.

“you look gorgeous, sweetheart.”

“you don't look too bad yourself,” you giggled.

atsuya was practically drooling over you. the dress was his favorite color on you, making your skin glow along with your makeup. his thumb gently rubbed over your knuckles, wedding bands glowing in the soft candlelight. you bashfully thanked him, squeezing his long fingers between yours.

dinner went by without a hassle, the food and wine were spectacular and everything you had imagined. the pair of you engaged in pleasant talk about your days, the gentle buzz of the wine slowly settling in.

as atsuya was telling you about a particularly annoying coworker of his, your heeled foot slowly slid up his leg. he raised an arched eyebrow but let you continue. he kept talking while your foot hiked up to his thigh and nudged itself between them. your husband sucked in a sharp breath, holding your foot against him as you tilted the ball of your foot towards his slowly growing erection.

truth to be told, he’s been half hard all day thinking about you. and it did not get better when he saw what you were wearing underneath your dress. he was trying so so hard not to think about just putting your ass on the restaurant table and taking you right then and there. but atsuya knew that both of you were in for a treat once home.

your shoe rubbed against him just right, giving him just enough friction to feel something but not enough to actually bring him to orgasm. you leaned forward onto your hand, your foot pressing just a bit more onto his clothed cock. atsuya swallowed a groan, his eyes fluttering shut just for a second.

“you were saying?” you mused, a mischievous glint in your eyes as you watched your husband try to compose himself.

“you’re driving me crazy, woman. weren't you the one acting all bashful about my comment earlier?” he chuckled, breathless with how you moved your foot against his leaking erection.

you giggled, sending your husband’s heart into overdrive. “and what about it? can't i have a little fun with you despite that?”

atsuya just shook his head with a grin, trying to hide his flushed face as he took another sip from his wine. his other hand still held your wiggling foot against him. he was relishing in the feeling and anticipation of finally being intimate with you again.

you opted out of dessert, naturally. atsuya paid, with no regard to the waiter giving you both a knowing look before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the car.

the air was buzzing on the ride home, with your husband trying to focus with your hand on his bulge.

as soon as the door to your house clicked shut, his hands and lips were on you. pulling him close by his collar, you barely made it out of your coats before his hands slipped under your dress and gave your butt a harsh squeeze.

you licked along his bottom lip and he moaned, granting you entrance. heavy breaths and spit were exchanged in your makeout session as your hands wandered over his chest and tummy down to his belt loops. you pulled your husband’s pelvis against yours, feeling his throbbing bulge against you.

a small string of spit connected your mouths when you pulled away, a grin playing on your lips.

“i wanna try something today, atsu. let’s take this to the bedroom, yeah?” you breathlessly asked. he just nodded, mind still hazy from the heated kisses you shared.

clothes were discarded in seconds and you pushed your husband onto the bed, the mattress dipping underneath his weight. you crawled on top of him, lingerie-clad ass right on his heavy cock. leaning down, you started kissing his neck, gently sucking and biting on the skin. just enough to leave a few marks.

you made your way down his body, occasionally nipping at his skin to make bruises blossom on it. you spent a bit more time on his nipples, knowing how sensitive they are. one bud was engulfed by your hot mouth while the other fell victim to your nimble fingers. they swelled a little under your ministrations, flushing the prettiest shade of pink.

atsuya’s sounds were heaven to your ears, the prettiest of whines falling from his lips. his brows were furrowed and eyes threatening to fall shut as you got lower and lower. so close, so close to where he needed you most.

as you kissed the tip of his cock, droplets of pre-cum started to roll down his length. atsuya whined, pleading for you to hurry up and suck him off. foreplay was both of your favorite bedroom activities and you planned to take your sweet, sweet time with it.

you licked along the twitching length of him, feeling it hot and heavy against your tongue. the teasing was almost too much for atsuya, he just wanted to be buried in you, feeling your walls clench around him. but he knew that with you, patience is a virtue and so he let you take your time.

when you finally wrapped your lips around him after a few more licks and kisses to his dick, he almost blacked out from the pleasure. his hips twitched upwards, making you gag slightly.

the tightening of your throat around his cock made him nearly bust right then and there. you pulled your mouth off, gasping for air before returning it to his length. you bobbed your head a few more times, your husband’s hand heavy on the back of your head. before long, you pulled away again, forcing a whine out of atsuya.

you reached into the bedside table, pulling out the small bottle of lube and squirting some onto your palm. you gave it a few seconds to warm up before engulfing your husband’s leaking cock in your hand.

his reaction was immediate and everything you had hoped for. his hips bucked up, his eyes screwed shut and a loud moan and a string of profanities left his swollen lips. your leftover spit paired with the lube made everything so wet and his cock so, so much more sensitive. he trashed and squirmed a little, the sensation almost too much for him. but your hand on his hip soothed him and he let you torture him for just a little bit longer.

as your hand continued to move up and down his length, your tongue traveled lower and lower. from the base of his cock to his heavy balls. but before you could reach where you wanted to be, atsuya’s panicked voice reached you.

“he-hey, hey, woah, what are you doing?” he whined, his voice climbing up a little.

you grinned, head between his thighs and your hand still jerking him off. his head fell back onto the mattress when your thumb pressed right underneath his tip.

“relax, love. i’ll make you feel good,” you murmured against the skin of his thigh.

he leaned up onto his elbows, his eyebrows furrowed as a low whine escaped his throat. you gave the swollen tip of his cock a kiss.

“do you trust me?”

atsuya loved eating ass. it was a regular practice when eating you out, his tongue would always find its way to your puckered hole. and you loved it as well, your orgasms so much more intense. his tongue playing with your ass, his thumb on your swollen clit and two of his fingers inside your throbbing cunt. it would have you coming in no time.

but having you between his cheeks was uncharted territory. he had never experienced this with anyone else before. it was taboo, unheard of – downright dirty – and never really crossed his mind (lies he would tell himself as his finger would sometimes slip inside his ass as he showered and pleasured himself).

but now that he was on a cloud of bliss, he wondered why he didn't do this sooner. yes, his finger was one thing and it was pleasurable and made him cum hard, sometimes to the point where he'd almost faint from the pleasure.

but your tongue, that only his cock was acquainted to so intimately up until now, felt heavenly against his hole. even better with your hand around his length, slick sounds and his high-pitched moans filling the bedroom. the stimulation on both ends was driving him crazy.

you could feel him twitch in your palm, pre-cum rolling down his length as he tried to keep himself from cumming too soon. the grip he had on the backs of his thigh was strong enough to bruise. your forehead was sticky with sweat, relishing in the high that came with reducing such a strong man like atsuya to nothing but whimpers.

the corners of your mouth twitched into a smirk, your tongue lapping and prodding at his hole. his cock had taken on a dark shade of red from the stimulation and how hard atsuya was trying not to cum.

“feeling good, handsome?” you teased, slowing down your hand on purpose.

he whined, his voice becoming hoarse from all the crying out he had done so far. “y-yeah, please, please don't stop! feels s’good,” he slurred, his whole body shaking in exertion. this position, legs in the air with just his rough hands keeping them up, was taking a toll on even a trained man such as him.

“as you wish,” you murmured, giving his ass cheek a kiss before switching your hands. a lubed up finger was now prodding at his hole, gently pushing past the tight ring of muscle. atsuya’s lips parted in a loud moan, his hips moving on their own accord.

his hole was practically sucking you in with his hips moving in small circles. you gently pushed in and out, now realizing that he had done this before (he would've denied it if you had asked). grinning to yourself, you got him used to the sensation of one finger with a few more thrusts before pushing in a second one.

your husband was drooling on himself, mind absolutely blank from the pleasure you were giving him. scissoring your fingers and pushing them in and out of his hole, you were searching for that one spot –

“oh fuck! right there, please, please!!” atsuya almost screamed at you, his muscles twitching and his cock leaking all over your hand.

found it.

you smirked, gently moving your fingers against his prostate. your teasing drove him crazy, he was so, so close.

he panted like a dog, his head peeking out between his spread legs. “please, darling, please let me cum!”

his begging and his whiny tone was going straight to your core, your underwear sticking almost uncomfortably to your cunt. you wanted to torture him just a bit longer but he's been so patient – so obedient – for you that you decided it was enough.

you pressed hard against his prostate, your other hand simultaneously speeding up against his cock. your wrists hurt, your fingers were starting to look like raisins but you didn't care. nothing mattered more than bringing your husband to ecstasy.

atsuya trashed against his own hold, against your hands bringing him so much delight. curses after curses were leaving his spit-slicked lips, his voice reaching higher in pitch. after just a few more movements against his cock and his prostate, he came undone in a series of unintelligible babbles.

spurt after spurt spilled out of his tip onto your hand and his stomach, seemingly never ending as you slowed down both of your hands to gently milk the last of his cum out of his spent body.

you gently pulled your fingers out of his clenching hole, making a low whine escape his throat. a dull ache settled into your knees and back as your body cooled down. you slowly straightened up into standing and went to get a towel from the bathroom. after washing your hands, you wet the towel and returned to your husband in the bedroom.

atsuya was laying starfish style on the bed, eyes closed and chest heaving. he opened one eye when he felt the bed dip under your weight. you leaned to press a gentle kiss against his forehead, murmuring praises into his sweaty skin. he sighed, the praise warming his cheeks. having the roles reversed for once felt nice. his lips quirked into a small smile and he quietly thanked you for taking such good care of him.

you carefully wiped down his tummy and between his butt cheeks. as you started cleaning up his softening length, he twitched from the stimulation and grabbed your wrist. a few deep breaths later, he let you clean him of his cum and you threw the soiled towel into the laundry basket.

you laid down beside atsuya, curling into his side. as you traced little figure eights on his cooling skin as his thumb caressed your shoulder. your husband’s head turned to you, a lopsided grin on his face.

“will you let me return the favor now, love?”

tags: @likelilacwine @kentocidal @kizoken @tojjist @sttoru and thank you to @redskyvenus and @bleach-your-panties for proofreading!!

© kentophilia 2024 — all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate or steal any of my works.

[sukimii]

Clingy

Tags: fuff, slight angst, foul language, touch-starved!Reader

Notes: Before reading any of my fics please read this first, thank you.

"Do you even love me?"

"Yes" your answer is immediate, with no hesitation. Of course, you love him, if you could write it in the sky you would. Yet now, the man you love is angry at you, with a mix of disappointment while you're on the verge of crying.

"Then why the fuck aren't you initiating shit?"

You know you should say something. You know you should open up and explain your behavior, but it's easier said than done. Because in the past, whenever you opened up no one listened. They either pretended not to hear or changed the topic of conversation. So you settled on pretending.

Over the years you became good at faking your moods and smiles. It came naturally for you to plaster a smile on your face and make it believable. You became good at pretending you were fine, when in fact you wanted nothing more than to have someone to listen. But no one ever did. No one cared enough to listen to the end, because as long as it doesn't concern them your insecurities are irrelevant.

"If I don't text you, you don't. If I don't call you, you don't. If I don't kiss you, you don't. Why the fuck are we in a relationship then?" The anger in his voice is deafening. It makes you want to crawl on yourself, wishing to disappear. You can feel his resentment in your bones. You know you should speak up, but your voice seems to be stuck in your throat.

"I didn't call you for three fucking days to see if you would. And guess what? You didn't!" Bakugou's eyes narrow on you, waiting for an answer that he will probably never get. "Why the fuck aren't you speaking?! Do you even give a shit about me? About our relationship?"

"I-I do care"

"Fucking bullshit." He scoffs, one hand dragging along the roots of his hair while the other one curled into a fist. "If you cared you would've reached for me. If you cared you would show it through your actions. If you cared-"

You can't listen to all your flaws.

He's listing the very same things people in your past had complained about. The sad part is that you already know the endgame, which only worsens the angst creeping up your back.

Bakugou is the only person you managed to fall in love with. He's the only one that makes you feel important, the only one that always waits for you. He is the first one that makes your heart beat so loud to the point of tuning out the world. He is the only one that keeps you on your toes. The only one that can awaken emotions buried in the depths of your heart and soul.

But now, having him complain about you was destroying your already fragile heart. All the wounds that you managed to somehow patch over the years are now ripped open again. It hurts. His words are like stabs, and you don't have the strength to listen. Because the man you love isn't willing to wait anymore.

You should've seen this coming. It was bound to happen. But your childish self, that small part of you that believes in hope, thought he was going to be the exception. You feel betrayed, by yourself. And you snap.

"BECAUSE YOU WILL HATE IT!"

Your breathing is heavy and ragged, tears already spilling down your cheeks while Bakugou is stunned to silence, watching you with both his eyebrows raised. Then he frowns.

"Why would I hate it?"

"Because everyone does, sooner or later." You can feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, and you sniff, using the abused napkin in your hand to wipe it. "You say now that you want me to do all those things, but as soon as I do you will get sick of me. So-" you choke back another sob, gathering your phone and bag. "It's best if we break up. Sorry for wasting your time" and with those final words, you get up from the table, intent on leaving his house.

It's always like this.

In every relationship that you had, it always ended up with them complaining about you. Something, at the end of the day, made you unable to satisfy them properly. There's always something wrong with you. You. You're your own reason why no one can ever stand you. Right now, all you want to do is get back to your house and cry out all your frustrations. But before you reach the handle, something tugs your other wrist, spinning you around into a hard chest.

"You're not going away, not when you're opening up. Fucking finally" Bakugou drags you back to the living room, this time on the couch. All your protests fall on deaf ears, even the attempts of pushing him away are an utter failure.

"Sit your ass down and start chirpin'."

To Bakugou it's clear that there is a problem, which might run deeper than he originally expected. So he waits for you to speak up.

Yet again, you seem to lose your voice, uncomfortable under his stare, and you look anywhere but at him.

After several beats of silence - disrupted by your sniffs in a poor attempt to not cry- Bakugou sighs. "If we- if you don't speak up, I don't know how to help you. I already have a feeling of what the problem might be, but I want you to tell me. I want to hear it from you."

You mull a little over his words, weighing down your options. The past experiences with childhood friends, exes, and family members, taught you to never expect anything from anyone. Sometimes people pretend to listen because their goal is to seem nice, but once they realize that the problem is nothing interesting, they drop the subject. And as much as you love Bakugou, you don't believe he'll be any different.

"There's nothing too important. It's exactly what I said it is. You think I don't want to hold your hand? You think I don't want to wrap my whole body on you like a koala all day? I crave physical touch, I crave it so bad, but I can't. I can't" as you keep spilling out your frustrations, your voice grows bitter and resentful. "Because you enjoy it in the beginning, but then you'll get sick of it and call me clingy, just like everyone else did! I know that after, you'll tell me to 'get a life', to 'go bother someone else' and I don't want it to happen again! Because I'll be the one getting heartbroken while you all keep surfing life as if you didn't stump on my stupid, useless feelings! You're no different from the others, once you get what you want then I hold no value in your eyes. Just another bitch to add to the fuck list no-" Bakugou is quick to cover your mouth with his palm, and you finally look at him.

He looks… sad. His eyes are soft, mouth pressed into a thin line as he looks at you with what you could describe as pity. But in reality, you couldn't be any farther from the truth, because Bakugou isn't pitying you. No. He understands you.

"We already fucked, two months ago. And I'm still here, aren't I?" His voice is gentle, probably the softest you've ever heard him. As if trying to soothe a wounded animal. It's endearing.

Blinking the heavy veil of unshed tears away, you give him a couple of nods.

"Do you really think I would do something like that to you? Do you think I would say to anybody that I love them?" his palm slides down your neck until it rests comfortably at the back of your head. With breath stuck in your lungs, you offer him a soft shake of your head, no. You don't think Bakugou is that type, but you never know.

"Do you have any idea of how much I want you to do all those things? Fuck- be a fucking leech for all I care, just-!" His forehead lightly bumps into yours, the tip of the nose rubbing a couple of times against yours. His eyes are transfixed into yours, and you can feel goosebumps raise on your whole body at the intensity of his stare.

"I don't care if I'm in an uncomfortable position. I don't care if you're all sweaty from working out or if I'm barely standing because of a rough day. I want you to do anything you want. You want to spoon me? Do it. You want to hold my hand in public? Do it. You want hugs when I'm busy? Do it. Fuckin' do it. I don't care. Fuck- I could be in the middle of an important call and I still wouldn't refuse your attention!" His head dips into the crook of your shoulder while leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

"I don't care what shit-stain you dated before me, all I care about is for you to be comfortable with me. Do you understand?" His arms are circling your back, holding you tight, but not enough to cut the breath out of you. You sniff, suppressing another sob that threatens to come out.

"Y-yes"

"Then hug me" He gives you a squeeze, voice barely above a whisper. "Please"

You know that this doesn't count as a potential improvement since, again, Bakugou is the one that initiated the physical contact. But you oblige, wrapping your arms around his neck.

For several minutes, you bask in the silence, enjoying the comfort and warmth. Until Bakugou speaks again, voice partially muffled by your clothes.

"I noticed how different you are with that weir- Hatsume."

"She-" you clear your throat, trying to get rid of the ragged tone "she never pushed me away. Probably the only one that never did." you don't want to relieve the past, but with Bakugou seems right. Up until now, he showed nothing but understanding.

"There were times when I would visit her back when she was in UA. She didn't mind when I would sleep on her while she worked on her babies. One day I remember falling asleep on her back, and she didn't complain. She- she was the only one that never called me a bother."

"You didn't do anything too scared I would…" he trails, lifting a little his head just enough to see your eyes.

"Call me clingy." You finish for him. His arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer.

"Even my parents pushed me away. I used to seek physical attention all the time. If it were possible, I would stay with you like this all day, but I know it's impossible. And I don't want you to think that I-… I don't want to be a burden. An inconvenience. I don't want you to hate me because of that. So I give you space. I let you initiate everything on your own terms because I'm scared of being annoying."

Bakugou listens. He knows that if he speaks you might try to make the conversation take a detour. So he waits for you to continue.

"I used to like sleepovers. I used to beg my parents to let me sleep at a friend's house. But then they told me no because I would be a bother, and that people are too nice to tell me that. Even holding hands was something I enjoyed, until someone slapped my hand away."

That detail doesn't sit right with Bakugou, and whoever slapped your hand was already on his piss-the-fuck-off list.

"Is this why you keep refusing to stay the night?" When you nod, Bakugou feels like the heaviest stone has just been lifted from his chest. When he slept with you for the first time, he asked you to stay over. It was late, and dark outside, and letting you wander the streets where danger lurked wasn't something he was keen on. Plus, it would give him more time to spend with you. But when you got up and dressed, turning down his offer saying that you were busy the next day, he walked you home.

The second time, again, you shut him down. He tried to be understanding. At the time, he couldn't understand why you refused to crash at his place when he did overstay at yours. At first, he thought you didn't like his apartment, or that you didn't feel comfortable enough. So, he bought a couple of plants, hoping that it will ease you, and stuffed his bathroom with products he saw at yours. He made sure to put hairclips and hair ties near the sink, in a pink-stained glass bowl. And different types of pads were stashed in the first drawer, just in case. He also added some décor, similar to your aesthetic, but even that didn't work. Despite your compliments, saying that you loved the changes he made, it still wasn't enough to make you stay.

Another time he tried again was three weeks ago. He tried his hardest to fuck you stupid, he hoped that six hours of constant sex will tire you out enough that you will cave, and finally spend the night at his. He tried different positions that he knew would strain your legs. Positions that will weaken your body, and time for you to recover were minimal. If he was generous, only a minute before he went at it again. Despite all his efforts, you still went home. Bruised, body screaming in pain at the effort, and on the verge of passing out, you asked him to take you home. And Bakugou, at that point, began to think that maybe you didn't love him.

He became self-conscious. Because why else wouldn't you want to spend more time with him? Why would you only have sex and then drop out as soon as you felt like sleeping?

Yet that theory wasn't exactly making sense, because the very next day you asked him to stay over at yours.

But now, Bakugou understands. He now knows what the problem is, and he has to admit that you told him way more than he originally expected. He's glad you did so, it's a step in the right direction, and he believes that improvements will happen soon.

One hand moves on the back of your head, cradling you closer while his lips ghost the skin right below your ear.

"Let's take baby steps" he murmurs, leaving a feathery kiss on the side of your neck. Your arms hook around his shoulders, leaning into him.

"Stay tonight" He feels your body tense up, and before you can utter a word -already knowing what you were going to say, he squeezes you, silently adding the 'please' that was lingering on the tip of his tongue.

When he feels your body relax in his hold, and a soft 'ok' leaves your lips, Bakugou allows himself to smile, happy with the outcome.

[whatawonderfulexistence--blog]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part VII

*inhales aggressively* VESSEL CHAPTER!!!!!! FINALLY!!!! Reader has a talk with the boys about what exactly happened with the night's kissing incident, after so much time of him being a bit distant towards reader Vessel decides to let his softer side show, plus more moments with III because I'm in love with him and I can't help myself sorry not sorry hehe I can't wait to know what you all think of this chapter thank you all so much for all the wonderful comments. If you would like to be added to the tag list please let me know!!

WARNINGS: discussion of boundaries, proposals of a polyamorous relationship (I tried my best to make it realistic but I, myself, am not polyamorous), fluffy stuff per usual. NOT PROOFREAD

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

Part VI - Part VIII

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sight before you almost made you want to laugh. The four grown men that sat in various seats around your living room almost resembled a group of school kids waiting anxiously outside the principal's office. “I’m sorry.” III was the first of them to speak up.

“No, if anything I should be the one apologizing.” II quickly follows, both of them unable to even look in your direction.

“I’m not upset at either of you, I’m just… confused.” You respond softly.

“It started off as simple crushes; me, IV, III, Ves.” You noticed Vessel’s shoulder tense as he was dragged into this conversation as well. “We all think you’re beautiful-”

“And very sweet.” III adds on. You can’t help the subtle smile that finds its way to your lips at their compliments.

“We could tell things had gotten a little more serious between you and III so we all decided to back off. But, I can’t lie to you,” II chuckled, “I’m a very jealous man. So when someone tries to keep me from what I want I don’t typically respond the best.”

“And I don’t feel right asking you to commit solely to me when you clearly have feelings for II, as well.” III adds his piece. You found it odd, there was no anger in his voice at the thought of you with his friend. “I guess what we’re trying to say is, um…” he trails off, looking to II as he searches for the right words to say.

“How would you feel about dating all of us?” Vessel breaks the thick tension with his blunt question. You felt like all of the air had been punched from your lungs, your heart jumping into your throat as your head snapped in his direction.

“Vessel, you can’t phrase it like that!” IV groans from his spot on your couch, dropping his head into his hand.

“What? She's a big girl, you don't need to beat around the bush.”

“Dating… dating all of you?” You finally mutter after a few moments of shocked silence.

“Obviously only if you're comfortable with that.” III stands from his seat, slowly stepping closer to you. “You don't have to say yes to any of this. It doesn't matter if you want to date only me, or if you would be okay dating all of us. Hell, after dropping this on you, there's a chance you might not want to see any of us ever again.” You didn't miss the nervousness that laced its way into his laughter. III was genuinely scared that this was going to fully push you away. “But, it's about what you want, that's the important part.”

“And you're all okay with this?” You would be lying if you tried to say you didn't find the offer very appealing. Every member of the group that sat before you drew you to them in one way or another, they were definitely an attractive bunch to put it lightly; III with his subtle intensity, who was always making you laugh, II who would turn you into a flustered mess with his sweet words, IV who’s easily excitable nature and blind confidence when it came to complimenting you made your heart thrum in your chest, Vessel who lets his hand linger on your waist as he maneuvers around you doing restock days, who holds your gaze for perhaps a little longer than necessary when wishing you goodbye at night. But, could you really handle four relationships? 

“The way we see it, we’d rather share you with others who we know are going to take good care of you than to be forced to hold our tongues about how we feel about you.” II explains.

“I…” you trail off as you look between the four of them. “I need some time to think.” Your voice shook slightly as you spoke.

“Of course.” Vessel responds. Without another word II, III, and IV stood, quietly said their goodbyes to you and left your apartment. Vessel hung back for a moment, waiting for III to fully shut the door behind him before breathing out a sigh. “I'm sorry that all of this happened the way it did. I kept telling them to wait to bring it up.” His gaze drops to you, who was silently fidgeting with your fingers as you leaned against the wall.

“I can always tell them to back off, love.”

“No, you don't have to do that.” You brush him off. “It's nothing to do with any of you, you're all incredible. It's just- it's me, that's what the problem is.” You tried to force a laugh to prove to Vessel that you were fine, his unchanging expression let you know immediately that he saw right through you. “You're all so wonderful, and the fact that you would be willing to make such a huge compromise.” You stare through the slits of his mask, believing you were meeting his eyes. “What if it's not worth it?”

You didn't have time to register what was happening before Vessel was in front of you, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“I know I might not be as… prominent with my acts of affection as the others.” He pulls back slightly, one large hand coming up to cradle the back of your head as your eyes instinctively rise to look at him. “But, considering II put things out in the open, I need you to know that I care for you viscerally.” The soft growl that found its way into his voice made your cheeks grow warm. “I don't want you to feel pressured into anything you don't want, but I need you to understand that there has not been a single moment since I met you that would make me think any of this wasn't worth it.” You blink slowly as a hand comes to rest on the top of your head, comfortingly patting the spot. “Would it be alright if I came and checked in tomorrow?” You nod, reluctantly letting your hands fall away from their position pressed against his chest as he stepped back, his warmth fading away with it.

“Goodnight, Ves.” Your voice cracked slightly as you tried to keep your overwhelming emotions in check.

“Goodnight love, rest well.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You watched the second hand on the clock tick, bringing you closer to when Vessel would usually make his nightly supply runs. You hadn’t managed to sleep at all the night prior, tossing and turning as you played through every scenario you could think of as you made your decision. At the sight of the familiar pick up truck rumbling into the lot you felt your heart race. “This is it.” You muttered out loud to the empty store. “No going back now.” He poked his head through the door before fully entering.

“You still open?” He offers you a playful smile.

“No, but for you I'll make an exception.” You giggle in response. He slowly steps inside and approaches the counter.

“How’d thinking on things go?” He rests his elbows on the counter, bringing him closer to face level with you.

You set a hand down on the counter, Vessel cautiously reaching out to take it in his own. He hesitates for a moment, his hand drawing back slightly as if he was preparing to pull away. His fingers were rough against the soft skin of your hand when he finally decided to take his, his thumb running languidly across the peaks and valleys of your knuckles as he waited patiently for your response. “I want to take things slow… but the thought of having all of you to myself is a little too good to pass up.” He breathes out a chuckle, flashing you a sharp smirk that makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Is that so?” He mulls over how to respond to your statement for a moment. “How about I make us dinner and we can sit down and talk about how slow you want to take things, just so we can make sure everyone is on the same page.”

“You want to cook me dinner?” You shoot him a playful smile. “Is it going to be edible?” He bellows out a laugh in response.

“You're funny, you know I've been told I'm a wonderful cook.” He points an accusatory finger at you, standing up to collect what ingredients he needed from around the store. “Just you wait and see, this is going to be the best damn meal you've ever eaten.”

The whole thing was a bit strange in the best way. If he hasn't told you so directly you would've sworn that Vessel thought of you as little more than an acquaintance. But now, you were sitting on your kitchen counter, a glass of white wine swirling around in your hand, rolling your eyes playfully at all of Vessel’s terrible jokes as he made the two of you dinner. He asks you where you keep your plates, you easily reach into the cabinet behind you and produce a pair, holding them out to him with a soft smile. He carefully plates the pasta he made, penne with bacon and spinach and some type of cream sauce he had pulled together with odds and ends from your pantry. “It smells incredible.” He saunters in front of you, trapping you on the counter by placing a hand on either side of your waist.

“And here you were questioning my culinary skills.” He feigns a hurt tone before a soft chuckle rumbles from his chest. “Come on beautiful, let's go eat.” He pulls away from you, your body trailing after his warmth. You pad your way into the living room, Vessel close behind as he carries your plate for you. You sat close together on the couch, angling yourself to better face him. “So, define slow.” He jumps in immediately.

“Let me at least get a couple bites in.” Vessel can't help but smile at your teasing tone. “I just… I don’t know. This is all so different I don't think I can really tell you what going slow even means.”

“Well, I can assure you that all of us care a lot about how you feel during all of this.”

“And I know that.”

“I think you're worried about more than just taking things slow, love. What's on your mind?” The softness to his tone immediately lulled your anxious mind into a sense of safety.

“I'm worried about things developing quicker in certain relationships than others, I just don't want that to cause any of you to fight.” You absentmindedly twisted your fork around in your fingers, studying it as you tried to put into words what was racing through your mind.

“That might happen, but if it does it's alright. Unfortunately that's just something we have to deal with.” He chuckles. “There's no doubt in my mind that you would be more comfortable moving a bit quicker with III than you would with me, he started flirting with you from the start. We all know that you're in various stages of getting to know us, we're more than willing to give you time to figure all of that out.” Hearing him being so reassuring made the heaviness weighing in your chest lighten considerably. “Is there anything else I can do to ease that pretty little head of yours?” You slowly shake your head no before pausing. You looked at the man before you, swallowing thickly as you mulled over an idea. Vessel was an enigma to you even after months of knowing him. He was aloof, quiet, but the few rare instances he let part of his personality break through you could tell just how wonderful he could really be.

“Dance with me?” The question hung in the air for a moment before Vessel wordlessly rose to his feet.

“I will warn you, I'm not much of a dancer.” He chuckles, outstretching his hand for you to take. His palm was warm against your fingertips; the smudged edges of his paint were a stark contrast to the pale skin underneath.

“What a shame, neither am I.” You giggle in response before he pulls you to your feet. He looks around the room, making a small sound of affirmation to himself before pushing your coffee table out of the way to open up the space. You walked over to a bookshelf in the corner of the room, clicking on your radio and letting the soft tune crackle to life. Vessel stood in the center of the room, hands shoved into his pockets as he waited for your return, a soft smile settling onto his lips.

“You look really beautiful today.” He says softly, one strong arm reaching out for you and wrapping around your waist when you were within reach. Your fingers intertwine with his, Vessel watching carefully as each delicate digit slotted between his own. Your cheeks grow warm as you timidly accept the compliment. You had never been this close to Vessel before, feeling the way his muscles tensed and shifted under the hand that rested on his shoulder sent a shiver down your spine. You were unable to tear your eyes away from him, the intricate detailing along the edge of his mask highlighting how wide and bright his smile was as he gazed down at your flustered form. The music you had turned on was non existent at this point, the only thing mattering at this point in time was Vessel finally allowing you the briefest glimpse inside his walls. You managed to trip over your own feet, yelping slightly as you stumbled into him. “Easy now, I got you.” He chuckles, helping to steady you on your feet. “If you're going to faint at least wait until I kiss you for the first time.” He jokes

“Already thinking about kissing me, huh?” You smile coyly

“It'd be hard not to with a pretty face like that.” You let out a flustered laugh, your eyes dropping to the floor. You jumped when there was a sudden knock on the door. You reluctantly pull out of Vessel’s grasp, his fingers trailing across your waist as he tries to remain connected to you until the last possible moment. You slowly open the door, not knowing who to expect on the other side so late. You froze when your eyes landed on III, who was nervously swaying his heels on the creaky wooden landing outside. The moment he realized you had answered he immediately began to ramble.

“I'm sorry, I know you said you needed time to think and I absolutely respect that. I just, I know we kissed, and if you decide you don't want to go through with this I don't want it to make things weird-”

“III.” His mouth snaps shut as you softly say his name. You look back into your living room, Vessel’s head rested in his hand, he seemed mildly annoyed to be interrupted. Not knowing how to respond, you simply pushed the door wide open, III’s attention immediately drawn to Vessel. “We were actually just talking about that.” His eyes widen slightly, his gaze switching between you and his friend.

“Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt-”

“I was just leaving, actually.” Your brows furrowed in confusion. You turn to face him as he walks up to you. He cradles your face in his hand, “tonight was wonderful, I hope we get to do this again soon.” He swipes his thumb across your cheek, leaving a thin black streak in its wake. “Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, Ves.” You respond breathlessly. You turn to face III, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth before reaching out and taking his hand, tugging him inside your apartment. His eyes stay locked on you as he follows you through the door, shutting it quietly behind him. “I really enjoyed, um… kissing you last night was really nice.” You let out a flustered laugh. “I don’t want you to worry that you made things weird.”

He chuckles, “Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He stuffs his hand in his pockets, shifting his weight awkwardly. “I hope that talk you guys were having was a good one.”

“I think you’ll be very satisfied with the outcome.” You giggle. He gazes at you curiously, the usual playful sparkle back in his eyes when he realized he hadn’t scared you off.

“Is that so?” He saunters closer to you, his towering height and intense gaze threatening to make your knees buckle. “You let me know if any of this is moving too fast, okay?” He says sweetly, gently cupping your jaw.

“Okay.” You smile up at him. He trails his thumb over your bottom lip, his bright blue eyes darting around your features as he drank in the sight of you.

“You are simply gorgeous, love.” He whispers after a moment of silence.

“You flatter me too much.” Both hands slide around your waist, gently pulling you flush against him.

“I'm only telling my girl the truth.” He smiles. Your eyes flash up to meet his, the declaration of being his girl making your heart flutter in your chest. “Well, it seems like we have the night to ourselves. What would you like to do?” Wordlessly you take one of the hands that had settled against the curve of your hip, guiding him towards your couch. You threw on a movie, something mindless that you didn't need to pay attention to. Tonight was about spending time with III. No distractions, no hidden feelings, just you and someone who made you feel like a girl experiencing her first crush all over again. III takes you in his arms, laying back and pulling you on top of him in the process. One arm resting comfortably behind his head, the other slung over your waist as the two of you cuddled in a comfortable silence. “You know, I was really worried all of this would make you never speak to me again.” He speaks up after a while through a quiet chuckle.

“I was definitely a bit nervous about the idea, still kind of am if I'm being honest.” You laugh softly, absentmindedly tracing shapes against the soft material of his sweatshirt on his chest. “But, none of you have given me any reason not to trust you, so despite being nervous I feel like this is the right choice.”

“How you feel about this is very important to me, okay? If there's ever anything I can do for you love, just let me know.” He rubs his hand soothingly up and down your back, keeping you pressed close to him almost as if he was scared if he let you go you'd disappear. The two of you stayed up talking late into the night; you learned that III is more of a cat person than a dog person, his favorite color is red, and he would willingly disappear into the woods without a trace if it meant never folding laundry again. “It's such a dumb concept, I'm going to put the damn clothes on anyways. Why do they have to be folded and put away?” You hid your face against his shoulder, trying to hide the fact you had tears forming in your eyes from laughing so hard. You look up at him with a bright smile, the tangent dying in his throat as his eyes meet yours. He slowly sits himself up on his elbows, your body responding as it gradually slid into his lap. One of his hands pressed into the small of your back, keeping you held as close to him as possible, the other moving to cup your cheek.

“I haven't been able to stop thinking about kissing you since last night.” You admit in a tone barely above a whisper.

“Trust me, I wasn't doing much better.” He chuckles, his gaze briefly flashing down to your lips. “Everything about you… everything about you is just so perfect, and for the life of me I can't figure out why you give me the time of day.”

“Because you make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world.” Your voice shook as you spoke, you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears and you were nearly positive that III could hear it too.

“Because you are the only girl in the world for me.” He admits without a second thought. “I haven't been able to get last night out of my head. Of course I want to kiss you again, but this time I want to kiss you and mean it.” Trembling fingers rose to the edge of his mask, glancing up at him through your lashes asking for silent permission to raise his mask enough to kiss him. He nods, studying your nervous expression as you gently took the edge of the fabric and raised it to just below his nose. Your breath was snatched from your lungs as III crushed his lips against yours, your mind immediately swimming in the overwhelming sensation that was him. His lips subtly sweet as he eased your mouth open, his tongue carefully caressing yours, making sure to take things at a bear agonizing pace in order for you to be able to back away at any time. Your hands slid up his torso, III shivered under your delicate touch. You felt lightheaded as the kiss took over your senses; the euphoric feeling of his warm lips against yours, the deep, earthy smell of his cologne, his massive hand kneading at the softness of your hip. You both pulled away equally breathless, your hands coming up to his mask in order to readjust it into place before he had a chance to.

“I think you definitely meant it this time.” You giggle, your forehead falling to rest against his.

“There's going to be plenty more where that came from.” He winks playfully at you.

III decided to leave you for the night when you could barely keep your head up anymore. He scoops you up in his arms. You grumble in annoyance despite the fact you immediately begin to nuzzle your face against his chest. “Where are we going?” You ask through a yawn.

“I’m taking you to bed sweetheart, you need to rest.” He chuckles.

“-’m not tired.” You try to protest, your actions only make him laugh again before he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Says the woman who can’t keep her eyes open.” You could hear his smile in his voice.

“I don’t want you to leave.” You admit softly.

“I know love, but you have a store to run, I’m afraid I’ve kept you up more than I already meant to.” He carefully maneuvers himself so he’s holding you in one arm, pulling back your blankets with his now free hand. He lays you gently into bed, his knuckles trailing across your cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” His head dips down, allowing you to share one more chaste kiss before he left you to fall into a dreamless sleep.

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[pathetic-sapphic]

Thank you for doing my request! Your write wonderfully. And of course it’s ok that you do it for the male characters! U don’t need permission from me this is your account and your writing, you do what you want :) and also if you’re gonna do it can you add Grayson to the list? Tysmm 🤍

Arcane men with a S/O who has anxiety

VIKTOR likes to use the slow and gentle approach when helping you during harder times. He understands what it's like to have doubts and feel as if all eyes are on you, just waiting for you to make the wrong move or fail. He will ground you by gently taking hold of your hand and kissing the back of it, whispering how everything is going to be alright and that he is right next to you. If he sees you panicking and your breathing getting heavier, he will lead you outside to get some fresh air. Viktor will sit next to you on a bench, winding his arm around you and drawing soft circles along the length of your spine until you've calmed down. Overall, he is a very gentle and patient lover who will be there for you no matter what, always reassuring you and helping you regain your peace. Viktor is forever your safe space.

''There we go, darling. It's okay, just breathe. No no, do not apologize, there is no place I'd rather be than right here next to you. Trust me. You know I'd never lie to you. Remember how many times have you stood by my side whenever I felt panicked or lacked faith in myself? Exactly, so now I'm going to do the same thing for you. I love you and I want to help you, I want to be your safe space. Now, just take my hand and tell me what's bothering you. I'll always be here to listen, sweetheart.''

Let's be honest for a bit, JAYCE is a himbo through and through, meaning that it might take a while for him to pick up on your anxious tendencies. He might even mistake your nervous fidgeting for excitement which definitely doesn't help your situation. You're going to have to tell him outright what you're struggling with, but once you do, he is your biggest supporter. Jayce is good with words and he is hopelessly in love with you so he is quick to beat down any feeling of self-doubt you might feel. He is basically your rock, always standing by your side and letting you lean on him whenever you need it. Jayce is like a loyal puppy, always following you and making sure you have whatever your heart might wish, he basically treats you like royalty. He is at your beck and call, ready to help you out or just hold you whenever you feel bad or your anxiety gets the best of you.

''What's wrong, babe? Come here, sit on my lap, and tell me what happened. Oh, baby, I wish you told me earlier you struggled with all this, I would have been able to help you sooner then. Tell you what, whenever you feel like that again, feel free to seek me out and I'll help you feel better in no time! Don't be ridiculous, you're much more important than my job, I wouldn't be where I am if it wasn't for all of your support during all these years. Now, let me do the same for you and be your support, alright? Good, I love you so much, babe.''

By being a leader at such a young age and carrying such a heavy burden, EKKO is well aware of how hard it can be to try and mask any doubts or insecurities you may have. He could always rely on you whenever things got too hard and now he wants to be there for you too. Once you reveal all the things that have been plaguing you for a while, he pulls you into a long, tight hug. His heart hurts just by thinking about all the things you had to go through on your own. How many nights have you spent crying yourself to sleep while he unknowingly slumbered away next to you? He decided that it ultimately doesn't matter because it'll never happen again. He knows you'd feel bad or as if you're bothering him by confiding in him about your worries but he reassures you that you could never be a burden to him. What would truly bother him is his beloved suffering in silence while he is unaware of all the hardships they're going through.

''Oh, firefly, why didn't you tell me you've been struggling so much? I could have been there for you and helped you! It doesn't matter, it's not your fault, just don't do it anymore, okay? You are never a burden to me, don't you dare think that. You deal with just as much trouble as I do and even if you didn't, that still doesn't mean you can't rely on me when you need it. I'm here for you, babe, and I want you to look for me and tell me whenever you're not feeling well. I'll always make time for you.''

VANDER is often very busy so you might think you can hide your troubles from him since most of the time he is either off running the Last Drop or taking care of his kids. However, he is a very observant and intelligent man, not to mention a very caring one so he quickly picks up on your sour mood. He will invite you to a storage room behind the bar, asking Benzo to take over for a bit. Vander will sit next to you on a squeaky old couch and take your hands into his, laying them upon his lap. Carefully, he will ask you what's got you so upset lately and once the floodgates open, he wastes no time in pulling you into his embrace. He will kiss the top of your head and rub his big hands along your back, cursing himself for letting it get this bad. Vander calms you down and comforts you, making you promise him that you'll make sure to communicate your feelings to him in the future. He hates seeing you cry and is ready to do whatever it takes to make a smile reappear on your pretty face.

''Come here, darlin'. It's okay, I've got you now, you can cry as much as you like. I'm sorry I didn't notice how bad you've been feeling sooner. It must've been so hard for you, my love. Shh, don't apologize, it's not your fault that you're feeling this way. We all feel like that sometimes and I'll always be here for you whenever it happens, alright? I love you so much, my darlin', now let me see that beautiful smile. There it is, it's like the sun is shinning right at me. You are my sunshine and I won't let anyone dim your light or take away your warmth, got that?''

SILCO can be surprisingly kind behind closed doors. It's no secret that he has a soft spot for you and will treat you as a priority, along with his daughter of course. He quickly picks up on your fidgety and nervous form but trusts you to confide in him when you're ready. When that doesn't happen and he notices your state getting worse with the days passing by, he invites you to his office. He will make you sit in his lap and explain your troubles to him while he tentatively listens and clings to your every word. Once you're finished, Silco will gently cup your face and lift it so your eyes meet his. He will tell you how proud he is of you and how grateful he is for your trust. Next, he will reassure you that your troubles are never an issue to him and that you always have a safe space in his office. Whatever you may need, whatever your heart may wish, he is ready to grant it as long as it means it will return that beautiful smile to your lovely face. He dedicates the rest of the evening to making sure you're feeling relaxed and well-rested, banishing any negative thoughts out of your pretty little head. He may be a criminal mastermind, but to you, he is your kind and gentle boyfriend, always ready to serve you and dedicate his time and effort towards assuring your comfort and happiness.

''Come here, darling. Yes, sit right here and look at me. Please? There you are. Now, are you ready to tell me what has been bothering you so much lately? Lying is futile, my dear, do you think I haven't noticed how fidgety and distant you've been for the past few days? I just thought I'd give you time to approach me and confide in me. Seeing as that hasn't happened yet, I am now giving you an opportunity to explain what has been going on inside that pretty little head. I see, I wished you'd told me all that sooner, it would have saved you the trouble and suffering, beloved. No matter, I'm here now and I am aware of your situation, thank you for trusting me with this, I know it can be hard to talk about such things. Now, how about we take a bath and have dinner together, hm? It'll help you relax and take your mind to a hopefully more pleasant place. Perfect, wait for me in the bathroom, I'll be with you in a minute, my dear.''

a/n: i will add grayson in a separate post for arcane milfs :)

[shall-we-die]

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{A sudden sweetness}

#Part 1 📍 || #Part 2 || #Part 3

What will be their reaction when you suddenly pat them on the head after a hard day and tell them "Good job, darling."?

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↬[Fandom]•⊰ {Obey me!}࿐

↬[Characters]•⊰ {Diavolo || Lucifer || Barbatos}࿐

↬[Warnings]•⊰ {None}࿐

☰[Main list]•⊰ ────┈┈{0009}┈─╮

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╰┈➤Likes/Reblogs are appreciated࿐

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• Diavolo would be taken aback by MC's actions and would be overwhelmed with happiness and affection.

"Ooh...!"

• He may blush and be speechless for a few moments, before thanking them for their praise and affection.

• Diavolo would be moved by MC's tenderness and would feel like the luckiest demon in the Devildom.

• Diavolo's feelings for MC would be intensified and he would be motivated to be the best demon prince he could be in order to make them proud.

"Thank you."

• After being praised and affectionately treated by MC, Diavolo would be overjoyed and feel incredibly grateful.

• Diavolo would want to reciprocate MC's love and affection, so he might ask to spend some quality time with them or offer to show MC around the Devildom.

• Diavolo would be happy and content to be by MC's side, and he would be motivated to keep up his good work as the future demon king.

• Lucifer was surprised, he’s never been talked to like that before. His face was a bright crimson red as he couldn’t help but blush. So, he glares at MC, as usual.

"I'm doing my duty as an Avatar. You do not need to praise me for such a trivial matter."

• And after he sees you're still smiling at him,

"Wh-what kind of demon do you take me for, MC!? I am one of the powerful lords in Devildom, not a house cat! Do not pat me on the head!"

• Lucifer may be surprised and embarrassed at first, but he will likely be pleased to receive the affection and praise from MC (He won't show it, no no no.)

• He might even be a little amused by the gesture but will appreciate it nonetheless. He is proud and stoic, but underneath all that, he too wants to be appreciated, loved, and comforted from time to time.

• Lucifer would react to MC's headpats with a surprised look, initially feeling slightly awkward at the show of affection (if it happens again). However, he would quickly come to appreciate the gesture and enjoy the feeling of affection.

• After a particularly busy day, Lucifer's appreciation for the comforting touch would be even greater.

• Barbatos' cheeks would flush a warm shade of red as his heart flutters from joy. He'd find the touch so soft, soothing, and endearing, only wishing to stay in it a bit longer.

• He would be too much of a fool to even consider moving away from the comfortable embrace of MC's hand. The smile on his face would be more noticeable.

• His eyes shifted back down to you, smiling widely,

"MC, may I remind you, that I am just a butler, not your pet? Though the head pats and verbal appreciation is appreciated, this does not mean you own me."

• He pauses, looking at you with a teasing smile on his lips,

"Not that I don't enjoy the attention I am getting from you, MC."

• Barbatos would be left in blissful silence just experiencing the sensation as MC patting his head. He wouldn't move, unless prompted to do so. He would simply appreciate each soft touch and soothing words uttered. Even if he was just asked to pass a napkin or a cup of tea, he is not ready to let go of the intimacy.

• There are times he would close his eyes, feeling the comfort and tenderness in MC's touch. Even if he was called, he couldn't hear anything due to how loud his heart was beating and the butterflies in his stomach.

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 15.

Summary: Oliver's first night and the next morning at Saltburn, and you learn that not only does he know more about you and Felix than you'd assumed, but he knows even less about the social rules of a place like this than you'd imagined.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: suggestive themes, we finally get the basis of the consensual pervert/enabler dynamic between oliver/reader(/felix). its implications in this chapter but will probably get more explicit in future.

A/N: 4908 words. venetia catton is a menace to society and i am in lvoe with her. set up is being set up!! we're getting there, friends!!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

You wish you hadn't looked out of the window. You wished you hadn't cracked open the door to step onto the balcony. You wished you hadn't waited up.

Dinner had ended hours ago, and Felix was well and truly asleep, but you'd left your smokes on his balcony and had taken a break from going over the guest lists for the upcoming events that Duncan had provided you with. It was something you did every year, it helped calm your anxiety around these formal events, to be well versed on all the patrons in attendance, making everyone feel as though their place at Saltburn mattered, if only for a night. There was most certainly some deep, psychological root of your crippling social anxiety and fear of faux par and failure, but that was almost certainly a problem to investigate in the future.

The lilac study had been functionally unused since before even Felix had been born, sitting idle and untouched but beautifully furnished directly across from his room, on the other side of the long gallery, with a beautiful view of the gardens. It became unofficially your study many years ago, though sometimes Felix would use it too if he had some kind of Summer project he had to attend to. But now it was yours, set up with a bulky computer for the occasional emails from your family business that you were becoming slowly more involved in. Mostly, however, you spent your time thoroughly poring over these dossiers of guest lists with attached relevant information, committing all of them to memory.

After spending most of the day high, you felt guilty enough to get a head start on the Summer that evening.

But just before midnight you'd needed a smoke.

Oliver and Venetia painted so pale in the moonlight, Oliver half dressed and clearly ready for bed, Venetia with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders that you knew she wouldn't have brought herself. It doesn't seem to be a particularly deep conversation, but you think you can see Venetia smiling, and a smile like that can never mean anything good. Surely she'd told Oliver some pretty lie about why she was out there, but her room was on the other side of the house.

Oliver is unconventionally wonderful, and she is, and forever will be, Venetia Catton.

He will fall for her tricks, and you're sure part of her, just like her brother, just like yourself, would fall for part of Oliver's unsuspecting charms.

Just like she said she had with Eddie.

No, this was deliberate, you were sure; Venetia was playing this dangerous game again.

Retiring back to your study, you make sure to keep the door ajar to hear of anyone coming through the gallery. Saltburn is a creature that groans when you tread in the wrong places; you, like Duncan, had long ago mastered the art of moving around the house in total silence. None of the Cattons had ever felt it a necessary skill to learn. Oliver hadn't even been here a day. His footsteps practically echoed like drum beats.

"Everything okay, Ollie?" You shoot for casual, voice loud enough that you know he'd hear it in the quiet ambiance of the night, but that it wouldn't disturb Felix. The footsteps stop. There's no tell-tale creak of his door. Then, he moves towards you.

"How'd you know it was me?" Oliver, at your door, is shirtless. Oh. Right. Of course he was. He had been in the garden only moments before.

"I saw you downstairs," you say, trying to regain your train of thought. It's the easiest for him to digest, and most of the truth. He hadn't seemed to like the thought of you knowing his prescription earlier, even though you were just embarrassed to admit you'd stolen his glasses for a few days back in the first few months of meeting him, throwing enough money at an optometrist that they'd figured out his prescription from his current glasses. Right now you didn't want to tell him that you had spent enough time here that you could distinguish the Cattons from their staff, and distinguish each of the Cattons by footstep alone, and that Oliver's was so blatantly different to everyone else's that it was easy to deduce it was him. No, you don't say any of that.

"Oh," Oliver says awkwardly, shivering a little. Despite the heat of the day, it had cooled off considerably, "I spotted Venetia down there, I thought she might have been sleepwalking."

"Was she?" You ask with an automatic little smile, not wanting to give away how much you knew this to be Venetia's game.

"Said she was looking at the moon."

A sight you knew was perfectly visible from her own room. But you bite your tongue on that.

"So no?" You let the smile ease to something less robotic, something knowing, and Oliver sheepishly shook his head. Settling back in your chair in the lamp light, you look him over. Had he always looked so... you remember how he'd looked in the moonlight of your room and you have to look away, lest you get yourself flustered.

"Are you alright?" Oliver speaks up, taking a step into the study, finally letting himself look around. "Thought you'd be in bed."

"I'm meant to be," you admitted, "but I was getting ahead of this year's Summer schedule," you gesture to the book, and Oliver finally comes and joins you. He leans down over your shoulder, squinting at the pages, your shoulder pressed to his hip. He squints a little longer. Ah, "you're welcome to have a good look at it tomorrow," you offered brightly, pointedly not saying when you're wearing contacts and actually able to see, but Oliver thankfully seems to take the hint, even if he's still clearly awkward about the reminder. His hand then comes to rest on your shoulder, looking down at you and the way you're glowing in the gold light.

A moment passes; there's something on his mind, but you'll never push. Eventually it always comes out. It doesn't take long this time at least.

"Felix brought someone else to Saltburn, didn't he? Before; not just you," Oliver says softly, eyebrows knitting together. Fucking Venetia, you thought ruefully. Some of it must show on your face, because Oliver's hand comes up from your shoulders, thumb against the faintest scowl that has wrinkled your brow.

"What did she tell you?"

"Nothing really," he says faintly; while his expression is no longer concerned, there's something about the way he's watching you, cataloguing every small moment and movement of your face, each looking in your eyes, everything about you and your reaction that makes you feel... studied. Catalogued. Seen. You don't flinch away, don't move, just let yourself react, and let Oliver watch all the while. Then, after a moment, his hand is moving again, holding your chin, thumb running so gently over the curve of your lips, "called me lucky is all," he mumbled, as if transfixed by your face, by the way you're allowing this moment to go on, "said you didn't even like the last one." His words dip with disdain as he recalls what Venetia had said; what a snitch she was, you found yourself thinking.

"You need to be careful, Ollie," you tell him faintly, warning on your lips as you found yourself biting your tongue on a past that you don't feel is yours to really speak on. It was true that you had never been best friends with Eddie, but you were still rather fond of him. Even if that fondness was born from Felix's. Even if you were glad to be rid of him. Even if he hadn't even made it down the driveway before you were sending emails and worming your way into the Oxford administration usernet.

"Careful of the cold-blooded Cattons?" He asks, voice surprisingly idle, as if bored by the warnings, unphased by them. Where had his earlier trepidation gotten to, you wonder, right as Oliver gently caresses your cheek, "or should I be careful of you?" There's something in his voice that you're sure you'd only heard when he was looking up from between your thighs.

When you open your eyes, you find yourself meeting his curious gaze. The lamp paints his cool skin gold. One conversation with Felix and his hesitancy is gone. It's like you picked up right where you'd left off with each other before Felix's jealousy had awoken. It's actually a little infuriating, bordering on embarrassing, how taken you are with Oliver's quiet confidence.

After a moment in which you struggle to find the right words, Oliver actually smiles at you. It's almost condescending, like he understands the effect he has on you in these moments.

"Don't be jealous, pet," he tells you. Immediate, flustered shock flashes across your face before you can even stop it. But he doesn't tease, doesn't draw out the moment, he simply lets you breathe in and adjust to the moment, to his use of the nickname.

Saltburn creaks, the tell-tale noise of the old house settling into its foundation; Oliver, unfamiliar with the way the Estate echoes it's own, predicable, discordant melody of a night, looks to the door with sudden nerves once more. Something about his momentary uncertainty of his surrounds reminds you to breathe, to settle yourself like the house you practically grew up in.

You give a tired smile like it's all merely a joke, closing the dossier on the table in front of you.

"You should go to bed, Ollie," you tell him, voice nothing but warm and gentle, "we both should." Oliver ducks his head obligingly, stepping back from your seat to give you space, but still waiting patiently for you.

Once the lamp clicks off and the two of you are drenched in darkness, Oliver's voice cuts through the darkness as the two of you make your way to the lighter, long gallery.

"It must be nice being away from Oxford, being somewhere you don't have to pretend."

"Pretend what?"

"You know, the thing that's going on with you and Felix, whatever you want to call it." He says it so casually that you respond without really thinking. After all, he had a point; it's one of the many reasons you loved Summers at Saltburn.

"I don't even know the right words for it," after a long moment to think, you admit sheepishly. Then, moving to the long gallery that's still dimly lit, you look to Oliver with mild confusion as you fully process his words, "you... know?" Oliver, shirtless and in his pyjama bottoms, leans casually against his doorframe with a coy little smile. "How much do you know?" His smile grows wider; even from here his eyes look like they're shining with amusement.

"I don't think that kind of talk's appropriate for polite company," he teases, and you can feel your heartbeat racing. Sure you weren't careful at university, but you thought you'd at least convinced everyone it was platonic. Somehow.

"What- Oliver what does that mean? What have you seen or heard or -?" You babbled, flustered beneath his knowing gaze that suddenly burned with desire.

"Don't you want to be wanted anymore?" Is all he offered, simply wishing you a good rest of your night, slipping into his room. You're left flustered and speechless and honestly getting a little hot and bothered trying to figure out exactly what he was implying, and what he had seen.

Back in your room, you flick on the lamp on your side of the bed, trying to remain as quiet as possible as to not disturb the already sleeping Felix as you undress yourself, searching for your pyjamas. You're so in your head thinking about the encounter you'd just had with Oliver, trying to understand all the implications he left unsaid, that you don't even hear Felix yawning and shifting in the bed, half woken by the light.

"Hot," he mumbles after a long, appreciative hum, wearing a wide smile that would have bordered on leering if you didn't know him better. Actually, it was leering, but if anyone was allowed to leer at you it would be half asleep Felix, "this is perfect," he muses, pulling back the blankets to make room for you on the bed next to him, "you can stay like this; come here, don't worry about the pyjamas, no-one cares about them -" and you're more than happy to tuck yourself up against him like this. Pyjamas were more a habit than anything else, and Felix draws shapes on your bare back as you're both falling asleep.

Yes, you think to yourself as you're drifting off, it is nice being away from Oxford, being somewhere you didn't have to pretend.

The next morning you decide to chalk Oliver's boldness and implications up to the late hour, and don't feel the need to mention it over breakfast. Or, well, not all of it.

"Is there something wrong with the toast, pet?" Pamela asks gently across the table, her big, doe eyes boring into you where you'd been glaring down at your plate for the past five minutes. Venetia and Farleigh have been talking quietly together on Felix's other side, clearly comparing notes on Oliver already. Looking up at her just as the other two go quiet, you try and reassure her that everything's fine, even if your face hasn't quite gotten the message.

"Come on, shouldn't you just be happy that -" Venetia starts, but you cut her off before she can say something demeaning about either yourself or Oliver, knowing her too well to trust her mouth at any time of day, even over breakfast with the whole family.

"I am happy Ollie's here, Ven," you told her flatly, leaning forward to level an unimpressed look at her around Felix, "less thrilled about you being weird and coquettish outside my window," even though your façade doesn't show it, you're pleased by the pleased little cackle Felix covers with a sip of his drink, "do they not have the moon on your side of the house?" You snipe, and Venetia immediately rolls her eyes.

"See, I told you," Farleigh clicked his tongue pointedly, refusing to look at you in this moment, "possessive."

"Existing in my own home doesn't make me weird," Venetia gives a mean, humourless smile back, "and talking to our houseguest after he approached me doesn't make me coquettish."

"It does when you're doing it in that little, damn teddy nightgown and talking shit about me!"

"Christ, Vee," Felix sighed with faint disappointment. While your ribbing could be construed as playful or even jealous, Venetia always took Felix's negativity to heart. Not that he'd ever been able to tell that; Venetia always did well to hide her hurt behind further, thorny barbs.

"I wasn't talking shit," she sighed, terribly exasperated all of a sudden, "I just told him you were like one of those angry, little purse dogs Paris Hilton carries around," Venetia said without a hint of apology or remorse, "which of course makes Felix Paris -" Felix tears his slice of toast in half and jams both halves into Venetia's cup of tea without warning, causing her to shriek with absolute indignation.

"Felix, please," Elspeth sighs from beside Pamela, who'd all but leapt from her seat with shock, watching as two of the staff suddenly swarmed the flustered young woman to start cleaning the spilled, soiled drink from the table.

"'Felix, please'?" You huff mockingly under your breath before your best mate even gets the chance to be indignant for himself, "Venetia, please," you correct haughtily, though you're quietly glad that Elspeth has chosen to pointedly ignore you. However Venetia herself casts her gaze to you and Felix, both of you wearing near identical, childish looks of irritation, to which she responds in kind. Venetia sticks her tongue out at you both.

Pamela just watches Venetia's poor teacup despairingly as it's whisked away. Elspeth sighs deeply, and asks if anyone had informed Oliver what time breakfast would be. It had slipped your mind, and judging by the look on Felix's face, it had slipped his as well.

By the time Oliver joins you all, the tense atmosphere had disappeared, easing to something light and bright as you and the Catton family looked forward to the day, and to helping Oliver get properly acquainted with the Estate. During the discussion, the planning, you make a mental note to find one of the many beautiful books on Saltburn and the intricacies of it's heritage for Oliver to have a look at if he wanted to. While the idea of researching one's holiday home may not sound like the greatest idea of fun to most people, getting familiar with the house your best friend always took for granted made you feel like you understood it better, made you feel like you knew what you were settling yourself amongst.

"Y/N, dear, is that copy of Percy Bysshe Shelley's poetry still amongst your collection?" Sir James brings up, his eyes bright and wide. The book in all it's aged glory is sitting on your shelf in Oliver's room at that moment.

Very suddenly you're hit with a rush of affection, and the memory of a sweet summer afternoon, of being captured by Love's Philosophy written so simply on those pages. Those summer afternoons turned into evenings and the maze became the kind of magical only you could seem to feel, but that Felix would always indulge you in. Oh. You had to bring Oliver along, see if he could feel it too.

"Yeah," you cleared your throat, giving Sir James a smile across the long dining table. He seems delighted, apparently having read Percy Shelley's biography not to long ago, and has since wanted to reacquaint himself with the poet's work. For a moment, Venetia lights up with genuine interest and intrigue; for as long as you'd known her, she'd shared her father's passion for history, both harbouring a peculiar fascination for the sordid private lives of prominent creative figures.

Several years ago, Venetia had gifted her father the biography of Howard Hughes for Christmas; the following year, Sir James had pulled enough strings to get them both in attendance as VIPs for The Aviator's world premiere, the film based on that very same book. Venetia says the best part was meeting and having drinks with Leo DiCaprio; the only photo that she got properly printed and framed from the premiere, the one of her and her father beaming, says she's lying. They still spend hours in the library together when James isn't working. Venetia almost seems to be relaxed in those moments, from what you'd observed.

Oliver is back to being his quiet, awkward self when he finally makes it to the table, all fidgeting and uncertain steps towards the only empty chair at the table. Venetia lights up a cigarette as a new teacup is placed in front of her, both she and Farleigh observing Oliver's every movement with anthropological curiosity. So, instead of looking at either of them, Oliver looks to you, giving an almost nervous smile as he sits gingerly.

The mood is almost cripplingly uncomfortable.

Oliver tries to order a full English breakfast; Duncan looks like he'd just called his mother a cunt to his face.

The second hand embarrassment at the failed formality makes you feel like you're seconds away from some kind of empathetic anxiety attack, so you jump to your feet as the rest of the family act like they really live in a reality where every other person knew every secret high society script they were born knowing. They recover, but not quick enough for Oliver to not be tense, nor for you to not have made your way to the breakfast table on the side.

"Breakfast is on the side, darling," Elspeth says with an almost forcibly bright air, but falters as you call out that you've got it.

"You don't need to do that -" Oliver mumbles awkwardly, but is cut off when Venetia starts actually barking at you with a wide, mean smile.

This time, Felix picked up one of the cooked tomato halves from his plate, squishing it in his hand over Venetia's new cup of tea, letting the pulpy remains splatter into her now second ruined drink that she couldn't cover fast enough.

"How would you like your eggs?" Duncan ignores the petty siblings as the poor service staff once more whisk away Venetia's teacup, much to her exasperation. Oliver looks to the butler nervously, wondering if this was a joke or a test, assuring him that he could get them himself, but it's Farleigh who cuts in, voice like ice.

"The eggs are made for you," he explains coldly, barely looking up from whatever he had been working from, but his gaze flicks from Oliver's nervous expression to you, over his shoulder, carrying a plate loaded with food and scowling at him and his tone. Finally, convinced that it wasn't a joke, Oliver awkwardly asks for fried eggs from Duncan, who complies, and simply seems glad that the interaction had ended. When you put the plate down in front of Oliver, he glances up at you, almost looking apologetic.

"You really didn't have to -"

"I know," you responded cheerfully, giving his shoulder a squeeze, "you can get yourself breakfast for the whole rest of Summer, but it's your first day."

"You're very kind, very good to me," Oliver looks up at you through his lashes, blue eyes shining, grateful, stumbling through his words, "you- you're very good." For just a moment there's a flash of something more deliberate in his eyes that the others don't seem to see, and he watches the way the praise hits you with intent.

"Oh my god," Venetia groans across the table, "it's like you want me to bark at you -"

"Venetia, I have more tomatoes," Felix warned without even looking at her, but pointing sharply to emphasise his words. You thanked him airily as you returned to your seat and he beamed at you while his sister called you both terribly childish. She did not appreciate being reminded that she was the one barking in the first place.

It's Felix who breaks the tension to tell Oliver about the earlier discussion about the Percy Shelley biography, but it's Venetia who brings up the story of the poet's doppelganger. As she regales them all with the story of the housekeeper seeing the image of Shelley waving at him out of the window before realising the poet was in Italy and he was on the third floor, she tells it as if it's simply some scandalous gossip. Felix Catton, in possession of something of a rabbit heart when it came to anything remotely spooky, begged his sister to stop, even going so far as to cover his ears, but she seemed to enjoy getting under his skin, blithely ending the story with the housekeeper drowning only hours after the event.

While Elspeth announces that the story gave her goosebumps, and you admit it did send a shiver down your spine, Farleigh blurts out, without looking up from his notebook -

"I heard he fucked his sister."

While Sir James clearly didn't appreciate the addition, it's surprisingly Oliver who finds his voice.

"I think that was Byron."

The certainty of the correction is enough to get Farleigh to actually look up from his work. That's not how this was meant to go, at least that's what you think is on Farleigh's mind. Very rarely was Farleigh corrected at Saltburn; either the Catton's weren't as well researched on whatever he was spouting nonsense about, or they simply didn't care, but the point is Farleigh wasn't corrected at Saltburn. Farleigh could get away with the little white lies he told for fun here. He certainly wasn't fact checked by a newcomer at breakfast with the whole family.

When Oliver looks away from Farleigh, across to you and Felix, he sees the near identical smug little smiles you're both giving him. Both of you look rather pleased, and you see him almost grow rather flustered across the table. At least until Duncan sets a plate of fried eggs down in front of him.

Oliver's face falls, fork prodding the warm, gooey yolks almost like he's cautious of them.

You're back to watching, to observing and cataloguing further information about your guest. Runny eggs make Oliver sick; he looks it too, or perhaps that's simply the discomfort that comes from knowing he'll have Duncan's intense presence looming over him to take away what he'd just so kindly brought. Skin prickling with discomfort and desire to help, despite knowing there was nothing you could do, you fidget and try to finish your own food.

"Think I might head down for a swim after this," you hadn't, but you needed to say something to break the silence. Venetia and Felix are both quick to jump on the idea with enthusiasm, and Farleigh reluctantly agrees, if only to not feel left out. Across from you all, Oliver's trying to make himself as small as possible as he works on the breakfast you'd brought him. Never assuming, always waiting for an invitation, even now - "you game, Ollie?" You grinned.

Of course he was.

All you could think about as you searched for your nice bathers was how different Oliver was from last night. Then, your mind wandered back to that conversation, to all he had said, all he had implied. Catching a glimpse of Felix, already ready in just his swim trunks, towel slung over his shoulder, leaning and looking so effortlessly gorgeous and tanned already in the doorframe, you think of Oliver's implications. Clearly he'd seen enough of the two of you in private to understand the extent of your actual relationship, and considering the shit you got away with in public, and how both you and Felix admittedly couldn't be too bothered with things like closing the blinds when you have other things on your mind, you've got something of an idea of what Oliver may have seen. No, it wasn't appropriate for polite company.

But he'd slept with you, had seen and possibly heard you with Felix, and clearly had a thing for Felix himself. Why was he holding back? Why was he continuing to tease you the way he had last night? What kind of game was he playing?

Fine, if Oliver wanted to be a tease, wanted to play games, you could more than match his energy.

One of the many skills you'd picked up from a life spent next to the effortlessly attractive Felix, was learning how to put in the effort to appear effortlessly attractive even in comparison, in any situation. Of course you were hot, that was a given, but there was an art to the way you moved and smiled and behaved and posed and focused attention on yourself like it was a science you'd absolutely perfected.

Which is how Oliver, the last to arrive to the little, wooden jetty by the lake, found you laying out, glittering and glistening with water as the droplets clung to you, had your flattering bathers clinging to you in just the right way. Feet hanging over the edge, you arch your back just enough to tilt your head back, to watch him approaching upside down. Hands appearing casual, but carefully placed, one rested on your hip and lower belly, while the other reached out to give him a wave, your smile wide and sharp.

The others greet him, and though his gaze momentarily flicks to them, it always returns to you. Your back arches higher as you laugh, almost lifting you up to sitting, but you lay flat when he's on the jetty, when he's standing over you with a curious look.

"Hello gorgeous Ollie," you say with a teasing grin, "was beginning to get worried we might have lost you in there," you tell him, at least trying to look like you were trying to keep your expression serious, "its a big house."

"Are you high again?" He asks, and your smile grows all wide and sharp and amused. You shake your head.

"Why?"

"No reason," he says after a beat. Again there's quiet, apart from Felix and Farleigh squabbling over something trivial back on the grass. Oliver examines you, unashamedly letting his gaze roam down your body, the way you've displayed yourself so almost casually.

"Everything alright, Ollie?" You ask after a moment, reaching out to gently touch the side of his knee, contact, reminding him all at once to get out of his head, that this was reality. But your voice drops low enough that the others wouldn't hear, hand coming away, breaking the contact as you level a Cheshire smile at him, "is there something you want?"

Already it's worth it, since you see the exact moment Oliver realises what you're playing at. There's a sharp intake of breath, but an appreciative look in his eyes that quickly flick down your body once more. Then, he turns away, face quickly turning red as you all but cackle with glee.

The game has begun.

If all Oliver Quick could bring himself to do was watch, you'd put on a fucking show.

[raina-at]

Do-Over

It’s long past midnight, and Sherlock is far away from sleep. His nose hurts. His heart hurts. Everything hurts.

He’s too depressed even for the violin. 

Short version, not dead.

How stupid can you be? 

He’d hoped if he laughed it off, he could pretend it wasn’t a big deal. Could pretend his heart wasn’t breaking, seeing John with this woman.

Sherlock keeps a list, since that day on the roof of Barts. His worst mistakes. His biggest regrets. The top ten moments he would like to relive, to do everything differently.

Tonight has won the top spot. How cruel, how callous, how stupid, to make a joke of John’s grief, to make a trick out of something that should have been sincere, to laugh at pain, to mock when he should have begged. Forgive me, he should have said. I never meant to cause you so much pain. 

He closes his eyes and wishes for oblivion. 

There’s a knock on the door. Quiet, hesitant, but there.

Sherlock walks over, opens the door.

John stands there, looks at him. Mustache shaved, wearing that ugly coat and a devastated expression.

“I think we need a do-over,” he finally says, chin set in that way when he has when something hurts like fuck but he’s solidering through anyway.

“I’m sorry,” Sherlock whispers, barely audible, his heart beating a mile a minute. He better not fuck this up, because he’s pretty sure John won’t come back for take three of this particular conversation. “I did it to keep you safe. I know I hurt you by all the lying, but I absolutely believe that if I’d told you, you’d be dead right now.”

John looks at him for a long time in silence. His eyes are wet, and searching, and scared. He swallows, takes a deep breath. “My turn now. I wanted to tell you something. Before you jumped. And I swore to myself that if I ever had the chance, I wouldn’t chicken out again.”

Sherlock tilts his head in question, but says nothing, afraid that a loud word or the wrong move will scare away the boldness that’s come over both of them, the midnight courage of broken hearts.

“I—” John makes a frustrated noise when his voice gives out. He clears his throat, tries again. “I— you know what, fuck it.”

He fists his hand in Sherlock’s shirt front and pulls him in, pressing their lips together.

It hurts a bit because of the broken nose, but Sherlock still pulls John closer and kisses back with everything he has.

“Come home,” he whispers against John’s lips. “Please.”

John smiles into the kiss. “Yes.”

---

Let's be honest, if we could change one scene, it would be this one.

Also, periodic reminder that I'm collecting all of these here on AO3.

And since I can never resist a shameless self-plug, I wrote a fic that consists entirely of do-overs, it's called Empty Houses, and it fits this prompt so perfectly I could have just linked to it instead ;-)

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @jrow @peanitbear @jolieblack @meetinginsamarra @helloliriels @keirgreeneyes @lisbeth-kk @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog @weeesi @thalialunacy @thegildedbee @dapetty @salmonsown

[beanmachine69]

Brothers' Beloved Bestfriend | Daniel Ricciardo (part iii)

part i

part ii

You chose not to wear the red dress, but that didn’t stop Daniel from stealing glances at you the whole night, sifting through guests any chance he could to talk to you before your brother swept him away. The guest list was more than you had anticipated, so when you retired to your room after everyone had left, you were uncertain whether you could keep your exhaustion at bay to stay awake and talk to Daniel. Obviously those thoughts and struggles were thrown out the window when you heard your bedroom door quietly open as he snuck in, closing the door behind himself and pausing at the entrance, watching you finish your skincare routine.

“Finally.” You replied, passing him a smile as he made his way to your bed. 

“What, couldn’t wait any longer to see me again?” He laughed.

You rolled your eyes before joining him in bed, getting flashbacks to how it had felt the first night he was in your room. This felt like a strangely domesticated moment though, you’d shared several sweet moments with him over the course of the years you had known him, but this felt intimate, and domesticated. Crawling into bed and under the covers with him waiting for you on the side of the bed he knew you didn’t sleep on felt odd- not in a bad way, but more in a different and kind of adorable way.

Your crush on Daniel had started as the same old cliche crush; you liked your older brothers’ best friend, but it had grown into something much more in the past few years, and as confusing as it was, you were still glad you two were cuddling next to each other. He had always been the type of person to go through the effort of completely understanding and knowing the people around him; he was a comforting soul to many and though you’d always felt comfortable around him, this was different, it was far more intimate than you could have ever wished for. You’d of course be lying if you claimed you didn’t wish for this, that you didn’t think about it every time your hugs lingered a moment too long or every time he’d lean just a little too close. Daniel always felt like the man you would feel safe around, and now that he had his arms wrapped around you and your face buried in his chest, listening to his heart beat, you felt safer than you could have imagined. 

The dreaded conversation wasn’t brought up for a while, initially you two talked about the event, the food, the people, the interactions and eventually you two managed to transgress into a completely different conversation about life and the struggles the two of you had faced as individuals- not once did the conversation feel forced and not once did it feel like he was trying to make a segway into the intended topic. It wasn’t till you looked up at him during an extended few minutes of silence, only to have him be looking back at you, his smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“Your forehead is at the perfect spot.” He said, inching closer to give you a kiss. 

You smiled at the gesture, it was sweet and made you feel warm on the inside.

“I’m sorry, I should have expressed my feelings better.” Daniel said, breaking the comfortable silence with words that felt heavier than they should have. 

“Wait wait wait wait, what are you apologizing for? If anyone should be apologizing right now, it should be me; I’m the one who cut you off when I should have talked to you about my fears.” You replied, plummeting directly into the core of the matter, pulling away to look at his face better, you propped your head up on your arm for better comfort. Daniel mirrored your posture, propping his head on his arm, and reaching out with his other hand to hold yours. 

“No, no, I thought about it a lot and I feel awful for how I came onto you-” You saw his face flinch when he registered the last few words and bit back a chuckle, “Uh, I was much older than you and still am, and it was your first summer back from college and all, and really I should have had a better conversation but we were both kinda drunk and it felt like oh y’know it’s now or never and-”

“Danny.” You interrupted him, squeezing his hand a bit tighter as a form of bodily punctuation.

He didn’t reply to you, his gaze met yours and for a moment you swore you would start crying. You’d known these past few days that your feelings for him had resurfaced, but every passing moment felt like those feelings hadn’t resurfaced, but instead had never left, they had existed for longer than you’d like to admit and no matter how much you’d lie and say it was momentary or what-not, they were real and had been existing longer than you’d acknowledge. Hearing him ramble hurt you, it was the saddest possible confirmation of his pre-existing and lasting feelings for you and though that fact should have brought comfort, his expression of that fact brought a great discomfort. You’d always known Daniel to be a man capable of expressing his thoughts and using his words, but at that moment, the way his words fell out of his mouth with his eyes darting and looking anywhere but yours made you regret any decision you thought to be correct. 

“Dan, stop apologizing, whatever happened that night happened and I don’t regret what we did. Do you?” 

“God, not at all.” Daniel replied, brows furrowing slightly as he lost grip of the direction of the conversation.

“Yeah, so the problem wasn’t the fact that we had sex. I just freaked out because I’ve had this crush on you for so long and I didn’t think anything would happen except then it did and it scared the shit out of me because I didn’t know what my family would say and I somehow convinced myself that you didn’t like me like that and that that night was just a fling and yes, before you say it, we did have a conversation during and after about our feelings but I don’t know I guess it felt too good to be true?” 

You had spewed out a lot, most of which Daniel already knew, but the last bit of your statement completely threw him for a loop and momentarily disabled his brain for a response. In the two years he had to think over the matter, not once did he suspect that you would ever think he’d use you as a stupid drunk one-nightstand. Excluding guilt, all emotions Daniel felt towards you were inter-linked to great degrees with immense respect and genuine adoration for you- the idea of you seeing yourself as a silly drunken decision blew his mind. The emotions he felt were not verbally expressed, he was trying his best to untangle his thoughts while you read his expressions and said the first few words that came to mind. 

“I’m sorry, did I say something wrong? Listen, I’m really sorry for ghosting you, it just became too much and I got so scared y’know like with my brother and my family, and your career and my college and-” 

“Shut up.” He interrupted, confusion dissolving off his face.

He moved faster than you could question, pulling your face into his for a kiss. It wasn’t breath-taking or anything, but it truly was a long enough kiss to shut you up, for your train of thought to be completely derailed and for you to be distracted by his lips gently moving against yours as his hand let go of yours and moved to cup your face, thumb slowly stroking your cheek.

“I would never, ever look at you like that.” He said, face a few inches away from yours.

“Like what?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Like you’re worth letting go of, ever.” He whispered, scared of saying those words too loud. 

Daniel had never admitted this to anyone, mainly because he couldn’t; the only person who knew the both of you was your brother and that wasn’t particularly a conversation he’d like to have earlier on, except now he was sure he didn’t care about what your brother had to say or what your family had to say- all he cared about was the fact that he wasn’t going to let any silly thought hold him back, nor was he willing to mess up and risk the chance of losing you again. 

“Danny..” You tried to say something apart from his name, but failure was inevitable, you had never admitted this earlier and having to hear the confirmation of your unspoken fear and conclusionary reason for the cut-off brought you immense comfort. “I’m sorry for running away from you Danny.” 

“I understand, I really do, please don’t beat yourself over it baby, I get it, I really really do.” He comforted you, as he pulled your head into his chest kissing the top of it as he felt you relax. 

It truly felt like a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, it felt like the two years you had spent thinking about him and all that could have been were useless and in the moment they felt sillier than they were. The time for the actions and confessions just wasn’t right and deep down inside the both of you had known it then and knew it now too. 

The Enchante merch he was wearing felt soft against your skin, the supple fabric against our face felt comforting, his hand stroking your back felt comforting, the way you could feel his breath felt comforting- it all felt like a reward for the two years of discomfort. 

“Y’know,” Daniel said, interrupting the one-sided conversation you were having with his heartbeat, “I don’t think your brothers’ going to be very surprised when we come clean about all this.” 

“Hm? Why’re you so sure, did he say something?” You asked, confused with the random mention of your brother.

“Uh, no, but I think he’s seen me staring way too many times.” He laughed, “I mean the guys not an idiot.” 

“I don’t think he’ll be too mad, I mean yeah he’d be mad at first, but it’s you and he trusts you, I don’t think he’d have an objection to us dating.” 

“So, what I’m hearing is that we’re dating? Gee babe, lemme at least buy you dinner first.” Daniel laughed, a sound of joy that vibrated through his chest, which you slapped lightly as a response to the teasing.

“I mean- I don’t know, that’s not what I-” You got flustered, suddenly completely unsure of a response. 

“Baby, baby, I’m joking, we’re dating that's for sure, I don’t think I wanna put that for later again.”   

“Oh cut it out Ricciardo.” You mumbled, smiling at his stupid joke. 

He hummed in response, holding onto you tighter as the thought settled in his head, he had hoped for this despite his ‘better’ judgment and now it was happening. You were in his arms, body completely slack against his with your breath slowing down as he felt your body drift off to sleep. 

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A/N: I'M BACKKK!!! after eid and a major depressive episode, I have returned to provide the finale of my Danny fic, I'm sorry if it's short, hope yall like it, as usual inbox is open for criticism and asks! Love you all<3

[doumadono]

Hawks and Q! 🙏 I love your writings❤️

A/N: I thoroughly enjoyed the prompt you selected for Hawks. I trust this short, heartwarming story meets your expectations. Wishing you a wonderful day ♥ The inspiration for this ficlet came from the following post

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

You found yourself entwined in the chaotic dance of everyday life, caught up in the whirlwind of emotions that came with your relationship with the charismatic hero, Hawks. Being the freelance journalist that you were, you often found solace in the quiet moments, where your thoughts flowed freely onto the pages of your notebook.

One chilly evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you sat by the window in your cozy apartment, the city lights casting a warm glow on the pages before you. Immersed in the task at hand, you had your headphones on, delving into the intricacies of crafting an article about climate changes in Japan. The world around you faded into the background as your focus narrowed on the keyboard beneath your fingertips.

Unbeknownst to you, your phone, tucked away on the desk, buzzed intermittently, the ringtone silenced to prevent any disruptions to your writing flow.

Hours passed in the cocoon of concentration until, finally feeling the need for a break, you decided to peel yourself away from the keyboard. As you removed your headphones, the ambient sounds of the room rushed back in, and it was then that you noticed the diode in your phone pulsating, informing of a new notifications. Picking it up, you were greeted by the missed call notification, and your curiosity piqued as you saw it was from your boyfriend, Keigo. A momentary pang of guilt crept in as you realized the silence in your writing sanctuary had inadvertently caused you to overlook his attempt to reach out.

Your heart skipped a beat, anxiety prickling at the edges of your mind. Hawks rarely called, and the uncertainty of the situation fueled your imagination with all sorts of scenarios. Was there trouble on the horizon? Did he need your help in some perilous mission? The possibilities played out like a suspenseful movie in your mind.

Hesitantly, you returned the call, your voice carrying a subtle tremor. "Hey, Hawks. I saw your missed call. Is everything okay? I've been busy, I'm sorry."

There was a brief pause before Hawks' voice, laced with amusement, echoed through the phone. "Oh, sweetheart, everything's fine. I just wanted to hear your voice."

Confusion and relief mingled within you as Hawks continued, his tone light and teasing. "Got caught up in a little skirmish, you know how it goes. But I thought, why not take a break and check in on my favorite person?"

A playful grin formed on your face, realizing you had been caught in the web of Hawks' mischievous nature. "You scared me there for a moment. A call in the middle of hero duties, huh? Shouldn't you be saving the day or something?"

Hawks chuckled, the sound like a melody that eased the tension in your chest. "Well, I've got my priorities straight, and you're at the top of the list. Speaking of which, how about dinner tomorrow? My treat. We'll celebrate surviving another day in this crazy world, and maybe not only that."

As the conversation shifted from angst to warmth, you agreed, the prospect of spending quality time with Hawks brightening your evening.

The next day, Hawks whisked you away to a charming little restaurant, the city lights providing a picturesque backdrop. The evening was filled with light-hearted banter, with Hawks effortlessly blending his hero persona with the charming, carefree man you had come to adore.

The evening at the restaurant continued to unfold with a delightful rhythm. The ambiance was warm, the soft glow of the lights creating an intimate atmosphere that wrapped around you and Hawks like a comforting embrace. The laughter and easy banter flowed freely, weaving a tapestry of shared moments that deepened the connection between you two.

As the night progressed, Hawks, with his ever-charming demeanor, guided the conversation towards the future. The air was charged with a subtle energy, and you couldn't help but sense a shift in the atmosphere. Suddenly, he looked at you with a glint of sincerity in his eyes, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he began, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone, "you know, life is full of surprises, right?"

You met his gaze, curiosity mingling with a touch of excitement. "I'm all ears. What surprise do you have up your sleeve, Hawks?"

He reached into his pocket, pulling a small box that gleamed in the candlelight.

The guests around you, previously engrossed in their own conversations, began to take notice as Hawks opened the box, revealing a delicate ring that sparkled in the soft glow. A hush fell over the restaurant, and all eyes turned towards the unfolding scene.

Hawks, maintaining his characteristic cool, yet playful demeanor, spoke words that echoed with sincerity. "I've been doing some thinking, and, well, how about we make this adventure called life a bit more official?"

The realization hit you like a gentle wave, and your eyes widened with a mix of surprise and joy. You covered your mouth wth a curled palm. "Keigo, do you…?"

The room seemed to hold its breath as Hawks continued, "Will you make me the happiest bird in the sky and be my forever partner in crime?" With a smirk, Hawks added, "Come on, it's not every day you get proposed to by the fastest bird in the sky. Don't keep a hero waiting."

Overwhelmed with emotion, tears of happiness welled up in your eyes. In a voice barely above a whisper, you managed to say, "Yes, Hawks. A thousand times, yes."

As Keigo slipped the ring onto your finger, the guests erupted into a mix of applause and cheers.

Hawks, couldn't resist a triumphant grin as he pulled you into a tender embrace.

The world around you blurred as the reality of the proposal sank in, and you couldn't help but cry tears of joy, feeling the warmth of love enveloping you like a soft, comforting blanket.

As the night unfolded, and as you walked hand in hand with Keigo through the city streets, returning to your shared flat, the lights flickering like stars overhead, you couldn't help but marvel at the unexpected beauty that unfolded from that one missed call.

[clockwork-ashes]

All You Have Is Your Fire - Part IX

Find Part I here :)

Summary: 'I can hear your heart beating through the stone.' For the briefest of moments, Lucien wondered if his mate would know exactly when his heart’s steady rhythm came to a sudden stop.

Note: A huge, huge thank you to the lovely @bettdraws who literally deserves all the credit and whose post inspired me to start writing this. I could not stop thinking about this headcanon, and it was so kind of you to let me try and make a story from it :)

And a HUGE thank you to everyone reading! ALSO please look at this post, I gasped it's so lovely. All of @teddyhoneybear's moodboards are stunning <3

Tag List: @anishake / @nocasdatsgay / @mybestfriendmademe / @talibunny30 / @halfbutneverwhole / @wishfulimaginings / @goldenmagnolias / @emmers-bens123 /

Part X >>

Lucien walked beside Elain as he continued to lead them towards the loveliest library in the Forest House. She was so unusually close that the stone hallway felt too small, the walls closing in around him. If he wished, he could have brushed the fingers of his hand against her knuckles. 

Lucien tried not to glance at his mate, but failed rather miserably. He could see Elain’s pretty brown eyes taking in her surroundings carefully, trying to track where they were going. Lucien knew from experience that it would take Elain and Cora both some time before the two females grew accustomed to the sprawling complex, a city in its own right. 

Cora walked silently on the stones just a bit behind them and Lucien wondered briefly what kind of shoes she was hiding beneath her long skirts. Her steps were noiseless, like she was floating, almost as though Lucien and Elain were alone. 

Perhaps involuntarily, Elain moved even closer to him. Lucien nearly offered her his arm, but thought better of it. He did not think she would appreciate it, but Lucien could still feel the phantom grip of her hand on his own as they had been escorted to their shared suite the night before. 

Thoughtlessly, Lucien had left her alone when he had woken up, and while he was sure Eris had slightly exaggerated Elain’s words, he knew that Elain did not like the fact that he had declined to tell her where he planned to go.  

Through their bond, Lucien could feel her frustration with him over it, a slow thrum over that bridge between two souls. It had come as a shock to Lucien when Elain had agreed to go to the library, even with her lady’s maid joining. 

Elain was clearly uneasy with their current predicament, and Lucien could not even blame her. 

“The Autumn Court is lovely,” Elain politely offered in the quiet. She did not look towards him, keeping her gaze steady and ahead.

Lucien nodded in response. The court he had been raised in was genuinely beautiful, stunning, especially for someone who had never visited before. Lucien did not mention how cruel of a place it could be. “I always thought so.” 

Lucien said nothing more, unsure if Elain was truly looking for a conversation to start between them, or if she simply wanted the awkward silence that had befallen to end. 

Lucien ran a hand through his hair, the gesture a nervous habit. He caught as Elain seemingly stopped breathing, her heartbeat racing. 

With a furrowed brow, Lucien looked at her, hesitating to ask if she was alright. 

Much to Lucien’s relief, Cora spoke before he did. With hurried steps, she caught up to Elain, hardly worried. “Forgive me, but if I might speak out of turn,” her voice carried in the hall, her accent thick with the rhythm of the Hewn City. 

“That’s nonsense,” Elain mumbled, her shoulders relaxing. 

Lucien felt his lips turn up, the smallest of smiles at how Elain did not even consider that Cora was technically working for the Night Court. He could hear the way Cora’s tone changed immediately, suddenly more comfortable. 

“How does anyone manage to get around this place?” She made a careless gesture with her hand, the golden thread along her sleeve flashing. “All of it looks the same,” she addressed him with a dark brow raised. 

Lucien noticed for the first time how lovely she was, his focus almost always having been entirely on Elain since the moment he had seen his mate in his father’s throne room. Cora’s jaw was sharp, her lips full, an elegant bump just on the bridge of her nose. Her dark brows framed even darker eyes, a blush staining her high cheekbones when Lucien faced her fully.   

“You get used to it,” he responded warmly. “It takes some time, but I’m sure you’ll find your way around easily enough by the week’s end.” 

“Callum Vanserra escorted me to the servant’s quarters yesterday.” Cora tucked a long strand of hair behind her pointed ear. Lucien took note of how she did not add a title to his brother’s name and he liked her boldness, her blatant disregard for another court’s prince. “I think he led me past the library, but I can’t tell if we even walked by here,” she added with a nervous laugh. 

Lucien offered Cora a genuine smile. “Remind me, then, to take you to your room before Elain and I return to ours.” 

“Callum is your older brother?” Elain’s question caught Lucien by surprise, a knowing smile flashed along Cora’s lips as the other female turned away from him. 

Elain cleared her throat awkwardly, as if asking the question had caught her by surprise as well. Lucien could feel a small burst of possessiveness flashing along the bond, the way Elain urged him to pay attention to her with a tug on that invisible string.  

Jealousy. 

“Callum is third-born, practically ancient.” Lucien looked to see how Elain would react. Her eyes were wide with curiosity, the weight of her full regard too heavy for him. An amazing actress, she hid her emotions so well, Lucien thought. He faced away from Elain once more. “He was a child during the first war, and was raised in Xian, by my maternal grandmother.” 

Elain nodded along, interest lining her expression. Lucien could see her from the corner of his eye and decided that was much better, her beauty easier to bear. Like looking straight at the sun, painful and yet the desire was there. 

“Will you tell me about the others?” Elain asked, looking up at him, her steps in time with his own. 

Lucien shrugged, he hated all his brothers in equal measure. “There’s not much to tell.” He felt another pull on the bond and could not help facing his mate.

“I should probably know more about your family,” he watched as a scarlet blush bloomed on Elain’s pale cheeks. “We are getting married, after all.” 

A genuine laugh spilled from Lucien’s lips at her tone. “I suppose you’re right.”

“It happens on occasion,” she clipped, her blush deepening in colour. 

Lucien tore his gaze from Elain for a moment to flash Cora a concerned look, wondering whether he should speak in front of the other female about his brothers. His golden eye whirred. 

“I won’t repeat a word of this to anyone,” Cora rushed to reassure him, noticing the way Lucien glanced at her. “My lips are completely sealed.” 

Lucien ran his hand through his hair, sighing. He decided it hardly mattered what Elain’s lady’s maid knew in regards to his family. He turned his attention back to Elain, only to find her looking at him intently. “You haven’t met Felix, but he’s only a few years older than me.”

“You were close with him.” Elain’s statement suggested that was the only logical conclusion in her mind. 

“Not at all,” Lucien scoffed. “He only ever looks out for himself, silver-tongued, a perfect emissary. Felix can convince the most stubborn of nobles to see his point of view, sway their opinions in his favour.” 

Elain hummed in understanding, but Lucien still did not think she could completely grasp the twisted relationship he had with his brothers. 

“Felix is on good terms with Ronan, I think.” Lucien could never be too sure where the loyalty of each Autumn prince lay, or how quickly they might turn on one another if the right circumstances were to arise. “Ronan works closely with my father, his flames strong enough to make him a worthy contender for the crown.” He frowned as Elain silently coaxed him to go on with only her eyes. “Like I said, there’s not much to tell.” 

Lucien continued walking, the library’s carved wooden doors only a few steps away. He did not need to raise his hand to open them, despite how heavy they were, glad that they were still unlocked and open to anyone who wished to enter.

“And Eris?” Elain asked, her brows raised. Surely she had heard about his eldest brother’s reputation, Lucien thought, but he was the only one of his brother’s Elain had truly interacted with. It made sense that Elain would want to know more.  

Lucien almost stopped in his tracks as he considered her question. “Eris is…” 

A snake. 

The male who raised me. 

My favourite brother. 

“Eris is Eris,” he said with a shrug, the gesture and his statement so ridiculous he winced. With his eldest brother, everything was achingly more complicated. “The best and worst of Autumn, sure to be my father’s heir.” 

“When you scowl, you look like him.” Elain’s statement was a throwaway, hardly considered, but Lucien frowned. He slowed his steps so that she could walk past him and into the library, Cora still at her side. 

Lucien followed after them just in time to catch Elain marvelling at the sight before her. 

There were countless towering shelves pushed against the walls and in neat rows all around the large room. The golden spines of some of the rarer books glimmered in the light of the torches, all of them carefully spelled by librarians and priestesses against catching alight. Lucien knew that these were some of the only books in all of Prythian that remained untouched after Amarantha’s reign, and he felt a strange sense of pride for it. 

In the middle of the library, between a pair of shelves, stood the remains of a hollowed tree. The leafless branches seemed to hold up the ceiling, the gnarled trunk shaped in a way that resembled a fireplace. Thick roots created nooks near the trunk, perfect for private reading, before they disappeared like waves on a beach beneath the stone of the floor.  

Lucien waved his hand and flames came to life in the emptied space of the ancient maple. 

Wonder shone bright as sunlight in Elain’s eyes as she turned to Lucien, all sincerity. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she breathed. 

Lucien smiled at the sight, the way her walls had come down. “Some say that this library rivals even the ones in the Day Court.”  

“I can imagine how that might be the case,” Elain shyly smiled, shaking her head as she walked deeper into the room. 

Lucien watched as Elain reached out, careful fingers tracing the leather bound books on the shelf nearest to her. Brown eyes skimmed the titles of each one, she bit her lower lip as she went on the tips of her toes, peeking at some of the scrolls on a higher row. 

Lucien felt like he was intruding. 

He tried to turn his attention to Cora, but the Night Court female had silently scurried away, leaving Lucien and Elain alone. Lucien decided that Cora was perhaps a meddlesome busybody before he simply followed Elain further into the library. 

Elain pulled a scarlet book off the shelf, the pages yellowed with the passage of time. Lucien raised both his brows as he stood behind her, as he read the looping script on the cover. 

A Complete History of Autumn’s Blood Duels. 

“Looking for some light reading?” 

Elain did not look at Lucien as she flipped through the book, lifting her shoulders in an elegant shrug. “I’ve heard the term once, just curious.” 

“It’s probably full of some very gruesome details,” he warmed. A memory flashed in Lucien’s mind, one from his childhood. He had stolen a similar tome off Callum’s nightstand as a boy, and had had to sleep on the armchair in Eris’s room for days as a result. 

“I’m sure I can handle it.” 

Lucien recognized that there was a bite to Elain’s words, as though she was not simply speaking about the book in her hands. It was a hidden anger, a crack in her ever so carefully crafted mask. All her pleasant smiles, all her words dripping with honeyed falsehoods were no longer directed at Lucien, and he was surprised to realise that he was glad for it. 

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Lucien offered quietly, hoping Elain understood the full meaning behind his response.

Elain’s head snapped up quickly as she turned to look up at him, their eyes locking. The full force of the mating bond was a knife to his chest as her scent washed over him, sweet like blooming jasmine. 

Lucien wondered if Elain felt the same overwhelming pull as her eyes darkened a shade, as she leaned closer only to breathe in deeply. 

Their hearts were beating steadily in a matching rhythm, and Lucien forced himself to take a step back. 

Like a curse shattering, Elain whirled on her heel faerie-quick, holding the book tightly against her chest. 

As though nothing had occurred, Elain went back to focusing solely on the books on the shelves in front of her. Lucien watched her for a moment, before he too turned his attention to a different shelf. 

With a weary sigh, Lucien concluded that if he and Elain could survive their time in Autumn, he would suffer the most torturous two weeks of his immortal life.

[tinydefector]

lovers amongst the stars

Megatron × GN human

Small post smut, after-care fic

No real warnings: naked bodies, craving each other.

because I love soft megatron falling even more in love.

1K words

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Megatron Masterlist

---------

Megatron watches in the dark shadow of the hub suite, optics flickering in the low light that filters in from the flickering stars. A Soft naked form is silhouetted against the starlight and darkness, his optics traces his lovers form in true contentment. His human lover gracefully moving against the piles of silk and satin soft pants falling from their lips.

How Megatron longs to close the distance between them again, to take their fragile flesh into his powerful servos and hold it close, to feel skin pressed against his haul, listen to the soft music that falls from kiss swollen lips.to hear the angelic frequency when they call his name in extasy, he remains watching, gazing his fill of their stunning form,

He feels his spark stutter as his lover turns, optics meeting those delicate eyes sparking with the red glow of his own. now gazing upon him. A soft smile curves his human's lips, and Megatron is undone wishing to have his lover pressed back against him in the most intimate manner possible.

Before he can beg forgiveness for his voyeurism, they moves to him, taking Megatron's battle-scarred servo between both hands. Megatron holds perfectly still, vents catching, as they presses gentle kisses along the seams and lines of his digit joints, tracing each line and curve.

No weapon of war has ever been treated with such tenderness, nor from one so small and delicate. Megatron's chains suddenly feel unbearably tight. This human, this mere organic, sees not a conqueror or tyrant of worlds - only sees Megatron, their lover. Megatron thinks that perhaps, just perhaps, he too can settle for an easy life if it was ever granted to him, but only with his sweetspark, he would damn himself just for them.

"Megs?" Falls from his lovers lips lightly as those eyes stares into megatron's ruby coloured optics. Turning more to come megatron's faceplate with a small hand tracing the lines that had worn into the plating over millennia's of war, soft fingers move against hard metal with the most delicate touch as if afraid they would hurt him.

Megatron's optics shutter briefly at the intimacy of the act and that single word, his nickname. He leans into the gentle touch on his battle-scarred face,his own servos tracing familiar curve of their hip, side and legs. servos itching to pull that fragile form close, to feel them wrapped around him again.But still he remains motionless.

Onlining his optics again, Megatron finds them gazing up at him searchingly, as if tracing far more than mere plating, how megatron wish it could be his spark in this humans hands. hand continues its path undaunted, and Megatron feels his chains loosening one link at a time. This human accepts him - all of him, past and present. And in those arms, Megatron believes he has finally found a home.

Megatron feels his sparks swell at the sound of giggles. He had not meant to let his gaze linger. megatron's thumb presses against his lovers chest, the soft beat of their heart, still races, metal against skin, Both existing in the silence of the hub suite only the two of them and flickering star light. "Didn't realise you enjoyed listening to my heartbeat" they teases. leaning into the giant metal hand as if it were made to fit again the organic form.

In this moment there is only them - two beings from separate worlds joined in the simple meeting of metal and flesh, spark and heart. Truely they were starcross lovers. Megatron lets the steady rhythm wash over him, that despite all odds somehow one so fragile has found the will to keep his spark beating. "I had not realized either, little one," Megatron rumbles softly, optics dimming in contentment, "but its song is sweeter than any chorus of Cybertron. I could listen to it every night and never tire of it, a song that sings for me in such a delicate manner, my sweet spark singer" He bends slowly to touch his helm to theirs, surrounding and surrounded by the life and light and love that has cracked through his armor at long last.

Megatron's optics dim fully as press forehead to helm together in the most intimate of gestures. For a gladiator built only for destruction, the simple contact feels like salvation, crackling through his circuits like the riches high grade energon. They are everything.

Megatron never thought he could have - redemption, compassion, unconditional acceptance of his marred and stained past. In his sweetsparks presence, all of Megatron's eons of hardship and conflict seem to fade, leaving only the glow of their mingled life-forces, one metallic and eternal, the other warm and fleeting. Megatron vows silently to shield this fragile gift with his very spark. As long as it beats, he would love them until the stars took him.

They may come from different worlds, but in each other they have found home, and that is well worth fighting - and living - for. Megatron folds them carefully against his chassis, embracing this divine fragile frame.for the heavens that have seen fit to bring them together if only for a moment in time.

A low, resonant hum rises from Megatron's chassis in response to the sensuality of the moment, vibrating through the plating against thier cheek. One small hand covers the gleaming silver armor guarding Megatron's spark, and he aches to show the glow within, to bare that most vulnerable part of himself without fear of its light extinguishing.

optics shuttered in blissful tranquility as Megatron's armored hand comes up slowly to cradle his lover closer. finds himself humming a nameless tune, some half-remembered melody from his time in the mines. his spark has stilled to a soothing tide. Here is absolution, amnesty, and above all else - love, freely given without demand for anything in return. Megatron marvels at the simple beauty of it, the soft skin of his human lover drapes over him in the most tranquil way possible.

This was one of the things the Ex warlord loved the most about his Conjunx.

[olsenmyolsen]

ok hear me out there is a severe lack of CarolKate fics, maybe Carol trying to prepare/teach Kate how to be a leader of the young avengers but they just end up incessantly teasing each other verbally until Carol gets fed up and puts a very bratty Kate in her place and shows her who’s boss

“oh yeah? make me” and “prove it” and “i bet *you* cant even do that” vibes

Thank you for reaching out! <3. I enjoyed writing this dynamic a lot! Also all of my requests so far have been smut... don't know what that says about you all or me.

Prove It (18+)

master list . maroon master list . dark master list

MCU AU (Kate Bishop X Carol Danvers)

Summary: Carol is training Kate to lead the Young Avengers, but the 23-year-old can't keep her mouth shut.

Word Count: 2K

Content: Sex, Fingering, Petnames Kink, Praise, Oral, Feelings, Pinning, etc

Carol watched as Kate rose up from the black mats in the training room yet again.

Kate was in dire need of some training, specifically hand-to-hand combat if she was going to be one of the leaders of the Young Avengers or whatever the hell Kamala was putting together.

Kamala Khan had talked to Carol about her own band of heroes for the last couple of months, but honestly, Carol put on a smile and tuned the hero from Jersey out most of the time.

"Okay, you got me that time, but that's because I was going easy," Carol smirked at Kate's words. "Oh really? What about the other twenty-nine times?" Kate put on a confident smile. "You wish it was twenty-nine times."

"No, it has been twenty-nine times. I've been keeping count." Kate's face fell. "Oh." Carol put her hands up ready to go again. "Really?" Kate asked, making Carol smile. "Yes. Now, come on, hit me."

"Oh, usually that comes after dinner. And with consent." Carol rolled her eyes as Kate laughed and put her hands up before her, pacing around Carol. The two of them had been going at it for at least an hour and a half, but Kate and her mouth had yet to stop.

Clint told Carol all about how great the archer was. But he warned her that she never stops talking. Like ever.

Carol was beginning to miss Goose and their quiet purrs.

Kate moved closer to Carol but made the mistake of moving her eyes to the point where she would strike—making it easy for Carol to lift her leg and collide with Kate's stomach. The younger woman stumbling back. "Jeez, I thought Clint said you took Karate or something?"

"He talked about me?" Kate ignored the rest of Carol's words. Carol sighed. "Yes, one of the world's greatest archers, but you still can't land a punch without someone hitting you first."

"Okay, ouch." Kate put her hands over her heart and faked being stabbed. Carol stopped moving and waited for Kate and her theatrics to be done.

It took another thirty seconds.

"Okay, kid, let's see if you can't resist telegraphing your moves." Kate made a face at the K word. "Ew, don't call me that." Carol and Kate began to circle one another. Carol looked slightly confused. "What kid? Doesn't Clint call you that?"

Kate lightly shrugged. "Yeah, but he's like a father figure, plus it sounds wrong coming from someone's mouth that isn't as old as him." Carol shook her head and laughed. "You know I'm technically over sixty."

Kate couldn't stop the words flying out of her mouth.

"Not with a body like that."

Carol stopped moving. Kate stopped moving. "Oh god. She's going to kill me." The Bishop girl whispered under her breath.

After a beat of silence, a glowing smirk grew on Carol's face. She had a new angle. "I see," Carol said, dragging her feet along the mat, slowly moving again. Kate stumbled before she also started moving. Afraid of what Carol would say and do.

"You're attracted to me."

Kate's mouth dropped. "No- I mean, yes, you're attractive, but no, I'm not- to you."

A blind man would be attracted to Carol Danvers.

Carol squinted. "You sure about that, honey?" Kate's eyes went wide as she gulped. Carol was having fun now. "Go back to calling me kid," Kate demanded, but Carol laughed. "Why are you afraid I'm bringing up some mommy issues?"

Kate exhaled. She needed to try and get the upper hand again. "And what if you are?" She replied. Carol shrugged after a second. "Then quit being a brat about it."

Kate's body grew warmer.

She licked her lips and opened her mouth. A little squeak came out before her words. "Well, maybe I just need to be put in my place." Carol raised an eyebrow and bit her bottom lip. "You got that right, sweetie." Kate's brain almost died, but luckily for her, she had the threat of Carol charging at her to worry about.

So she put her one leg back and planted her foot before lifting her other one to hit Carol, but the blonde was fast. She grabbed onto Kate's leg and dragged it down as she slid underneath Kate and her blue eyes.

Kate's face and then body hit the mat. Yes, in that order.

"Oh, Mommy's sorry," Carol said in a fake voice with a pout. Tingles surround Kate but she turned over onto her back and meet Carol's eyes. "You can't do that!"

"Do what?" Carol tilted her head with a smile. Kate huffed. She didn't know what she was yelling about. Either Carol grabbing her and pulling her to the floor or the nicknames.

"Like I said, Momm-" "Stop that!" Kate yelled from the floor. Carol took steps towards Kate until her body was over the younger woman's. Carol crouched over Kate. "Oh, you want me to stop?" Carol's voice switched from her fake, almost pornographic tone to her real one. "Let me guess, it's turning you on?"

A little frustrated, Kate lifted up and pushed Carol, making the blonde quickly shoot up and use her powers to catch herself from falling.

"Oh, okay." Carol took the hit and news well. Kate was red in the cheeks because of embarrassment, fear, and because Carol was right. The blonde crossed her arms over her white tank top. "You want me to stop treating you like the brat you are?"

Kate rose to her feet. Hands in front of her. "I'm twenty-three, not a fucking brat."

"Not with that attitude." Carol barked back. The training slowly works its way to the front of her mind again. On the battlefield, you couldn't waste a second having an attitude like this.

Kate was silent. "Okay. You want me to stop, baby?" Kate nodded. "Yes." Carol nodded and removed her arms from in front of her chest. "Oh yeah? Make me. Take me to the mat."

Kate let out a quiet sigh. Her body and mind were fighting for control, but she raised her hands and knew she needed to beat Carol.

"Atta girl." Carol winked in a sultry voice that made Kate clench her jaw and move towards Carol with a greater quickness than Carol had seen all day. Except Kate was still Kate and stumbled as she took a comprehensive step to the right, forcing her to launch forward into Carol.

But Carol was observing and moved her body to take the impact softer. Catching Kate.

Who then stepped on Carol's foot.

So technically, Kate did take Carol to the mat.

Kate landed on top of Carol as Carol wrapped her arms around the younger woman. The impact made a grunt slip from Carol's lips to Kate's ears. Quickly, Kate lifted her upper half off of Carol, and Carol's hands fell from Kate's back to her hips.

They stayed there as Kate looked over Carol's face. "Well, technically, you did what I asked," Carol smirked. "Y-yeah, I did." Kate stumbled as she felt Carol's rough hands squeeze her hips. "The problem is... I don't think this little slip-up means you're ready to lead a team."

Kate refrained from rolling her eyes—something Carol noticed.

"Oh yeah?" Kate whispered as she spread her legs wider on either side of Carol's. Carol nodded. "Yeah. Your attitude is still there, too." Kate moved her hands to Carol's and pulled them away from her body. She placed them onto the mat as her hands slid to Carol's wrist. Her body hanging over the blonde's. "I think you like it."

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you."

Kate couldn't win. "A leader takes control, Kate." Carol gently said into the space between the two. Carol was giving Kate an opportunity. Kate slowly leaned forward until her lips hung inches away from Carol's. She looked through her eyes to see Carol's blue ones telling her she wanted it.

Kate wrapped her hand around Carol's wrist and placed her lips onto Carol's. The older woman became intoxicated from one taste of Kate Bishop. Her soft pink tasted like lavender against Carol's.

The blonde could smell the body lotion Kate used in the morning. Kate could smell and taste the chapstick Carol loved.

As the two were becoming lost in one another, Kate began to grind her hips into Carol's—the friction causing a much-needed release of pleasure as Kate moaned into Carol's mouth.

Carol nodded and moaned as Kate's lips moved to her neck. Quickly, Carol lifted her arms up and wrapped them around her. Touching and feeling her skin.

Carol's hands burned with desire against Kate.

"Oh fuck, baby!" Carol moaned when Kate began sucking on Carol's chest.

Carol moved her hands down to Kate's sides again. She squeezed and slipped her hands underneath the seam of Kate's shorts. Kate moaned as Carol lifted her head to kiss Kate's chest. At the same time, Carol's left hand moved through Kate's untrimmed hairs. "You feel so good!" Carol groaned as Kate nodded with squeaks. "Oh fuck, Carol!" Kate cried out as Carol's middle finger ran over the wet spot Kate had.

Carol lifted her body with her powers and took Kate into her arm as she placed Kate gently onto her back. Her lips still attacking the you get woman's chest. Her middle finger was still pressing against Kate's covered wet pussy. "Oh, Mom-"

Kate stopped herself, but Carol heard it. She pulled her hand out of Kate's shorts and brought it to Kate's mouth. "Open." Kate hesitated. "I'm giving you orders, Kate." Carol reaffirmed with a commanding voice. "That's it. Be good for Mommy." Carol watched as Kate's mouth dropped, and slowly, Carol's finger disappeared as Kate's mouth wrapped around it.

"Keep sucking. Do you taste yourself?" Kate nodded with a muffled moan.

Carol was making her feel a way no one else had.

Carol, with a smirk, pulled down the sides of Kate's shorts as Kate helped kick them off.

"You're doing so well, aren't you, baby? Being good for your Captain! Your leader!" Carol husked as she spread apart Kate's legs. Her lips dragging up the other woman's soft thighs. "Oh, Kate." Carol leaned down and kissed the wet spot of Kate's black cotton underwear. With Kate's hand around Carol's wrist, she kept sucking and licking Carol's fingers until Carol pulled them out. Drool coating the younger woman's chest as Carol brought those same fingers to Kate's clothed pussy.

"You're so pretty," Carol said before pulling the black panties to the side. "Fuck Carol, you're so hot!" Kate whined. Carol loved hearing Kate come unglued.

"Oh, just touch me. Please!" Kate cried out. Her fingers ran through the blonde's short hair until she reached the back of Carol's head and pushed it closer to her wet clit. Carol gave in with a smile. "There you go, Kate. Command me!"

Carol was still making this a teaching lesson, and it drove Kate crazy.

"Just shut up!" Kate responded, turned into a loud moan as Carol's tongue hit the bottom of her spread pussy and worked its way to the top of Kate's clit. Flicking the hood before she slipped her middle finger up and worked it in a circular motion.

Even through the workout leading to this moment, Carol couldn't get enough of Kate.

And Kate was in pure ecstasy as Carol ate her out and finger fucked her better than she had ever had at college.

"Oh fuck! Oh, Carol! I'm about to cum!" Kate lifted her head from the black mat and arched her back. "That's not my name, sweetheart!" Carol replied as she spit on her hand and slipped it through Kate's wet pussy lips before returning to her clit.

And Kate knew what Carol wanted to be called, but it was too late as her legs began to shake and she started cumming.

Carol kissed up Kate's body as she came down from her high. Carol knew she would be too exhausted to do anything to her, but she was okay with it.

"I have to say..." Kate started as her breathing slowed. "That might've been the best training I've ever done." Carol laughed as her body hung above Kate's. "Is that right?" Carol asked.

Kate nodded. "Although I'm not sure if anything will stick."

"Oh?" Carol raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. I mean, if I want to be a leader, I have to learn from the best."

Carol went to open her mouth. Kate interrupted her thought. "From the best who's still around." Carol closed her mouth and smiled. "I'll make something out of you yet, Bishop," Carol whispered before she leaned down and softly kissed Kate. "You still need to prove it to me."

"Oh, I will." Kate kissed her again. "I will."

dividers by @/benkeibear