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angelfic · 1 year

Text

— CALM AFTER THE STORM

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: the 4 times you hate each other, and the one time you don’t. alternatively, remus lupin is a pain in your arse and yours alone.

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds, some bad writing as always which is unedited

author’s note: just a little e2l fic for my own indulgence as its my fave trope and its criminal how i barely have any e2l fics… also haven’t written anything in ages soooo enjoy!

when he just has to be controversial

The sun was beaming, colourful rays reflecting over your book through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor common room as you lounged on the sofa with your head in Lily’s lap. You were barely paying attention to the chatter of your friends around you, choosing to focus on your copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and Marlene’s soft guitar playing. The lazy afternoon is a welcome break from the increasingly stressful N.E.W.T lessons that have had you all so exhausted, you’re not sure if Peter is asleep or dead from his curled-up position on the rug.

You don’t even realise someone is saying your name until Marlene tickles the sole of your socked foot with her guitar pick, making you yelp and draw your legs in from where they were previously tucked in between Marlene and her guitar.

“What was that for?” you grumble, nudging her arm with your foot.

Marlene smirks, nodding over to James. “He told me to get your attention. Didn’t specify how.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your side to face the boy in question, his grin unfaltering as he multitasks polishing the handle of his broomstick and talking to you. “Not my fault you’re dead to the world when you’re reading,” he says, matter-of-fact, continuing when you raise your eyebrows in impatience. “I was just wondering how you could look so interested in that book. Remus said he’d do my homework for a month if I finished it the other day and I couldn’t get past five arse-numbingly dull pages.”

You scoff, adjusting your position again to face Remus as well. “And why was Remus betting you to read my book, exactly?”

“It was my copy,” Remus replies, scribbling away on his parchment, cross legged on his chair, to undoubtedly finish the Potions essay that Slughorn had set yesterday. You’re transfixed on the way his hand is moving across the page for a second, unable to fathom how someone can have such messy handwriting. You aren’t surprised in the slightest that the next words coming out of his mouth are ones you disagree with. “I wanted to see how long he lasted reading the slowest-paced book in the world.”

You abruptly sit up at this, shutting your book and forgetting plans of relaxation.

“Hey, watch it!” Lily exclaims, lifting the bottle of black polish she’s using to paint Sirius’ nails from its balanced position on her thigh to avoid you spilling it all over her white top. “If you’re about to argue, please refrain from throwing things until after I’ve done the second coat of nail polish.”

You pointedly ignore this and narrow your eyes at Remus who, infuriatingly, still hasn’t lifted his head from his essay. “I’m surprised you found it hard to read such a slow book. Thought that’d be perfect for you.”

“Look what you’ve started, Prongs,” Sirius sighs, examining his nails.

Seeing the corners of Remus’ lips pull up into a slight smile at your comment just spurs you on in defence of the book you were previously enjoying. “Besides, it’s about a real-life teenager with real-life struggles, not The Hobbit on his latest adventure.”

“Who’s Hobbit?” James mumbles, scratching his head in confusion as Marlene just shrugs, equally oblivious.

“It’s overrated,” Remus insists, finally setting down his quill to look at you. The amused expression still hasn’t left his face and you make a noise halfway between a scoff and a high-pitched squeal of indignance. “Even James agrees.”

“Oh, and James’ opinion on literature is the standard now?” You raise a brow, tutting when James starts to protest. “The only book James has finished in the last six years was Quidditch Through the Ages.”

The way James slowly slides the aforementioned book under one of the sofa cushions doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sirius starts snickering, much to Lily’s annoyance as she tries to control his hand. “She got you there, in fairness, mate.”

Sirius’ chortling seems to stir Peter from his sleep and he opens one eye to peer at you. Seeming to catch sight of your irritated expression, he frowns. “Are these two arguing like an old married couple again?”

“Merlin help us if these two ever decide to get married,” Marlene utters under her breath, bent over her guitar and avoiding the weight of your glare.

“Yeah, he wishes,” you grumble, shuffling around on the sofa to get back into a comfortable position with your book. Remus’ smile has only widened in response and he seems to enjoy your discomfort as you overcompensate for showing your annoyance by wriggling about.

“I dream about it every night,” Remus replies, dryly and Peter giggles below you before turning over to sleep again.

You overcompensate a little too much by moving around, because Lily huffs from beside you and starts scrambling around for a tissue. “What did I say about the second coat?”

“I didn’t throw anything this time!”

2. when he won’t let you give someone a black eye

Defence Against the Dark Arts is your favourite N.E.W.T subject for a lot of reasons. You enjoy the lesson content, it’ll be useful in future years, and it’s the one lesson you share with every single one of your friends.

You’ve gotten used to James and Sirius messing around while Professor Marigold recites fact after fact about spells and creatures and wizards of dark nature. Its like soothing background noise to you and your classmates who all concentrate in silence most of the time.

Which is why your quill stops on your page and leaves a growing ink blot when you hear snickering and whispers from the other side of the classroom rather than from in front of you where the marauders sit in a line.

The scoffs of disgust coming from Snape and Mulciber are loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the students and even the teacher, who eventually sets down her piece of chalk in the middle of talking about Wolfsbane potion with an impatient sigh.

“Is there some sort of pressing issue that can’t wait until after class to discuss, boys?” Professor Marigold asks with a tone of ire that would impress Professor McGonagall. “Even Black and Potter have decided to give it a rest today.”

She’s not wrong, you think, noting how they’ve been less disruptive than usual for this lesson, probably tired out from setting each other’s robes on fire in Charms the hour before.

“The pressing issue is werewolves,” Snape mutters quietly, as though he doesn’t want to make a big issue but can’t stop himself from speaking up. “We should be learning more about how to kill them and less about the price of potion ingredients.”

Lily gasps from beside you and Sirius and James tense up at his words. Remus doesn’t lift his head, but you absently notice how his grip tightens around his quill when Peter nervously turns to him. Peter isn’t one for conflict and he’s always been nervous around this particular group of Slytherins, so you’re not surprised he’s anxious.

“Werewolves are still people, you can’t just go around killing them!” you find your mouth moving on its own, before your brain can catch up. When Snape turns to direct his scowl at you, its matched by your own as well as Lily’s disappointed frown. “They didn’t ask to be werewolves, they physically can’t help it! How would you feel if people wanted to kill you for not being able to control being such an arse.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor Marigold warns, setting her stern eyes on you. You’re not one for disrupting lessons or getting into trouble, so when Remus turns around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, your cheeks start to warm and you stubbornly don’t look his way again.

Snape ignores her to continue glaring at you. “I don’t have the capacity to kill people in a feral rage now, do I?” His gaze flits from you to Lily and Marlene and then lingers on the boys. “Of course, you’re defending werewolves. It’s no surprise considering who you choose to associate yourself with.”

“Mr Snape.”

“You have no need to fly into a feral rage to kill people,” you reply, voice steadily rising in volume. Sirius and James turn their heads back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match and you know the only reason they haven’t piped up to agree with you is because they’re too entertained watching the way you’re about to jump out of your seat to pounce on Snape. “All you need to do is show someone your face for them to die of fright–”

“ENOUGH!” Professor Marigold’s booming voice cuts through the laughter of everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and when you turn to look at her, you see even Remus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. You’re not sure why this pleases you, but it doesn’t last long enough for you to figure it out before Marigold waves her wand in the direction of the door and sends it flying open. “Both of you will wait for me outside the classroom until the lesson has finished so I can discuss your appalling behaviour.”

You gape at her for a second, before relenting and grabbing your bag, not wanting to argue with her authority. Your friends have different ideas.

“That’s not fair!” Marlene exclaims, standing up in protest. “She didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, also standing up. “Snape’s the one who was being an annoying pri–”

“Sit down, everyone,” Marigold cuts him off, pursing her lips. “Everyone except Mr Snape and Miss Y/L/N. Do not even think about speaking Mr Black, or I won’t hesitate to suspend your and Mr Potter’s Quidditch privileges until further notice.”

Sirius shuts his mouth after a nudge from James and you shoot your friends a grateful smile before making your way out of the classroom, followed closely by Snape.

The door shuts behind him and you don’t bother sparing him a glance before dumping your bag on the ground and leaning against a wall to focus your gaze on a suit of armour for the next five minutes. You’re about half a minute in when you notice that one of the hands are slightly wonky and the classroom door suddenly opens.

Remus, of all people, enters the hallway to join the two of you and quickly shuts the door.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows and getting up from against the wall.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Snape sneers at him, and you give him a scathing look before turning to Remus for an answer.

Remus pointedly ignores him to stand next to you against the brick wall. “I just pointed out to Professor Marigold that you both have your wands and she may not have two students left out here by the end of the lesson.”

“I can defend myself,” you snort, folding your arms. You aren’t sure if you’re annoyed that Remus is insinuating otherwise, or if you’re touched that he doesn’t want you to be hexed into oblivion by Snape. “Especially from him.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus raises both hands in surrender as his tone becomes grave. “It’s not you I’m worried about, trouble.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the nickname. He started it around a year ago when you got your first ever detention for helping Sirius and James Charm the Slytherin chairs to throw them off every time someone sat. Your friends had kept quiet about your involvement, but Peeves had spotted you, the nosy bastard. The nickname stemmed from the fact it was the first time you had ever gotten into trouble and it never failed to irritate you. “You better be careful I don’t hex you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of annoying you,” he says, but the serious tone of voice is ruined by the way his lips are twitching in an attempt not to laugh at you. “After what happened when I said I didn’t like that one Jane Austen book? Forget it.”

“Hey, you insulted one of my favourite characters,” you point out, resting a hand on your hip. “What did Emma ever do to you? You had that hex coming.”

“I had pink hair for a week,” Remus narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he isn’t really angry. Although he refuses to admit it, you know for a fact he didn’t hate the pink hair considering how good he looked with it. An annoying indiscretion on your part. Remus looks behind you for a split second before leaning in a little to whisper. “I won’t get in the way if you want to turn Snape’s hair pink, though. Preferably a very bright shade of flaming, hot pink.”

At risk of your own cheeks flaming up from how close he is – really, what’s the need? – you shake your head let your hair fall into your face. Almost having forgotten Snape is also there, you start when he scoffs (for what you think is the millionth time this afternoon) and you sigh before facing him begrudgingly. “What now?”

“Couldn’t handle the content of today’s lesson?” he asks, tiling his head. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before you realise, he isn’t actually talking to you, but to the boy behind you.

“Uh…” you trail off, not sure how to respond. All three of you currently standing in the corridor know that Remus is smart enough to tackle any type of content, especially something as memorable and interesting as werewolves.

Remus’ amused demeanour has been wiped away and you can’t determine his exact expression, but his voice is cold when he talks to you. “Just ignore him.”

“You and your group of friends can’t help themselves when it comes to defending strays and all sorts,” Snape continues, much to your confusion. “It’s not enough that you’re a group full of blood-traitors and mudbloods…”

Remus tenses up behind you and you find yourself frozen for a second.

The next thing you know, you’re lunging at the greasy-haired Slytherin with every intention of hurting his face with your fists, wand long forgotten. Your fingers barely brush his robes, however, when you feel yourself being hauled back by strong arms that wrap around your middle.

“Let go!” you snarl, enjoying the way Snape has backed away, eyes wide and worried. “Did you hear what he said? Remus, let me go.”

He doesn’t relent, still holding onto you when he leans down to speak in your ear. “You’ve already gotten into trouble. You’ll get into a whole lot more when everyone walks out to see Snape with a black eye and you with bruised knuckles.”

“Worth it,” you grit out, still pulling away from his grip and throwing daggers with your eyes at Snape. After a few more seconds of pointless struggling, you relax very slightly just to turn in his arms so you can direct your next words to him more pointedly. “Not only is he a slimy, blood-supremacist twat, but he also wants to kill a poor bunch of werewolves. We should be throwing him into the bloody Black Lake!”

“I know, I-” Remus is cut off when the door opens and students start flooding into the corridor to provide a barrier between you and Snape, indicating the end of the lesson. Remus finally lets you go when he realises you’re in direct view of Professor Marigold who stands behind her desk, waiting for you. “I had no idea you were such an advocate for werewolves.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you immediately look up at him and frown. “Again, they’re people. They don’t deserve to be victims of prejudice just as no one does.” He doesn’t respond, staring at you with an unreadable expression and a hint of a smile. Your frown deepens in confusion. Was he… laughing at you? Especially after you had just gotten along. “I’m so glad you find me amusing,” you say, scowling and storming back into the classroom and away from Remus.

3. when he's too good for flower crowns.

“Tell it again,” James insists, grin wide as ever plastered onto his face despite the withering look you send his way. “Getting a glimpse at even the possibility of Snivellus getting pummelled by Y/N would have made my entire year.”

“The galleons I’d give up to have been there,” Sirius releases a wistful sigh, closing his eyes as he lies down, facing the sun.

You hand him the daisy chain crown you just finished and he dutifully dons it. “I’ll alert the Ministry of Magic to order in a time-turner for an issue of utmost urgency,” you say sarcastically as you start on the next daisy chain. Sirius merely winks at you.

“I think you should’ve let her have at him, Remus,” Marlene states, unapologetic. You nod vehemently in agreement, a little too enthusiastically as you end up splitting a daisy down the middle.

Lily tuts, adjusting her own flower crown as it slips against her silky red hair. “I’m glad you didn’t. Godric knows what Professor Marigold would have done,” she shudders at the thought, ever the diligent student.

“Forget Marigold,” Peter chimes in. “Imagine what Professor McGonagall would have done.”

You don’t miss how he looks over his shoulder in case your head of house is taking a stroll along the grassy grounds.

“She would have combusted when you called him an ugly arse,” Remus pipes in, unhelpfully might you add, from where he sits slightly away from the group under a tree, reading.

The comment sends Marlene, Sirius and Peter into a fit of laughter – James is too busy staring at the way the sun is making Lily look ethereal and she’s too busy pretending not to notice while being secretly pleased. Doing a quick survey of your friends, you see everyone now has a flower crown except Remus. You make your way to the tree he’s resting against while the others chat, and sit yourself down with purpose.

Remus lowers his book very slightly to peer at you and your too-sweet smile. He raises a sceptical brow. “Should I be scared right now?”

You drop the fake smile and hold up your flower crown expectantly. “Everyone has one, but you.”

“How observant,” he says, setting his book down to look at you in mock astonishment. “Have the Aurors at the Ministry caught wind of you yet?”

“Don’t be a pain,” you groan, dropping it onto his open book. “I want everyone to wear one for the picture!”

Remus sighs, looking at the large camera over by your bag. You had saved up all summer to buy a magical camera to be able to take pictures of you and your friends in your final year at Hogwarts. The time you used your own muggle camera was a disaster of sparks and broken bits of plastic that took hours to mend. “I already agreed to your incessant picture-taking,” he reminds you, acting like it’s the most painful thing in the world. “The flower crown is not happening.”

“Fine, you miserable git,” you flick a handful of grass at him, sending him sputtering. “Now come and sit for the photo.”

You return to the group with Remus behind you and get everyone in position before hunting down someone to take the photo. Glancing around, you spot a close bunch of first-years and send Lily to use her Head Girl credentials (and warm and inviting personality, of course) to rope one of them into coming over.

“Okay, smile everyone,” you order, plopping down on the grass next to James. You elbow him in the ribs, not even having to look at him to know what he’s doing. “Stop looking at Lily and look at the camera.”

With a couple of mutterings and some nudging, the nervous first-year Hufflepuff girl shakily takes the picture and hurriedly hands you the camera in the middle of the picture sliding out of it. James and Sirius go back to playing with a golden Snitch while Peter watches, while Remus returns to his book.

Lily looks at the picture and coos over how cute everyone looks at the same time as Marlene complaining about her hair. You impatiently take the picture back to slide it into your photo album and something catches your eye.

Sirius is making a peace sign behind Remus’ head. His head that wears a flower crown.

4. when he bleeds out on you.

You’re not sure what time it is – either very late at night, or very early in the morning. You do know, however, that you want to finish your Herbology essay so you can enjoy tomorrow (or today) and cheer your friends on in the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch game. You only have the conclusion left and you’re confident it’ll be done in the next ten minutes.

If you can find your damned quill, that is. You could have sworn you had it ten minutes ago, just before you snuck down to the kitchens to persuade the house-elves to give you the strongest cup of coffee they could make. You take a quick sip and grimace at the lukewarm temperature before setting it down and getting up to search. After turning every sofa cushion upside down, you go to crouch behind the sofa.

You hear the door to the common room being swung open and the hushed voices of the Marauders enter, but you don’t take too much notice as you squint for your quill. It isn’t unusual for the boys to be roaming around the castle at odd hours of the night, but a hiss of pain grabs your attention at the same time you spot the quill.

“Can you guys manage taking him up to the-” Sirius cuts himself off when your face pops up from behind the sofa. He freezes in his efforts to hold up Remus, who you notice is leaning on him and James and Merlin’s balls he’s covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Your voice comes out weak as you walk over to the boys. Remus has deep, bleeding slashes over his chest and an assortment of little cuts on his face and hands. He seems barely able to keep his eyes open but when his gaze meets yours, he winces. He isn’t the only one hurt and you realise Sirius’ arm is damp with blood and trembling, the same going for James’ thigh. “What the fuck happened to all of you, oh my God…?”

“Peter, you were supposed to keep watch,” James hisses at the boy who looks like a deer in headlights. He looks a lot better than the others, with only a couple of small cuts scattered around his face and arms.

“She was behind the sofa!”

James’ leg buckles and you snap out of your state of shock to dart forward and keep him steady. “Right. Shit, okay,” you breathe out, holding off asking any questions to prevent anyone from bleeding out. “James, Sirius, set Remus down on the sofa and take off his shirt. Peter, help these two up the stairs and go find a first-aid kit or something.”

“We’ve got a couple in the dorm,” Sirius says, summoning one of them down with a quick Accio and handing it to you. He hesitates for a second, probably unsure if he should stay and explain things, before deciding to turn in the direction of the stairs with James as Peter rushes to help them up. “Look after him, please. We’ll be right back, Moony.”

“Take your time, I’ve got him,” you utter, already fiddling with the first-aid box and trying to open it with shaky hands. You’re no healer, but you know enough to panic when you see Remus has had his eyes closed for the last few seconds. “Remus, keep your eyes open!”

He groans, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I’m injured and bleeding out and you still manage to yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you frown, unscrewing the bottle of dittany and scrambling for the cotton pads. You try to avoid Remus’ gaze because you feel extremely silly about being more panicked than him when he’s the one with claw marks down his chest. “Don’t move, or it’ll hurt.”

While dabbing the liquid onto the deep gashes in an attempt to close them up, you ponder on the fact that he probably knows it hurts from experience. You’re not completely clueless.

“What are you thinking?” Remus whispers in the stifling quiet of the common room, looking unsure.

You don’t cease in your movements, changing cotton pad after cotton pad. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to meet Remus’ gaze again and this time he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Remus gives you an almost imperceptible nod, like he doesn’t want to admit to it. You take a deep breath.

“Who else knows?” you ask calmly, as if you’re asking him about the weather.

“The boys and Lily,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Oh, and Snape.”

“Snape?” you exclaim, halting your dabbing to gawp at Remus. “I’m not saying you had to tell me or anything, but Snape?”

Remus winces and you don’t think it has anything to do with his injuries. “In my defence he found out on his own and hates me for it,” he rushes out. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you… I-”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving him off and wondering how good you’re hiding the fact you’re a little hurt. “You didn’t have to tell me.”

“No, I wanted to. I did,” Remus insists, looking earnest. There’s something in his voice that’s a little pained and desperate that has you meeting his eyes. “I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you started looking at me differently. The boys and Lily sometimes do, y’know? Like I’m made of glass or something. It’s refreshing whenever you scowl at me or call me an idiot or an arse or a stupid gi-”

“Okay,” you stop him, stifling a grin. “I get it!”

Remus’ eyes flash with relief for a second before you notice doubt start to creep in again. “You don’t need to hide it, by the way. I won’t hold it against you if… If you’re scared or disgusted, or-”

“What?” you cut him off again and scrunch your nose in confusion. “I’m not scared or disgusted. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been a bit too calm,” he points out.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a bandage to start patching up the worst of the injuries before you move onto the minor cuts and bruises. “I didn’t want you to think I was freaking out, or looking at you differently,” you quote his own words to him with a pointed look, making him smile again. “I don’t, you know. Think of you any differently, I mean.”

His expression is unreadable as he just looks at you and you just look at him, bandage hovering over his chest before his fingers come up to brush the back of your hand. He lightly holds your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckle as his voice drops to a whisper again. “Thank you.”

You offer him a gentle smile, holding his gaze for a second longer before focusing on bandaging him up again. His hand drops to the side and you oddly find yourself missing his warmth. The large bandage adheres to his skin and you run your fingers along the sides to stick them down, feeling him shudder under your touch.

You quickly busy yourself with looking for more supplies in the kit to hide the way your own breathing has increased slightly. “Hey, anyway, I almost walloped Snape right in the eye for you. If that wasn’t any indication of my standing on werewolves, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armour,” Remus chuckles before breaking into a wheeze as the muscles of his injured abdomen contract. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me then!”

5. when you’re definitely not jealous… you’re not!

Three cups of coffee. You’re on three cups of coffee. It’s also the same number of hours you’ve slept and by Godric can you feel it in every inch of your body as the muted chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around you. Your head is in your hands as you contemplate stealing some Polyjuice potion and bribing a first-year to take a dose with your hair in it so you can go to bed and they can pretend to watch the Quidditch match.

You knock back the last sip of coffee when you sense a presence sliding onto the bench in front of you. Groggily setting the cup down, you see that its Remus. It takes a second to remember why this is concerning.

“Morning, h- Wait, what the hell are you doing out of bed?” you hiss, leaning forward to avoid anyone listening in. You scan your eyes over his chest, two seconds away from ripping his shirt off to check his bandages. “How are you even standing?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale,” Remus says, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. He does his own quick sweep of the table and sees that most people are out in the Quidditch stands already, so he proceeds to pull the neckline of his shirt down slightly to reveal an already fading scar. No bleeding in sight. “I went to Madame Pomfrey with the boys this morning and she hurried up the process like she usually does. I feel achier than a 90-year-old woman with a metal hip, but the brunt of it is gone and Pads and Prongs are good as new.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If you’re sure you can sit out in the stands…”

“I can once I’ve consumed every cup of tea on the premises,” he says, reaching for the teapot. An annoyingly smug smirk starts to appear on his face while he pours. “What, are you worried about me, trouble?”

You scowl instantly. “No, I just don’t want you collapsing on me in the Quidditch stands while I’m cheering the boys on.”

“Right.” He hides his grin behind his cup of tea.

“Hey,” you mumble, nodding to Patricia Holloway who looks like she’s making a beeline to your table. More specifically, towards Remus. “Bright and cheery Hufflepuff incoming.”

“Merlin, it’s too early for this,” Remus whispers, taking another sip of tea before his face breaks out into a charming smile directed at the girl who slides into the empty seat next to him. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look good today, Remus,” Patricia rests her elbow on the table and tilts her head to look at him with simpering eyes. It’s no secret Remus is good-looking and you’ve heard a million girls talk about him before. You’ve never seen any of them approach him yourself, though. You can’t say you enjoy it. “Are you… okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were scowling until she addresses you and you rapidly smooth out your expression, clearing your throat. Remus looks amused, which makes it harder to keep the scowl off your face. “Fine! I’m fine, just a bit confused since Remus looks half asleep,” you attempt a laugh through gritted teeth and are spurred on when Remus is actively trying to fight a grin. “And his hair currently makes him look like he’s been dragged through the Forbidden Forest.”

He can’t stop himself snorting at that, but Patricia just looks confused as though unsure how to react. She settles on a nervous little laugh, turning back to him. “I can fix that for you, here,” she says, scooting closer and starts to run her hands through Remus’ hair. You poke your cheek with your tongue, marvelling at how bold she’s being and how Remus is just sat there, still looking amused as ever. “There, what do you think?”

“A hairbrush couldn’t have done a better job,” you deadpan, softening your expression slightly when Patricia begins to look a little disconcerted. “You keep doing that, I’m going to head off to the Quidditch field.”

You all but storm out of the Great Hall, exhaustion having left you completely. It’s replaced by a newfound whirl of irritation that pools in your stomach and creeps up your throat, making you feel a little sick. It must be the coffee, you think, and you’re trying to remember if the beverage has ever made you experience this when all of a sudden there’s a hand circling your wrist.

“Stop, Y/N,” Remus says, a little breathless. You didn’t realise he’d run out after you and you feel bad about his injuries before your gaze snags on his newly tousled hair. “Godric, you walk fast.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch up to me,” you snap, purposely scowling this time. The cheeky bastard still looks amused and your irritation is growing faster than ever. “Besides, the match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for Patricia to give you a whole new hairdo. Maybe she can give you plaits or– Why are you laughing.”

“You’re jealous,” he exhales with a smile, sounding positively delighted. Any feelings of concern have disappeared and are being rapidly replaced with wanting to thwack him upside the head. “Oh my God, you really are jealous.”

“Jealous, my arse,” you scoff, turning your back to him with every intention of speed walking out of the castle. His long legs keep up with you easily and he rushes in front of you to stop you going anywhere. You glare at him. “Leave me alone, Lupin.”

“Not until you admit that you’re jealous.” Remus is positively giddy with glee and you feel a flush of heat crawling up your neck. You set your jaw stubbornly and he’s incredulous as he shakes his head. “Merlin, you really have to argue with me on everything don’t you? I don’t care about Patricia Holloway and I’m glad you’re jealous. Means you’re less likely to break my nose when I kiss you.”

You barely get the chance to make an incoherent noise when Remus grabs you by the waist and presses his lips against yours, kissing you like he isn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon. His mouth slides hot and wet against your own and you gasp into the kiss when he nips lightly at your lip, your hands coming up to slide into his hair, making it unruly all over again.

Remus is the first to break apart, too soon, and you physically restrain yourself from chasing after his lips. He pulls back slightly, breathing fast to look into your eyes, searching for the answer you’re unable to speak yet.

“You… uh, I-I’m…” you trail off, dazed and breathless and head swirling with every emotion under the sun.

Remus laughs, pulling you impossibly close and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw, which doesn’t help your current speech issues. “If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I’d have kissed you years ago.”

“Wha-!” You slap his arm, snapping out of the haze. You hide your current uncertainty behind a glare. It hit you like a ton of bricks, but you realised about five seconds into the kiss that you wanted Remus Lupin in every way, shape and form. You’re more than a little terrified, so what better defence mechanism than anger? “Why did you actually kiss me, you prick?”

“You are the densest, most clueless,” Remus begins, pausing to kiss you lightly a couple times when you start to scowl. “Most stubborn and most beautiful little witch I’ve ever known. And if you haven’t figured out after almost seven years that I love you, then I’m afraid we might have to admit you to St Mungo’s, because really-”

“Stop,” you whisper, lifting a finger to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. “You love me? You actually, seriously love me?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, like it’s obvious or something. You huff. “Then why have you been such an annoying pain in my bloody arse, Remus Lupin?!”

“Because,” he says, the word coming out muffled and you hastily remove your finger. “It was a good way to keep your attention. Plus, I like when you’re angry. It’s cute.”

You scowl without thinking and his smile impossibly widens.

“See?”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you say dryly, pulling him in by the collar to give him a short, searing kiss. “Oh, and I guess I love you too.”

“So, no broken noses in my future?” Remus asks hopefully, softly sliding his nose against yours.

“No promises.”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin ff #remus lupin fic #marauders x reader #marauders fanfic #remus x reader #remus lupin scenarios #andrew garfield x reader #remus fanfic #remus fanfiction

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wintrwinchestr · 2 months

Text

an overture of indulgence (joel miller x f!reader oneshot) 18+

summary: it's been a long time since you've seen joel, and some things have changed, but a lot has stayed the same. namely, how quickly he can still get you on his knees for him, ready to show him exactly just how much you like what has changed about him.

warnings: 18+, smut, post-outbreak, jackson joel, d/s relationship dynamics, pet names (baby, babygirl, sweetheart, sweet girl, etc), body worship, belly kink, talk of weight gain, belly riding, m/f masturbation, lil bit of humiliation kink, lil bit of edging, reader is an adult but age otherwise unspecified, reader is shorter than joel and has hair long enough to grab, let me know if i missed anything :)

word count: 4.3k

a/n: just fuckin outing myself left and right these days huh. idk what came over me with this one. started this late last night and here it is now. belly enjoyers rise!!!!!!! nice comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoyed <3 you can't kink shame me bc i like getting bullied so now what. also i avoided daddy kink for once in my life please clap. i know i’m spoiling y’all this weekend don’t get used to it.

divider by @saradika

“...Joel?!” you shout, your leisurely walking pace quickly turning into a hurried jog as you leave Tommy behind, making a beeline toward the man you would swear on your life is Joel Miller. A small handful of years ago now, he was kind of your boyfriend, kind of not, kind of something else more complicated and unlabeled, because who can afford to put a label on anything in times like these?

Joel’s head turns in your direction at the sound of his name, and as soon as you spot that crooked scar across the bridge of his nose, you’re certain it’s him.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe it,” you half-cry, throwing your weight into him as you wrap him in a tight embrace. He’s much taller than you, but you still managed to knock him off his balance a little. He envelops your whole body in one of his signature, all-encompassing hugs, and it’s like no time has passed at all.

The two of you had ended whatever it was you had on good terms, no hard feelings or animosity shared between you. It was just hard to maintain any kind of relationship in a world like this, and trying to nurture romance in the Boston QZ was much like trying to grow a rose garden in toxic, radioactive soil. You can put as much care and effort and something like love into it as you have in you, but the circumstances will just never allow it to reach its full potential. The end of your “relationship” was mutual, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. Especially when he had disappeared one day without so much as saying goodbye.

When you had stumbled upon Tommy and a group of patrollers in the snowy forest outside Jackson just earlier today, you were alone, tired, and losing hope that this rumored safe haven even existed at all. You had heard crackles through the radio in the QZ about the community, and even though it sounded too good to be true, what else did you have to lose anymore? After months of travel and survival and pain and hunger, you’d never been so happy to meet a bunch of strangers in the woods in your whole life. You didn’t hesitate to get on the back of Tommy’s horse, and let him lead you to the sanctuary they spoke of.

As he was giving you a tour, proudly showing off their electricity, running water, fresh food, and clean houses, you had started to look forward to what the future may bring, for the first time in a long time. You could never have imagined you’d ever run into Joel again, that this is where he had ended up, of all places. And now here the both of you are, bodies pressed as tightly together as possible, breathing in each other’s familiar scents and never wanting to let go again.

Joel is the first to break the embrace, grasping your head in his large hands and frantically searching your face for any sign that he could be dreaming, that fate hasn’t really brought you back together again after all.

“Jesus Christ, it’s really you,” he breathes, and you swear his voice breaks just a little bit as he presses his lips to your forehead, closing his eyes as he does.

When he blinks them open again, he meets Tommy’s gaze, who’s standing quietly a few yards back from where you’re having your sentimental reunion. Tommy gives an understanding nod, and gestures that he’ll be waiting inside the community’s dining hall, gathering that whatever this is happening between his brother and some girl he only just met, he shouldn’t interrupt. Joel is grateful for many things today, one of them being the rekindled bond he has with Tommy, the other being how you somehow miraculously found your way back to him.

Small groups of other Jackson residents follow Tommy into the dining hall shortly afterward, and as the sun begins to set behind the mountains, Joel realizes it must be about time for dinner to be served.

He detaches his lips from your forehead, brushing some of your hair away from your face as he takes you in again. “You poor thing, must be starvin’ I bet,” he wonders aloud, giving you a sympathetic look.

“Kinda always am, just as a rule, but yeah,” you reply, trying to make light of your situation. Though, Joel doesn’t seem to find the humor in it the way you do.

“Long as you stay here, ain’t ever gotta worry about that again, that’s for damn sure.” He runs his tongue across his lips as he finishes his sentence, already knowing that whatever meal they’re serving tonight, it’ll be some of the most delicious food he’s had in a long time. He suspects you’ll feel much the same. “C’mon, let’s get you inside. Get you warm and fed for once in your life.”

–

Your heart, your stomach, your soul, all feel full as you relax into the comfortable couch in the living room of Joel’s cozy home. He wouldn’t even entertain the idea of you staying in an empty house all by yourself tonight, insisting that if you’d like some company while you settle in, you were more than welcome to his. He had let you spend as long as you wanted to in his shower, and he didn’t mind if there was hardly any warm water left by the time you were done. He sure as hell wasn’t paying the bill, and you deserved to feel truly clean. He can remember clear as day how he felt after his first Jackson shower, like he had stripped off a layer of grime he hadn’t been able to scrub all the way clean in twenty years. He had gone to Maria to get you some clothes and underwear while you were bathing, and set them silently on the sink counter for you to put on whenever you were done.

And now here you sit, feeling full and clean and satisfied and comfortable and safe, watching Joel stoke the logs in his fireplace as it casts the whole room in a honey orange glow. You take a moment to admire him while he isn’t looking, and even in the dim and flickering lighting, you can see he’s just as handsome as he was the last time you saw him. He looks older, with more gray in his longer hair and meat on his bones, the latter trait likely due to years worth of the hearty cooking you both indulged in tonight. He looks… good like this.

“It really is nice to see you again, you know. You look…” you start, not being able to help the way your eyes wander to his soft lower belly, the way it pushes taut against his tucked-in flannel shirt and just barely spills over the edge of his jeans.

He turns his head away from the fire to face you. You’re not very subtle in your staring, and he knows what you’re referring to right away. He huffs a light chuckle, trying to brush off the way he thinks you’re poking fun at him.

“I know, I know,” he acknowledges, placing a hand on his stomach. “Been tryin’ to get Maria to give me some more patrol shifts, see if I can get some of the weight off. But hey, you try havin’ three square meals a day for the first time in twenty some odd years, see what it does to you, huh?” He pivots his attention back to the fireplace, and he seems to turn his body further away from you on purpose, so that you can’t see the round profile of his tummy as much.

“No! No, it, um… It suits you. I was gonna say you look good, actually.” You’re quick in your reply, trying to make it clear that you didn’t mean to offend him, without letting too much on.

He scoffs. “C’mon, you don’t gotta flatter me, sweetheart. I know I don’t exactly look the way you remember–”

“Joel, will you stop?” you interrupt, your voice laced with exasperation. “I’m being serious. Do I look like I’m making fun of you?”

He cranes his neck to look back at where you’re perched on the couch, and gives you a once over. “Guess not… Look a lil’ like somethin’ else, though, if I'm bein’ honest,” he says with a teasing smirk. And there he is again, the same quick-witted Joel you remember from back in the QZ.

You choose to engage in his banter, just to see where he’s going with it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugs, beginning to mindlessly poke at the firewood again. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you look like you might like it.”

He’s just kidding around with you, trying to rile you up, you’re sure. But when he gets silence in return instead of the sound of you jumping to defend yourself with another playful jab, he turns to face you once more, and is met with your stunned expression.

“Oh…” Joel looks down at himself, then back to you again, just in time to catch your eyes flitting from his middle back up to his face. “What, you like ‘em big, sweetheart? ‘S that it?”

The truth is, you do, you always have. It was never a requirement, of course, as the guys you’d been with before Joel all had varying body types. But you’d be lying to yourself if you said that your eyes didn’t linger just a bit longer on guys with a little more to them, with wider arms and thicker legs and a softer middle. You’ve never admitted your preference to anyone before, and Joel calling you out on it now has your face running hot, skin feeling prickly as he sees through you like you’re made of glass.

“I-I don’t– I mean, I do, kinda, but not like that… Well, it is like that, I just mean–” You stumble over yourself, fearing you’ve revealed too much, wishing you could rewind the conversation and just tell him it was nice to see him again, plain and simple.

Joel lays the fire poker down on the granite ledge of the fireplace, approaching where you’re sitting and cupping the side of your face with his calloused hand.

“Sh, sh, stop, baby. ‘S alright if you do, nothin’ to be ashamed of,” he comforts, and it takes all the willpower you have left not to let your eyes drift down to his stomach, so close you could kiss it, if he’d let you.

“It’s just… I missed you. I thought about you all the time, wondered what ever happened to you after you left. Didn’t even know if you were alive until today. I’m just happy to see you… doing so well. To see that you’re healthy, and everything.” You swallow hard, hoping you sound convincing enough that he’ll let this go, forget all about your little admission just now. But of course, Joel is as stubborn as he’s ever been, and he doesn’t plan on releasing you from his trap now that you’re ensnared in it.

“That’s sweet, baby, ‘s real sweet,” Joel says, softly, stroking his thumb across your cheekbone as he speaks. “Thought about you too, all this time. Practically every day…” He rakes his eyes over you, noticing the way his touch has you starting to melt already, how you’re looking up at him with your wide, needy eyes. “Why don’t you show me just how much you missed me, hm? How much you love seein’ me healthy, as you put it.”

You’re stunned into silence once again, jaw slack and pupils wide as you search his gaze for proof that he’s just messing with you, making fun of you just to watch you squirm. But you don’t find any.

“O-okay,” you agree in a half-whisper.

Joel smiles down at you, satisfied. “All these years later, still just the sweetest thing, ain’t you? You still just as obedient, too?”

You nod without even thinking, words catching up with your instinctual response a second later. “Mhm, yeah, I am…” You had forgotten how easy it is to submit to him, how good it feels to let the hypnotizing tone of his voice carry you somewhere far away from yourself, when you need it the most. Whether it was after a shitty day of working for shittier rations in the QZ, or after a harsh trek in harsher weather to a forested oasis, Joel always knows how to make you feel like submission is your most natural state.

“Good… Kneel for me please, sweetheart,” he commands, and you obey immediately, his hand slipping from your face as you slide from the couch onto the woven carpet beneath you. Like second nature, your hands automatically fold themselves on your lap, remembering how you were never to touch Joel until he permitted you to. He takes note of this, and praises you accordingly. “Look at that, didn’t even have to ask. Such a good girl.”

He’s so enamored with you, he almost forgets where he was going with this until he watches your eyes flash to the growing bulge in his jeans, then back up to him. “Not tonight, sweetheart. Was thinkin’ you could put that pretty mouth to use on somethin’ different this time, hm?”

You knit your brows together, not sure what he means, but he doesn’t let you wonder for long. Slowly, he starts to unbutton his flannel shirt, starting at the top and working his way down. He tosses it onto the ground, then pulls his undershirt off over his head, adding it to the other discarded clothing. Without the confines of his slightly-too-tight button-up, you can see how much he really has filled out. Everything about his upper body is just a little more plush, with petal pink stretch marks adorning the soft skin in various places. You want to make it your personal mission to kiss each and every one of them, commit their exact coordinates on his body to memory.

There's a deep scar, you notice, to the left of his belly button, that has almost successfully disguised itself as one of those pretty marks. It’s definitely new since you saw him last, and it looks like it hurt, especially with the evidence of how crudely it had been stitched back together.

“What happened?” you wonder aloud, worried eyes glued to the healed injury.

He has to peer over the curve of his belly to see what you’re looking at. “Long story. Happened on my way out here, after I left Boston. Nothin’ for you to worry about, sweet girl, hardly even hurt. Forget it’s even there, most of the time,” he answers, still with a dominant edge to his voice that does a mostly good job of convincing you it’s the truth.

“Can… Can I?” you ask, waiting to receive his permission before you move your hands from your lap.

“Yeah, baby, go ahead,” Joel allows.

You reach out a small hand to gently trace over the raised scar, then press your lips to it with your hands splayed out on either side of your head, just barely pressing into his belly. He releases a soft groan, cradling the back of your head with one of his hands, applying the lightest amount of pressure to let you know this is where he wants to keep you.

“Why don’t you keep goin’, sweetheart? Gimme some more lovin’ like that, know you wanna,” he encourages, and you think you get the idea now, what it is he wanted to put your pretty mouth to use for.

With his explicit permission to continue, you don’t need telling twice. You move your face to hover just in front of his belly button, admiring the dense salt and pepper happy trail that sprouts from where his jeans push into his soft skin. You drag your tongue along the hair, nipping at the soft curve of where it disappears into the divot in his stomach. He makes a noise in response, half pained and half pleasured, but he doesn’t stop you. Just for good measure, you place a kiss to the little blushing mark where your teeth had scraped him.

Almost of their own volition, it seems, your hands begin to knead at his stomach as you make good on your promise to yourself to kiss every single one of his stretch marks. You allow your tongue to dart from your mouth on the last one, and Joel sucks in a breath.

“Oh, fuck. Forgot how good that wet lil’ mouth feels on me, sweetheart. Keep goin’,” he says, voice coming out strained. His fingers curl tightly into your hair, and he begins to maneuver your face around his belly. You lave your tongue over his skin as he does, slicking him with wet, sloppy kisses. “Yeah, baby, you fuckin’ worship it, show me how much you like me like this.”

It’s a little humiliating, but just enough that you like the feeling. You’re breathing hard and fast, letting out little whimpers as your fluttering cunt begins to soak your underwear. He brings your face to a stop at the most tantalizing part of him, the part that truly evidences how much more he’s allowed himself to indulge since settling in Jackson. The ample curve of flesh that just barely conceals the waistband of his jeans, the part you’ve wanted to get your mouth on since you first saw how it strained the lower buttons of his shirt. You latch onto it, massaging the skin around it as you use your teeth and tongue to suck a mark into him.

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest, and he curses under his breath. “Like it that much, huh? Fuck, naughty thing, look at you.”

You’re so fucking turned on, you’re shivering, rocking where you kneel and squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to get some kind of relief. You let one of your hands drift to the hard shape in Joel’s jeans, and it seems he’s enjoying this as much as you are. He spots your pathetic little squirms as you rut against nothing, and then he’s using his grip on your hair to pull you up from the floor.

“Got an idea. Up,” he commands roughly, and you detach your lips from his belly to obey his order. “Get these off, there we go.” He pulls down your sweatpants and underwear, helping you step out of them. “Christ, you’re soaked,” Joel teases, eyeing the sizable wet spot in your panties as he tosses them aside to join the other forgotten clothing. He reaches a hand toward the apex of your thighs, teasing your wet pussy and gathering some of your slick on two of his fingers. You let out a tiny yelp, but let him play with you, and then he’s bringing his fingers in front of his face and examining the sticky strings of your arousal when he spreads them apart. “All this just from lettin’ you worship all this, huh?” he taunts, patting his stomach once for emphasis. “Who’d’ve thought? Not that I’m complainin’...”

He quickly rids himself of his jeans and briefs, then reclines onto the couch with a quiet groan, stretching out his body along the length of it. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking as it bobs against his belly, his precum adding to the dampness still there from your tongue. “Come sit, sweetheart,” Joel says, softly, motioning with both of his hands for you to come closer.

You grip a hand onto the backrest of the couch to balance yourself while you move to straddle him, prepared to sink down onto his length for the first time in way too fucking long. “Uh uh, not there, baby,” he instructs, smirking when he sees how you hesitate in confusion. “Take a seat right here for me.” Again, he pats that most tempting area of his lower belly, and you just about fall apart at the sight of how his flesh ripples in the wake of it.

“Yeah, there you go, good girl,” he praises, both hands gripping your waist as he helps you settle your weight onto his soft abdomen.

“I dunno, don’t wanna hurt you–” you start, but he cuts you off swiftly.

“You won’t, baby. I’m a big man, ain’t I?” he teases, flashing you a devilish and knowing smile. “Go on, sweetheart, ride it.”

You inhale a shuddering breath, then place both of your hands on his shoulders to hold yourself up. You start an experimental buck into his belly, and that trail of dark hair tickles your clit so perfectly. It takes a few tries for you to get the positioning and pressure just right, and then you’re truly riding him, using his full stomach to get yourself off while he watches.

“God, that’s good. Use it, baby. You love me bigger, love that I’ve been eatin’ so good, prove it to me, c’mon,” Joel goads, and it spurs you on to grind against him harder, faster, as incoherent mumbles and curses tumble from your lips.

“Love it, Joel, you look so good, fuck. So fucking–mmh–so big, makes me so… so–”

“I know it does, sweet girl, I know. Makes you fuckin’ soaked is what it does, god damn. You gonna get my belly all messy, hm? Gonna rub your lil’ cunt all over it, get me all fuckin’ wet?”

“Uh huh, yeah, gonna… I’m gonna–” you whine, eyes shutting tight as your hips pick up their pace. You move your hands from his shoulders to place them on his stomach instead, grabbing at handfuls of his tummy in an effort to create something more solid to rub yourself against.

You’re already embarrassingly close, the humiliating edge to your earlier worship having gotten you most of the way there on its own. So swollen and sensitive it almost hurts, you won’t need much more to reach your high.

“Not without me, you ain’t. Gonna be right there with ya. You remember how we used to do it?” Joel asks, as if you could ever forget. He’s referring to your many late nights, early mornings, in his bed or in a back alley or wherever in the QZ, where he liked to make sure you both finished at the same time. You’d always be the first one to reach the edge, because he’d focus all his attention on getting you there before him, just to make you wait. It was never something punishing, just something he liked to do as an extra bit of control and dominance, and he knew it always made your orgasms that much more powerful and satisfying when he would finally permit you to let go.

With your eyes closed, so focused on your own pleasure, you hadn’t noticed that he had reached behind you to start fisting his cock some time ago. But you can hear it now, the wet schlick of his hand moving up and down his shaft as he works himself. “Hold it for me, sweetheart, I know you can. Keep rubbin’ your pretty pussy against me, jus’ like that, almost there…”

You mewl, screwing your face up as you force yourself to slow down your thrusts, muscles tense as you try to keep your orgasm at bay for as long as you can.

Thankfully, he must be worked up enough from seeing you fall apart for him so easily for the first time in so long, that his permission comes just a few minutes later.

“Come for me, babygirl, soak my fuckin’ belly, c’mon,” Joel growls, and you fall forward immediately, twitching and spasming and crying out into the soft muscle of his shoulder as you ride out the shuddering shocks of your orgasm. He groans next to your ear as he comes, and you can feel the warm ropes of his own release as some of them land on your lower back. You’re both wet, heaving messes, as you embrace each other for the second time today and work on catching your breath.

So exhausted from the day you had, you must’ve fallen asleep against his chest as you laid there, because then you’re being woken up by the dull scratch of his fingertips against your scalp and his familiar voice working its way through the thick fog that clouds your tired brain.

“You alright, baby?” he asks, and you can hear that he’s smiling, amused at this sleepy little thing he’s got clinging to him.

“Mhm, jus’ tired,” you answer, a barely-there mumble of a sentence.

“I’ll bet… You wanna get cleaned up? Get all tucked into bed?”

You shake your head against his neck, and he chuckles.

“No? Whatcha wanna do then, hm?”

“Jus’ lay here. Missed you. Don’t wanna let… go…”

Your sentence drifts off into silence before the temptation of sleep allows you to finish it, but Joel gets the idea. He smiles to himself, kissing the top of your head, and hugs you closer. Both of you are still sticky and damp, but satisfied. And together again. And that’s a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

So he agrees, and you stay like that for the rest of the night. Joel doesn’t worry about whether or not he remembered to set his alarm clock for his extra patrol shift the next morning, or if he’ll even hear it all the way from his bedroom upstairs, because it doesn’t matter anyway. He has you, and you made it very clear tonight just how much you like him exactly the way he is.

Maybe, your rose garden can finally begin to bloom, now that the pair of you have somewhere safe and comfortable and healthy to try your hand at nurturing it again.

tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

#my writing #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #daddy!joel miller #joel miller smut

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taifenggg · 1 month

Note

hi! 🌷 i love your scenarios so i instantly came to rq here <3

could you write about mc and the brothers having possessive s3x for the first time? their relationship is relatively new and they did it a few times, but for some reason they got jealous and the way they deal with it is by having somewhat angry / possessive s3x with reader (which is very different from what they're used to do

for example: belphie is usually lazy or slow, satan is a gentleman and spends a lot of time on foreplay, reader notices how their usual this time is almost the opposite bc the brother in question is SO jealous

idk if it made sense </3 if writing the 7 of them feels too much for you, then would mammon + satan + barbatos be okay? they're my favorites!

have an amazing day btw i love your content

Content Warning(s): NSFW obviously LMAO, hairpulling(Lucifer, Belphie), semi-public(Mammon, Asmo), overstimulation(Satan), slight degradation(Belphie), not proofread LOL

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie, Barbatos

Authors Notes: hi there! i'm so flattered you love my writing, it means a lot! and dw I saw your other ask, so you're all good no worries about verification. nonnie, I'll do you one better and I ended up writing all the bros plus barbs as a bonus lol. enjoy!

nsfw under the cut! minors dni or i will block you :)

Reminder to abide by my guidelines for NSFW content tysm :]

Guidelines for NSFW Content [ ◇ ]

Lucifer [🦚💙]

Others keep occupying your time.

"Remind me again, who exactly do you belong to?"

Your moans are stifled as you press your face against the pillow. Lucifer's pace is relentless and although he can be rough in general, tonight feels different. There's something far more carnal and possessive in the way Lucifer thrusts into you. His movements are done so with reckless abandon, a stark contrast to how he usually takes you.

"Y-you Lucifer!" you gasp, body shaking from the intense pleasure coursing through your body. You yelp and moan out his name as he runs a hand through your scalp, pulling your face so that you're staring at him, his hands having a firm grip on your hair. "I can't hear you, louder," he commands you, your faces practically centimeters away from each other.

"You Lucifer!" you sob, feeling his large hand pressing into the small of your back, pushing you down against the mattress. Lucifer smirks, his other hand trailing down to your neck, holding you there firmly. "That's right my love, me. Not my brothers and certainly not that shady sorcerer," he practically spits out those last words. Lucifer's head falls back as he continues to thrust roughly into you, feeling himself close to his release.

You can feel yourself tightening around him, and you arch your back, body shaking as your orgasm washes over you. Lucifer lets out a low moan, making a few more shallow thrusts into you before spilling his seed into your hole. Chest heaving, he pulls out, watching with satisfaction as his release trickles out of you. Taking two fingers, he trails them up your inner thighs, causing you to jump from how sensitive you were after your high. Lucifer takes his fingers and takes the excess that spills out, prodding it back in.

"Keep that in there my love, it's proof that you're mine after all, if not, I'll have to punish you a bit more unfortunately. You can do that, can't you?"

Mammon [💰💛]

Someone thought flirting with you at the casino was a good idea.

"Dammit, you drive me crazy y'know?"

Your legs are currently wrapped around Mammon's waist, goosebumps littering your skin as you feel the wall against your back, your shirt long discarded. Your arms are wrapped securely around Mammon's neck for support. Mammon kisses you roughly, hungrily, as if he were scared of you running away or disappearing from right in front of him.

"That damn incubus," he hisses, pushing into you, "Thinking they have anything on the Great Mammon. You're my lucky charm, no one else's." His teeth scrape at your neck as he leaves mark after mark. You're pretty sure your back is rubbed raw from how fast and hard Mammon is thrusting into you, and your legs shake around Mammon's waist, but despite this Mammon holds you securely, his grip on your thighs giving you enough support.

"Mammon!" you whine, your hands tangled in his hair. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and you can hear Mammon gasp, groan, and curse with each thrust he makes. Judging by how loud the two of you were being, you had no doubt that the entire casino knew that you were getting fucked hard by Mammon.

"You're mine alright? Mine, mine, mine, my treasure," he whispers in your ear, and he accentuates each of his words with a slap of his hips against yours. Your moans become louder and you can practically feel yourself on the verge of releasing onto him.

"Mine." And with one last word, Mammon makes one last thrust up into you, hitting your most sensitive spot and you practically go limp in his arms as your orgasm washes over you. Mammon's hips slowly still, and he checks over you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I won't let anyone take you from me alright? Much less some random incubus who thinks they can steal my treasure from me."

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

You showed him your duo in an online game.

"Levi, they're just a friend!" You gasp softly as he pushes you into his bathtub, a pout on his face. Immediately, he presses himself up against you, rubbing his cheek against your exposed collarbone. "I don't care," he grumbles softly, one hand snaking up to pin your hands above your head, his other hand trailing underneath your shirt, caressing your sides. "I should be the only one to carry you, not anyone else. You're my player 2, my Henry," he nips at your shoulder and you shudder, feeling yourself grow aroused from the close proximity and from his touches.

"I don't care if they're ranked number one, I'll prove I'm better than them by beating them!" His pupils are dilated as he looks at you below him, and he can't help the sudden ache and the growing tent in his pants. Gasping softly, he starts grinding up against you, and you can't help but reach up for him, pulling his hips flush against yours, in search of some very much needed friction to relieve the tension you're feeling.

Both of your gasps can be heard, and you're pretty sure that if Levi didn't soundproof his room, anyone walking outside could probably hear just how heated the two of you were getting. You tighten your grasp on him, your hands snaking up to tug at the back of his hair cause Levi to moan against you as he kisses you roughly.

You stare up at him blearily, not even realizing when he shifted into his demon form. Shivering, one of your hands move from the back of his head, down to his abdomen and Levi jerks in your grasp, a flush painting his pale face.

"Do you know how badly I want you? Please don't give your attention to others, just stay focused on me."

Satan [😾💚]

Gets riled up because he sees Lucifer closer to you than he'd like.

Your chest heaves from exertion as Satan brings you to your umpteenth release. Your legs are shaking from overstimulation and you're pretty sure you've lost count of how many times Satan has made you come. His bangs stick to his forehead as he dives back between your legs, sucking marks along your inner thighs, his grip digging into the flesh of your thighs.

Your hands make their way to his hair, tugging on the golden strands and you feel Satan groan, his moans sending vibrations down your core. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. "Satan no more please! I can't take it anymore," you whimper softly, feeling tears prick at the edge of your vision. Satan only laughs looking up at you, using a hand to push his hair out of his eyes. "Nono, we're not finished yet," his voice is dangerously soft as he stares at you, body trembling underneath his gaze. His nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow as he pulls your bottom closer to him, once again positioning himself between your legs. "I can still smell him on you and I intend to erase every trace of Lucifer from you, from your mind, and from your body. Understand?"

You slowly nod, your thighs quivering either from anticipation or overstimulation, you weren't sure at this point anymore.

Satan smiles as he licks a stripe up where you're most sensitive, and your body jerks still sensitive from all your orgasming from earlier. You squirm to get your body away from him but his grip holds tight to you.

"Stay right where you are. I thoroughly intend to take my time with you tonight."

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

Your fans started getting too touchy with you.

Asmo isn't one to get jealous easily....not usually.

However, today was supposed to be about just you and him and it frustrated him to no end seeing your fans flock over to you, occupying all of your time. Asmo's eyes narrow as he watches them practically latch themselves onto you, and you barely pushing them away, laughing it off lightly. You're shocked by his sudden actions, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the crowd and down a secluded alleyway. His silence is rather unsettling, and there's a strange gleam in his eyes.

.....

"A-Asmo slow down!" You gasp out, feeling your back pressed against the wall, and Asmo's gaze trained on you, his hands sliding up your arms, pinning them above your head. You shiver, feeling his breath grace the outer shell of your ear, and you unintentionally tilt your head to the side, giving him more room to slot his face into your neck.

"Do you love me?" His question catches you off guard and you stare at him quizzically. "What? Of course I do." you frown slightly pulling on your hands, but Asmo holds your hands in place firmly. He presses his body against yours, and you gasp slightly, feeling his knee pressing against your crotch. "You sure seemed to be having fun entertaining those fans of yours. While I don't mind everyone fawning over you, today was just supposed to be about me and you was it not?" He has a slight pout on his face, lip jutting out.

You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide. If you were being honest, Asmo was adorable, especially with that little pout on his face. "It's not like you to be this jealous," you laugh a little, your face flushing. You feel him press your body more against the wall, and you have to suppress the urge to let out a moan as he continues grinding his leg against where you're most sensitive. His hand snakes past the waistband of your pants and you nearly keel over from his touch, leaning against him for support.

"I'm only like this for you, and no one else."

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

His Fangol teammates were far friendlier to you than he'd like.

Your throat is sore, but that's a given considering you had spent the good part of the last few hours screaming out Beel's name, cheering him on after he scored point after point. What you certainly didn't forsee was you practically folded over one of the benches in the locker room, Beel holding one of your legs wide open as he thrusts into you roughly. The way you're positioned, if someone were to open the door to the locker room would end up seeing you sprawled out as Beel rammed himself against you.

"S-slow down Beel! It's too much!" Your head falls back, and you feel like you're being split apart by how big he is. Normally, Beel is much more gentle, taking his time with you but it seems that in the heat of the moment, he chose to forgo any sense of moderation.

"I don't like that my teammates got too close to you," he grunts, hips stuttering as he pulls you closer, his chest heaving from exertion. Ah that's right, he's referring to his teammates that immediately crowded around you to thank you for cheering so fervently for them. You remember the way Beel watched you from outside the crowd, his expression unreadable. You can recall conversing with his fellow teammates before feeling a pair of hands loop around your waist, pulling you towards them....which somehow led to the situation that you were currently in.

Beel's grip on your thigh is borderline painful, and you're sure that there'll be marks there come tomorrow from how roughly he's currently manhandling you. You reach up grasping at his arm, momentarily causing his movements to falter as he looks at you, temporarily shaken out of his frenzy. "Beel slow down please, I swear I only have eyes for you," you whimper softly, your legs shaking. His expression softens as he stares down at you, leaning over to press an apologetic kiss to your forehead. His motions are slower now, you notice, and there's a tenderness in the way he holds onto you now, one hand pressed against your waist, the other still holding onto your thigh but much less tight now.

"Sorry, you drive me crazy. I promise I'll make this up to you later."

Belphegor [🐮💜]

Your project partner was getting too buddy-buddy with you.

"Hahh, fuck you're so tight~"

Belphie practically hisses this in your ear as he sinks into you, bent over one of the desks in an empty classroom. The surface is cold against your front, your RAD uniform unbuttoned, and shirt pushed up as Belphie leans entirely against you. Your knuckles are white from how hard they're gripping the desk, meanwhile, Belphie has a good grasp on you from behind, his hand tugging at your scalp.

Your back arches as he thrusts into you, using your head as leverage, and you're pretty sure everyone outside has a pretty good idea of what's going on, based on how loudly the desk is scraping against the floor. Your gasp, shoulders hunched as you hold onto desperately to the desk. Belphie's tail flicks irritably as he watches your expression. "Enjoying this are you? Do you really like everyone outside knowing how I'm using you right now? Let them know how desperate you are for me to fuck you dumb like this. Go on, moan louder why don't you."

Your heart pounds in your chest and you let out shuddering breaths as Belphie's hips snap against you, hitting your most sensitive spots. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "The door's unlocked, and anyone could walk in right now and see the two of us like this. Are you getting off to this? To the idea of others seeing what a mess you are right now? Well, that's too damn bad because no one can have you like I can, and certainly not your project partner....what's their face?" He practically spits out, and you can feel the jealousy practically dripping off of him.

"Thinking they're better than me, too bad they'll never get the chance to see you like this. Oh well, you'll behave for me won't you?"

+ Bonus

Barbatos [⌛🖤]

The Young Master was occupying too much of your time.

"Apologies, I'm afraid I won't be able to restrain myself tonight."

You stare at Barbatos confused, watching as he approaches you at the foot of the bed, smoothly pushing you down in one swift moment with one hand. The other lifted to his mouth as he bites at the finger, and pulls it off just as swiftly. Your mouth is agape as he switches hands, holding you down with ease as he removes his other glove.

"As much as I'd like to thank the young master for consistently inviting you over for tea, I will admit there are times when it was just the two of us without his presence." His hands trail your figure, and you're not quite sure what it is about him tonight but he seems.....different. He's far more forward, taking the initiative rather than waiting for you to take the lead. You gasp as you feel his mouth on you, his teeth scraping along your neck. You gasp, leaning away so he has more room to do as he pleases.

"Barbatos-" He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. There's just something that turns him on so much, seeing you underneath him so helpless and pliant. His nose is wrinkled slightly as he gazes at you. You lay there, back arching as Barbatos has his way with you, cold hands caressing you, but not touching you where you ached for him the most.

"Hush now, let me take care of you, my love."

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honestlywtfisgoingon · 4 months

Text

GET A LITTLE LOUD. I DON’T MIND.

—WITH GOJO SATORU

REMEMBER: THE CLASSROOMS AT JUJUTSU HIGH AREN’T EXACTLY SOUNDPROOF…

content: teacher!gojo, teacher!reader, husband!gojo, smut, unprotected sex, p in v, semi-public sex, against the wall, over the desk, creampie, gagging, panty-theft, use of names slut and whore, not proofread

notes: i’m back this is crazyyyy!! i literally wrote every other day and thought about posting but i never finished anything and then all of a sudden it’s been years :O and im back w gojo brainrot. p.s. obi content is still coming but u just gotta be patient sorry i literally am so rusty

words: 3374

“toru! they’re gonna hear you, not me!” you worried your words wouldn’t get past the lewd sounds gojo was making as he rammed his dick in and out of your pussy. he did all this while holding you against the wall of the classroom— where anyone could come in.

“oh, i’m not worried about getting us caught” each of his words was let out between harsh moans, breath heavy as he kept his open mouth pressed against your neck. so he did hear your concern, it just made absolutely no difference to him. there wasn’t even a stutter in his pace, set hard and fast as soon as he slipped inside you only a bit ago.

“then why’re you covering my mouth?” one of his large hands smothered the entire bottom half of your face, but you managed to squeeze your words through the small sliver of space between gojos long fingers just like before.

“because i can actually stop myself from screaming. can you?” he was taunting you, sure, but the truth in it had you blushing. you were a little embarrassed of how easy it was to get a sound out of you. it was hard for you to keep everything in when you were naturally so vocal, and it only got harder the closer you were to coming. satoru always loved the moment he could see your conscious efforts to stay quiet become entirely abandoned in pleasure. once you couldn’t hold back, neither did he, fucking you as hard as he could, until he wrung out every little praise, and whimper, from your pretty throat. when you couldn’t help but shout his name for everyone to hear was his favorite, and he hated having to smother all the noises that always turned him into a horny teenager. he didn’t hold back his own grunts and groans though, letting them out freely in the classroom, which you didn’t think was very fair.

“that’s n-aah!” you couldn’t help but prove him right, a high-pitched moan jumping from your throat when he lifted you up, only to slam you back down where he was waiting to meet your hips a particularly eager thrust of his own.

“mhmm there it is.” he gave a smug little laugh that was always so familiar coming from him. satisfied that he had proven his point, he went back to making sure you kept quiet. instead of using his hands to muffle you this time, he smothered them with his own deep groan through a passionate kiss.

it didn’t help your case that your only response was an increasingly dazed look in your eyes. he clapped a large hand over your mouth again as you clung to him for dear life. your nails scraped at the back of his expensive dress shirt, feeling the muscles of his back react to the sensation. you raked them up to the softly shaved snow on his nape, pushing another groan out of him. only one of satoru’s hands were free, but he was doing the work for both of them. sometimes your husband was gentle and soft during sex— this was not one of those times. there was nothing sweet about how he groped your ass, gripping and kneading at the skin harshly. every so often one of his fingers brushed against your unoccupied hole while his palms spread your ass slightly.

gravity had you feeling like he was fucking his cock into you well past your pussy. you felt a pleasurable shock each time he hit that perfect spot, shooting up your body. how could it not feel that good with the way you met him with every bounce on his pretty cock. you both got closer and closer, but not quite there. you knew from the beginning that would be short, but you two couldn’t resist a quickie. honestly, you couldn’t resist any opportunity to fuck.

the truth is, he meant it when he said he really didn’t care about being caught from all the noise, but he also didn’t like that getting caught meant having to stop before he could make you finish.

even deeper than that desire, the one he didn’t want to admit just yet, was his possessive need. satoru wanted to keep those pretty little screams all to himself. he figured that he was the one helping you make them, he should be the one who decides that only he gets to hear them. people could still know just who was claiming you by his own pornographic professions of pleasure. Maybe he would let you cry out in the end to reward you, if only because he wanted to hear you say his name like you always did.

to get you there, he was going to have to go just a little harder to push you over the edge. chasing both of your highs, he used all that famous speed of his to switch positions and bend you over the desk. it all happened so fast that even if he slipped out, you didn’t feel it.

the new angle already allowed him to go deeper, but it also allowed you to arch your back. satoru didn’t moan, he whined at the sight. he always loved seeing just how far you’d bend for him— literally. it made his cock throb inside of you, the blood pulsing through the veins along his shaft that were making each drag against your walls take you closer to heaven.

still muting you but no longer having to hold you up, he used a free hand to bully your clit as well as your hole. there was so much sap dripping down from your pussy, making the noise that rang out everytime your ass and his hips met even more vulgar. he easily gathered up some of the wet mix of both your juice and his precum on two of his fingers removing his hand from your mouth only to shove his fingers in instead.

“mmm fuck baby, taste yourself. taste us.” you gagged on them, the choking sound canceling out the much louder whines you were about to make.

he desperately tore off his blindfold, shoving it in your mouth as a gag and telling you to play with your pussy. even before his hand could grip your hips though, you were already meeting his thrusts.

he gripped your hips with his large hands, squeezing your body beneath him, “oh shit. yeah yeah please. keep slamming that ass back on me princess. please please please.” he begged as if he was at your mercy, even though his inescapable grip was the only thing keeping you from falling limp. he grit his teeth, feeling you tighten around him. you went from throbbing to squeezing him like a vice as your orgasm suddenly shocked through you. you shook, your knees knocking a bit as you used your last bit of strength to push back on him, feeling as much of his cock as you could while you creamed on it. your eyes rolled back almost like they were compensating for the screams you couldn’t let out.

as sensitive as you were, satoru wasn’t done yet.

“so so close, hold out princess.”

the gag slipped from your slacked jaw, but you bit your lip to stop any noise that came from the sensitivity. you nodded and satoru petted your head and smiled. with just your lip to stop you from making noise and you so close to coming, satoru didn’t give a shit about volume anymore. you were about to let out some of the sluttiest moans like you always do when you come, and he wasn’t gonna miss them for anyone. “You know what? get a little loud. i don’t mind,” just before ramming in so hard that he knocked over the desk. the last of your moans morphed into a panicked scream, mingled with the crash and bang of the desk falling, along with all the objects on it. you were nearly one of those things if satoru hadn’t tightly gripped your hips and your neck, keeping you fused together. so much was happening, but he made sure that you were right where you needed to be for him to pour all his cum inside you. it seemed that after everything, your voice couldn’t handle much more than a little whimper when you felt all his hot, thick cum filling you up. you always tightened your legs out of instinct to hold it all in, and it also helped you keep standing as he shuddered, letting a long stream of broken groans and eventually whimpers just by your ear. he wanted so badly to take his time watching his cum drip out of your hole just to gather every drop not inside you on his fingers and shove it back in. you always begged for his cum huh? he’d be a bad husband if he didn’t give you all of it.

shit. his mind cleared he assessed the damage less than a moment after. even with all this clutter on the floor, at least he didn’t add his cum to it he thought. still, the biggest mess was between your legs, and he couldn’t help but feel a little proud about the two of you.

he immediately picked you up like a ragdoll and sat you down on a desk. you still felt your tongue threaten to loll out but you threw a leg over his shoulder out of instinct, giving him access between your legs to clean up the slick that covered your sex and thighs with his blindfold. it was already covered in spit anyway.

“fuck. someone definitely heard that” he murmured during his rushed clean up.

“who’s fault now huh—“ you were cut off by satoru’s reaction to hearing approaching steps he yanked you forward to button your shirt as you realized the person was running, very, very fast. you were both so relieved that you still had your skirt and he still had his pants on, leaving you one less thing to trip over. while he fumbled with your clothes you zipped up his pants and buckled his belt. gojo had just finished the very important task of checking to make sure no cum was leaking past your panties before yuuji came bursting through the door. you immediately hopped off the desk and smoothed down your hair and your skirt, while gojo tried to pass off his ruffled hair by acting like he’d been running his hand through it.

“hey, are you guys ok? we thought we heard something crash.” yuuji eyes darted to the desk on the floor, completely missing the raging blush on gojos face and the slight wobble in your knees. he opened his mouth to ask only to be shoved through the door when nobara came in hot behind him.

“hey! i thought we were all gonna check it out!” she scolded him with her whines.

“not my fault you’re slow!” he defended.

finally megumi strolled in, looking as nonchalant about the whole thing as he could be, in great contrast to his best friends.

“students!” you turned to satoru as he addressed them enthusiastically, “your teachers were just training and made a bit of a mess.” wow. that excuse just…well it sucks. you almost wanted to roll your eyes but had to do a double take. where did he get his glasses from? when did he put them on? leave it to gojo to keep his accessories on hand. it did help distract from how puffy and pink his lips were as he spoke.

“you were fighting in here?” yuuji tilted his head in question. combined with his big brown eyes, his actions had him looking like a puppy.

“it was impromptu.” you bolstered gojos excuse while trying not to cringe at how bad it was to begin with.

“ooh were you like couple fighting?” nobara jumped in with her question. it seemed she was way too intrigued by the prospect of drama to question how much sense it actually made, and you had absolutely no objections to that right now.

“wait things can get that heated to where you battle??” oh yuuji. he asked as if nobara knew all there was to know about the subject.

“no, no!” you waved your hands frantically, only to be completely tuned out once the two kids entered the mode of conspiracy. they talked lowly but didn’t whisper, as if you couldn’t hear them literally talking about you five feet away.

“i mean they totally look like they got into it.” nobaras chin was between her thumb and pointer finger while her eyes narrowed in inspection, yuuji mimicking her actions. after a second of tapping her cheek, she pointed directly at her sensei, making you and satoru almost jump a little bit. wow you had to get a hold of yourself. “no offense, but you should probably fix your hair.” nobara stated bluntly. gojo pouted. you thought he was adorable but also made a note to compliment his hair later.

megumi had been silent, not even really looking at you or the mess. his eyes just wandered the walls until it seemed like something clicked in his braim. his eyes darted back and forth between you and gojo. suddenly rolling his eyes letting out an exasperated “oh my god,” megumi just dragged a hand over his eyes and his face. he wasted no time turning around and walking away, seeming absolutely done with you two.

he caught nobaras curiosity and had her chasing him out the door and down the hall where you could hear her calling out “hey! hey, fushiguro come back!”

“hey wait what’s he talking about.” yuuji looked increasingly confused as he followed suit.

you almost slumped in relief you were so tired and you had to put effort into standing straight and not just falling into gojo. he looked at your relieved and tired face with a goofy smile. that smile. it disappeared as soon as you started slapping his arm.

“sa-to-ru!” a slap accompanied each syllable. “that was the worst excuse ever! there’s no way they’re not going to figure it out!” your hands kept slapping his bicep, but were just as quick to wrap around it right after. you pressed your cheek against the expensive cotton sleeve as you hugged his arm tightly and pouted just like he did as you looked up.

“c’mon let’s be real here, megumi would rather die than discuss our sex life with his friends. plus, we’re married, princess. i’m pretty sure a husband fucking his wife is like, the least surprising thing ever.” he rolled his eyes as he turned to wrap his arms around your waist, your hands resting on his chest.

“what about itadori? i’d hate for that kid to lose his innocence,”

“innocent? that kid is a self-proclaimed ass man.” taking advantage of the subject, one of satorus own hands came to rest on your ass. you quirked a brow but he pretended not to see your face and just continued, “i also saw a pinup poster in his room,”

“wait, really?” you stopped and shook your head a bit, like it would help you refocus on what you remembered you were talking about, “oh but still, toru, i know they know we have sex but—“

“but what?” he sighed, waiting for your most definitely poor reasoning.

“i don’t know, just” you started blushing and he knew that little embarrassed look. he knew you always liked to play the good girl, to hold on to your pride. if it didn’t make for such a fun game he’d say it’s a total waste of time knowing, without fail, he’d have you on his leash in minutes (literally or metaphorically depending on what your setting allowed). a single long finger tilted your chin up, his face suddenly so close to yours.

“oh you’re not worried about them finding out about my wife being fucked, you're worried about them finding out that she likes to be fucked like a slut.” such crude words came out in delicate breaths that fanned across your face.

“no!” your voice died out instantly when he pulled you a little closer again, your noses now touching instead of just your breath.

“hard enough for the desk to fall and loud enough to scream.” you had had sex minutes ago, and even worse, had almost gotten caught, and yet he was saying and doing everything to make your pussy throb all over again. you were always so easy for him to play with, never offering any real objections despite your attitude. “yeah? you don’t want them to know how desperate you are, how you just couldn’t keep your legs closed until we got home? because that’s all you want, isn’t it.” he whispered in your ear, your eyes fluttering back with chills. the sensation of him placing kisses on your neck brought you back to your senses once again.

“please, as if you didn’t run around the whole school just to say you needed ‘help’”

“and you’re suchhhh a good little helper for me, baby,”, he went to kiss you on the mouth you returned it, but as soon as he deepened it, you pushed him away and he had the audacity to look hurt. you were getting whiplash from having to repeatedly pull yourself together just to fall right into his hands again.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. i swear we almost got caught there’s no way we can go another round. you’re insatiable gojo satoru.”

“mhmm, we both are, mrs. gojo satoru.” he tapped your nose before lowering his voice once again. “so, how bout i take these panties, and we go home when my cum is about to leak past your skirt, huh?”

“fine. deal.” you huffed, but spread your legs quickly. he went on one knee to pull your panties down, enjoying the picture of your pussy and leaving a kiss on your clit which made you hiss, before he had the fabric dropping to your ankles. you stepped out of them and he swiftly pocketed them.

“i love my wifey so much!” he stood up and kissed you with a cute smile as if he hadn’t just shove your panties down his pants.

“that’s good because love you too toru,” you said softly, hands clasped behind your back and rocking back and forth on your heels with a lovesick look like a schoolgirl. honestly, he never stopped making you feel like one.

“aww so sweet.” he tucked a hair behind your hair, sending butterflies past your stomach and to your whole body, but you just knew that wasn’t all. “who woulda thought you were such a whore?” ah, theres your satoru.

“only for you” you patted his cheek jokingly, but he just groaned with his whole body. he had to do things in the most dramatic way possible of course.

“ugh. baby, you can’t just say things like that and then—“

you pushed him off, leaving him, arms still stretched out reaching for you, even after you walked out the door. he looked at the clock before deciding it was max 30 minutes before you asked to go home. you came back in 10.

— bonus:

“well i mean the honeymoon stage is like that, although it’s annoying and gross.” nobara shrugged while still stirring her boba.

“they’ve been married for 7 years. dated for 10.” megumi responded quietly, nobara consequently spewing her drink.

“no way! they act all starry-eyed and all that stuff still.” yuujis own eyes opened wider in surprise

“yeah that’s what i thought too!” it helped nobara that even yuuji had the same idea too. “ugh now that i know they’re just like that it’s kinda gross.”

“wait megumi if they’ve dated for 10 years, you lived with both of them at the same time, right?” both of megumis friends leaned closer to him, eager to hear where yuujis question went, but he didn't even look at them.

“yeah what about it,” he said as nonchalantly as ever. this was a topic he had always made a point never to dwell on.

“so you had to have heard—“

“okay, that’s enough. we’re never talking about this again.” ideas like yuujis were the exact reason why megumi refused to feel his interest. ideas like yuujis made him want to die from remembering just how many times he accidentally heard the two of you…daily.

“yeah gross, good idea.”

“um yeah, you’re right, don’t answer that actually.”

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aceofpatience · 11 months

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🤍Love Messages from your soulmate🤍<- Pick-a-Pile reading

Hello, my little oysters!🐚

If you wish to know what your soulmate would like to say to you, you are in the right place 🍪. I will be channeling their energy, looking into their love language and seeing what they love the most about you, as well as any extra messages that might come through. If anything resonates, please leave me a comment below. It will bring me much more joy than any chocolate bar can (so you know it's serious). Hope you enjoy! Shall we SEA?🍫

Pile 1. -> The Tower

Your soulmate energy: Duality, twins. Your person chooses the hard way. They are the savior, rather in the shadows. Even though you are destined for each other, they still want to be the best option for you. If they have the inclination that you could be more secure by yourself, they would step back and love you from afar. They have strong energy, kinda stubborn - when they set their mind on something they see it to completion. And that’s how they feel about you. No doubt in their mind that they want you. For you they are the noble knight, but for your enemies? Not so much.

Their love language: Communication. A lot compliments. They just expres their feeling for you openly. You can see on their face how much they adore you. Quality time - always ready to choose you over other things. Providing space for you. Neck kisses. Playing your body like an instrument (love to hear you moans, being vocal). Playing with your hair.

What they adore about you: Your quirks. They really appreciates how you two perfectly completes each other in terms of who is the more dominant or submissive partner (quite effortlessly) - it can shift from time to time. They love that they can see themselves starting a family with you. Also your hair, figure, curves (whenever you have them or not).

The messages: They want to say A LOT to you. Very prominent throat chakra. They really want to protect you, take care of you and your needs, again knight vibes. Classical provider. „Even if right now I cannot take care of you, I will, when it’s time and nurture you. You, my love, deserve the best and I have to make sure I can give you exactly that, nothing less.” It’s all or nothing for them. Even if they are away from you, it’s in order to create a safe environment for you. „For now, I’m in the shadows, waiting for you to call for me.” They are so devoted to you, they want to eliminate any danger in your life. „I just need you to choose me, my dear.” -> It’s almost like you have someone else in your mind right now. It’s your call who you will choose.

Pile 2. -> The Death

Your soulmate energy: Intense, captivating gaze. They are alone right now. I see them sitting by themselves by the water, calmly smirking (??? Idk, dude). But the big change is incoming - the water turns it’s color. Longing in their heart. I think when you finally come together (lol), you will quickly commit. And it’s gonna heal them, with you they will be given a whole package (the family for example).

Their love language: Snake. Teasing. They love pulling you close to the edge (both sexually and not) and than withdrawing, keeping you on your toes. Might be into begging (big on oral sex). They observe you VERY closely but you might not even notice to what extend. It’s like out of the blue they bring you some gift you always wanted, but never told them about. And you like „How did you know???” And they just *smirk*. And they are kinda controlling, but let me explain! They give you the space to make your own decisions, but it’s like they knew from the begging what you will chose. Cos they know you.

What they adore about you: Equally pulling forces. They love you both are able to keep up with the other’s pace. It’s not about what they adore ABOUT you, they simply love how you are inside (It wasn’t supposed to be that dirty lol) - I mean your SOUL. To them you are strong and stubborn and invincible in your ways of being. You have so many faces and they love them all. Im getting the feeling you both knew each other in the past lives (one tribe energy). And you legs - they find them hot for sure.

The messages: Sleeping beauty vibes. „I know you’re sleeping now, *insert nickname*, but I will get to you as soon as I can, I promise. And I will bring some nice gifts.” *Winking.* Very cheeky energy, very flirty. I feel they might be using some corny nicknames for you, first as a joke to poke you, but you will (secretly) learn to love them. „I’m on my way to you, you are my most important MISSION. Wait for me, trust this connection. Don’t stres about it, darling.” They love your face, to them you are unbelievably beautiful, kind of like a fairytale princess/prince.

Pile 3. -> The Magician

Your soulmate energy: Powerful. Determined. Sooo smug. „Rich boy” vibes. I feel like they grew up in a very wealthy environment, surrounded by people who sometimes were ready to fulfill their every need as a child without any questions. But even though everything is going great for them, they are seekers, constantly chasing after something. When they want something they go after it, they love to chase. They appear more put-together and serious to the outside world but you see their more chaotic and emotional, even mischievous side.

Their love language: Even in relationship they will still act as if they want to win you over, still putting in the effort. They are your biggest supporter, they see the sides of you you don’t like and put them into the light, turning them into art. In this relationship you will reach your full potential.

What they adore about you: Your intellect. And maybe your more rational side. It’s like you’re the only one that gives it to them straight. Your harsher words might turn them on. As a child they may have been coddled a lot and they love your honest approach, even if it can be rough. They like to bargain and negotiate with you, even about small things. Your fight might evolve into something more steamy… heh. I feel you might have a lot of inside jokes.

The messages: „You’re so special.” They love the feeling of being in love with you. Being alone with you brings them emotional fulfillment. „I see how you have become more indhpentd and I’m so proud with you. You’re my queen and I can’t wait to find this solitude and peace with you.” Even when you are fighting they feel at peace. And again - kinda SMUG. Maybe for some of you - this connection may have started as a hookup that led them to the need to win you over just for satisfaction of winning AND THEN they actually feel in love. There is no doubt in their mind that they want you, they will reach you and claim you. hEH.

Pile 4. -> The Moon

Your soulmate energy: Solitude. Mysterious. Rich spiritual world. They might get cold feet when they think about you (more literally than metaphorically lol). Your connection is guarded form above (Angel protectors squad). They are very patient and mature individuals. They are not very verbal about their emotions, but it’s not like they are neglecting them, they ale calmly staying by your side.

Their love language: No grand dramatic gestures of love, but you will find yourself in this warm and beautiful atmosphere created by them. They are great listeners, offering you support and showing their care through simple everyday actions. You will feel seen, never neglected or alone.

What they adore about you: A LOT. Words aren’t their strongest suit, but their love for you is true. They love your youthful, enthusiastic or a bit overconfident energy. Compared to them you seem as a big ball of sunshine. They love emotions and especially how you express them. The joyful part of you make them come out of their shell. They love your body, I think they are actually quite kinky lol. It’s like they seem reserved, maybe innocent, but then this demon comes out to play.

The messages: They want to take care of you, every day make sure you’re okay. If you will be apart they for sure will be texting you every second, checking up on you (gif and emojis). A little mermaid (without a voice!) „You are a completely new creature to me, but you’re my dream come true. I want to be a part of your world.” They leave their comfort zone for you, and even though it scares them, it’s SO worth it. Im getting that they have so many warm feelings about you, that it’s hard for them to put them into words.

#tarot #pick a card tarot #pick a card #love reading #tarot reading #tarot witch #pick a reading #love #pac reading #pac tarot #love messages #18+ content #18+ tarot #spotify #intuitive

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missnxthingg · 5 months

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I KNOW PLACES ✮ LN4

pairing: Lando Norris x gf!reader (secret dating & childhood best friends to lovers) summary: Lando Norris and (Y/N) just started their relationship after years being best friends, but they are afraid that making things public might ruin what they worked so hard to build (based on 'I Know Places' by Taylor Swift) words: 3.8K - warnings: a few swear words and pure fluff! author's notes: Back into the fanfiction world, this time stepping into my newest obsession: F1. I hope you enjoy this new era!

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You stand with your hand on the waistline. It's a scene and we're all here in plain sight. I can hear them whisper as we pass by. It's a bad sign.

(Y/N) didn't know what was happening to her body. Maybe it was the hot weather in Monaco for the race weekend, or the small amount of breakfast she had before leaving the house. But every inch of her being was tingling, and it felt weird being under her skin. Out of all the times she had ever stepped into a Formula One paddock, this was the first one she ever felt like she was about to faint. After all, everyone was onto to find out her little secret.

Lando Norris, her best friend since she was only four, was at the McLaren garage when she arrived with all of his other friends. He was just doing his job; talking to sponsors and being the sunshine boy he has always been, making a good impression on people that needed to be impressed by him. But the conversation between Zac Brown and one of his team’s investors was long forgotten when his eyes spotted (Y/N) in the middle of the crowd.

She was simply walking alongside Max and his girlfriend, Pietra, when their eyes crossed in the paddock. Lando cracked the biggest smile and fixed his eyes on hers for a second, only to get his attention called by Zac again. He was soon dragged into the conversation again, only to be dismissed a few seconds later. Then, he played a whole scene, worthy of a goodman Oscar film.

The wind was blowing on his hair as he paraded towards her in the paddock, his curls moving beautifully with the pace. His hands were resting on his waistline, one of them sneaking under his McLaren shirt. She always thought he looked beautiful in his work attired, but damn it, this time Lando looked flawless in them. He had a soft smile resting on his lips and he could feel the heart beating out of his chest, wanting to jump onto (Y/N) from the second he saw her. Yet, he played it cool for the entire walk towards her. Nobody could know about them.

At that point, it had been three months and a couple of weeks since Lando and (Y/N) had finally got together after years of unconditional love and pinning after the other. They had met at a very early age, when their fathers used to golf at the same field every Saturday morning, and had been best friends ever since. After a while, they just couldn’t deny that their friendship had become something else, after years of her coming to all of his races in karting, F3 and, later on, F1. After all the times he rooted for her in university and had taken care of her when things got too rough. They just couldn’t deny they were in love with each other.

But Lando’s experiences with public relationships hadn’t been exactly… pleasant. So they both agree, after much talk, to keep it a secret from everyone to not ruin anything between them. This was too precious, and delicate, to have the bad energy bring them down right at the beginning of things. And ever since then, they had been so good at doing so. Yet, his fans had caught that something had shifted in the long term friendship. So now, they had to be very, extremely, careful.

“Took you too long”, he commented, shrugging as he stood right in front of (Y/N).

“Max was really enjoying the courtesy breakfast from the hotel”, she smiled at him, looking at his face right through her lashes. Lando just couldn’t help it, thinking she looked too cute, and he wrapped his arms around her, face burying in the crook of her neck.

“I’m glad you’re here”, he kept his voice low, only for her to hear it.

“Always”, she sneaked a kiss on his cheek before he moved onto talking to Max and Pietra.

Lando has showed affection for (Y/N) so many times before, with the hugs and tiny kisses here and there, but everybody knew it was different this time. Maybe it was the long starings or how they’d linger longer on the hugs. Or maybe it was him wanting to be around her every second he could. But the gossip social media pages and the whispers were getting louder. (Y/N) noticed it when they walked towards the McLaren motorhome, one of his hands soft resting in the middle of her back.

“Did you see that?” One girl whispered to her friend as she passed by, but (Y/N) couldn’t listen to the reply. All the whispers were deafening, and she wanted to scream. They weren’t a good sign.

Something happens when everybody finds out. See the vultures circling, dark clouds. Love’s a fragile little flame, it could burn out.

When Lando finally closed the doors to his driver room, (Y/N) felt the weight being lifted from her shoulders. She audibly sighed, and her boyfriend looked at her in worry. For a second, they looked at each other and laughed at their situation. They were damned.

“They are 100% onto us”, (Y/N) whined and Lando agreed with a nod, before pulling his girl for a hug. “Shit, we were doing so great with the hiding. I thought it was really going to last”.

“My fans should be hired as private investigators, I swear to God”, he joked before pulling her face up for a kiss. “Didn’t get a good morning one when I woke up”.

“Well, I can’t help it if you’re an early bird”, she giggled, leaving countless small pecks on his lips again. “I was tired from last night”.

“I finish you off just good, didn’t I?” He cheekily smirked before turning to his closet, pulling the fireproof undergarments he was required to wear before the suit.

“I didn’t need to know that”, Max commented as he opened the door and quickly was scoffed by Lando.

“Didn’t invite you to the conversation, mate. Get the fuck off my room!” Lando joked, but Max still found his spot on the couch. Pietra came in a few seconds later, settling close to (Y/N) just so they could laugh at the boys.

“We came in to say good luck on the race”, Pietra said, pulling Lando for a quick hug. “We know we’re late and that you need a moment with our girl. But just wanted to wish you the best”.

“She came to wish you the best. I came for the A/C”, Max joked, closing his eyes with the nice temperature of the room. Lando threw a cushion at him, making everyone laugh. Their brotherhood was the best. “But you know, we’ll be rooting for you and shit”.

“I know, mate”, Lando held his hand out to Max, who got up with his friends help. Even though they banter all the time, the boys hugged and smiled with their interaction. Just like (Y/N), Max had been there for Lando for as long as he could remember.

“We’ll let you alone with your lucky charm”, Max winked at (Y/N), who smiled widely at him.

They had barely closed the door when Lando attacked his girlfriend’s lips once again. (Y/N) was taken by surprise when she got lifted off the floor once again, but quickly melted into the kiss, slowing the speed down just to the soft pace that she liked.

“Easy there”, she said against his lips.

“My lucky charm”, he said back, not stopping the kiss for a single second. “Gonna make me get a podium just by being here. I got pole yesterday just because of you”.

“That’s what I’m talking about”, she smiled, breaking the kiss apart to speed him up. “Come on, you need to get dressed”.

“Wanna see me naked that badly?”, he joked, taking off his shirt to start changing into his race attired.

“I don’t need that. I already saw it last night”, she winked and Lando melted, bursting into laughing.

“I love you because we have the same sense of humour”, he took off his trousers, giving his girlfriend the view he knew she wanted to see.

“Well, but it’s never a bad sight to see”, (Y/N) smiled. Behind closed doors, it was so easy for them to be a couple. Her heart felt safe and it was like no one in the world could harm them. But anxiety always gets the best of her. One moment she was laughing and joking, and the other she was on the verge of hyperventilation.

Lando noticed it, though. “What’s wrong with you?”, he sat next to her, only wearing his underwear, when he saw the quick change of humour on his girl. From the very first moment he laid her eyes on her in the paddock, he could sense she was off.

“I love you so much, you know?” (Y/N) let a tear fall down for relief, and Lando quickly wiped it off with his thumb. “I don’t want them to ruin what we have”.

“They won’t ruin this, I promise you”, he pressed a long kiss to her cheekbone and she spilled a few more salty tear, they met his lips in seconds. “You’re safe inside my heart”.

“I can just see them ruining this for us, you know? The public”, she admitted. “The whispers and the blurry distanced images on social media. The comments.”

“I told you not to read the comments, baby”, Lando shook his head in disapproval and (Y/N) shrugged. “My love, this thing between us has been here for years. If everybody finds out, I will do everything that I can to protect you and what we have, okay? Don’t worry about it”.

“Okay”, she replied, hugging him once again. “I love you, Lan”.

“I love you too. So much”, he admitted, kissing the crown of her head.

Cause they got the cages, they got the boxes and guns. They are the hunters, we are the foxes. And we run.

Before he went on to continue with his pre-race routine, Lando stayed in his room for a while longer, just letting his girlfriend hold him for a little while. He was fucking terrified of the Monaco Grand Prix, specially because the race was very tricky; a driver against track kind of race. So having his girl alongside him calmed his heart. He had pole position. He was going to make it all worth it.

“Remember that I’m always with you”, she kissed him again before they got out of the room.

All Lando wanted to do was hold her hand until he was required to be inside his car, but since their situation was delicate and everyone already thought they were together, he just couldn’t risk it. So he held her hand for as long as he could, but had to let it go by the time they got close to the sea of photographers, all waiting for the pilots. (Y/N) stayed behind, ready to meet Max and Pietra to watch the race from the hospitality. He got one last look at her, who waved at him, giving a shot of confidence to his body. He could do it. And most importantly, he was going to give everything to bring this win to his girl.

Max quickly found (Y/N) lost between the crowd and pulled her to sit with all of Lando’s friends. The race was about to start, and the cars would be out at any second now. And yet, all she could think of was a group of people, sitting right behind her, and whispering while staring at her back. Annoyed, she turned around and squinted her eyes at them, making the group shut up. They were one hundred percent talking about Lando and her; it was visible because of the way they stared at her wrist, with one of his bracelets shinning brightly for the whole world to see. She brought it up to her hand, holding the number 4 charm between her fingers. It would be fine.

“I know why you’re like this for the entire morning”, Max whispered close to her ear. “Don’t worry about people. He loves you so much. Nothing bad is going to happen”.

“Yeah, I know that”, she nodded at him. “I love him so much too”.

(Y/N) let go of the bracelet, only to hold Max’s hands. They had been best friends too for the longest time. So after Lando, he was the one who provided her so much comfort and safety. Pietra did too, so it was nice when she left her post next to her boyfriend to hug (Y/N).

Baby, I know places we won’t be found. And they’ll be chasing their tails trying to track us down. Cause I know places we can hide.

Lando wasn’t a great fan of alcohol, but the taste of champagne on his lips after finishing P2 in Monaco felt so good. A weight taken off his shoulders to have finished on the podium. It wasn’t a win, but it was definitely the best result he had in his mind. “I’m just glad I finished the race”, he thought.

Staring down the podium, he found his girlfriend standing so excitedly for him, jumping up and down with the result. And as if it was possible, his smile widened at the sight and he shook the bottle to splash just enough to reach her downstairs. He was so happy. Genuinely happy, on top of the world, and no one was going to bring him down.

The post race interviews were taking too long for him, who desperately wanted to celebrate with his team, his friends and (Y/N). But when his PR team finally called him back to the garage, he went rushing to see the people he adored the most. He hugged a few people from his team as he arrived, and Max was the first friend he found and shared a long hug. From over his bestie’s shoulders, he spotted (Y/N) standing behind, with proud tears brimming her eyes and a big smile painted on her face. Lando immediately let go off Max and pulled his girlfriend just to hold her for a few seconds.

They could hear the cameras clicking around them and the people calling Lando, but he was in a trance. When (Y/N) was there, it was like the entire world didn’t exist. He was P2 in Monaco; the race that stresses him out so much from the very early moments of his career. And his girlfriend, the person he loved the most in the world since he was a little kid, was there to celebrate it with him. Life couldn’t get any better.

“My boy”, she whispered in his ear, her mouth very well hidden between them so no one could read her lips. “I’m so proud of you. I love you so much”.

“Thank you for being here. I love you more, baby”, his lips were also hidden, and it pained him that he just couldn’t openly say those words to her. “I can’t wait to kiss you, oh my God. I’m going insane”.

“Just a few more minutes”, she held his face between her hands and pressed a kiss to his cheek before giving space for other friends to talk to him.

Zac Brown took the longest time with Lando, giving him the post race pep talk he always needed. And by the end of it, at the rush of the moment, he admitted his new relationship to his boss, who laughed at the admission.

“I knew you were head over heels for this girl”, Zac said, giving Lando a few taps on the shoulder.

“We’re just keeping it a secret, between the closest friends, so nobody can ruin it”, Lando added to his confession. “But, yeah, (Y/N) is my dream girl and you know me. Can’t keep shit from anyone. I just wanted you to know”.

“Go celebrate it with her! You still have a few hours until we fly to Spain for the next race. Take her somewhere nice”.

“Where? This whole city is crowded with paparazzi and cameras. I just can’t risk it, Zac”.

“I know a place you can take her”.

Lights flash and we’ll run for the fences. Let them say what they want, we won’t hear it. Loose lips sink ships all the damn time. Not this time.

His driver room was getting too small to fit his love for (Y/N), and Lando felt like those four walls would eventually burst from the flames of his heart. He was getting irritated by having to hide it from everyone. But having her holding him and pressing delicate kisses to his face made him feel like everything was going to be just fine.

“I want to go out to celebrate it with you. Properly, as boyfriend and girlfriend”.

“Very funny, Lan”, she crossed her arms and he arched his brows at her attitude. “If you can magically find a public place, we can just be boyfriend and girlfriend without the prying eyes, I’ll gladly let you take me there”.

“Lucky for you, I have the best boss in the world.”

The paddock was absolute mayhem after the race, specially the bridge that connects it to the marina, where all the boats were anchored for the weekend. Lando tried to be subtle with (Y/N), not holding her hand as they walked in public, but after almost losing her among the people and the cameras flashing on his eyes. With much effort, he found her hands and laced them together, just so they wouldn’t get lost.

“Lando, what are you doing? People will see us”.

“Let them say what they want. I don’t fucking care”, he tightened his hold on her hand and dragged her to the marina. There were a lot of parties happening around the docks, with people enjoying their time post race to get drunk with other millionaires, who travelled all the way to Monaco for the luxury of the weekend. (Y/N) was actually very confused with where they were going.

“Why are we here?” She frowned, but he ignored, too busy looking for Zac around the place. His boss was waiting next to the boat, talking to the people who take care of his boat. A smile flashed on Lando’s face when he saw that everything was already arranged perfectly for him.

“Lando! (Y/N)! It’s all nice and ready for you”, Zac smiled at the girl, taking her hand to shake. “I talked to the commander, they are going to take you to a private place and I made sure they had a nice dinner prepped for you two, okay?”

“You’re the best, Zac. Thank you so much”, Lando hugged his boss and then let it go to help his girlfriend get into the boat. “And please delay my flight for another day, boss!”

“I’ll try my best, kid”

Lando and (Y/N) hid inside the boat while it shipped away from the shore. They were served with champagne as they waited for their getaway. Their boat was very tiny compared to the other ones that were anchored for the race weekend, but it was enough for a couple getaway for the night. Zac probably paid the team to keep their mouth shut and, that way, they could enjoy being together outside his flat for once.

“Okay, this is perfect”, she giggled, pressing a kiss to Lando’s collarbone, exposed by his button-up shirt. “God, today was so stressful for me. I’m actually tired”.

“Oh, me too”, he giggled. “I mean, I’m getting tired of all the hiding. Kind of want to go around screaming that I have the best girl in the world as my girlfriend”.

“Lando, we talked about this”. (Y/N) was afraid of the response she would get once they were public. If there’s someone who was going to suffer the consequences, it would be her. She would have to deal with the comments and the bad shit from the internet; not him.

“Loose lips sink ships”, he quoted the words his girlfriend said a few weeks before. “Not this time, okay? I won’t let people do this to you”.

Just grab my hand and don't ever drop it, my love. They are the hunters, we are the foxes. And we run.

Enjoying this night with each other had been a dream come true. The peace, the quietness and the privacy from the ocean was everything they need. Somehow it gave them hopes that, even though it was hard, everything was going to be alright. After having dinner, prepared by the boat’s chef, they decided to enjoy some alone time out on the boat.

Lando took some amazing pictures of (Y/N) on the boat and they had a really fun time doing a small photoshoot. They pushed each other playfully and threw compliments that easily heated up each other’s cheeks. Not to mention the funny faces she did for the camera, making him think he couldn’t love her more. She was it for him.

“I hate being a broken record, but I do think your fans are on the verge of finding out about us”, (Y/N) broke the silence between them, that was filled by soft music they put on for their small photoshoot. “I mean, right now, I can just see their miraculous minds creating theories of why we left holding hands today. Or why did you linger longer while hugging me after the race”.

“Do you trust me?” Lando put his hand out for her and she laced their fingers together, as a silent ‘yes’ for her boyfriend. “You need to stop thinking that going public is an absolute nightmare scenario, alright?”

“I’m overreacting, aren’t I?”, she scrunched her nose and sighed. “I know. It’s just, I don’t know how you deal with the fame. It feels like we’re foxes and they are hunters, trying to catch us all the damn time”.

“Then we’ll keep running from them for as long as we need to”, Lando promised, pulling her closer to hug her.

(Y/N) took a moment to admire her boyfriend’s beauty. Her head resting on his shoulder and fingers trying to touch every inch of the skin of his face. “I’m so lucky to have you, Lan. It makes me feel so stupid that I waited too long to say that I loved you for the first time”.

“Well, I’m the luckiest too”, he said with the most beautiful smile on his face. “Without your endless support, and the love you sent me all day, I wouldn’t have performed so well today. Or any other day in my career. It doesn’t matter if you only get to kiss me now. You’ve been the most amazing person in my life for years now. I’m so glad I have you, (Y/N)”.

“I promise we don’t have to keep this a secrecy for much longer, okay?”, she rubbed circles on his cheekbone and looked between his eyes.

“We’ll run for as long as you need us to. And when you’re ready, the whole world will know how much I love you. I swear to God, I’ll buy thousands of drones to write a message in the sky just so everyone can know how much I love you”, he joked, making (Y/N). “But while you’re not ready, I know places we can hide”.

Baby, I know places we won’t be found. And they’ll be chasing their tails trying to track us down. Cause I know places we can hide. I know places…

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

⤿ add yourself to the taglist!

author's note: I don't have a taglist for F1 yet, so feel free to add yourself for future work! Hope to see you around soon. Come chat with me about the teams, I promise I'm nobody's hater on the grid.

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erinfern0 · 7 months

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simon "ghost" riley — nsfw headcanons

— gender-neutral nicknames, gender-neutral anatomy, only pronouns used are you, etc.

simon who can't stop himself from making sounds, burying his face in your neck to at least try to do that. soft moans and groans with each thrust, praises falling from his lips every few seconds.

simon who loves to hear your gasps and moans, hating when you try to stay quiet. always encourages you to keep going, to be louder.

simon who hates when you think too much about the way your body looks, how it folds in certain places. he'll praise those parts the most, lingering his fingers over them and kiss them until you forget about any insecurities.

simon who is just obsessed with kissing you. your cheeks, forehead, nose. those innocent little pecks are his second favorite. the absolute winner is obviously your lips, slowly moving against his.

simon who loves to see the mess you two are creating, watching how your combined slick sticks to his hairy thighs.

simon who bites into your shoulder when he's getting close, not too hard. just enough to leave a mark and help him collect his thoughts, keeping the amazing pace of his hips rolling against yours.

simon who adores watching you touch yourself. loves the way you spread your legs and let him watch, especially if you want him to guide you.

simon who chuckles when he gets overstimulated. sometimes he just breaks in the middle of speeding up his thrusts, eyes closed and hazed as he chuckles, too sexdrunk to form sentences.

simon who prefers getting handjobs over blowjobs. he just loves the intimacy of it and how he can hear you talk him through it. is obsessed if you just fondle the tip, the sounds of his precum filling the room.

simon who finds some sort of comfort if you don't shave. seeing your body hair or caressing it with his palms helps him to calm down.

simon who loves casual intimacy that doesn't exactly lead to sex. playing with your nipples while you two are watching a movie or slipping his hand under your shorts while you're washing the dishes.

simon who loves sex in the morning, especially when he has to wake up sooner than you. just the tiniest shifting of him trying to get up makes you wake up too, he apologizes with the sweetest words and starts kissing your neck. after you two are done, he cleans you up and allows you to go back to sleep before he leaves to take a shower.

simon who gets too overwhelmed sometimes. especially if you're together for a long time, he finds himself rambling in your aftercare time, sometimes a few tears will build up in the corners of his eyes while he tells you how good you've been to him. he's just so lucky to have you, so happy.

simon who loves aftercare in general and finds it extremely important. especially if you went through a rougher session. makes sure you're not too sore or you don't regret anything. water and snacks are his favorite part, just eating and enjoying each other's company.

simon who is too touch-starved after he's back from deployment. the first time you have sex when he's back he cums so fast he's almost ashamed of it. you just make him feel too good. after he calms down he makes up for all the time you two lost.

simon who loves the intimacy and vulnerability of giving you head. he gets so lost in your taste and the way you squeeze your thighs around his head.

simon who loves the marks you leave on him, especially when they're somewhere hidden. adores the sting of your nails digging into his forearms or thighs.

simon who loves to involve your inside jokes in dirty talk. he can't explain it but it just makes the whole thing more personal, a special moment between two lovers

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vbecker10 · 3 months

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Loki's Silent Sentry (Part 1)

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 ( Part 6 in progress)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You are not just a soldier in Asgard's Royal Army, you are Lieutenant Y/L/N, Prince Loki's personal guard, his sentry and you are not supposed to fall in love with him. If you followed your training properly, you should never have even spoken to him. As a sentry, you are expected to remain silent and invisible as you shadow your appointed member of the royal family or member of the court protectively throughout their daily tasks.

Rumors (that happen to be true) begin to circulate through the palace that you serve the younger prince of Asgard both outside and inside his chambers. There is little you can do once word of your off duty activities spread through every maid, cook, gardener and seamstress in the palace. You soon find even the soldiers in your own company are now questioning how exactly you had come to earn your seemingly quick rise to lieutenant.

As the annual Winter Solstice Ball approaches, you come to the heartbreaking realization that your relationship with Loki must come to an end if you are both to fulfill your duties.

Warnings: Angst, arguing, Thor being an absolute ass, Odin being a terrible father

A/N: I did some googling quickly for military terms and ranks (since I have no previous knowledge of them) as well as some basic information about the royal guards in England. I took some of what I found interesting and then made up most of the rest to fit what I needed for my story so there will be some similarities. Also... I haven't written anything in like a year (maybe longer) so be nice please 💚💚

You stand at constant attention in silence outside of Prince Loki's private office. You listen to the birds singing through the open window across the hall from where you are posted and wonder how long you could go without making a sound. You have been trained by the Royal Army for years to remain silent, vigilant, always listening and watching your surroundings for anything dangerous or out of the ordinary. You are always on guard, ready to protect Prince Loki should the need arise. Not that someone with his fighting skills or magic would need protection from a simple soldier like you. You were assigned this post purely because it was customary for each member of the royal family to have a sentry, whether they actually need one or not.

Your attention is drawn to the sound of footsteps approaching from your left. You are unable to determine how many people are coming but judging by their pace and heavy boots, they are most likely all soldiers. Commandant Thorn, the soldier in charge of your company, makes his way down the hall at a steady pace. He is followed by your captain, Captain Skye who is holding a leather bound book containing the names of all the sentries and their current posts. Trailing the two older men, are four low ranking soldiers you can't remember the names of.

The group of soldiers comes to a stop in front of you and your fellow guard and you both salute your commanding officers. "Lieutenant Y/L/N," Captain Skye says, opening his book for a moment. He closes it and looks up at you, "Prince Loki will of course be attending the Winter Solstice Ball. You will be required to escort him to the ballroom and remain on guard there until he dismisses you for the evening."

You nod in response, carefully hiding the heavy emotions you have surrounding the upcoming ball. The soldiers move on and you are left alone with the other guard again. She says nothing to you and even if you were allowed to speak, you know Sergeant Sands wouldn't talk to you. She is not your friend, none of the members of the Royal Guard are your friends. It wasn't always this way though, it is only since you were promoted to the rank of lieutenant that the guards you work with began to distance themselves from you.

You had been assigned to Prince Loki for three months when you were promoted from sergeant to lieutenant. Your fellow soldiers immediately assumed the young prince had a hand in it as he did little to hide how he favored you over the other guards who were previously assigned to him. The rumors about you spending the night in Loki's chamber instead of guarding it flowed through the palace soon after. You adamantly denied these rumors and any favoritism from the prince but it was a wasted effort. It also happened that the rumors were true to a point.

The door to Loki's office opens and you stand at attention as the court accountant exits, holding several rolls of paper and mumbling to himself. Sargeant Sands follows him without any orders needed, she is his sentry and will go where he goes. As she walks past by, she glances at you with what can only be described as a look of disgust. You look down at your boots, fully aware of what she is thinking.

You wait quietly for Loki to open the door again but you know him, he will want to read through all of his notes from today before he finalizes his meeting schedule for tomorrow. You have roughly half an hour until he will be done, half an hour to stand here and think about the dreaded Winter Solstice Ball.

Another half an hour later, as expected, Loki opens the door and walks out. Waving his hand towards the door, he uses his magic to seal the room. He smiles warmly at you and you smile back at him for the first time today. This was your favorite part, the part where the sun goes down and Loki frees you from your constant silence.

He touches your cheek softly and leans in to kiss you. You kiss him back but pull away quickly as you hear footsteps approaching. You step away from Loki and stand at attention as Prince Thor comes around a corner. You keep your eyes straight ahead but you can feel Loki stiffening next to you, he and his brother get along much better when they are at court than they do in private.

The brothers greet each other politely and you silently wish the older prince would simply continue on his way but it doesn't seem likely. Your attention shifts to the window across the hall from you again, you can just barely glimpse the sunset over the tall evergreen trees in the distance. You know Loki will tell you if he and Thor discuss anything interesting so there is no need for you to listen to their conversation. The two of them continue for several long minutes before you realize Thor has said something to you.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N?" Thor says and you shake your head as you shift your focus.

"I'm sorry your highness, I was unaware you were speaking to me," you apologize. He had never spoken to you before and you were unsure why he would start now. Loki folds his arms across his chest and you feel uneasy at how annoyed he seems.

Thor laughs which does nothing to make you feel better. "I was wondering what it was about you that made you my brother's favorite," he says. "You must truly be special, a sentry's post typically only lasts three months, perhaps six at the most. You have been with Loki for how long now?"

You think for a moment before replying. You had been assigned to Loki for only a month before he first spoke to you and you had quickly become close friends. Three months after becoming friends with the prince, you slowly became more until you were completely in love with him.

"Fourteen months," you answer him in as few words as possible.

Thor looks at his younger brother with a smirk, "Fourteen?" Loki remains silent and you can tell his older brother is not even close to letting you leave soon. He turns his attention to you again, "So is it true then?"

"Is what true your highness?" you ask quietly.

"That you follow my brother's orders when you are wearing your armor and when you are not?" he laughs and his sentry smiles then looks towards the ground. "I could use a sentry like that, I grow tired of being followed by these shadows."

Loki's fist clenches but he answers Thor calmly. "Maybe if you learned your sentries name and weren't so insufferable to be around, they would remain at your service for longer than a month at a time," Loki says. "And you are the last person I would expect to listen to palace rumors. According to the most recent ones I've heard, you've slept with nearly half of the kitchen staff this month alone."

Thor smiles, proud of himself. You and Loki realize the stories you had overheard were true, if not understated. He explains, "That is why I assume the rumors of you and your little pet are true as well."

You find yourself in that brief moment wishing Loki would confirm everyone's suspensions. Not necessarily that you were sleeping together, that you were in love and wanted to be together. You know wishing for this is as useful as wishing it would rain gold. Once again you remind yourself that this is the way it will always be, until he marries a woman of high status and you are forgotten.

Instead of responding, Loki turns from his brother and walks down the hall towards the stairwell that leads to the royal family's chambers. You follow him silently, staying a few steps behind as always.

"Come now brother, I was merely joking," Thor calls from behind you but neither of you stop walking.

The two of you continue on in silence until you reach the top of the stairs and Loki's pace slows so he is walking next to you. His hand finds yours, his thumb gently stroking your knuckles. As soon as you feel his touch, you begin to relax.

"I'm sorry about my brother," he says quietly.

"His behavior isn't your fault," you reply. "And he is far from the first person to corner me about our relationship. I am used to denying the truth."

He stops, causing you to turn back towards him, your hand still holding his. He then takes a few small steps, closing the distance between you. Loki touches your cheek gently with his other hand. "I'm sorry Y/N," he tells you again. "I wish we didn't have to hide but you know there are some rules even I cannot break so openly. Maybe I should have hid my favoritism towards you better but I couldn't bear to have you reassigned. You mean too much to me."

You smile, "So I am your favorite sentry?"

He lets out a laugh, "You are my favorite person in the nine realms." You giggle at his answer and his fingers trail down your cheek until his thumb gently runs across your lips. He leans down to kiss you but just as his lips touch yours, you feel your heart jumps in your chest.

You hear several sets of footsteps and separate yourself from Loki in an instant. He looks down the hall as his mother, two of her maids and one guard come into view. She smiles brightly at both of you as she comes closer and you bow to the queen in respect. You find it hard to miss the side eye from her sentry or the whispers shared between her maids. Loki gives his mother a hug and wishes her a goodnight. She tells him to have a goodnight as well and continues on her way.

You and Loki walk off in the opposite direction towards his chambers and once you are alone again, Loki moves to take your hand but you flinch away. He looks hurt by your momentary rejection but he doesn't say anything. He knows how nervous you are about being seen touching him or speaking to him. You round the next corner and are flooded with relief as Loki's door finally comes into view. You fight the urge to smile, holding onto your composure as you've been trained.

Loki opens the door and steps inside, you follow him as you always do and he closes the door. He flicks his wrists towards you without a word and the heavy armor you wear over your clothing instantly settles itself neatly into a large chest. You take a few deep breaths, feeling as if most of the weight you have been carrying leaves you, but not all.

"Thank you your highness," you say out of habit.

"Please, never call me that in here," he reminds you gently. "In here I'm not a prince, I'm just Loki." He walks towards you and you don't realize you are moving away from him until your back hits the door and his body comes flush to yours. One hand settles on your hip while his other hand lifts your chin, causing you to look up at him. He continues, "And you are not Lieutenant Y/L/N, you are Y/N. The woman I am so deeply in love with." He smiles and you can't help but smile back at his words. All your worries vanish the instant his lips meet yours.

You lay in Loki's arms watching the sunlight fill his room through the sheer curtains. You try to memorize the sound of his slow, steady breathing and the feel of his heart beat against your back as he holds you even in his sleep. You inhale deeply and focus on deciphering every herb and oil Loki uses to keep his hair soft. Closing your eyes, you use your senses to bring an image of Loki's face into your mind and try to hold it there.

"What are you thinking about my love?" he asks in a sleepy voice. You open your eyes and shift closer to him, pulling his arms tighter around your body. "Y/N, what's wrong?" he asks, now much more awake.

You swallow hard, trying to find the words. You had been thinking about what you needed to do most of the night but now that it was time, you weren't sure you would be able to do it.

"I've told you, you can speak freely here," he says softly, urging you gently as always to speak your mind when you were with him. His fingers move slowly up and down your arm as he tries to comfort you without knowing what is causing your distress.

"I need to transfer to a new post," you tell him. You hear him inhale sharply as his fingers suddenly go still.

You stand outside Loki's office with Thor's new guard and two others in silence waiting for a very long meeting to conclude. You stifle a yawn and shift uncomfortably on your feet before regaining your composure. The tall guard standing across from you rolls his eyes while the woman next to him mumbles something that can only be about you.

It has been two days since you told Loki you wanted to transfer and you hadn't heard anything from your commanding officer. In the meantime, you decided to go back to sleeping in your assigned room at the soldiers quarters. You had forgotten how much you hated it there. The common areas are loud and there is little privacy, everyone is in everyone else's business. You barely leave your room, which is a surprise to no one. They wouldn't speak to you even if you did. You live in a world of utter silence surrounded by never ending noise.

You feel as if you are shattering from the inside out and you try to remind yourself that it needs to be this way. The two of you hid in his chambers as if it protected your relationship but it could never be real. How could it be when he could barely acknowledge your presence when in public. He is a prince and you are a soldier as were your parents, you were not high born. Loki is destined to marry the daughter of a council member and you will guard them and their children.

The door to Loki's office opens, you and the three guards stand at attention. Prince Thor walks out first, followed by two council members. They walk off in different directions, shadowed closely by their sentries but you remain, as always, at Loki's door.

You stare at the wall in front of you for what feels like eternity. Your mind wanders between your favorite memories from your brief time with Loki and the crushing weight of your current reality. You stand up straighter when you hear the door swing open and Loki steps out.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," he says, "I need to speak with you."

You nod and follow him into his office, closing the door behind you. You stand motionless, taking in his office and how much it feels like him. The dark wood bookshelves crowded with leather bound books, the chair pulled close to the window so he can see the garden below when drinking his afternoon tea, the green and gold accents on various pieces of furniture.

You sigh to yourself as you follow him to his desk. He takes a seat and you stand across from him with your arms behind your back, waiting for him to speak first.

"Y/N," he says informally but you don't relax. "Your transfer to a new post was not approved."

"Can I ask why your highness?" you keep the formalities as you've been trained.

"The Winter Solstice Ball is in less then a week," he answers as if you could forget. "The Royal Guard seems to be too busy tightening security and preparing for everyone's arrival to complete your paper work at this time."

"Understood, your highness," you say. "I should return to my post." You turn to head back outside of his office.

"Wait," he calls and you freeze just before you reach the door. You hear him get up from his seat and walk around the desk. "Please stay, talk to me Y/N. I miss you so much it hurts."

"I can't," you say almost in a whisper

He touches your arm and you turn to face him, seeing the pain in his eyes. "I miss the way your laughter filled my chambers. I miss hearing you hum to yourself when you think I can't hear you. I miss the sound of your voice and how easy it is to talk to you," he says and you force down a smile and the urge to hold him tightly.

"I can't bear to be without you," he tells you and you want to tell him you can't be apart from him either but you remain silent for fear you'll lose your resolve completely. He strokes your cheek gently and you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. "I love you," he says.

"I love you too," you tell him, seeing a spark of hope light his eyes. You shake your head and take a step away from him, "But I can't do this. I'm sorry." Before he can say anything else you tell him, "It will only hurt more the longer we wait to end this."

"We don't have to end this, now or ever," he insists as he steps towards you. "I promise I will find a way for you to be mine, not just when we are hidden away, but always. You believe me, don't you?"

"I want to," you tell him truthfully. Loki had promised several times to find a way to marry you but you thought it was false hope. "But this isn't a fairytale my prince, we don't always get a happy ending."

You want to disappear into the marble floor, to be sucked into the wall behind you or simply vanish into thin air but you can't. Instead, you must stand perfectly still and silent as you watch the dancing and merriment around you. You momentarily wish you would go back to a time when you didn't feel an ache in your chest at the mere thought of another woman being in Prince Loki's arms. Shaking your head just slightly, you chase away the thought. As much as this hurts, you will always cherish the limited time you shared with him.

The music changes tempo as the first of seven courses comes to an end. Couples begin to take to the open floor in the center of the ballroom. Prince Thor and Prince Loki make their way to the group of single, eligible women awaiting them, each at a different pace. The older prince seems to now exactly which woman he would like to spend time with first. He offers his arm to her and declares her the most beautiful woman at the ball, causing her to blush and giggle. The younger prince takes his time walking to the crowd and simply takes the hand of the closest woman without so much as glancing at her. His lack of interest does little to dampen her excitement however.

The dozen or so women who were not chosen move away from the dance area and you have to hold back a groan as they gather directly in front of you to wait for a chance with one of the princes. You can't help but listen to them discuss which prince they think is better looking or who they would prefer picked them. The first song ends and the two princes each select another dance partner. Again, Prince Thor takes little time deciding who he wants while Prince Loki simply offers his hand to the first woman he sees. You can practically hear him sigh as she holds his arm and walks quickly to the dance floor.

As the second song begins, one of the women briefly looks at you over her shoulder before motioning towards you to her friends. Your ears go red with embarrassment as she tells them the rumors of your past relationship with Loki just loud enough that she knows you will hear. Of course she gets the ending wrong. She assumes, like everyone else, that the prince grew tired of you and banished you from his bed chambers. You had to admit, it seemed a far more likely story than the truth.

You shift your attention to the ceiling for a moment, hoping that counting the candles in the chandeliers will distract you from their stares and comments. You only count to twenty seven before the sound of a glass shattering draws your gaze back to the guests. A council member laughs loudly, clearly drunk already, as a servant cleans the wine glass from the dance floor.

Your eyes scan the room and easily find Loki at the center of the crowd, a third woman in his arms. Your drawn to his face, studying his features. He smiles at the woman as he twirls her and she giggles but she doesn't know him like you do. She doesn't know that's the smile he uses at court, not the smile he shows you. Showed you, you correct yourself. He glances away, not holding eye contact with her as they move effortlessly across the dance floor.

After the final course is served, the dance floor fills for the last time and you sigh with relief that the night is almost over. You shift on your feet, looking down for a moment when the chatter of the women in front of you begins again. Why must they stand here to wait, you think to yourself.

The princes once again make their way to their potential dance partners and Thor makes his pick quickly. Loki stands in front of the women for a moment and your eyes lock with his as he looks between them.

"Pardon me," he says politely to the crowd as he moves forward, slipping past the confused women. He makes his way towards you and your breath catches in your throat. He stands in front of you and holds out his hand. You look at him, stunned by his actions. He smiles when you don't move, "Will you dance with me, my love?" Still you remain silent, looking past Loki to see how much attention his actions have drawn. "Don't look at them," he says, touching your cheek softly as you look at him again.

You steady your nerves and place your hand in his. The moment his fingers close around yours, you are surrounded by a light cloud of green, shimmery smoke. When Loki's magic fades, you are wearing a flowing emerald green gown with golden trim, perfectly matching his dress uniform. Your hair has been restyled to hold a small gold tiara with short horns, mirroring the helmet he had worn during his entrance.

"Gods, you look gorgeous in my colors," he says with a wide smile, causing you to blush. "To be fair, you are always beautiful but now it is clear to everyone here that you are mine." You feel as if your heart might burst when he calls you his, he had said it before but only when you were hidden away.

Loki keeps his fingers interlaced with yours as he leads you to the dance floor, straight through the group of now very angry women. Some cross their arms, others give you dirty looks and several make rude comments as you pass. You pause before stepping onto the dance floor, the chatter and stares coming from the guests near you holding you back. He senses your hesitation and leans down to place a kiss gently on your cheek.

Your mind can barely begin to process what is happening as he takes you straight to the middle of the dance floor. He places one hand on your hip and you place your hand on his shoulder as you had done so many times over the last few months. You and Loki shared several secret dances in his chambers and his office, he found it difficult to listen to music sitting still.

He holds you close, his eyes never leaving yours while you dance between the other guests. You focus on how amazing it feels to be back in his arms, ignoring the strange looks and whispers that surround you. He twirls you gracefully and you spin back into him, giggling as you final feel at ease. As the song draws to a close, Loki spins you one final time. When he pulls you back to him, he leans down slightly and your lips meet his.

You smile up at him, hoping this isn't a dream when you see his mother approaching you. You take a step away from Loki but he keeps his hand on your waist, not letting you go too far. You bow to the queen and she says, "I think it is my turn to dance with my son."

You nod quickly in agreement and Loki let's go of you, his magic fading instantly as your armor reappears. You walk through the crowd with your head down and return to your post, once again wishing you were invisible. The women watch you, gossiping wildly as you pass again. You can only imagine what they are saying but they are not your biggest concern at the moment.

Anxiously, you watch Queen Frigga and her son move across the dance floor. You can't hear what they are saying of course, but you can tell by her expression that there will be consequences for his actions. As the song ends you see your captain approach you and your stomach drops. Loki will not be the only one to be punished for choosing you.

"The king had summoned you to the throne room," he says in a stern voice. You nod in acknowledgement and when you look back towards the dance floor, Loki and his mother are gone.

I'm almost done with the second part so please let me know if you would like to be tagged! I hope you liked it and if you did, please like, share and comment 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @theaudacitytowrite @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 2 months

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me: i'd like a little chaggie angst in my life.

me: nothing major. no blood or screaming or anything like that.

me: maybe something that could slot into canon without much trouble? something quiet. something sad. a small gut punch, is what im after

my brain: On in boss! Give me a sec.

my brain: .....

my brain: Okay how about this- Charlie was so hyped and determined to have Vaggie come with for the heaven trip not just bc they're partners, but also because- Charlie was gonna propose.

me: .... why would she propose? and in heaven? aside from it just being a nicer less gory place in general, i mean

my brain: Well Charlie was super excited about the trip, right? She thought there was a good chance they'd win their case, confirm Angel Dust's path to redemption, show their hotel could work, and prove the exterminations aren't needed and should stop. That's HUGE! That's her and Vaggie's current life goal getting checked off- and if they can stick together through making a hotel for redeeming sinners work, then marriage is kinda just yelling that for everyone to hear.

me: wouldn't charlie be freaked out by marriage tho. her parents are separated, and her family fell apart for while afterwards. she's only just started picking up the pieces with vaggie

my brain: EXACTLY!!! Vaggie got her talking with her dad, talking with him got him kinda onboard with the save sinners plan- the plan Charlie is trying to make her mom proud with! So her mom and dad aren't together, but they're least on the same page now! As far as Charlie knows anyway. Meaning them being married had REASONS behind it, reasons that haven't gone away even after they separated- so it's not like them being married to each other was for nothing or a mistake. It was good! It can still end good! And having Vaggie in her life is what helped all of that happen in the first place. Soooooo....

me: marry that girl?

my brain: Charlie was expecting her and Vaggie to get a great win up in heaven, together, as partners. What better time and place to say how much she wants to keep doing that with her?

me: hmm

my brain: Plus if Angel Dust got the green light for an eventual move to heaven, having the wedding before then would be kinda important if they wanted to be SURE he could be there for it. And Charlie would DEFINITELY want Angel there for it.

me: true, true.... so, what are we picturing here tho? how does all this... become a thing i can feel sad over?

my brain: Well first, imagine Charlie planning it. Being exited for it.

me: oh she'd be so very excited

my brain: Imagine her the entire time they're headed to and are up in heaven, checking her pocket whenever no one's looking, triple checking on the ring, grinning to herself- physically straining under the urge to just blurt everything out to Vaggie like she usually does BUT wanting SO MUCH for this to be a special surprise for Vaggie!

my brain: She goes on the heaven tour while Vaggie stays behind, and Charlie's a little relieved to get a break from the constant urge to get down on one knee whenever she looks over at her girlfriend- she spends the whole tour of heaven gushing about Vaggie, barely taking in the sights- maybe even lets slip, to her HORROR, what she's planning to ask (a beaming Emily SWEARS not to say a word)

Getting back to their room Charlie has to spend ten minutes pacing outside, muttering to herself and checking the ring and REMINDING herself NOT to just pull it out the moment she walks in and sees Vaggie again after a whole two hours apart- She goes in, buzzing with pent up marriage proposal energy, not sure she WON'T just say it all right then and there, and...

Vaggie's curled up on the bed, asleep, luggage open next to her and one of Charlie's spare shirts tucked around her like a blanket, a small stressed frown on her face as she naps.

Charlie melts. She takes a slow deep breath, lets out a long happy sigh, and tip toes quietly over. She does get down on one knee- to be on a level with Vaggie so she can smile at her and stroke her hair and smooch that pinchy frowny face, chuckling softly about how Vaggie never stops worrying about things, even in her sleep. At least Vaggie IS sleeping now. She hadn't gotten much of it, leading up to the trip here.

The ring is pulled out of Charlie's coat and slipped into pants pocket instead so Charlie can safely drape the coat itself over Vaggie, who's curled up as if Heaven's perfect temperature feels a bit chilly- and Charlie moves the luggage to make room on the the bed so she can snuggle in behind Vaggie, arms wrapped around her, maybe not able to resist playing with her girlfriend's left hand a little before dozing off herself.

Imagine Vaggie had been working up the courage to tell Charlie the truth when Charlie came back.... but she wakes up already safe in Charlie's hug, and it's- it'd be one thing to face Charlie across the room and see her turn away- it'd be another to FEEL her let go. Or to be the one who breaks the hold, maybe for the last time

So Vaggie doesn't tell Charlie.

And the trial goes, the way it goes, and Charlie- never tells Vaggie what she wanted to say either.

Instead of asking a question, Charlie gets answer, and they both find themselves on their knees in heaven- but for all the wrong reasons.

Then its bad. Charlie's up in their room alone with Razzle and Dazzle- and the RING- and she keeps trying to put it away or even chuck it out the window... but it always ends up tucked in her fist. Slipped safely back in her pocket.

In Cannibal Town, at Rosie's, when asked if she loves Vaggie, Charlie stumbles over her answer- not because she doesn't love her or doubt it, but.

She almost blurts out, at the worst moment- yes she loves Vaggie. She was even going to ask her to....

Everything all flies out the window back at the hotel gates.

They've got a fighting chance against heaven, hungry cannibals to arm with angelic steel, friends who chose to stay and FIGHT for their home and each other instead of running for cover- it's not what Charlie wanted but she'll damn well take it and she means to KEEP IT- there's no time to think about what the actual battle will be like or what (or if anything) comes after.

Charlie doesn't remember the ring again until days after the After.

At night in bed, after a long day doing more minor endless finishing touches to the new hotel (with Vaggie) and an evening writing out thank yous to everyone who helped hoping none of the overlords suddenly think of an extra cost to that help, rewording until her hand ached (and Vaggie took it gently and tugged her away with a "we'll finish them tomorrow, sweetie")

Charlie wakes up at night, in bed with Vaggie, and lays there staring up at the dark ceiling, frozen in panic- until she not frozen anymore but slipping out of bed and into carpeted middle of the room, hooves muffled as she paces, picking up KeeKee on the way and petting her frantically as she tries to THINK-

The ring, the fucking RING.

She doesn't know where the ring went.

Where she put it- still in her pocket when she was changing into her dress for the battle? Which pocket- pants or coat? Where had she put those- no one had bothered much with stuff like laundry when there were fortifications to be made! Not with Vaggie running daily drills on how to fight exorcists, not with Charlie scrambling to learn how to fight after a life of not ever wanting or needing to, but heaven had done those things to Vaggie, had hurt her, and wanted to do worse to their friends and Charlie would be DAMNED if-

had Charlie's one random set of clothes survived the blasts from the battle? Had they been sitting in the rubble somewhere? The ring- the ring should have made it- it'd been made to LAST after all-

Had someone else found it? She would've heard if anyone from the hotel had picked up a fancy ring though- a random cannibal or sinner maybe?

Or...

... maybe it was just lost. Just, gone.

Fallen in some crevasse or crack into some deeper part of hell, if it hadn't been melted and shattered with all the holy and unholy power being thrown around.

She knows exactly what that would look like, after all those times spent checking the ring, staring at it and trying to picture Vaggie wearing it without squeeing too loud. It would've looked good on her- but that daydream is gone too, and Charlie just sees the ruins of it.

Black obsidian band broken, gold edging melted, inner inscription burned away. The paired musical notes articulated with fermata like little rising suns above them (the pause, to be held as long as they wanted it to be) bracketed and bracketing the blood red, small, heart-shaped diamond....

All of it now probably just one dulled chip of rock lying somewhere no one will ever see.

Charlie, standing in the middle of her and Vaggie's new bedroom, staring at Vaggie asleep in their bed- her exhausted girlfriend planted face-fist into a pillow, silver gray angel wings flopped awkwardly over the covers and spreading out so long and slack (relaxed) they droop over mattress on either side, flight feathers brushing the floor.

The scars are still there too. Also silvery pale in the dim glow of hell outside the windows.

But when Charlie finally releases KeeKee and slips over to adjust Vaggie's pillow (she'd get a cricked neck otherwise) she has to stop and kneel down on the floor for a bit (down on one knee again too) and stare.

Vaggie's smiling in her sleep. Her eyepatch is off for the night, thin slit of black nothing peeking out under the lashes of that eye, and Charlie can see the fresh scars on her left arm from fighting off Lute.

Charlie, picking up Vaggie's left hand playing with it again, like she had up in heaven. Pressing a small kiss to the stab wound in it's palm.

It would've been nice to put on ring on that hand instead.

But Charlie finds herself smiling anyway, softly, as she squeezes into the thin strip of space between Vaggie and the edge of her side of the bed. She snuggles in close, Charlie's cheek on Vaggie's scarred hand and her arms wrapping tight around her own small piece of something way better than heaven.

Vaggie's wing stirring and drawing in, folding over Charlie like an extra blanket and a dreamy hug, not even having to be awake to want her closer.

"Next time," Charlie whispering as she falls asleep looking at her partner- her partner in every way that matters. "'m gonna wait for you to ask... 's your turn to worry about stupid rings, and, stuff...."

On the carpet in the middle of the room, KeeKee licks a paw. Stops. Coughs. Spits something out- something that chimes metallically as it bounces and rolls off the edge of the carpet an onto the floor-

KeeKee sniffs the thing curiously. Bats at it with one paw, pushing it under a dresser drawer. Then, bored, licks said paw and saunters off.

Vaggie's startled wings will fling herself backwards so hard and fast into the bedroom wall she'll end up giving herself a concussion, later, when she finds the ring.

it's her turn to worry about it, after all

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #au idea #silly headcanons #maybe?#fluff and sad and angst and fluff again #uhhhhh so charlie's day up in heaven!#can we make it Worse?#maybe... maybe......#maybe she'll still be okay afterwards anyway #if she has vaggie to snuggle with #<3

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imagine--if · 4 months

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A/N: I've missed writing for Eddie 🥹 hope you enjoy reading! And happy 2nd anniversary to The Batman movie!! Can't believe I fell in love with the film and its characters two solid years ago, and super hyped for the sequel 🖤 A Bruce Wayne/Battinson imagine will be coming soon, so stay tuned!!

Wordcount: 1.3k

Time period: Riddler Year One, Issue 6 (beginning of The Batman)

He hated it when you were gone this long.

It was okay if he knew where you were, if you were working or out with a couple of friends, someplace he could track you through your phone. Through windows. Through anything. As long as the sun was still out and he knew exactly where you were, could reach you whenever he wanted, he could keep his grip on his mentality, and at least half-focus on his plans and preparations.

But he couldn't do any of that right now. Which led to the inevitable.

Pacing his shabby little apartment that you somehow managed to make a little brighter, tidier, something close to home, closer than he'd ever got before. But now, it was cold and dark and empty, painfully quiet, apart from his uneven, staggering breaths that Edward tried in vain to swallow down.

'Breathe.'

It was a simple job. Too simple. Sneak into the Penguin's rooms at the Iceberg Lounge, plant the bug, slip out again, unnoticed. And you would either be very much unnoticed, blending in perfectly with. there's of the deceptively beautiful girls and boys who danced and flirted and drank at the bars and around round tables and tall, glossy silver poles stretching up into the high ceilings of the club. Or you would be pulled aside by some pervert that thought you were as pretty as Edward himself did, maybe by the Penguin, or that pig Falcone.

He shouldn't have set you. Too risky. Send a follower? No, too complicated; not enough of them yet, everything still growing and finalising, piecing together in a lovely puzzle crafted by his mind. You might well go unnoticed, but if he dared go himself, it would be a horror show.

This was a baadddd idea.

The smooth click and glide of the lock twisting and opening up the heavy front door made him flinch out of his thoughts, murky green eyes jumping to the short hallway with hope and fear in his gaze. The same hope a puppy gets when its owner comes back home, the same fear a madman harbours in a dizzying craze, living off the what-ifs and obsessions their mind feeds them in the darkness.

When he speaks, it's in a rush, words tripping over each other and his voice catching, stumbling forwards to grip onto your shoulders with his soft but firm, trembling grip.

"You were gone too long," Edward insists, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sweater, searching for your warmth and reassurance, his eyes trying to take in every part of your face at once. "Too long... and I was worrying, and I felt sick, and I- you can't do it again, please, please, because-"

"It's alright, Eddie," you cut him short gently in amusement and sympathy, your arms fitting snugly around his neck as you embrace him. You easily fill him shiver at the contact, starving, aching, as he hugs you back with enough force to make you breathless, digging his face in your neck needily with a soft whining sound.

It's almost funny, how desperate and childlike he can be, all big green eyes sparkling with joy and awe at how readily you give your affections to him, his skin bare of any sweet touch from another being in Gotham other than yours. But he doesn't want anyone else's now, anyway. The rest of Gotham can sink into its corruption, and his hope incarnate can dance above the waves.

He gazes up at you in a slight daze, speechless, and you smile at him the way you do, the way that makes him smile back in giddy wonder, his thoughts spinning around and around like a carousel, all bright, pure lights and ethereal tunes.

"I miss you," Edward mumbles, half to himself, his stare wandering to study your eyes, your nose, your lips. "Always."

"I missed you too," you reply earnestly, "but it was worth it. I did what you said."

He blinks at your words, his attention circling back as he looks up into your eyes in curiosity and a sweet, almost innocent light, one that doesn't at all match the moment.

"I bugged his office," you clarify, nodding, "in and out. No one saw my face, and if they did, they won't remember it."

Edward lets out a slow breath, his expression loosening from intrigue and thought to the depths bubbling to the surface, his eyes spiked with venom and his words hushed with a small smirk.

"Oh," he mumbles, before giggling slightly, blinking up at you in pride and unhinged malice. "I love you."

You beam at his words, your fingers stroking down the plump curve. of his cheek, an action that makes him shudder and his breath catch in his throat, his eyes round and adoring.

"I love you too, Ed."

"I- I'll give you everything," he promises, his words rolling into lovestruck rambles between repeating your name, "everything I have. Every... everything."

There's that strange but familiar feral hunger in his eyes, not violent, but full of untethered passion and obsession, of love and lust, of everything he's never experienced before. And now that he is, he wants it all, wants it now, to feel everything at once and lose himself in endless spirals of pleasure and ecstasy that rakes up his spine and makes his voice crack and break-

"I'll never," Edward continues in a whisper, tugging you deeper into his arms, walking back and down onto his couch and pulling you with him, "never let you go. Everything will happen as it should, and I'll be there to get you... again, and again, and again, and again, and-"

You let him keep rambling on, his cheek rubbing against yours and ducking into the hot curve of your neck like a cat, his damp lips skimming your skin mindlessly, hanging onto you with his surprisingly strong grip, even though there's nowhere else to go. Tonight, there's nothing but the Riddler, his arms trapping you inside all that he is.

Black and green screens of computers running code down their displays absently fills the night with an eerie but almost comforting glow, polaroid pictures of his targets, red ink scribbled harshly in question marks and accusations over the glossy print. For you, there's a separate case of shots, most taken with you knowing, across the room in his apartment, with Edward grinning and giggling when you glare at him weakly in amusement and protest at the constant flashes and printing of pictures and mugshots.

No escape. None at all. You're with him for life, because you let him in, and like a virus, he ran through everything that makes you, you, drinking it in and fantasizing up until this very moment. A moment where Edward forgot about the blood he shed and the streams up for his cult following, the big board pinned with pictures and news clippings and rage in the form of black and white. He just clung to you fiercely, inhaled you, to do it all again the next morning, still trembling with the warmth and tremors of raw desire and love.

I am there, but cannot be seen," he whispers in your ear, nuzzling impossibly closer to you, his fingers lacing with yours, "to have me costs you nothing. To be without me costs you everything. What am I?"

You've heard this one before. It was in one of the little notes he left you during your first few meetings with him, and every one of his riddles seemed to have something to do with you, with how he saw you, absolutely angelic with no flaws, no blemishes, gorgeously unharmed by the wicked world of Gotham.

"Hope?" you guess correctly, glancing up at him expectantly, and he giggles again, his fingers tracing over your lips boldly, caught up in the moment and his own wonderful world of puzzles and clues.

"Or," Edward smiles brightly at you, resting his forehead against yours... and answering with your name.

✧༺ 𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 ༻∞ (message me know if you want to be removed. ghost blogs/dead accs have been removed.)

@misadventures0fdes @junebugp @simestandswithtaylorswift-blog @carley-carley-carley @lostbunn @dragovegogrimborn @i-wished-upon-a-star-one-night @edwardspumpkinpie @murderbimbo00 @sweetums0kitty @beel-mcburger @cml-san @jervis-tetch-my-beloved @bimboanime @phoenixgurl030 @dangerouslittlefairy @yoyoanaria @yaeyuuki @vinxlsketches @beenz-beenz @ghoulsgraveyard @birds-have-teeth @repostingmyfavs @r3ptiliaaa @for3v3rda1sy @glitterycheesecakegladiator @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowersleep @hxney-lemcn @callsigncrash @bokksieu @skateb0red @philiasoul@felicityofbakerstreet @deadlights-darling @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

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thelov3lybookworm · 5 months

Text

Remember me? (Part 16)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: eh. i dont know.

enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Meeting was a fancy word for revel, really.

All the High lords were drinking and laughing among themselves in groups of twos and threes after they had returned a few moments ago.

They had gone off to a small room nearby along with their inner circles and guards to discuss whatever it was that high lords discussed. Eris had not wanted to leave Y/n's side, a muscle feathering in his jaw when he had left without her, his fists clenched.

But he had not left without glaring at every male in the ball room.

Y/n hid her smile behind her glass, taking a small sip of the fruity wine as she thought back to the way everyone had shrunk into themselves at his gaze.

Without even realising, Y/n's eyes began searching for that familiar head of fiery hair, and she found him standing next to the high lord of the summer court, nodding along as he spoke.

But he was already staring straight at her.

The heat from the bodies that pressed up against each other and danced around the floor would never compare to the heat that spread through Y/n when her eyes met his.

She shot back the rest of the wine, only to realise there was nothing left. Sighing, she stared into the depths of her cup, and the last dregs of the wine stared back.

When she lifted her head, Eris was no longer next to Tarquin, who was now smiling at something his cousin said.

Y/n's brow furrowed, and, huffing, she turned to make her way to the refreshments table to get herself more wine. Because, after she found Eris staring at her, she knew she was nowhere near drunk enough to get through another evening of longing glances and tenson filled words.

But she was met with a wall of muscled chest right in front of her face. So close she had to stumble back to take a breath.

"What the hell?"

Eris mouth was a cruel slash of a smirk as he surveyed her, the light from the majestic chandeliers made of faelights and candles reflecting in his eyes.

"What?"

"Why are you here?" Not exactly what Y/n had wanted to say, but she hardly said anything she wanted to these days. So this was not a surprise. It was as if her brain stopped working whenever he was near.

Leaning his shoulder against the wall, he sighed dramatically. Turning his head, he let his gaze sweep the huge chamber, resting for a moment on the orchestra that played a fast paced song. "And here I thought you missed me."

Y/n scowled, though she doubted he could see it. "What are you here for Eris? Is there something you wanted to say? Or are you here just to be dramatic?"

His smirk only widened as he glanced at her, and she huffed. "Do you know how to dance?"

Y/n blinked, deflating a little as she pondered the almost nonchalant question. "Yes." She mumbled quietly, studying his posture, wondering what his intentions were. "I had to learn and become good at it."

He nodded. "I don't."

He seemed to be lost in thought as he said, as if he had not intended for he words to slip but he had spoken them aloud instead of just thinking them.

"You don't?"

Eris glanced at her, shrugging. Y/n's gaze caught on his goblet as he did so, and she wondered if it would be okay to snatch it and down it herself.

"I wanted to learn, but I did not have time to. Will you... teach me?"

Y/n blinked, her neck warming. "Me?"

He nodded matter-of-factly. "You get to dance so you don't get bored, and I learn to dance. It's nothing more than a transaction."

She felt an unexplainable twinge of hurt in her chest at that, and she pushed it aside. Taking a deep breath, she ran her hand along her skirts for the millionth time that evening as she nodded. "Alright."

Eris straightened, his eyes widening just a fraction. There was a glint in his eyes she could not identify, but before she could decipher it, he spoke. "Really?"

Rolling her eyes, she grabbed his goblet. And then, without thinking or considering the fact that it could be a stronger beverage, tossed it back and swallowed.

She regretted it immediately.

Sputtering at the weird taste of the drink that was definitely not the fruity wine she had been drinking, she stared at the goblet in her hand in disgust. "What the hell was that?"

"That was whiskey." Y/n's head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes at him when she found him grinning. "This is why you don't steal someone else's drink."

She scowled, shoving the glass into his chest and turning away, trying to swallow the weird taste. It was no help.

She took a few steps away, wondering why she was getting so pissed over nothing. When she realised she was pushing through the crowd and he wasn't even following her, she turned to glare at him over her shoulder.

That was enough to scare him as he hurried to keep pace with her.

Standing on the edge of the dance floor, Y/n released a breath, trying to let loose the side that had adored dancing.

It had been the only time where she could not worry about being offensive without meaning to, could stop worrying about which court cockroach her father would marry her off to.

The previous song came to an end too soon for Y/n's comfort, and she took a deep breath before turning to look at Eris. He stared back at her. And then, his lips curling at the edges as he offered her his hand. She placed her hand in his, and instantly her heartbeat seemed to calm down.

In the back of her mind, she noted that he had discarded of his goblet somewhere.

He led her onto the dance floor with the grace and efficiency of a dancer who had danced for centuries, totally at odds with his statement of not knowing to dance.

As if feeling her skepticism, he slowed his pace down, glancing at her uncertainly. She narrowed her eyes at him, and his eyes sparkled.

He stopped and turned fully to face her, his brows lifting a little.

"What if you step on my toes?"

He tried to pout. Special emphasis on tried. "I won't."

Y/n sighed, then guided one of his hands to her waist. It tightened instantly.

She glanced at him for a moment, and found a subtle blush on his cheeks, though it could just have been the lightning playing tricks on her.

"So... Now what?"

Eris questioned once the fae around the two of them had begun dancing to the new tune. It also did not go unnoticed by Y/n that they maintained a little distance from Eris and her.

"Now we dance. Just follow me, I guess."

•○🌑○•

She let her body relax as the music picked up again after the applause from the audience died down. She could see the nervousness mixing with something in Eris's eyes.

The music that flowed through the ballroom was a soft but fast paced one. Not as fast as the previous one, but not slow enough to be a couple's waltz. Her heart seemed to be beating in turn with the beats of the song.

She dug her fingers into his shoulder as they made a particularly complicated turn, the fine embroidery on his expensive crimson coloured jacket that clung to his frame crinkling. The jacket was tight and loose in just the right places, putting his body on show for everyone watching. It almost made her want to act on the irrational and unexplainable urge pull their eyeballs out.

And, even though Y/n knew she would never do something like that to anyone, the thought brought her a little satisfaction.

She blinked a couple of times to try and focus again on Eris and his dancing.

Eris picked up fast. He was a good dancer. A little too good, considering he claimed to never have danced before.

Y/n's suspicions only grew with every moment that passed.

He was a little unsure at first, and his nervousness had almost seemed… forced. But she did not pay much attention to that as she focused on guiding him and making sure to stay away from the other couples.

It amazed her how someone like him, someone who was said to be one of the cruellest males in history, had wanted to learn something so elegant as dancing.

It made her wonder, what else had he wanted to do, what else did he have passion for that he as forced to stop in favour of becoming the powerful and cruel male everyone made him out to be.

Made her wonder if he had a different upbringing, would he have turned out different?

Y/n skin seemed to have taken on a perpetual warmth, and her body refused to cool down, especially when Eris slowly seemed to pull her closer, his hand having wrapped tighter around her waist.

She felt a bead of sweat rolling down her spine as they continued twirling around the floor, Eris now having taken over the dancing as he guided her through a series of practiced motions. Y/n realised that he had lied about his knowledge- or lack thereof- in dancing.

It was in no way the season where the weather was hot. But Autumn court people had fire in their veins- at least most of them did- and that, combined with them most of them lusting after a person in the room, made the heat rise.

Eris's hand on her waist also did not help. His proximity, his breath on her face and neck, sometimes even brushing against her exposed shoulders and collarbones when he dropped the two of them a little. His eyes were blazing with something Y/n dared not name.

All of it made her want to scream.

They had been dancing for two songs now, and as the song began to come to its end, the attention of almost everyone turned to Eris and her.

Y/n wondered if he would leave before they could dance to the third song, as three dances in a row was basically a marriage proposal.

A small part of Y/n hoped he would continue dancing with her.

The last few notes of the song lingered in the air, ad loud applause sounded from the audience. Y/n knew without a doubt that everyone present was now watching Eris, curious as to what he would do next.

Y/n was right there with them.

Eris had not looked away for one moment. Not one. And now, as the sounds of the claps from the crowd died down, he continued to stare.

Even when the next song began, he did not remove his hands from her form.

"Eris" Y/n whispered, glancing around. "people are staring."

"I know."

She blinked up at him. "This will be our third dance."

"And?"

"We- we can't dance-"

"Do you want to stop?" He cut in, giving her a pause.

"Three dances in a row is akin to a marriage proposal. You know this Eris."

"And? Do you want me to stop?"

Y/n pondered the question for a moment. And she knew that he could read her answer in her eyes before she even spoke by the satisfied and excited smirk on his face.

"No, I don't want to stop."

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris Taglist: @kennedy-brooke @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @tele86

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen @why4anne @mybestfriendmademe @going-through-shit @thisblogisaboutabook @thehighlordishere @hells-sluttiest-new-arrival

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #a court of mist and fury #mating bond #sarah j maas #acotar headcanon #pro eris vanserra #acotar

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lloromanic0 · 6 months

Note

hiiii! i love ur writing and i saw you wanted more bill girlssss so here i am! do u think you could write a bill smut in his dread era (so underrated omg) ? thx🩷🩷🩷

Love all my Bill girls.

(Thank you so much for the request & for liking my writing!! I actually really liked writing this one.)

SMUT MDNI

Lil summary: needy Bill has been craving you for days.

He’s so majestic omfg

You sat on the bed with your laptop on top of you, you had a long essay to hand in till the end of the week. Since you needed total concentration for it you told your boyfriend, Bill, you needed some alone time.You had been working on it for the past 5 hours, your sweet boyfriend would sometimes come inside the room quietly to hand you another water or bring you some snacks and you couldn’t be more grateful for him.

With all your university work, and his life as a lead singer you hadn’t been having much time for each other and that was really messing with Bill, he didn’t want to make you mad or bother you but all these nights he had to spend with a aching boner for you were driving him crazy.

After 20 minutes your boyfriend came inside the room but this time he just sat on the edge of the bed looking at you. At first you thought he just wanted to be close to you even if you weren’t doing anything together, but the way he kept looking at you felt like it was something else.

“Bill? What is it mein Fürst?“ you asked.

He looked down has he played with his fingers on his lap.

“I just…really miss you..” he replied with a sad voice, you thought he was so cute like that.

“I can take a break if you want.”

His eyes lit up, those beautiful brown eyes you adored so much.

“Come sit next to me.” He crawled on the bed and sat down. You placed your hand on his thigh.

“Tell me about what you’ve been doing lately, I’m very sorry we’re not spending a lot of time together my love.”

Bill talked about the plans he was making with the band, how the practice they he had yesterday went, how he wanted to take you to this new cafe he saw, you just loved hearing him talk about anything.

“But at night…it’s when I miss you the most Y/N…”

“Why is that Bill?” You knew exactly what he meant, you heard him at night trying to get off quietly next to you, but his little moans betrayed him.

“I miss your touch and your body on mine..” oh god how cute was he so needy for you. You rubbed his thigh moving to the inner part. His already hard cock begging for you but a hand job wouldn’t be enough to satisfy him he needed more.

“Baby…let me fuck you please..” he never asks for it you usually just take the lead and he does whatever you want, he must be really desperate.

You just smile at him and lay on the bed.

“I’m all yours Billy.”

He gets on top of you, you could see his hard cock poke through his sweatpants as he lowers them to free his aching erection. He takes your shorts off along with your panties, he felt like your pussy was calling for him, he needed to be buried deep inside of you.

Using his hands he spread your folds rubbing the tip of his cock on your clit, his whimpers filling the room as you admired your beautiful boyfriend pleasuring you.

Just the rubbing of his cock on your pussy was enough to drive him crazy but he craved the feeling of being inside your warm hole.

He slowly and gently insert himself in you, making you get used to his cock, no matter how many times you had sex with him getting used to his huge length always took a little bit of time. After rocking his hips slowly for a few minutes, he picked up his pace in desperation, leaning down to capture your lips in a deep kiss, you hugged him tight making him feel safe in your embrace, as he kept fucking you passionately. This moment being what he had wished for the most this past weeks, being inside you having your touch for him, you paying full attention to him was all he needed.

“Am I- making you feel good Y/N?” He questioned, he loved hearing you reassure him.

“So good~ you’re being so good for me Bill…mhhm keep going just like that-“ You praised him.

Your kind words were all he needed to get sent over the edge, now slapping his hips deep into you in a way to reach the orgasm he so desperately needed, his thumb now rubbing your clit to help you reach your orgasm with him.

“Cum with me mhhmn- please Y/N.”

“I’ll cum with you baby~ aahh just- keep going for me.”

His hips now getting week and his legs trembling as he kept getting closer to his release, your moans now louder and more frequent,in a few seconds you came all over his dick, coating it in your wet juices, the erotic sight made Bill cum with a few more strokes, his thick seed coating your insides as he kept slowly moving his hips riding his orgasm and also making you enjoy yours a little longer.

As he slowly pulled out,his huge load he had been keeping inside him all these days, slightly dripped out of your hole,with his finger he pushed his cum back into you making you exhale sharply.

“Thank you for this meine Liebling.“ he kissed you once more “I really missed you…”

“I missed you to meine Schatz. Ich liebe dich.“ you replied smiling at him.

“Ich liebe dich mehr…“ he shyly replied.

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel bill kaulitz #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x female reader #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x reader #tokio hotel fanfic

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theanonymousninja247 · 3 months

Text

Random Turtle HC: Raph & Anxiety

*clears throat and approaches microphone before hitting whiteboard with a ruler* A-HEM! Behold my theories peasants!

As we see expresses in the VERY 1st episode of ROTTMNT, the turtles can recognize each others signature scents and can smell fear.

Raph especially is shown briefly through the brothers dialogue to be the most aware and self conscious about said scent to the point of becoming defensive about it.

This leads me to believe that due to both natural biological olfactory senses and increased abilities due to mutation, the turtle brothers (with an advanced ability tipping to Raph due to his size and sensitivity) can actually smell the hormone cortisol.

WebMD defines cortisol as, “Your body’s main stress hormone. It works with certain parts of your brain to control your mood, motivation, and fear.”

Simply put, the turtle boys can literally smell fear.

Now I know you’re asking yourself, “Okaaaaaay cool fun fact I guess, what does that have to do anything with me?”

*takes a step back and adjust glasses with a smirk*

My dear dear fellow tumblr, allow me to share the wonders of mixing fact, madness and media all in one! *sounds of maniacal cackling can be heard*

(I wrote this with the intent to be platonic but it could be romantic if you squint long enough)

•So we've established Raph can smell fear right?

•As a protective big brother who is quite literally in fact “BIG” he knows a thing or two about getting scared

• Especially when it comes to looking out for people he cares about

•Hes been fighting baddies for his family since he was a tot! From keeping away scary dreams at night, from crushed ancient metal zombies to terrifying alien virus monsters, there ain't much he hasn't seen

•So when you join the ranks of the Mad Dogz, you immediately also get a built in prtoector

•Raphs been looking out for the little guys his whole life, what's one more?

•Not to mention you're kinda cute, so he doesn't mind sticking around a little bit closer

•But you're different than most folks, Raph notices. I mean besides the fact that you WILLING want to be friends with 4 mutant turtles of all things.

•No besides your abnormal incredible bravery in looking beyond the status quo to reach out the hand of friendship to these reckless reptiles, Raph noticed that you just kind of…smelled

•Not in a bad way or anything just…you always seemed to have a lingering scent of fear on you

•And Raph would know. Hed recognize that scent anywhere. It's a scent that ghosts every hour of every day for him. Nighttime and being alone especially.

•Raph hates being scared. He's the biggest and the oldest. He's supposed to look after his peeps! And he can't do that if he's frozen with fear all the time!

•So what does he do? Raph faces the problem head on like he always do.

•You get scared a lot. That's understandable, but Raph decides to make it his business that you don't need to be scared when he's around.

•Raph’ll protect ya

•Be prepared to have this turtle subtly (orrer not to much so because although he's a ninja he ain't exactly tactful or subtle) watching you every time you and the gang get all together

•Its not hard. You've always caught his attention for some reason or another. So looking at you is something he does without even realizing it.

•He’s looking for triggers, anything that gets that heart rate of yours spiking and that scent start to waft.

•Fidgeting hands, bouncing knees, shutting down and slinking into your hoodie, nervous chewing, pulling or playing with your hair and pacing, he's got eyes on it all.

•Once a trigger has been spotted, Raph immediately tries to locate the source

•Too many people? Suddenly you find a 6ft something giant turtle behind you, letting you know with his massive presence alone that he got your back. Literally.

•He kinda likes this position because he can see everyone that comes close enough to interact with you and everybody can see him.

•All he's got to do is narrow his eyes a little a give em a flash of that all too familiar snaggle tooth of his if he thinks someone's being mean and he gets his unspoken threat across just fine

•Not to mention you're also close enough to grab if someone he doesn't deem fit for your attention gets a little too close for his liking. But he doesn't say that part out loud.

•Scared of talking? You suddenly feel the cool tip of his massive scaely alligator tail (anatomically correct alligator tail be darned, I'm going with the fandoms HCs for this one) gently wrapping around your ankle as a physical reminder that he's right there here to support you

•Overwhelmed and the world feels like it's closing in on you? Raphs massive size is a natural battering ram that allows him to pass through thick crowds with easy. He's not afraid to help heard you into a quiet little corner away from it all

•Years of practice with Donnie allows him the experience to ask you if you're good with touch.

•If yes, you know you're going to be instantly wrapped into his arms, pulled flushed up against the worn keratin of his plastron. Raph’s always been more of “hands-on experience” kinda of guy anyway.

•Raph gives good hugs. They're firm and tight, padded with the security of arms who have been holding the weight of the world for years.

•He will rest his chin on top of your head, gently guiding your head with the motion ever so slightly so you're somehow perfectly nestled right against his heart.

•It's a loud heart, especially when you're up so close. It's actually his strongest muscle and one he's most proud of. He cares about you, so he reckons he’ll allow you the privilege of getting close to it. In more ways than one.

•Raph doesn't talk much during these special security hugs. He's never really been much good with words anyways. Raph knows sometimes the noise can be too much, but he also knows that the silence can be defeaning. So being a turtle comes with some built in perks that make up a happy medium.

•Hes got a special churr saved for special situations just like this one. It's one of the lowest and deepest ones he's capable of making. More akin to a muted growl more than anything the way it vibrates his chest as you're pressed up against it. You can feel it more than hear it and it just takes a handful of minutes listening to this bad boy before Raph can sense your fear stink slowly dissipating and your natural sweet scent can return.

•Raph can smell fear, and there's something incredibly humbling for this Atlas of a turtle to have the sweet experience of watching that scent drift away whenever he gets the privilege of being close to you like this.

•”You don't need to be scared no more, Sweet Pea. Raph’s got ya. I'm gonna be right here until you're ready to face the world again. Until then, let me just hold ya.”

Dedicated to the one and only @anobodyinabog. Sorry this took so long,but I hope your day gets better Shortcake. Please know you're always looked out for and loved ok? 🧡❤️

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omgjumin · 1 year

Note

saw you're open for requests. soft, playful sex with afab reader and kuroo please 🥺

all you need to do is ask - kuroo tetsuro

summary: soft giggly morning sex with kuroo, ur riding him and he's just so cute and happy because you look so pretty on top of him and he keeps smiling into the kisses which makes u giggle and love him even more :(( ends up with them showering together and loving be close together

tags: petnames princess, pretty, fem!reader, afab, riding, i'd like to believe that kuroo is a switch and would love you on top of him, kuroo is love struck, creampie i think?, anyway

notes: kuroo brainrot and i am SO SO sorry this took too long, on this random ass friday night i suddenly got motivation to write so here ya go

wc: 1.2k

"you know, it's rude to stare."

kuroo faintly rolls his eyes as if he didn't hear you at all. even still, it wasn't his fault that his eyes were locked on you. "you're saying that as if didn't catch you staring at me earlier." you scoffed right in front of him ignoring his stupidly attractive smirk on his face. "you expect me not to stare when you come walking into the room with only a towel around your waist?" and with the small look on his face, you knew he knew exactly what he was doing earlier. "i actually don't know what you're talking about." this time, you rolled your eyes at him before shifting positions in bed.

"good morning to you too, princess." kuroo chuckled before scooting closer to you. his nose is hidden in between your collarbone and neck, softly pressing kisses onto the exposed skin there. you only hum before silence takes over the room. the small glimpse of sun peeks through the blinds and touches your skin, gracing kuroo with the most beautiful sight in front of him. his lips nibble at your earlobe before venturing down your neck, leaving love bites in the color of red. you only mumble out his name in a soft voice before flipping over to see love and lust filling in his eyes. "yes, my pretty?" and kuroo thinks right then and there that he has you right where he wants you to be. his lovestruck smile is soon to be replaced with a cocky smirk. one that has you scorning at him. but he's pretty, he's so attractive like this. the way his jet black hair is laying on his head, ruffled yet brings out his stupidly pretty smile and his eyes that are overflowing with love for you yet looks like he could devour you any moment then. you almost want to compliment him, tell him that he's attractive laying there like that but with that smirk you don't want to boost his ego. "if you're going to kiss me, do it properly." you say as if you haven't secretly given into your desires.

"if you want me, all you just need to do is ask but okay." you wanted to hit him but kuroo caught your wrist and placed it onto his head so your fingers could run through his hair. he let out a small chuckle before placing his lips onto yours. it started off with a small kiss, lips gently laying against yours before kuroo lifted his hand and laid it against your face, intensifying the kiss. small gasps of air and the light sound of lips crashing against each other filled the silence in the room and all kuroo could do was let out a small laugh.

"why are you laughing?" kuroo only remained silent as his hands gripped your waist to flip you over on top of him. "you're cute." as if it was on cue, you smirked lightly letting out a confident "i know", before grinding your hips against his. kuroo laid there lovestruck, his eyes never leaving your body, his hands gripped your waist guiding the pace you went. small whimpers left his mouth, biting down on his cheek so as to not let you know how much power you have over him. yet, you knew very well. the towel did nothing to hide his painful erection underneath it. his cock was aching for your touch, your mouth, your pussy, just anything, anything he can get from you at this moment. "baby, i." he cut off to let out a groan of pleasure, "if you want me, all you just need to do is ask." you mocked kuroo from earlier, yet as soon as he looked at you with those eyes, you knew very well to not tease him further. you quickly removed the towel from his waist as well as your own clothes.

you crawled on top of him once again, teasing his cock at your entrance, the bright red angry tip slid through your wet folds once twice before kuroo couldn't take it anymore. "baby, i swear to god.." he cursed under his breath, his hands gripping onto your hips only to steady your movements. "you're no fun." you rolled your eyes before sliding him completely in you, you were filled to the brim and you sometimes forget just how big kuroo actually was. you stuttered, your hips stalled, your eyes were shut closed to embrace the fullness you felt. "am i fun now?" kuroo asked sarcastically, yet it would be a lie if he said he wasn't also overstimulated by the feeling of your warm gushy walls around him. "oh shut up and kiss me." without hesitating, he grabbed you by your neck and pulled you down, your lips crashing with his. the heavy breathing and the sound of skin slapping was heard throughout the room. you grinded your hips slowly up and down, raking your fingers through his black hair. it was messed up already but that didn't matter to him, not now at least. "you look so fucking hot, princess." kuroo managed to get out in between breaths. his lips looked bruised and plump from how much he kissed you. he gripped onto your waist, guiding you to bounce on his cock. with every pounce, you moaned out his name, pleading for more. kuroo only smiled and this time it was genuine. it wasn't a smile that was vicious, a smile that only turned into a smirk when he wanted to tease you, but a smile that showed how much he loved you. oh god, he was so in love. your moans that sounded heavenly to him, your little gasps for air when he slammed you back down onto his cock, the way your tits would bounce up and down in rhythm to his thrusts, and the way your hair would constantly come back in your way right after tucking it away, he loved it all. the more he stared at you, the more he fell in love with you. he knew he was being sappy but he couldn't care.

your hands gripped onto his shoulders, nails leaving indents into his skin, marks would sure to appear later on in the day, but that's not what's on your mind right now. "testu-!" you stuttered out, your voice becoming unsteady the closer you got to your orgasm. "please, please, please." you begged, his cock without fail repeatedly hit your g-spot making it all the more stimulating for you. "you can do it, baby. cum for me, princess." kuroo breathed out, his eyes shut, your walls squeezed around him tightly, making it hard for him to keep moving. his end was coming soon and both of you knew it. "i love you, please cum with me. oh my god-." you yelled out his name as you came, your breathing became erratic as you rode through your high.

"you know, if you wanted to ride me from the very start, all you had to was-."

"kuroo testuro, if you don't shut up." kuroo laughed, wrapping his arms around you as you laid against his chest, your breathing synced with his as you basked in the morning sun with him. "ouch, the full government name."

"you know what, i'll shower without you." as you got up and grabbed a clean pair of clothes, kuroo shouted pleads of no's, even though if he wanted to, he could just follow you. but for now, he'll just watch you walk away, like the big lovestruck man he is.

#kuroo smut #kuroo testuro smut #haikyuu smut #kuroo fluff #kuroo testuro fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyu smut #haikyu fluff #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo brainrot #omgjumin

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separatist-apologist · 27 days

Text

Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Chapter 1 | Read on AO3

Feyre and Nesta come to Autumn the night before Elain’s wedding, tanned and a little blonder than normal. It was too late to intervene—Elain had already been fitted for the dress she’d wear tomorrow and was, essentially, under lock and key. No guards, but an endless parade of servants that seemed to pop up any time she tried to leave the room.

Elain knew that was Lucien’s doing. He’d been sleeping on the sofa she now sat on each night, keeping watch so she didn’t try to escape and vanishing before she woke up. They’d barely exchanged a sentences worth of words since she’d foolishly climbed over the balcony.

“How are you feeling?” Feyre asked as Nesta paced back and forth. If she told her sisters the truth, they were likely to do something foolish. Something that got them all in trouble. Nesta was already trying to angle out of her marriage and didn’t need Elain mucking that up.

“Excited,” she lied, catching the way Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “And nervous, of course. We barely know each other.”

“Is he kind?” Nesta demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Yes,” Elain replied, not bothering to add that he was rude in equal measure.

“All mother talks about is how handsome the Vanserra’s are,” Nesta said with a dark scowl. “I see nothing special about them.”

Feyre shrugged. “They’re not ugly.”

“They’re hardly beautiful, either,” Nesta argued. If Feyre said the sky was blue, Nesta would argue it was gray and if Nesta thought the Vanserra’s were ugly, then Feyre found them to be impossibly beautiful. They had always been that way, leaving Elain to mediate.

“There is a charm to them, certainly,” she agreed, not taking any particular stance. “I am acclimating well. How are things at home?”

“Dull,” Feyre said as Nesta opened her mouth. “I paint and Nesta plays piano and we wither away, waiting for our turn to be good, dutiful wives.”

“They’ve banned arranged marriages in Summer,” Nesta said sharply, her tone rife with implications. Run to Summer, she seemed to say. As if Summer would risk a war with their neighbors simply to harbor her.

“Perhaps other courts will follow suit,” Elain said noncommittally. It was too late for her. Tomorrow she’d walk willing with Lucien through a priestesses temple, watched by her family and his as they pledged fidelity and honor to the other. It was a farce and one Elain was committed to seeing through, now. If her sisters managed to escape their own prescribed fates, she wished them well.

But there was no more escape for her.

“Have you seen anything?” Feyre questioned. Elain bit her bottom lip.

Yes, she wanted to say. How did she explain that what she’d seen was a particularly steamy affair with the man she had sworn she wouldn’t touch until she was forced to. Elain refused to think about it lest Lucien scent the accompanying arousal that always followed and got the wrong idea.

Visions were imprecise, a snapshot of what could happen and not necessarily what would. A wrong turn, a different word spoken and the entire world rearranged itself.

That did nothing to remove the image of Lucien without his clothes shifting over her, or the expression on his face—

“Elain?”

She blinked. “No, nothing. I haven’t looked, though, either.”

“Well, maybe you should tonight,” Feyre suggested. Elain only smiled, certain she did not want to know what the next day had in store for her. Let it remain a mystery, even from her. If she saw herself beneath him, she’d panic and never make it down the aisle.

There was something she wanted, though, and Elain found exactly how to get it later that afternoon. Cadmus poked his head in, expression guarded.

“Lady Elain?” The second eldest Vanserra looked the most like his father, his red hair browner, his russet eyes lacking some of the ringed gold the rest of his brothers had. Even his features were those of the sharp elegance of the High Lord rather than the softer edges the Lady bore. “How are you?”

“I…” A dagger glinted off Cadmus’s belt, silver hilt inlaid with vibrant rubies. “Can I borrow that?”

Cadmus looked down at his body, hands hovering over the weapon. “My dagger?”

Elain made her eyes big and round as she bit her bottom lip, and hoped Cadmus was no better than the males back home. “I don’t know how to use it, if you’re worried for your brothers safety”

“What’s to know? Stick the sharp end in anything soft,” he said with a wry smile before unstrapping the hilt. “If you do stab my brother, try not to kill him.”

Elain blinked. “Just…just like that?”

“It’s become almost a tradition to provide my new sisters with a weapon to use against my brothers. I’m starting to think Vanserra’s like to be threatened.”

She frowned. “It’s not like that.”

“For you, maybe,” he chuckled, watching as Elain quickly hid the dagger beneath an ornate pillow. “If you’re frightened, though, you could tell me.”

That was curious. “Why? What would you do?”

“What any good brother would do. Knock him around like he’s a youngling again, and hope his good sense returns to him.”

“That’s…unexpectedly kind,” she murmured.

“We’re nearly family, right?” he said gruffly, glancing back toward the hall. “Anyway ah…don’t kill him. And uh…if you need any help, ask Arina. You know, for plausible deniability.”

“Right,” she agreed, holding back the urge to laugh. The Vanserra’s could be so unintentionally funny when they wanted to be. Absently, Elain wondered what Nesta would make of Cadmus. Nothing positive, she decided.

Nesta was supposed to marry a High Lord, which was a tragedy given how she hated all of them. Maybe all men, truthfully—Elain had never once seen her sister betray any interest despite the numerous men who had been interested in her.

Elain hid the dagger beneath her pillow once Cadmus left, just in case Lucien decided to try anything. Elain knew she was likely going to have to let him touch her, but if he tried anything she didn’t like, she’d whip the dagger out just to remind him that he might be married to her, but he didn’t own her.

It made her feel a little better, though only marginally. As she made her way through the palace, Elain found servants hanging floral arrangements and cleaning every surface for the upcoming spectacle. Everything smelled like cinnamon somehow and if Elain was braver, she might have made her way to the kitchen to see what they were cooking.

If she was braver still, she might have asked to help.

Instead, Elain emerged into the gloomy afternoon with a heavy sigh. It felt like the world was mourning, too. She intended to meander through the apple orchard again, kicking the rotting fruit on the ground with the toe of her boot until she didn’t feel so angry anymore.

Instead, she found Connall and Tanwen standing off to the side, flanked by two smoke gray dogs, each holding a rather large axe. When they saw her, their eyes lit up.

“Baby sister!” They called in unison, making their way toward her. “Want to smash some pumpkins with us?” “Smash some what?” she repeated as one of the large dogs wound its way through her legs, sniffing at her clothes with curiosity.

“Pumpkins,” Connall said, russet eyes glinting with mischief.

“It’s an old tradition,” Tanwen added. Of the two, Tanwen was taller and built more like a warrior. Connall was slighter, with a prettier face and hands that didn’t look like they’d done a hard day's work in their life. Tanwen’s hair was longer and braided off his face while Connall sported a shaggier look that seemed like it was popular with whoever he was courting.

With a face like that, Elain guessed everyone.

“Smashing pumpkins is a tradition?”

They nodded solemnly. Connall added, “Whenever the Forest House is overrun, we come out here and destroy the heaviest looking pumpkins we can find. C’mon, join us. Beats sulking through the grounds.”

“I wasn’t sulking,” she replied, though she fell into step between them.

“Sure you weren’t,” Tanwen said, elbowing her gently. “I’m sure you are merely contemplating the marital bliss you’re soon to find with little brother.”

“I don’t know how to swing an axe,” Elain admitted. Connall’s smile sharpened.

“We’ll teach you.”

The pair, accompanied by a dog she later learned technically belonged to Arina—Apollo—and another that Tanwen was fond of—Artemis—made their way toward a sprawling pumpkin patch. Elain was fascinated as Tanwen and Connall picked out three large pumpkins, hauling them each one by one before dropping them at her feet.

“Ladies first,” Tanwen said, cheeks ruddy from exertion.

Elain considered them, before pointing at one that was still a little green and covered in warts. Connall picked it up for her and set it atop a tree stump before handing her the smooth, wooden handle of the axe.

“Hold it like this,” Tanwen began, positioning himself behind Elain so his arms were wrapped around her. Warm, callused hands covered her own as he positioned them on the handle.

“Pull it back like this—not too far or you’ll drop it and hurt yourself. Use the power from your thighs, okay? And then swing hard—”

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

The three turned and Elain realized Tanwen and Connall must have known Lucien was nearby. He looked furious, though it was hard to take him seriously with Arina skipping merrily at his side.

“I’m debauching your wife, what does it look like I’m doing?” Tanwen said, throwing a rather charming wink in her direction. “She doesn’t know how Autumn Court females treat a male on their wedding night—”

A snarl ripped from Luciens throat before he settled himself, running a hand through his windblown hair. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

“Am I not allowed to be here?” Elain demanded, pointing the axe at her soon-to-be husband.

“Lucien’s just grumpy—”

“I’m not grumpy,” Lucien interrupted as Arina laughed, hands clasped in front of her body.

“Your sisters gave him a good dressing down.”

“It was pretty funny,” Eris Vanserra chimed in, wrapping an arm around his wife's neck to kiss the top of her head. “Nesta Archeron has a barbed tongue and no sense of propriety.”

“That’s not true,” Elain protested, interested in what her sister said. “You’re thinking of Feyre.”

“It was both of them,” Lucien grumbled as he rubbed his jaw. “I thought the ladies of the Spring Court were sweet.”

Elain took that moment to swing, her sharpened blade slicing easily through the pumpkin. Tanwen whooped as Connall and Eris laughed and Lucien…Lucien merely watched, his expression unreadable.

“Who told you that?” Elain asked him, dress covered in pumpkin guts.

It felt good, though, in that moment, to wipe the look off his face. She was sweet.

Just not for him.

LUCIEN:

Lucien tugged at the golden cuffs on his maroon jacket. He was deeply uncomfortable and somehow sweating despite how early it was. He hadn’t slept at all the night before and given the noises coming from behind the door that they were about to share, Elain hadn’t either. It hadn't been crying, exactly…but something akin to mourning had been happening. It occurred to him that perhaps Elain had her own Jesminda that she missed.

Lucien couldn’t bring himself to care much. Instead, he perched himself in a tree outside the palace, closed his eyes, and prayed.

Bring her back to me. Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll give you anything.

Easy words for a male who knew the Mother would not indulge this request. Lucien would have traded anything to see Jesminda right then. To hear her tell him it was going to be okay and somehow, someway this was all going to work out in their favor. He wanted to feel her hands on his face, her mouth slanted against his. He wanted to bury himself inside her and sob into her shoulder as he told her about the nightmare he was living.

And to do so would be the ultimate betrayal of the love he felt for her. To see her was to condemn her to death. She was gone, and Lucien knew she wouldn’t come back, and if she did, he wouldn’t touch her. Wouldn’t acknowledge her.

Wouldn’t look at her.

It didn’t stop him from pretending anyway. What kind of male was he, he wondered? His wife was inside preparing herself to marry him and he was outside wishing she was someone else. Daydreaming about another female. Would he think of Jesminda as he betrayed her later that night?

Lucien half hoped Jesminda hated him. He certainly hated himself.

Lucien remained outside until Eris tracked him down, dressed in a deep brown jacket and cream colored pants. His brother swung himself easily into the tree, grunting softly as he sat on the opposite branch. “Brooding?”

It was almost comical. It was a scene they’d played before, only in opposite roles. Lucien had once gone looking for Eris the day of his wedding, finding him in the same tree likely with the same look of frustration on his face. Eris had wanted a way out, too, and he’d known what was waiting on the other end for him was his mate. There was something to work toward, at least.

Lucien didn’t care what Arina said—he didn’t believe he could love someone as deeply as he loved Jesminda and not be mates.

“Just thinking,” Lucien said, wishing Eris would mind his own business.

“You’ve got ten more minutes to find a last minute loophole,” Eris warned. “Though, I think you should marry her.”

“Of course you do.”

“She’s better than the females at court. Do you want father to pick one of them?”

“I want him to let me choose my own wife,” Lucien snarled, unable to keep his anger down.

“Love is for the lesser fae,” Eris said, ignoring the fact that he was in love with his wife. That was merely luck, Lucien supposed. “You are simply a cog in fathers political machinations. You know that.”

“Why not Tanwen? Or Cadmus?”

“Because Elain is a second daughter with no magical ability, unlike her sisters,” Eris reminded him, a cold edge creeping into his voice. He ought to have known better than to look for comfort from his brother. Eris had done his duty no matter how little he’d wanted to, giving Eris a mate and Beron a foot in the solar courts. “He needs sons he can marry off to all his most important nobles. Count yourself lucky that isn’t your fate”

“Is this luck?”

“Elain is nice,” Eris reminded him. “She’s not scheming and you’re unlikely to find her in Tanwen’s bed.”

“Are you sure about that?” Lucien asked, a surge of jealousy flooding through him. He didn’t want her, and yet didn’t want anyone else to want her, either. She was merely off limits. If he could have, he’d have ordered them all not to speak to her, either.

Swinging his legs out of the tree, Eris landed smoothly back on solid ground. The world was mocking him—after two weeks of rumbling thunder and moody fog, the sun had come out blazing, igniting the world in a golden glow.

“I’m certain. Now get down before father realizes you’re missing and takes the lash to your back on your wedding night.” Lucien considered it only briefly, but ultimately chose to join Eris on the ground, heart thudding painfully in his chest.

Eris didn’t look at him at all, adorned in a crown of burnished leaves similar to the one Lucien wore. As they stepped back into the Forest House, Lucien felt the full weight of it for the first time in his life. Never had he ever felt more like a High Lord's son, the weight of his responsibility and duty dragging behind him like chains wrapped around his ankles.

He was drowning, and it didn’t matter. Lucien followed Eris through the labyrinth of halls toward the adjoining temple that spiraled deep into the ground, housing their family jewels and a private library you need permission to enter. Lucien knew on any given day, Arina would be down in the dark reading by faelight.

Priestesses historically were not welcome in Autumn. Beron found them too scheming, but feared angering the mother by shutting them out entirely. His solution was using daughters of Autumn, deemed unlikely to marry by their families, and making them priestesses with fathers that had a vested interest in curbing their ambition. Housing them in the palace allowed the High Lord to keep a watchful eye on them via his wife, who was charged with overseeing the priestesses along with the ladies at court.

Now the head priestess stood at the end of the temple, adorned by multicolored light from the stained glass behind her. Rows of benches held their families, though Beron sat behind the priestess on a throne built specifically for him, lest anyone forget the true power of Autumn.

Elain was waiting in the atrium just outside, dressed, hilariously, in a fluffy gown of white lace and pale pink ribbon. Her hair was piled high atop her head, as if someone with a grudge had decided to try and make the beautiful Elain as unappealing as possible.

It was working, too. Lucien couldn’t help his barking laugh when he saw her, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings overhead. Elain turned, eyes wide with horror that melted into irritation.

“Be quiet,” she hissed, shoving the traditional red ribbon of Autumn against his chest. His brothers filed in behind them, not daring to make eye contact or otherwise react.

“Who did you piss off?”

“This was my mothers wedding dress,” Elain informed him, chin held high in the air. “And the traditional bridal clothes of Spring.”

Lucien only shook his head, thinking of how lovely Arina had looked draped in red. There was no point in starting his marriage by telling his wife she looked awful, but…well. Lucien wondered if Elain felt beautiful right then.

“Come on,” he murmured, offering her his arm. Elain took a breath, eyes glassy, but otherwise nodded her head. She had more conviction on her expression than Lucien felt, and it was sobering. This was happening, he realized. Under the watchful gaze of not just his father, but the High Lord of Spring, Lucien was marrying this stranger. Lucien could barely breathe, couldn’t think as he stood in that beam of light, eyes trained on Elain without actually seeing her. Elain seemed to be employing similar tactics, repeating the words when demanded but otherwise standing utterly still.

Something was building, some emotion Lucien thought must be radiating out of him. It wasn’t fear and it wasn’t hatred, though it felt somehow like both mixed together. Holding the ribbon in his hand, Lucien began winding it around their wrists until the long sleeves of her ugly dress pushed upward, pressing them skin to delicate skin.

The scene of Elain invaded his senses once again, making him dizzy. He needed fresh air, to get far, far away from her. Elain looked up at him through dark lashes, their eyes connecting just as the priestess pronounced them married. Something solid slammed into him.

No, not slammed.

Snapped.

Lucien stumbled backwards, forgetting for a moment they were still tied together. Elain came with him, falling into his chest and oh, he wished she wouldn’t touch him just as his traitorous body ignited with pleasure.

Touch her, smell her, taste her—

Lucien righted Elain, trying to apologize but unable to get the words out. If he spoke, he might just blurt the truth out.

You’re my mate.

If Elain knew, she was doing a far better job than he was hiding it. Her expression was one of confusion but not of recognition. If she didn’t know, good. There must be some way out, he reasoned, even as every other part of him rebelled at the thought. The Mother was mocking him. Elain Archeron was mocking him, with her beautiful face half lost under the weight of her gown and hair. Who had done this to her?

Lucien wanted to kill them.

“Are you okay?” Elain whispered, ignoring the crowd promptly descending upon them.

It wasn’t a lie when he said, “No. I’ve never been less okay in my life.”

And it was all her fault.

ELAIN:

Elain wanted to cry. The Lady of Autumn had done her best to try and make Elain look presentable, but it had been her mothers wishes to see her dressed like a traditional bride of Spring—the sort that had fallen out of fashion centuries before. She could still hear Lucien's barking laugh in her ear and the look of disgust on his face once he’d tied that ribbon around them.

It shouldn’t have mattered, truthfully, but Lucien had looked every inch an Autumn Court prince and she…she’d looked ridiculous. Embarrassing. Only her mother was happy, which seemed to be the only thing that ever mattered. Who cared if Elain was suffering internally so long as everyone else got what they wanted?

Stomping from the great hall, where a lavish feast in her honor had been prepared, Elain made her way outdoors into the sunshine. It was only there that she began pulling pins out of her hair like a petulant child, tossing them to the leaves with reckless abandon.

Why couldn’t she make peace with what was happening? Everyone else in her position had. Arina and Eris were in love, her parents were in love, the Lady of Autumn and the High Lord…tolerated each other. And Elain couldn’t even muster that.

She hated Lucien with a passion that clawed at her chest and threatened to strangle her. She didn’t want him to touch her, not like this. Not when the sight of him cringing away as he disentangled himself from her and promptly walked away without so much as a reassurance that things would be okay.

She’d left him downing a cup of wine and imagined he’d be so drunk he was incapacitated for the night. That was a good thing, right? So why did it make her feel so awful? So ugly, so…so unwanted. Cast aside by everyone, loved by no one. She wanted to curl up somewhere and wait to see how long it took them to notice she was missing.

Elain turned her attention to the forest, determined to march right in. She bet Lucien noticed when it was time to do his husbandly duty. Then he’d be missing her. That's all she was good for anyway, right?

Elain didn’t make it two steps before someone stopped her. It wasn’t Lucien or his brothers, nor was it her sisters or anyone from the Spring Court. The male standing before her oozed darkness, with shadows trailing after him like a cape and eyes so vividly blue they looked like twinkling, violet stars.

Elain took a step back on instinct. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said, knowing exactly who stood before her. She’d never met him, nor his father, though she had heard the rumors about the High Lord of Night. They said he’d killed Tamlins father.

They said Tamlin killed his.

Rhysand didn’t need to wear a weapon to seem lethal. Tall and powerfully built, she was certain if he wanted to, he could end her right there. His lips curved upward into a smile and too late, she remembered the people in his court were rumored to read minds.

“I hear congratulations are in order. Married to little Lucien…how delighted you must be.”

“I…” Elain trailed off, heart hammering like a jack rabbit.

“I don’t think I’d leave my new bride to wander the grounds,” Rhysand continued, jamming his hands into his pockets absently. “But perhaps the males of Autumn are more…liberated…here.”

Elain’s mouth was dry. “Can I help you with something?”

Rhysand cocked his head, a lock of blue black hair trailing into one of his eyes. “Can you help me?” he asked, pondering this question with faux concentration. “I suppose you can. I’m looking for—”

“Rhysand!” Eris Vanserra barked, crunching onto leaves without ceremony. “Decided to show your ugly face for once? Or will I find your spy lurking in my woods again?”

“There’s no need for hostility,” Rhysand purred, eyes trailing behind Eris toward Feyre, who’d clearly been trailing Eris. “I’ve come to speak with your father.”

“Does Elain Archeron look like the High Lord of Autumn?” Eris demanded, his annoyance plain.

“She is far lovelier, I’ll admit, though your father has his charms—”

“Stop talking,” Eris muttered, nodding his head toward the doors so Rhysand would follow. Elain watched the High Lord of Night even when Eris’s fingers curled around her wrist, dragging her back inside with him. Rhysand was looking at Feyre in her spring green gown, hair half braided off her face. There was something curious about his expression—as if he’d never seen a female before and wanted to study her.

Feyre wrinkled her nose back, betraying her unguarded disgust before turning on her heel and flouncing back inside and to Elain’s surprise, Rhysand chuckled. He didn’t know how skilled Feyre was with a weapon, training in secret with a sentry she’d once been friends with before Tamlin found out and had him sent to the border. It was too late, then. Feyre was a menace with a bow and arrow and not horrible with a sword, either. No one could control her and in truth, not many tried.

Elain wondered what Tamlin would do with a wife that liked to stalk the woods for monsters. Monsters like Rhysand, Elain thought, wondering if Feyre hadn’t sensed his presence and come looking for the disturbance. She half wanted to see the showdown, if only to watch a High Lord get trounced by a noble's youngest daughter.

Feyre was nowhere to be found by the time they all landed in the Great Hall. The once lively feast fell silent—even the musicians stopped their playing to watch, wide-eyed, as Rhysand strolled into the room. His eyes slid over the long tables piled with food, the people stopped mid-dance, and those that sat at tables holding goblets, drinking until their fair skin was ruddy from wine.

He grinned when he saw Beron. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, not sounding very sorry at all. Beron looked murderous, though he stood quickly while eyeing Eris trailing just behind. Elain watched as Cadmus fell into step beside his elder brother, the two flanking their father when he came down the elevated platform that held the throne he’d been lounging on. Everyone tried to pretend this was merely business as usual.

The music restarted and chatter resumed as Beron and Rhysand made their way out of the room, but Elain knew every immortal ear was straining to hear what was whispered between them. Why now, she wondered? Tamlin was gripping his goblet so tightly Elain could see the whites of his knuckles and Nesta’s eyes danced with silver flames, arms crossed over her chest.

Elain started to make her way to Nesta to ask when Lucien caught her attention. He was drunk, she realized. Stumbling forward, he grinned broadly not at her, but at someone behind her. Elain didn’t turn to see the female he was making eyes at, unwilling to even acknowledge how humiliating his behavior was.

“You reek,” Elain hissed, catching Lucien by the arm and turning him around. “Go drink some water.”

“Telling me what to do already?” he asked, eyes strangely glassy as he looked down at her. There was an intensity to his expression she didn’t think she liked. It was as if he was undressing her with his gaze.

“Yes. Water. Now,” she hissed quietly enough that no one but Lucien could hear.

“And if I say no?” he challenged. Elain wanted to cry.

“You are not the only one experiencing misery, Lucien, and yet am I out here making a fool of you?” she demanded, hating the way her voice cracked beneath angry tears. “You could at least keep it behind closed doors.”

Lucien considered this. “You’re right. I…” he swallowed, sliding his hand over hers in the crook of her elbow so she had to join him as he went for water. “Sit down and eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Do it, or I’ll feed you from my hand like a baby bird,” he threatened, pulling out a chair from a neglected, empty table. Lucien dropped beside her, gulping down icy water as Elain picked food from a platter in front of her and spread it over two plates.

“Here,” she said, pushing a plate toward a wide eyed, strangely ashen looking Lucien.

“I—I’ve eaten already,” he said, gingerly moving the plate further from view. “You’re kind to offer, though.”

He was so strange, she decided. If he didn’t want to eat, he could suffer, then. No one could say she hadn’t tried, though. Elain began chewing, lost in thoughts of Rhysand just outside the forest grounds and her family that would vanish before the night was over. Her stomach tumbled as she thought about what the night had in store for her. Perhaps if she closed her eyes tightly it would be over quickly without a lot of fuss.

“Was there another male?” Lucien asked abruptly, interrupting Elain’s considerations. Looking at him, she found that same burning intensity from a few moments before. She didn’t think she liked when he looked at her that way.

“What?”

“Back in Spring. Was there a male you…preferred?”

Elain shook her head, though she wanted to ask why it even mattered? She was here, wasn’t she, wishes be damned?

“None?”

“No, Lucien. I’ve been set aside for you my entire life.”

“Sure, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “That didn’t mean you had to…”

Elain wished a hole would open beneath her and swallow her up. Surely he wasn’t implying that he wished she’d been with someone else mere hours before he was about to be with her? If she’d been less of a lady, she might have launched herself across the table to throttle him.

“Please do not worry about it,” she implored, desperate for this conversation to end. “Let’s just…lets just get through this afternoon.” Lucien eyed her dress again, but kept whatever comments he had to himself. “Fine.”

His reluctant compliance was better than expected. And Elain would take what she could get.

LUCIEN:

“You’re acting strange,” Arina said, catching Lucien in the hall on the way to his new bed chamber. His old one had been cleared out without ceremony, and he’d bet if he went to Elain’s room, he’d find her folding his clothing like a good little wife

“I’m not,” he lied. Lucien was desperately trying to avoid his brother and Arina, if only because he was afraid that might see him and just know somehow. Or smell it, more likely—the way he could currently smell the mating bond Arina and his brother shared wrapped around her like a lingering perfume.

It smelled like sex. Lucien hated it. It was like a warning pushing up against him, reminding him that she belonged to someone—a male who might rip Lucien’s throat out, should he feel like it. Elain seemed oblivious to what was happening which was the only mercy Lucien could find in their miserable situation. How long could he keep her in the dark before she realized? Before she felt the pull, the urge to touch him, too? Before someone scented him on her and told her?

“What’s going on?”

“Besides being actually married to a stranger, nothing at all. I, for one, have never been better—”

“Don’t use that tone with me,” Arina snapped, clearly irritated. “There’s something else about you.”

“I’m just…” Lucien ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It's my wedding night, Arina, and my wife hates me. Put the pieces together.”

“I doubt she’ll be upset if you put it off.”

“Or she’ll run and tell her father to get out of the marriage,” Lucien retorted, though truthfully, Elain simply didn’t seem like the vindictive sort. His mind drifted back to lunch, watching as she put together two plates as his mind warred. On the one hand, the part of him driven by instinct had been screaming and clawing for him to simply accept it from her, thus cementing the bond before she ever had a choice.

The other, more rational part of him, wanted to throw that plate across the room before cursing at the Mother for what she’d done. It was supposed to be Jesminda. It was Jesminda. Lucien’s heart beat erratically at the realization that all the times he’d laid with her and sworn she was his mate, when they’d laced their fingers and talked about when it might snap…all of it had been a farce.

Lucien couldn’t stop thinking about Jes’s own mate. He was out there somewhere. Maybe she’d find that male and she’d realize what they had paled in comparison. Would she laugh a little at their silliness? How young they’d been, how foolish to believe what they had transcended the gods.

Lucien would have left Elain if Jes appeared right then. If she’d asked him—he wouldn’t make her beg—he would have left. Damned Elain, his life, his mating bond, just to see her again. And he knew that if Jes learned he had a mate, she’d bow out entirely. When the bond snapped, there was a finality to it.

He was a mated male. He owed it to Elain to try and make things work, and maybe he owed it to himself, too. That didn’t mean Lucien wanted it, either. Gods, he didn’t know what he wanted other than to drink himself into oblivion and wait for some obvious answer to present itself.

“When Eris informed you that you were his mate, what did you do?” Lucien asked, interrupting Arina’s self-important lecture about being a good husband.

“I suffocated the air in the room until he got on his knees and apologized,” she said, eyes gleaming with amusement. “That’s different, Lucien.” Elain probably couldn’t nearly kill him—he’d been told she had no magic to speak of—but he imagined her reaction would go nearly as well.

“Just…let me deal with my marriage my way, okay?” Lucien ordered, unwilling to be nice to Arina at that moment. Butt out, he wanted to add, though slipping into his bedroom and closing the door behind him was response enough.

Inside was something out of Lucien’s personal hell. Elain rose to her feet when she saw him, eyes bright from what seemed to be some amount of crying. Her hair was unbound and artfully arranged around a night dress that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. Lucien blinked, frozen in place as his eyes moved of their own accord.

BETRAYER

“I—put on a robe, please,” Lucien managed, turning in a circle like some kind of animal. She was his. He had no claim to her at all. The competing desires threatened to unmake him. Lucien heard Elain sniff.

“Shouldn’t we…”

“Not like this,” he breathed, certain he would have felt that way even without the mating bond. “I—we could just…go to bed?”

“What about…you know?”

Lucien took a steadying breath and turned again, relieved to find Elain had wrapped a throw around her body. Her face had a little more color, her eyes a little less red.

“If I offered to just…pretend…would you tell someone?”

“No,” she breathed with the saddest look of hope on her face. “I would swear we did.”

Oh, thank the Mother. “Then we’ll turn the lights off, get into bed, and in the morning go about our business as if we did.”

Elain nodded, dropping the blanket gently to walk to their bedroom. Lucien nearly choked at the sight of her from behind. Mother spare him, she’d be the death of him. Lucien didn’t need to like a female in order to admit she was appealing and Elain…Elain was just as pretty from behind as she was from the front. His eyes slid down her spine, landing on the soft curve of her waist, the flare of her hip, the sway of her ass.

Cauldron damn him.

Elain turned as Lucien steadied himself on the frame, wondering if sleeping beside her was a good idea at all. Servants talked—and everyone was nosy. If he was caught sleeping on the sofa, his father would know and put Lucien in a deeply uncomfortable position. Lucien wouldn’t put it past his father to demand to watch. He’d like enjoy knowing that he ruined every other coupling they’d ever have.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she warned, holding up a trembling finger. Was he looking at her in some particular kind of way? Lucien was certain he wasn’t. Still, he merely crossed his arms over his chest as he eyed his new wife.

“I was lost in thought,” he said, forcing himself to look only at her face. As if that made things any better. She was so heartbreakingly beautiful it made his teeth ache. She’d always been beautiful, which had warranted the space—if he spent too much time in her presence, he might find he liked her, and liking the woman who’d been forced upon him felt like giving in to his fathers demands.

Or worse, admitting Beron might have been right about him.

Elain still eyed him warily as he crossed the room, grabbing a pair of linen pants neatly folded in a drawer that had her scent all over it. In the bathroom, Lucien splashed cold water on his face and ordered himself to get together. The mating bond was making him stupid. He didn’t want her…and yet he did. Physically, anyway. Lucien wondered if he could get away with escaping to one of the nearby cities for a few weeks just to clear his head long enough to stand in her presence.

He returned to find Elain dividing the bed in half using pillows. “That’s not necessary,” he mumbled, reaching over her to toss one to the floor. “And obvious.” “I don’t want you getting any ideas,” she replied in that prissy way of hers.

Lucien bared his teeth. “Trust me, lady. My only idea is sleep.”

“I thought all males wanted—”

“I’m not an animal,” he growled, fully aware he was a liar. “I don’t relish the thought of forcing myself on someone, wife or otherwise.”

“And if I never want you?” Elain asked, eyes narrowed to slits.

“I’ll tell all of Pyrthian you are terribly infertile and I’m a martyr—”

Elain launched a pillow at his face. “You’re not funny.”

Lucien flopped into bed, one hand thrown over his face. “You wound me.”

“I don’t believe anything could wound that over inflated ego of yours,” she responded. Lucien was learning that despite her meek appearance, his wife had a sharp tongue. He rather liked it, if only because it absolved him of any guilt he might feel for his own remarks.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Lucien said, settling against the pillow. “You could tell me, you know. If there was another male.”

“There wasn’t. There isn’t.” There was something bitter about her tone.

“Never?” he questioned, his curiosity making him stupid.

“Never.”

“You’re not…?” Shut up shut up shut up— “You’re not curious?”

“Stop talking, Lucien.”

“If it were me—”

“I know where you’re going with this, and I’m telling you to stop while you’re ahead,” Elain gritted out. “Find someone else, if you’re feeling frustrated, but don’t try and frame my lack of experience as an opportunity.”

“Cauldron, Elain, I wasn’t…” But he was. Lucien knew it was a bad idea. If he got himself in her with the mating bond pounding in his chest, he was likely to take things too far, to do something he regretted. He couldn’t help himself no matter how badly he wanted to, and her proximity was clouding his judgment. He tried to pull up an image of Jes, but his mind shifted to Elain in sheer white lace and the rosy pink of her nipples—

Lucien rolled over, frustrated more with himself than anything else. There was no way he was going to sleep, no way he trusted his dreams not to betray him.

Not for the first time, he wished he was dead.

But maybe it was the first time he’d wished for it the loudest.

And the gods did nothing.

#elucien #im planning to update 3 on tuesday #ill be out of town all weekend

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