#I feel like I should have taken something

[dante-mightdie]

I would like to ask permission to beg for more bodyguard!price. I’ve only ever seen Ghost and Christ almighty that post you made makes me only want age difference bodyguard!price forever

thinking about famous!reader who grew up in the spotlight so they’re just not very well-adjusted to johns kind nature

c/w: reader is a little unhinged and insecure, reader has mommy and daddy issues, is touch-starved and just wants to be loved, crying, slight nsfw, implied age gap, suggestive content, as always mdni

you really are kind soul, you’re just in the wrong line of business for someone with such genuine intent. you just want to make music, make people happy, sing your heart out and perform but life has a funny way of working out for people

this was never supposed to be your whole life, at most you wanted a little band that met up every thursday and shared new lyrics or riffs. however, with a winning combination of talent and an overbearing mother, you became a big name

you got swept up in tours, launch parties, award ceremonies and red carpets before you knew it. left you no time for a real life. all your relationships were manufactured up in press meetings about how to boost your reputation or sloppy hook-ups in the bathroom at whatever club you snuck off too in whatever country you’re touring in

john felt bad for you, he really did. that’s why he indulged your behaviour. you’ve never had a real positive influence in your short little life :( how else are you supposed to react when this man comes along? calling you sweet names, keeps a protective hand on you at all times, dedicates his entire life to keep you safe

if he wants to act like a husband then you’ll just have to treat him like one. that’s why you’ve taken to bringing him a glass of ridiculously overpriced scotch in your dressing room after each concert, placing yourself in his lap right afterwards with no shame whatsoever. he knows he should push you off, it’s the right thing to do

“did you like my performance tonight?” you ask, staring straight at him with an expectant smile. you give him exactly two seconds to answer before you hat your eyelids nervously, “what’s wrong with your drink? you’ve barely touched it.”

he didn’t have the heart to tell you that the expensive bottle you bought was being wasted each time you fill the tumbler with crushed ice before pouring the liquor in, completely diluting the flavours and aromas. so he just gives you smile, hand coming up to pinch your cheek in a way that makes your thighs clench before he raises his glass and takes a few generous sips of the scotch to make you happy

“you were amazing, love…” he grunts out, adjusting his hips with you sit on his lap. you pout at his response, wiggling your hips to get more comfortable and he curses his body when he feels his cock chub up against his thigh

“that’s all? I made the hair stylist try something different. didn’t you like it? didn’t you think I looked pretty on stage tonight? if i’ve upset you, you can just tell me you don’t need to act like this…” you ramble off, tears welling up in your lashline with a speed that can only make john sigh

his spare hand comes to rub up and down your back, pressing kisses behind your ear whilst he shushes you quietly. “don’t get so worked up. no need for one of your strops tonight.”

you shoot him a mean glare, one that might terrify literally anyone but him. he knows you’re all bark and no bite. you just need a firm hand to keep you nice and sweet. he’s not against offering that to you, as long as you don’t get the wrong idea :(

he’s definitely not encouraging it, he tells himself when he puts his drink down and manhandles you closer to him. letting you curl up against his chest and sniffle against the material of his dress shirt. he nuzzles his cheek on the top of your head before placing a kiss there

he knows you’re not trying to be a brat, you just want his validation. you want him to tell you how good you are and how you can be better. he can smell your insecurities no matter how much you try and bury them deep inside

he’ll shut this down soon, tell you not to let this become more than a silly crush. but not tonight, he reminds himself. tonight, he’ll do what you pay him to do which is to protect you from anything and anyone. if in his arms is where you feel safe, who is he to deny that?

[russellsppttemplates]

It is what it is (Lando Norris)

It takes Lando a while to notice how you always assume he has something else to do whenever you need his help

Note: english is not my first language. It's slightly angsty but has a good ending! ✨️ is this good, is this bad? I'm not too sure

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: alludes to the lack of quality time between a couple

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Look at you, beautiful girl", Lando twirled you as he stepped inside your bedroom, noticing you were getting ready, "are you going somewhere?".

"Yes, I have an appointment at my optometrist", you smiled, "Anna should be here soon to take me".

"Is it a joint appointment?", Lando squinted.

"No, you muppet", you giggled, "my optometrist needs some exams on my eyes, so I have to today because that's when the ophthalmologist is there and they recommended that I had someone take me there because they want to dilate my pupils and, depending on how it goes, my sight might be a little affected for a couple of hours", you offered, making sure you had everything you needed to take.

"You could've told me and I would've taken you", Lando added, accepting the kiss you placed on his lips.

"I thought you had a meeting this afternoon", you reasoned.

"I do, but I could have moved that around a little and fit everything into the schedule", he reasoned back.

"It's okay, don't worry about that", you mused, "That's Anna - bye, handsome!", you kissed his lips one last time before making your way out and downstairs to meet your friend.

The ride to the office wasn't long, you and Anna taking the time to catch up and learn about the new gossips she had to update on you.

"And how's Lando? I haven't seen him in a while", Anna stated after you sat in the empty waiting room waiting to be called.

"He's been busy lately - he has a meeting today with the team, they're also launching a new collection for Quadrant and they're investing a lot in the social media content, so he's been busy recording a lot of videos and stuff", you offered, never shy whenever it came to talk proudly about your boyfriend's achievements, "and we're also on the countdown for the season to begin, so there's training and meetings and all that".

"Sounds like a busy schedule, no wonder why I haven't seen him - I'm surprised you even see him at all", she joked, grabbing her phone once she remembered she had something to show you.

You were surprised yourself at every bit of time you were able to spend with Lando, as lately it had become near impossible to do so apart from sleeping in the same bed, and even that was rare as he was often travelling between Monaco and England on a weekly basis.

"Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?", the doctor called you before you stepped inside the exam room, starting with the procedures.

The check up itself didn't take long despite the twenty five minute wait for the drops to dilate your pupils, "Don't forget your sunglasses, Y/N!", the secretary reminded you before you stepped outside.

"Thank you, have a good afternoon", you smiled before tapping Anna's shoulder, "Give me your arm so I won't trip", you mumbled.

"Is your sight that bad? The doctor said it should be good enough", Anna worried as she was about to open the door.

"No, it's fine, but if I'm clumsy on any good day, imagine how probable it is for me to fall on some stupid step or raised cobblestone", you argued as you both chuckled, making your way to her car.

Before you went home, your friend stopped by the pharmacy to get you the relief eye drops you'd have to follow the medication regimen with for the next few days, stopping by your favourite bakery so you could enjoy some sweet pastries.

"Can you even read these prescriptions?", Anna asked as she read the regimen you had to comply with.

"Stop making fun of me, you say that as if I'm almost blind", you swatted her arm before reading - trying to - the words, "fucking hell, am I?".

"I can barely read them myself, Y/N! They're so tiny I don't know how they give these to eye patients! Is Lando going to be home soon? That way he can help you with this", she suggested.

"Can I even see the time? At least that", you mumbled as you looked at the large numbers on your phone, "he'll probably take a while still - I can set the alarms on my phone and I'll memorise the different drops", you tapped your head.

Once it was all settled and you assured Anna she was fine to go home and you'd be perfectly well on your own, you walked her to the door before going back to the living room as the sun was no longer shinning outside and you could lay down on the sofa.

The nap you were taking was cut short by the door being shut, making you rub your forehead before an alarm rang. Getting up to head to the bathroom where you kept the supplies, you found Lando taking his trainers off.

"Hi baby, how was your appointment?", he asked as he put the footwear away.

"It was good, need to go and apply my drops", you smiled, turning the light on and grabbing the right box of medication.

"Is that what the alarm was for? I thought we had gotten a new security system I was not aware of", Lando joked as he watched you wash your hands.

"Yes, these instructions are so small to read that Anna thought it would be best to have alarms so I wouldn't mess it up since it's still a little bit blurry", you mused.

"Do you want me to do it?", Lando offered.

"No, it's fine - I'll have to do this for the next 48 hours anyway, so I might as well get used to it", you stopped talking so you could apply them, almost holding your breath until the drops fell.

"My lovie", Lando whispered on your ear once he felt it was okay to approach you, hugging your mid section from behind and kissing your neck as you put your hands on top of his.

.

You were adding the finishing touches on the present wrapping, the shiny gold string fiddling between your fingers as you tried to tie a bow with it around the paper bag handle, when Lando stepped inside your home office.

"That's looking pretty", he mused as he handed you the tape you were looking for on your desk.

"Thank you", you offered before placing the sticky piece down, "the bag is quite plain and even though the present inside is what will get her attention, it should come in nice wrapping".

"Who is this for?", Lando asked.

"It's for Maya's birthday tonight", you smiled, admiring your work.

"Is that tonight? Fuck, this week has flown by", Lando cursed, "I can't make it - will you let her know, please? I'm sorry I can't go", Lando pouted, "if she has to pay for having made the reservation with me in it, let me know and I'll pay my part!".

"I had already told her I'd be going alone, so she made my reservation without a plus one", you mused, remembering the conversation that came around the time of booking the venue.

Lando was leaving late in the afternoon for a trip with Max, Ria and some of the Quadrant athletes, so like you predicted, he couldn't attend the dinner with you.

"Oh", Lando offered.

"Max told me about your plans and when Maya told me the date, I assumed you wouldn't be able to go", you explained with a tinge of sadness and conformity in your voice.

"Well, it seems you guessed right", Lando chuckled despite the uneasy feeling on his chest.

You seemed sad that he wouldn't be able to join you, but at the same time you didn't? Lando put the topic at the back of his mind for now, heading to the bedroom so he could pack the last minute things.

"I was thinking of wearing this dress", you said once you joined him inside a while later, taking the steamer out of your drawer and setting it up to get out any kinks and wrinkles.

"That one is one of my favourites on you, but then again, they all are, I think", Lando mused, kissing your cheek as you waited for the steamer to be up for use.

"Figured it would be a little cold out tonight, so I chose this one, and that coat over there", you pointed.

"You'll be the most beautiful in that room", your boyfriend complimented, pecking your lips before he let you continue your task.

A couple hours later, Lando found himself restless as he scrolled through the posts and stories of Maya's birthday dinner, "Ria", he called, "what would you think if your partner made plans without you because they figured you wouldn't be able to go anyway?".

Ria exchanged a look with Max and Tara before she spoke, "did they ask me if I could go?", she offered.

"They didn't, but truth be told it's not like you have given them much to believe that you could join them", Lando mumbled the last part.

"I think I'd be a more 'it is what it is' at the start if I saw that it was something out of their reach, but I'm not sure I'd put up with it if it was genuine disinterest from them", Ria explained.

"It's not disinterest! They're just busy and shit at organising their schedules", Lando groaned defensively.

"Okay, okay", Ria calmed the room down once Max squinted his eyes at his bestfriend, "then I guess they would have to make sure they do better", she shrugged, "is everything alright?".

"Yes, yes, sorry for snapping just then", Lando offered her a tight lipped smile.

Everyone carried on with what they were doing before the existencial question, Max seemingly as stuck on it as Lando, "is this an hypothetical thing or are we calling people by their names and working this out?", he whispered to Lando.

"It's fine, just a loose thought I had there", Lando grumbled.

.

Lina 🤎

Hi, Y/N!

You won't bother, don't worry - I think I miss having someone other than my boyfriend to talk to 😅

Would it be okay if you visited in the afternoon? Our morning routine is still a shitshow (literally and figuratively), so we would appreciate it if you came after her first nap, around two pm?

One of Lando's older couple friends had a baby a couple of weeks ago, and while you were dying to meet their baby boy as soon as he came earthside, you were respectful of their adjustment period so you waited for them to be up for visitors and were ready to comply with whatever schedule they offered.

"It smells nice in here", Lando commented as he stepped inside the kitchen, "what delicious food are you making and can I please have a bite?".

"I made a little tray for us, but the big one is to take for Lina and Theo - I can imagine they don't have much time for cooking, so food is welcomed by them", you smiled, setting the cheese grater down once the measurements were like the recipe stated.

"Are you going to visit today? I have some streaming with Max scheduled for this afternoon", Lando added.

"Lina told me that this afternoon was the only time they could handle some visits - you know how it is with new parents and newborns and all of that -, I didn't want to change their schedule when I have some flexibility with my schedule", you explained, "I'll give the little one a big kiss from you, then?".

"Well, in that case, I should give you two big kisses then - one for you", he kissed your lips once, "and then this one for the little one", he smiled before kissing you again.

You shared lunch in a semi comfortable silence, Lando telling you a bit about the stream they would be doing and you sharing some work updates from your end.

When Lando gets a text in the middle of watching Max send his virtual car to the curb, "who might that be that's brought such a big smile to your face?".

Lando checked the photo to make sure the baby's face was covered despite his friends having already posted him, tuning the phone to show the camera, "Y/N met our friends' baby boy for the first time", Lando gushed.

"That's the little nugget", Max cooed, "she looks very happy with a baby on her arms", he wiggled his eyebrows, "have you met him already?".

"No, I haven't yet! She could only go this afternoon and we had this so...", Lando tsked, admiring the picture one last time before setting the phone back down. The baby was perfectly nestled on your arms, hiding his face on your chest as you looked down at him with a big smile on your face.

Now that he thought about he, he hadn't seen such a big smile in quite some time, and he was really starting to believe he was the reason behind it. He was absent, more than usual and more than the standards of your relationship considering his job.

The air had shifted around you once you came back from meeting Lina's little boy and Lando could only pinpoint it to the subject he thought about earlier.

"Lan, did you hear what I said?", you asked as you showed him another picture of you touching your noise in the little boy's.

"It's just... are we okay, baby?", Lando questioned. Even though it seemed like he was the only one that felt there was something wrong - different at least -, surely you had noticed it too.

"What makes you say that?", you asked.

From the serious tone, your boyfriend mentally slapped himself. Whatever it was, he was on the wrong and you had indeed noticed it too.

"I've noticed you don't ask me for help with stuff like driving you somewhere or accompanying you to places, which is fine if you want to do things on your own, I'm not saying you can't have your own independence, you know I'm not controlling you in that way - obviously! Fuck, I'm rambling! What I mean is, I have been taking notice that you just assume that I'm not available, and your assumptions are not unfounded, and it makes you sad, and I myself am upset that it has reached this point", Lando stated.

"It's not great, I can tell you that, but we knew it would be like this, your schedule is not the regular nine to five - it is what it is, Lan", you argued.

"But it's not, not all the time anyway! I want you to know you can always count on me!", Lando stated, "Y/N, you are one of my priorities and I never want to let you down - I'm going to make sure that from now on I spend more time with you and that I'm by your side a lot more", he rubbed your palm, "damn, I was so stupid, I'm sorry, lovie".

"Lando, these things happen", you attempted, "now we can work on it".

"You can count on me for little and big things in life - you need to go to the post office? I'm there helping you put the letter in the box. Dinner with your friends? I'll find it in the schedule to go and I don't care who I have to tell no to!", he pointed his finger, "I never ever want you to feel like you don't belong in my life or like I don't want to be involved in yours, Y/N - I'm so so so sorry that it took me so long to notice it".

"It's in the past", you smiled, pecking his lips softly, "now, look at this cute little nugget, he's so cute, we have to go there another day so you can meet him, and I think Theo won't mind another traybake".

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Time for today's silly Merlin au! This time featuring himbo Arthur!

I think that the show should have leaned into the whole "Merlin's technically a creature of magic" aspect, both in terms of being magic incarnate and kin to the dragons, and I think Arthur should have also been forced to come to terms with it as well. However, this is Arthur we're talking about, so of course he wouldn't come to the right conclusions right away.

In this scenario, around season 5-ish, there's an evil sorcerer seeking revenge against Camelot for the purge who puts a spell on all of the humans in Camelot, one that would weaken them and cause such fatigue that no one would be able to even stand up after a while. But it's a powerful and taxing spell to cast, so the sorcerer can only afford to target the humans in Camelot to keep the number of targets as low as possible. Besides, what could the livestock in Camelot do to stop him anyways?

So everyone in Camelot is falling under this spell, and Arthur and the knights are rushing to prepare for battle against the sorcerer to make him lift the spell. However, with each hour that passes, everyone grows weaker and weaker.

Merlin does, of course, know that this spell has been cast and what it does, but he doesn't feel its affects and assumes that his magic is protecting him. He acts like he's growing weaker so he doesn't fall under anyone's suspicions for the wrong reasons. However, after Merlin summons and talks to Kilgarrah for advice on how to break the spell, Kilgarrah informs him that Merlin wasn't protected by his magic, but rather by the fact that he isn't truly human.

And Merlin decides to unpack the implications of that some other time, because he's got a kingdom and a prat to save.

Fast forwards to the knights getting their asses kicked by the sorcerer and the evil sorcerer preparing to kill Arthur, who's lying on the ground with his eyes closed. All the other knights were knocked out by a blast from the sorcerer, but Arthur's still barely clinging to consciousness, yet he's too weak to even open his eyes. All he can do is listen helplessly as the sorcerer prepares to kill them all.

But then the sorcerer yelps, as if he were hit by something. Arthur's hope skyrockets as the sorcerer yells "You! How are you even still awake?! Every single human in Camelot should be feeling the full effects of the spell by now!" Arthur thinks for a moment that one of his knights has found enough strength to overcome the spell and fight back, but that hope is quickly dashed when he hears Merlin's voice responding like he isn't tired in the slightest, saying, "Well it's a good thing I was never really human then."

Merlin decided to say that to throw the sorcerer off-kilter enough to distract him and give Merlin an advantage in the fight. Besides, Merlin can see that all of the knights, including Arthur, are knocked out on the ground, so there's no harm in admitting it to this sorcerer who he's definitely going to have to kill.

Arthur, meanwhile, is still conscious and completely reeling from Merlin's words. What the hell did he mean he wasn't human?! Has some vile magical creature taken Merlin's place?

After the battle (which sounded to Arthur like a bunch of grunts, pained yelps, and a final, wet gurgle), Arthur could feel the effects of the spell lifting, letting him open his eyes with a gasp. He frantically looks around to make sure Merlin's ok, but Merlin's only a few steps away from him, while the sorcerer lies dead on the ground with a sword buried in his chest.

Hearing Arthur's gasp, Merlin turns to him with a relieved smile and helps pulls Arthur to his feet. Arthur, meanwhile, is too stunned to even ask how Merlin of all people managed to kill a powerful sorcerer by himself, but Merlin's giving some unbelievable explanation that involves distracting the sorcerer and then getting a miraculous opening and stabbing the sorcerer. Arthur's nodding along, but inside, he's really searching man who might be Merlin or might be some magical imposter posing as Merlin, as awful as that is for Arthur to consider, for any signs that he's truly Merlin.

If he's an imposter, Arthur has to give him credit, he plays his part well. The man in front of him looks exactly like Merlin, talks like Merlin, walks with Merlin's lanky gait, and seems to know everything Merlin knows, even their inside jokes. Still, Arthur needs to be sure, so after they get back to the castle, Arthur goes down to the vaults and grabs a secret object that Uther used in the purge that could detect illusions and glamor magics. It was a simple clear crystal in the shape of a sphere and small enough to fit in the palm of a person's hand, but if someone or something that was using magic to alter their appearance came into contact with it, the crystal would glow with a bright light.

Arthur plants the sphere in his chambers and disguises it as a new paperweight. The next day, Arthur pretends to accidentally knock it off his desk, sending it rolling across the floor, and orders the maybe-Merlin to pick it up and bring it back to his desk. Maybe-Merlin rolls his eyes in a perfect imitation of Merlin and walks over to the crystal. To Arthur's shock and relief, the crystal doesn't glow when Merlin picks it up, so he definitely is the true Merlin.

But then that leads Arthur to a horrible conclusion: the Merlin he knew wasn't a human, and never was. And the only creatures with the ability to look convincingly human were creatures of magic.

Oh god, Merlin was a creature of magic.

Arthur decides that, in order for him to plot an appropriate course of action, he needs more information. Namely, he needs to know what exactly Merlin is.

So, Arthur sneaks into the library and secretly takes some of the bestiaries, searching for what manner of creature Merlin truly is. Arthur tries not to jump to the worst possible conclusions, but all of the creatures of magic that can take human form that Arthur knows of are horrible monsters that prey on humans. Take the sidhe and the lamia for examples!

But people don't randomly go missing or turn up dead from monster attacks very frequently in Camelot, and Merlin cries when Arthur so much as shoots a bunny, so if Merlin's some sort of monster that kills and eats humans, he's doing a piss poor job at being one. So, Merlin must be some sort of creature that doesn't hurt humans, which certainly narrows down the list.

Arthur eventually finds a list of peaceful, human-like creatures of magic, and he starts trying to narrow down what Merlin is. He couldn't be an elf, since his ears were huge and round, not pointed. He couldn't be a gnome, he was too tall and gangly. He couldn't be a nymph, he spent too much time indoors to be a nature spirit. He couldn't be a leprechaun, he didn't have a beard or an affinity towards gold. He couldn't be a fae or a sidhe, he doesn't make deals with anyone (besides when he goes gambling at the tavern). And he certainly couldn't be a dragonlord, they were all dead!

Arthur was just about to give up when he finally found what he was looking for! The book's passage on fairies described them as benevolent relatives to the fae who would often disguise themselves as humans and would bring good luck and fortune to whoever befriended them, while sometimes engaging in some fun mischief! That must be Merlin!

Come to think of it, Arthur did have some great moments of luck, some of them almost miraculous! Morgana's magic failing her the day of a battle, defeating a dragon single-handedly, surviving the questing beast's bite, and of course defeating monsters that were said to only be killed through magic. And Merlin had been there for all of those events!

The book also describes fairies as creatures that love all living beings and are closely connected with nature, which makes perfect sense considering how much Merlin hates hunting! And fairies could see into the true hearts of people, which was how Merlin always knew if a person was untrustworthy!

It all made so much sense! This even explained Merlin's random "visits to the tavern", when Arthur knew that Merlin rarely ever drank. According to the book, fairies could only maintain their human forms for so long before they needed to spend some time in their smaller winged forms.

The book even addressed how fairies could be born from a union between a particularly powerful fairy and a human, which even explained why Merlin never knew his father and how Merlin could be a creature of magic while having a human mother!

Now that he knew the truth, Arthur felt so much relief! His best friend wasn't some diabolical monster, he was just a playful and friendly fairy trying to live as a human! It made so much sense!

And now all Arthur had to do was prove it. All evidence pointed to Merlin being a fairy, but he needed concrete proof before he could take any action. According to the book, the blood of a fairy in a human disguise sparkled under the light of a full moon. So, Arthur devised a plan to take Merlin out on an overnight hunting trip the day before the next full moon and "accidentally" cut Merlin's arm with one of the crossbow bolts. Arthur would then bandage the cut for Merlin and, after a couple hours, insist on changing the bandages, and pocket the first bloodied bandage.

Sure, Arthur felt guilty about purposely cutting his friend, but this was Merlin's fault for keeping the fact that he wasn't human a secret over their ten years of friendship! So, Arthur goes through with his plan, and when he held the used bandage up to the moonlight after Merlin had fallen asleep, he has to hold back a gasp as the red blood on the cloth shimmers and turns a bright golden color. Well, the book was right, the blood certainly sparkled!

(It was a shame that Arthur never read into warlocks, and how the magic in a warlock's blood made their blood turn gold under the light of a full moon.)

Arthur then turned to look at his peacefully sleeping friend, and swore that he would do everything he could to help his friendly little fairy.

Shortly after that revelation, Arthur starts actively noticing all of the strokes of luck he has. Bandits can never land a hit on him because they're too busy getting knocked out by tree branches or tripping over roots, his baths and meals are always the perfect temperature no matter how long he waits, and his injuries all heal at near-impossible rates. Hell, Arthur couldn't even recall the last time he got sick with something as small as a cold!

So Arthur tries to do little things for Merlin to show him his appreciation, like giving Merlin flower crowns (which fairies are said to like and Merlin absolutely adores), giving him a shiny silver mirror (fairies are supposed to like shiny things, and Merlin's never had a proper mirror before), and giving Merlin parts of his own meals as a food offering (which Merlin of course isn't about to turn down).

(Arthur's also kinda frustrated at the lack of information about fairy courting rituals lol!)

But Arthur isn't the best at keeping secrets, so the knights of the round table eventually catch him trying to set up a nice little fairy ring for Merlin in the garden, and they also "figure out" that Merlin is a fairy, and it all spirals from there until the entire castle is trying to show their appreciation for their fairy friend.

Merlin's very confused by all of this (since Arthur's terrible at actually communicating, Merlin doesn't know that Arthur thinks he's a fairy), but he's not about to turn down all of these lovely gifts!

And there's lots of different directions the story could go from there! A pretty funny scenario would be some rival king catching wind of how Camelot's great victories are all because of their king befriending a kind fairy, so he kidnaps Merlin in an attempt to make Merlin grant him such great luck and victory in battle. However, all they do to imprison Merlin is pour a circle of salt around him (since they firmly believe that fairies cannot cross a barrier of salt).

Merlin's just kinda raises an eyebrow and thinks that this is the weirdest kidnapping ever, steps over the salt, and escapes back to Camelot.

Thank you for reading through my rambling! :D

[erwinsvow]

what if… rafe ever hit shy reader from built up anger like more of an accident? we lowk need some rafe and shy reader angst😢

this kind of slayed me.. i feel like disclosure i do not condone abuse of any sort i just think shy reader would like getting slapped around and being really roughhoused..

but if rafe reallyyy got mad about it, it might be angsty. like if she really messed up and was apologizing a ton if he actually was mad at her her heart would stop. warning rafe is rlly mean in this

being a little whiney, a little too needy and maybe excessively touchy came easily to you as rafe's girlfriend. he was always coaxing you into being more comfortable with him, and you think you'd finally reached that point.

some of your shyer tendencies seemed to have finally abandoned you when it was just the two of you. and just like you had guessed, a smaller, more possessive side of you had recently emerged from the cocoon—wanting all of rafe's attention, all the time.

it wasn't good, maybe a small part of you knew that, but it was easy to play into it, and you liked how you felt these days, more comfortable in your skin and around rafe than you had been even just a month ago.

like today. you had been a little needy all day, not wanting rafe to leave when he said he needed to go to barry's for picking something up.

"ple-ease rafe," you said it a little singsongy, serious but not that serious. "don't go. i want you to stay." it was more just wanting to hang out with him than anything else—when he left, he was usually gone for ages, and things weren't that fun without him.

"i'll be back, kid. jus' stay here, got it?"

"but you said you would-"

"kid." the way he says it, you should have realized he wasn't in the mood for you to be behaving like this.

"yesterday you said you were free all day. and i get bored-"

"yesterday i didn't know i was doin' this shit. just, please. sit tight. i'll be back."

rafe goes, and though a part of you knows you shouldn't, you blow up his phone throughout the day. really, you're not even that bored—showering and getting ready for the day and then curling up with your book after you make rafe's bed, but you played a little too far into it.

when he comes back, you should have realized something was off—but you let everything else cloud your judgement. the way rafe is never mean to you (despite the stories you had heard), how he always reassures you that he's not mad and that you didn't do anything wrong. you were led to a false belief that nothing you could do would change how rafe acts towards you.

rafe comes to sit on the bed near your feet, and you lower your book to look at him, but don't say anything. when he turns to look at you, you bring the book back up so it looks like you weren't peeking.

"c'mon. y'mad now?"

"no."

"kid, i don't have time for this-"

"you didn't answer any of my texts! or calls. and i've just been waiting here all day-" you don't know what you want—attention, quality time, an apology. you just want something other than what you're getting.

"i told you i'd be back. had shit to take care of-"

"well, i just-"

"why're you actin' like this? huh?"

you think rafe's gonna ask you the things he always does—what's wrong? did someone say something? do i need go have a talk with 'em?

but he doesn't this time.

"spoiled your ass too much and now you wanna talk back? is that it?" you're so taken aback, you think all the air has left your lungs. did rafe really think that? he stands up, so you do too, facing rafe while he paces.

"no, i just-" you're being defensive, like always. you feel like crying—you thought rafe knew you better than that, but it's also not his fault. maybe you were acting too spoiled after all, and maybe despite what he always says, he preferred you how you were when you first started dating him.

"you think m'goin out there to paint nails and gossip with barry? we had shit to do. real shit, so i can take care of you. i thought you understood that."

when you start crying, you think rafe will stop—he always does, stopping to apologize and make sure you're okay.

"tears. great. i'm tryna explain this to you. are you gonna cry everytime i get serious? huh?" it comes out a little more like a bark than a sentence—now you're scared.

"i-i'm sorry," you get out, though it's strangled in a sob and sounds more like a whisper. you don't think he heard you, but your feelings are so hurt—the rush from thinking rafe would be happy to be back home with you crashing and burning quickly, the pit in your stomach that doesn't blame him—but rather blames yourself for your behavior.

you had gotten too comfortable, too pampered, thinking that acting like this was okay—briefly you think it's not rafe's fault at all for getting mad, that it's your own fault for this happening.

you think it's best if you leave, dejectedly heading towards the door, but the second he catches you trying to walk away, he rushes over, pushing you against the door before you can even open it. your back thuds against the frame.

"rafe, you're hurting me-" you cry out, but he seems to be lost in his own anger. "please-"

"didn't say you can leave. what the hell are you doin'? you tryin' to make me mad? huh?"

"rafe, m'sorry, i-"

"actin' like this 'cause you wanna get slapped around? is that it? y'like that too much, don't you? you want me to slap you around now?"

your heart feels like it's just stopped beating. the very idea that rafe would bring up something you had just gotten comfortable with liking, only recently convinced yourself—with his help—that it wasn't wrong or dirty to like those kinds of things with him—slapping and spanking and a whole host of other things you had never even talked about, much less actually done, with anyone other than rafe, in this situation, made fat tears slip down your cheeks.

your boyfriend didn't seem like himself right now. and you were so distraught, if you were a little more clear-headed you might realize his bloodshot, dilated eyes and shaky hands. your arm hurts from where he's holding you tightly.

"rafe, please-" you get out through tears, and he lets you go a little. you slide out of his grip and stay against the door, still crying. before you can even think about it, your cheek is stinging.

he does slap you—not in the light, playful way he does when it's just the two of you somewhere or in the slightly rougher manner reserved for bed—this one is harder, everything hurting.

after it happens, you look up at rafe through glassy eyes. your fingers go to your cheek, pressing down where it was painful, like it would help it go away. but you knew deep down nothing could ever erase this memory.

you look up at rafe and he looks down at you. when you try to turn to open the door, he presses down and slams it shut before you can get out.

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Will Never Leave You (Daemon x Reader)

I think this more a love letter to Rhaenyra than anything but I’m really proud of this one cause I adore writing characters like this, I hope you guys enjoy it

Rhaenyra adored her mother since she drew her first breath, yet the woman she admired the most and desperately seemed her nod of approval was her beloved aunt (y/n) Targaryen, the middle child of prince Baelon and princess Alyssa, the seat between the brothers suited her, (y/n) had the good heart and the bright mind of her older brother that went hand in hand with the wild spirit and the constant need to protect the ones she called her own that she passed down to Daemon.

(Y/n) had been by Rhaenyras side when she needed her the most, wrapping her arms around the shaking frame of the young princess burying her face at the crook of (y/n)s neck.

“Dracarys”

Even though the dragon was not (y/n)s, beautiful Syrax complied whilst Rhaenyra broke down at the arms of her aunt, (y/n) ran her fingers through Rhaenyras long hair to offer her comfort as she whispered the lullaby she would sing to her when she was little.

She had also been the one to almost harass her beloved brother and king to name Rhaenyra his heir.

“As much as I love my lord husband, he is not fit to lead, the weight of the realm will crush him until he bursts into flames, we can prevent this, you can prevent this”

“And name Rhaenyra my heir? A queen has not sat the iron throne”

“Why not name the princess your heir? She is the second born”

Otto had questioned, (y/n) side eyed the man before she looked down to collect her thoughts, the wound of her brothers digging their claws on that piece of metal had brought such mental combat between them, turning blood against one another, if she had taken a go at them then all efforts for a harmonious family would have gone to war ages ago.

“I am afraid it is too late for me to claim what could have been or some could argue “should have been” but the time is just right for my niece, Rhaenyra is the result of the love you shared with the late queen Aemma, you have already wronged her, do not turn your back on the only thing you have left of her”

(Y/n) and Daemon had wed a fortnight after Viserys and Aemma, their wedlock’s were as similar as the sun with the moon, Daemon and (y/n) mirrored one another, their fire burned bright and their thick skulls could cause the the strongest storm to lash, still at the end of the day they ended up in each others arms, holding each other tight and whispering words of love and admiration.

(Y/n) was the only one that could keep Daemon on a leash, staying by his side as he raged for the “disrespect” their brother had shown, in a delicate manner (y/n) would always grab his hand and bring it up to her cheek to ground him.

“I love you and your bravery, however I do despise when you let your rage overtake everything that’s good in you, let me fix this for you”

Daemon would always take her in his arms and kiss her lips with all the might he could master. (Y/n) was his life line, her eyes were like a much needed breath after a deep dive, her smile resembled the feeling of the brisk air on the early hours of a summer day, her hair was as soft as a birds feather as it brushed on his skin, and her touch, oh that touch of hers…like a soothing balm on Daemons wounded heart.

“What is the matter, my love?”

“We must fly to kings landing by the morrow”

“Has something happened?”

“Lucerys’s claim is at question by Vaemond, Lord Corlys has not even passed and they are already circling around Rhaenyra like crows”

(Y/n) half mumbled half explained whilst her fingers rubbed circles on her temples, (y/n) had never voiced it still a pang of guilt ate her soul as slow as the carnivores ate their dead prey whenever she exchanged letters with Rhaenyra, she gave up on her, she left her alone to fight against those Hightowers, withering away as the bastards started to tighten the rope around the heiress’s neck.

Daemon puffed out a breath, the conversation had always been the same, (y/n) would often bring up her concerns over Rhaenyras well being, asking Daemon if mayhaps they made a mistake by leaving her, fabricating elaborate scenarios of how things could have been different.

With caution Daemon approached his lady wife and once he reached her he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles on her aching shoulders as she slouched back and a grunt of pleasure left her, the flames from the fireplace licking her face in such a complimenting light, had he not touched her he could assume she was just an extremely accurate portrait from the hands of an exceptionally gifted artist.

“Rhaenyra is strong, she will overcome this”

“Rhaenyra is alone, our brother is barely able to make a sentence, she cannot stand alone at court”

“And what do you think our presence will do? We have been cast away for far too long, no one will pay attention to what we have to say on the matter, besides, driftmark is none of our responsibility”

After the birth of their first born daughter Enora Daemon and (y/n) decided to leave kings landing and reside in Pentos, granting protection with their dragons they were gifted with land and lived like the Targaryens only knew how to live.

“It is under the Targaryen rule, our closests bond to old Valyria”

“Dragons are our bond, which we have our own”

(Y/n) stood up from her chair to face her lord husband, fury that intertwined with confusion painted across her face as her eyebrows furrowed and her lips half open from the shock that his dismiss had caused.

Daemon resented when they fought, he did not enjoy his love being cross with him, though he loved a battle he would hang on dear life on anything and say whatever to make her curl up in his arms with content.

“You do not want to come with me” (y/n) stated

“I do not believe we will change anything”

“You believe that? Out of all I thought you would be the one to get on your dragon the fastest”

“You are with child, our other children are happy here, must we indulge in that mess?”

“That mess? Our brother has been crippled, our niece tortured by the Hightower and now she asks for our aid and you think I will just ignore it”

“You are emotional”

“I am, and proud of it, I will fly to kings landing with my children, you can choose to stay and hide behind our thick and tall walls of this castle. I will not leave our legacy, our blood, to slowly perish. It is your decision at the end of the day”

Daemon puffed out of breath before he reached for (y/n)s arms to which (y/n) stepped back to avoid, her eyes that spewed fire starring right into his soul.

(Y/n) was the diplomat out of the pair, one can imagine the surprise of her stubbornness when it came to this, which also revealed how important this was for (y/n).

“You mustn’t get upset in your condition”

“That is something you should remember, I was fine until I saw that the years turned you into a coward”

(Y/n) spat inches away from his face, with hurried and swift motions she intentionally bumped his shoulder as she made her exit of their chamber, Daemon did not catch a wink of sleep, (y/n) had never slept at another chamber separately since they had wed.

As the sun started to shyly make its descent (y/n) was assisting her three children on their dragons for their journey to kings landing.

“Hold on”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder to find her husband with his dragon walking towards them, she had to admit that leaving without him would have costed her a great deal, she wanted him by her side, to help her, to hold her, to have her.

“What made you change your mind?”

“My astonishing devotion to you and your stubbornness, I won’t leave you alone with the wolves”

Daemon reassured her before he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a smile making its way to (y/n)s lips as she gazed at him with love, that sparkle of joy was what kept Daemon alive, he would risk anything to see her well.

A giggle that came from their youngest children interrupted their sweet moment, Daemon and (y/n) looked up as the twins sat on their dragons, admiring the deep affection that oozed out of their parents, Daemon only winked at his children in response and turned back to his lady wife.

“Allow me dearest”

A shriek was heard when Daemon swiped the princess off her feet and lifted her up at her green dragon Zephyr. The family landed unexpectedly since they had not given any information to their visit, Otto and Alicent were fuming upon their arrival, the pair would stir the pot and cause chaos all in the princesses name, Otto was certain of it.

However no one could expect the ever defiant (y/n) holding Viserys by his right arm and the stoic prince Daemon holding the king by the left.

“King Viserys of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the andals, and the rhoynar and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, with princess (y/n) Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen”

Time stood still as they entered the throne room, (y/n) had persisted on visiting her brother, encouraging him to stand and back Rhaenyras claim, begging him to find his strength and sit on the iron throne.

“I will sit the throne today”

Viserys was able to say to Otto who only bowed his head and stepped aside. When (y/n) gently assisted her brother to sit comfortably his crown managed to move and fall, Daemon was the one that caught it and placed it back on Viserys head. As the pair took a step back (y/n) was the first to curtsy in front of him.

“My king”

She whispered before she smiled, Viserys managed to get a hold of her hand and bring it up to his deformed lips, as cold and slimy the weird texture of his lips left on her hand (y/n) looked back on that memory until the end of her days, as many times as they fought (y/n) held a spot for Viserys, one of loyalty and respect.

Daemon snaked his arm around her waist as they went down the steps and took their place next to a baffled and ecstatic Rhaenyra, (y/n) subtly nodded and side eyed Rhaenyra letting her know she is her for her.

As Viserys reaffirmed Lucerys claim and Rhaenys announced the betrothal of Baela and Rhaena (y/n) was ready to turn and hug her dear niece when Vaemond stepped in front of the king, interrupting the glorious moment.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir, don’t you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon, No, I will not allow it”

“Allow it? I do not think anyone hear asked for your opinion Ser…. Apologies I haven’t been at court in so long, what is your name?”

(Y/n)s words sliced through Vaemond like Valyrian steel and Rhaenyra struggled to hide her chuckle, Daemon stood proudly by her side though his grip tightened around her waist when Vaemonds eyes fell on her for a brief moment before he pointed to Lucerys.

“THAT! is no true Velaryon and certainly not a nephew of mine”

Rhaenyra as the mother that she is took a step forward to stand closer to Vaemond and in front of Lucerys, what no one had seen was an important question that (y/n) had whispered at her husband.

“Which side is your sword on today?”

“Go to your chambers, you’ve said enough”

“Lucerys is my true born grandson and you are no more than the second son of drift mark”

“You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine, my house survived the doom”

“To which you owe it to much greater men than you Vaemond, men that knew their place and played their part in history, something that you refuse to do”

“And you think that you can tell me what my place is? Your brother skipped over you and gave the name of heir to your niece, the gods know what you have done to make him skip over you and your… husband, my name survived and gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this”

“Say it, say it”

Daemon antagonised the man, (y/n) assumed her position and slipped away from Daemons grip, her hand gliding from his back all the way down to his sword, dark sister, and pulled it out the sound of metal brushing against its scabbard was enough to make (y/n) grind her teeth in annoyance, thankfully no one seemed to pay attention to what she was up to.

Except Daemon whom had already a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he internally thanked whoever blessed him to change his mind and was now going to be a witness on this wonderful event and as he viewed it “important milestone” in his lady wife’s life.

Vaemond was caught in his own fury and sense of entitlement to see his end coming, even if he had seen (y/n) with a sword he would pay her no mind, a man of such ignorance wouldn’t feel threaten by a woman with a swollen belly or any woman for that matter.

“Her children are BASTARDS and she.is.a.whore”

“I will have your tongue for that”

Daemon watched with pride as his wife lifted the sword and with one clean slice Vaemonds head was cut right above his tongue. Enora was taken aback by her mothers acts while her two siblings Alastor and Aelia hid behind their fathers legs to avoid witnessing the gruesome sight of the corpse at such a young age.

(Y/n) stood still as the sword touched the ground to support her, glaring down at the man that had so much to say, a man that thought himself as indestructible and yet he laid on the cold floor as his blood gushed out of him and pooled on the ground.

“He can keep his tongue, to explain his treachery to the gods”

“Disarm her”

Otto commanded as his voice boomed through the throne room like a proper king that would command his kings guards to obviously attack (y/n), though the real king -Viserys- had just opened his mouth to stop this when Daemon took only a step forward.

“Don’t you dare”

Daemon warned them, in a rather surprisingly composed way for the situation Daemon approached her and took the sword from her, wiping it away at his clothes lazily before he placed it back on its original spot, his hand brushed a few strands of hair that had moved and let it glide behind her shoulder, he preferred it when her hair was out of her face, so he can fully take in her beauty.

(Y/n) was seen smiling brightly, basking in her accomplishment that was so grotesque that some reported that a numerous ladies that had been witnesses had fainted or vomited at the sight.

“You must rest, my love”

“Before that”

(Y/n) proclaimed, she left her husbands side momentarily only to stand before Rhaenyra, her hands going up to cup her nieces cheeks and place a kiss on top of the heiress head, a gesture that held such affection and compassion, (y/n) had Rhaenyra in her heart and her mind as her own daughter, images of the princess running careless on the grass and finding refuge in (y/n)s hug flashed before (y/n)s eyes.

“My dear niece”

“(Y/n)” Rhaenyra breathed out

“I will never leave you, ever”

Requests are open!

[elia-the-bibliophile]

Stomach Bug (Max Verstappen x Female Reader)

Genre: Fluff Word count: 1,4k

Max hardly ever gets sick, but when he does, he turns into a complete drama king.

Y/N stepped into the apartment, immediately enveloped by an unsettling darkness. The silence was even more disturbing; the usual hum and glow from Max's sim racing setup were conspicuously absent. Her fingers fumbled for the light switch, fear gripped her heart. When she finally found it, the overhead lights flickered on, casting harsh shadows around the vacant living room.

“Max?” she called out, voice tinged with worry. She received no response, only the quiet pressing back at her. Panic bubbled up, and she hurried through the apartment, her mind racing with possibilities.

In the hallway leading to their bedroom, she tripped over something soft and warm. Looking down, she saw Jimmy and Sassy, their two cats, pacing restlessly. They meowed mournfully, their eyes reflecting the same concern she felt.

With a sense of dread, she pushed open the bedroom door. The room was dim, the curtains drawn tightly against the outside world. The only light came from a small bedside lamp casting a feeble glow over the disarrayed sheets.

On the bed, Max was curled up in a fetal position, his body trembling slightly. His face was buried in his arms, as if shielding himself. A pained groan escaped his lips.

“Max, oh my god, what's wrong?” she whispered, rushing to his side. She knelt on the floor, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. His skin was clammy and feverish.

Max flinched at her touch but didn't move away. “It's... it's the end,” he mumbled dramatically, his voice strained and barely audible. “I'm dying, schatje.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Dying? Max, what happened?” her tone firm but filled with concern. She brushed a few strands of hair that are sticking to his forehead, her fingers lingering to check his temperature. He was burning up.

“It's my stomach,” he groaned, shifting slightly to peer at her with one eye, the other still hidden in his arm. “And I have a fever. I'm pretty sure this is it. Tell the team... tell them I fought bravely.”

Y/N couldn't help but roll her eyes at his theatrics. “Max, honey, you have a stomach flu and a fever. You're not dying.”

“This is no ordinary flu,” he moaned, clutching his stomach. “I can feel my organs plotting against me. They're staging a coup!”

Despite her worry, a chuckle escaped her lips. “A coup, really? Let me get you some medicine and water. Have you taken anything yet?”

“No,” he replied, his voice pitiful. “I was too weak to move. I thought I should conserve my energy for my final moments.”

“Your final moments are a bit overdramatic,” she said, shaking her head with a fond smile. “I'll be right back.”

Oh, if only everyone could witness how ridiculously cute Max Verstappen looks when he's under the weather.

Jimmy and Sassy jumped onto the bed, curling up near Max's feet as if trying to offer their own comfort. Their presence seemed to soothe him slightly, and he let out a shaky breath.

Y/N returned with a glass of water and some medicine. “Here, take these,” she instructed, helping him sit up. He took the pills with exaggerated effort, making a face as he swallowed them.

“Ugh, even the medicine tastes like defeat,” he grumbled.

Y/N couldn't help but laugh. “The mighty Max Verstappen, laid low by a stomach bug. The world will mourn.”

He cracked a small, weak smile at her teasing. “Stop it, or I'll vomit just to spite you.”

“You're going to be fine,” she reassured him, peppering a few kisses on the side of his head.“Just rest and let the medicine do its job.”

Max sighed dramatically, closing his eyes. “If I don't make it... remember me as I was. Fast, fearless, and full of life.”

Y/N laughed softly while adjusting his pillow and blanket. “I'll remember you as you are: a dramatic, lovable idiot who will be just fine by morning.”

Max managed a weak smile. “I suppose that's acceptable.”

────────────────────────────────────

Y/N watched Max until his breathing slowed and he finally drifted off to sleep. His dramatic groans and exaggerated expressions faded into peaceful slumber, leaving a quiet calm in the room. She smiled softly before turning her attention to Jimmy and Sassy, who were still perched near Max's feet, their eyes wide and attentive.

“Alright, you two,” Y/N whispered, her tone mock-serious. “I need you to keep an eye on our drama king here while I go make dinner. Think you can handle it?”

Jimmy meowed as if to say, “We got this,” while Sassy flicked her tail, as if acknowledging the weighty responsibility.

Y/N chuckled. “Good. If he wakes up and starts acting like he's on his deathbed again, just give him the 'you're being ridiculous' look. You know the one.”

With one last affectionate glance at Max, she tiptoed out of the bedroom and headed to the kitchen.

As she chopped vegetables, she couldn't help but imagine Jimmy and Sassy as tiny, furry nurses. Jimmy, with a stern expression, patrolling the foot of the bed like a guardian, and Sassy, lounging elegantly, occasionally casting a disapproving glance at Max whenever he stirred or muttered in his sleep.

The thought made her giggle, and she shook her head. “What a day,” she murmured, stirring a pot of carrot soup on the stove.

As she continued cooking, Y/N kept an ear out for any signs of distress from the bedroom. The occasional muffled groan floated down the hallway.

Dinner was almost ready when she heard a particularly loud groan followed by a meow that sounded suspiciously like Jimmy trying to shush Max.

“Looks like my reinforcements are doing their job,” she said with a laugh, pouring the delicious smelling soup into bowls. She added some bread to a plate and carried the tray carefully back to the bedroom.

Entering quietly, she saw that Max was still asleep, albeit with a slightly dramatic frown on his face. Jimmy was curled up by his side, looking very pleased with himself, while Sassy had taken up residence on Max's pillow, one eye half-open in lazy vigilance.

“You two did great,” Y/N whispered, setting the tray down on the bedside table. "Now let's see if we can get him to eat something."

As she gently woke Max, he blinked groggily, his eyes focusing on her. “Schat... what time is it?”

“It's half past eight,” she replied softly.

Max groaned, his face scrunching up in dismay. “Oh no, I was supposed to play padel with Lando, Alex, and the others tonight. I forgot to cancel on them.”

Y/N smiled, shaking her head affectionately. “Don't worry about it. How about I call Lando for you and let him know you're out of commission for the night?”

Even in his sickness, Max managed to give her an incredulous look. “Why do you even bother asking? You can open my phone anytime. You're practically the other half of my brain.”

She laughed, reaching over to the nightstand to grab his phone. “I just like to be polite, you know? Didn't want to intrude on any top-secret racing strategies.”

Max chuckled weakly, then winced as his stomach reminded him of its displeasure. “Trust me, no strategies. Just lots and lots of cat memes.”

Unlocking his phone, Y/N scrolled through his contacts until she found Lando's number. She pressed the call button, holding the phone to her ear while keeping an eye on Max.

After a few rings, Lando's cheerful voice answered, “Max! Where are you, mate?”

“Hi, Lando, it's actually Y/N,” she said. “Max is feeling pretty terrible right now. Stomach flu and a fever.”

“Oh no, poor Max.” Lando replied, his tone immediately concerned. “Is he going to survive, or do we need to send an ambulance?”

Max, overhearing the conversation, groaned dramatically from the bed. “Tell him I'm fighting valiantly but I don't know if I'll make it.”

Y/N relayed the message, rolling her eyes playfully. “He says he's fighting valiantly but might not make it.”

Lando laughed. “Classic Max. Tell him to rest up and we'll catch him next time. And give him our best.”

“Will do, Lando. Thanks,” Y/N said, ending the call. She turned back to Max, who was watching her with a tired but grateful smile.

“You always know how to handle everything,” he said softly.

She smiled, setting his phone back on the nightstand and handing him the bowl of soup. “That's what I'm here for. Now, eat this. It's carrot soup, made with love.”

He took the bowl, looking at her with genuine affection. “Thanks, schatje. You're the best. This smells lovely.”

As he eats, Jimmy and Sassy moved in closer, as if to supervise the meal. Y/N sat beside him, ready to keep his spirits high.

[endeline]

Let The Light In: Part 4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

Words: 1.2K (unfortunately this is a bit of a filler while I sort out my finals 😭. Another *proper* new part to follow soon!)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers/Media Manager! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Friends to enemies to lovers (but the reader doesn’t know why they’re enemies), reader is actually so incredibly in the wrong, slow burn, the girls are still fighting!

A/N: Literally posting/writing this on the train otw to class so if you see me editing this later (per usual), no you didn’t.

“I don’t know where your head’s been lately, but I really need you to lock in today, kid,” Leo's hands grip your shoulders firmly. The stern, disappointed expression that would have sent you running home in tears a few years ago has become all too familiar over the past few days.

Professionally, you’ve never had a worse week than this one. Your hands shake constantly, making it impossible to take clear pictures, and your tear-filled eyes make it so you can’t tell that your photos are blurry until it’s too late. Every click of the shutter feels like a failure, each misstep a confirmation that you're falling apart.

Leo’s voice softens slightly, though the urgency remains. “Look, I know you’re going through something, but we’ve got a job to do. People are counting on us.”

You nod, trying to muster some semblance of composure. “I know. I’ll get it together.” But even as you say it, doubt gnaws at the edges of your resolve.

Leo gives you a brief, encouraging squeeze before letting go. “I’m counting on you,” he says simply, turning back to the task at hand. You take a deep breath, willing your hands to steady, your vision to clear. You can't afford to let this week define you. It's time to lock in, just like Leo said.

The problem is that doing so is rather difficult when what, or rather who, you’re trying to focus on is the reason your chest has felt so tight all week. This is the first official game of the season, and your team has promised at least three news outlets that by the end of the 40 minutes they’ll have cover shots for their articles about the game. Realistically, you know this means photos of Paige, but with your newfound inability to even look at her, you wonder if a picture of Johnathan the Husky would suffice. Hell, for a fleeting moment, you seriously consider shifting your focus entirely, filling your memory card with shots of the mascot, relying on whatever Charlie shoots to fulfill your assignment. But you know that’s not an option. The publications want Paige, the world wants Paige, and your job hinges on delivering her in every frame.

Paige. Her name alone sends a shiver down your spine. You try to steady your hands, adjusting the settings on your camera, but every time you catch a glimpse of her out of the corner of your eye, your focus slips. Her confident stride, the way she commands attention on the court, it’s all too much.

You position yourself at the half court line, trying to angle your shots to capture the game without letting your eyes linger on her. The crowd’s roar, the squeak of sneakers on the polished floor, and the rhythmic bounce of the ball blend into a cacophony that should help you drown out your thoughts. Yet, every cheer for Paige feels like a personal attack on your composure.

Through the lens, you see her in action—swift, agile, unstoppable. It’s almost offensive how unaffected her game seems when your photography had taken such a blow this week. Each shot she takes, each defensive maneuver, you’re supposed to capture it all. Instead, you find yourself focusing on anything else: the scoreboard, Geno’s animated gestures, you even cave in and take shots of Johnathan, who’s currently entertaining a group of kids on the sidelines.

But you can’t avoid it forever. Paige makes a particularly impressive play, driving through the defense with a grace that leaves everyone in awe. You instinctively snap a photo, and for a brief moment, you’re lost in the brilliance of the shot—a perfect still of her in motion, the intensity in her expression almost palpable. Then reality crashes back in, and you feel the familiar weight pressing down on your chest.

“Get it together,” you whisper to yourself, trying to shake off the unease. But the lump in your throat doesn’t budge, and the weight on your chest only grows heavier. Every second wasted feels like a countdown to disaster.

Then drawing you back in, in a sudden burst of speed, Paige breaks away from the defense, sprinting down the court. You follow her through the lens, your finger poised on the shutter. She leaps, going for a layup, and you capture the perfect shot just as she scores. The crowd erupts, but your heart pounds for a different reason.

As Paige jogs back to her position, the whistle blows for a timeout. The players disperse toward the sidelines, and you take the opportunity to review the photos on your camera. Your hands still tremble slightly, but the last few shots are good—really good. For a moment, a flicker of hope ignites in your chest. Sparking dangerously when you hear a voice behind you, “hey, you get a good shot of that layup?”

You turn, startled, and find yourself staring at Charlie, who’s face-to-face with Paige. She’s breathing heavily, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, but she’s smiling. The sight of her up close, the intensity of her gaze, even when not on you, it’s almost too much. You feel your throat tighten.

“Uh, yeah,” you hear Charlie say, holding up the camera, casting you a nervous glance. “I think I got it.”

Charlie steps back slightly, allowing Paige to move closer. Paige glances at the screen, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Nice! Looks great,” she says, her smile widening. “Thanks, but we’ll probably use hers though, we both know she’s the real pro,” Charlie tilts her chin towards you. For a moment, it feels like the world narrows down to just the three of you, standing there in the midst of the bustling gym.

Paige's response is nonverbal, a mere shrug, as she turns her attention back to Charlie, effectively excluding you from the conversation until the sound of the buzzer fills the gym, calling her back to the court.

----

The gym had erupted into chaos as Paige's final three-pointer sailed through the net, securing UConn's victory at the last possible second. The crowd was a roaring sea of cheers and applause, but all of it seemed to fade into a hush when Paige turned towards you, her eyes searching the sidelines for your face.

"Did you get that! Please tell me you got that," she shouted as she sprinted towards you, the excitement vibrating in her voice, her face flushed with the thrill of victory and the sprint. Her hair was a wild cascade, damp with sweat, sticking to her forehead, yet she seemed oblivious to everything but you.

You nodded, your heart pounding not just from the adrenaline of the game but from her intense focus on you. "Oh come on you know I did!" you called back, flipping through the images on your camera to show her.

She reached you, breathless, her hands on her knees as she caught her breath, then straightened up to peer at the camera’s screen. Her face was inches from yours. As she looked at the images, her smile grew, and she reached out to touch your arm, a light, lingering touch that sent shivers down your spine.

"These are incredible," she whispered, her eyes not just bright with victory but with a warmth that seemed reserved just for you.

Paige moved impossibly closer, her proximity sending a flush through you. Then, impulsively, she pulled you into a hug, her body warm against yours, her heart beating fast against your chest.

----

Your arms instinctively wrapped around yourself, a subconscious effort to hold onto the warmth of the memory. Your camera, once a bridge between you two, now hung heavily around your neck.

You stood there, a silent observer, as Paige melded back into her world on the court—a world where once you had shared a special place. Now, you were just another face on the sidelines, capturing moments that no longer felt personal but were merely part of a job. The weight of the camera was a physical and emotional anchor, pulling you back to reality, reminding you of what your role here was supposed to be, even if your heart lingered somewhere back in a past that seemed both incredibly close and painfully distant.

‘She loved you.’ The phrase that had been on repeat since you heard the slam of her car door echos through your head throughout the rest of the night.

[lovemomhatepolice]

drew starkey nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Drew is very caring. You can never complain about lack of attention or proper care. He even forgets himself sometimes so long as you are well taken care of. Fortunately, you are able to balance the middle ground so that both of you are maximally satisfied and cared for. After sex, he is even more cuddly. He is constantly following you, never leaving your side B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) I don't know if he has favorite body parts, both with you and with himself. Drew is really a person who admires the whole body. He realizes that he's damn handsome and well-groomed, so he likes himself in general. With you, he has the same. He likes, loves your body as a whole. Okay but how do you connect during sex in this one place. GOD!!! C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He's a fan of ending up inside you.JYou eatIfIf mIf youIf he onlyIf he has only If you just let him, of course, he seizes the opportunity every time. It probably connects with his breeding kink, but you have no problem with it. You even quite like it... D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Everyone is familiar with this popular tweet about spitting in the mouth. And everyone is well aware that it was certainly memorable for this man. Surely he won't let go of talking about it, and maybe he'll wait to talk about it himself? E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Well he is experienced, although he hasn't had many girlfriends or side hook-ups in his life. He knows perfectly well what he is doing, how he should move, what to touch. A good knight with good weapons. It can work wonders with your body, even without much care (although he still tries hard) F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) A fan of the classic missionary! It could be simple, but no, the missionary gives him plenty of options. He can change his angle in you, kiss you wherever he wants, he can perfectly see the place where you connect. Well, he has to pamper his pillow princess and he doesn't mind it at all G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Drew laughs a lot, oh, hearing his throaty laugh during sex is something else. it often happens to him, but you don’t protest. You also have moments of silliness, and your whole act becomes a place of silly text. However, more often he happens to be serious, grown man behave like this, right? (kidding aside this man will do anything to make you laugh. Well unless you happen to be crying from arousal)

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Little hair on top = little hair on the bottom. He likes to keep everything well trimmed. Even his hands happen to shave, so what's the surprise that he's shaved in his intimate areas. I think with you, he would also expect you to have it neat so he could dive in there without a problem I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) He can really be affectionate during sex. If you feel that way, that's how he will be. He loves to give emotion into it, not to show that it's carnal pleasure alone. He likes to tell you all sorts of compliments, to show that he cares, that it feels good. If you want rose petals, you'll have rose petals J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Oh, he doesn't have to worry about that. You're both aroused at the same time, and if you're not, let's not lie to each other - one word and you're already on your knees. And if you're not next to each other? He keeps it inside and waits until you meet, then your act has even more power K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Breeding. The beautiful man is now over thirty, and a light has gone on in his head about starting a family. And when you showed up, he can't stand it all the more without a vision of you with a belly full of his baby L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Wherever you want. Drew is quite submissive about it. The bed, the countertop, the wall, the shower. Wherever you want, really. And he'll run after you like a stray puppy. But sex in the tub, oh, just a word, and he's already there. Ready and compact for action. Bubbles, warm water, steam rising in the bathroom, oh god M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) You in his too-big-for-you T-shirts with nothing underneath, oh god, this man is already on his knees for you. Or the sight of your hips moving to the beat of the music, especially close to his crotch, oh, it's too much for him

A/N: part two will be here soon BUZZ CUT DREW I'M CRYING

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

The apparition

a/n only fitting for to me come back with an angst after a month of disappearing. Do I think that this should have never seen the light of day? Yes. But oh well… Sleep token made me do it. Also, this a one shot. Won’t be writing a part two to this. Pain is pain for a reason. 🥹

warning: forbidden love, addiction, toxic love?, past trauma, brief mentions of sexual intimacy.

The part in italics is the glimpse of the past.

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

He felt like a kid. Pushed aside once again. A rock. Kicked carelessly by the side of the road. Mindlessly misplaced. Carelessly ignored. Azriel knew his tendencies. That desire to be loved. To be wanted. To be longed for. That same feeling had him crawling after females who never reciprocated his affection. Yet he crawled back. No matter the amount of stabs his heart took. He always found himself reaching.

Was this something his brothers had warned him about? Yes. Cassian repeatedly sat him down like a youngling, pointing out the damage he was creating. The wounds Azriel was tearing open. The self-inflicted pain he was causing himself. Yes, yes, and triple fucking yes. But it was like a drug, and he was an addict. Addict that was so far down the line that the withdrawal was scarier than knowing that every morning his bed was cold, his arms were empty, and his heart had been bled dry. 

The corner street door creaked open. Alerting the lost spymaster. His senses perked up. Azriel doubted that it was true, but even now, even without catching a glimpse of you, he was convinced that he sensed you. But nothing compared to that wave of familiarity that crashed into him when your frame came into view. Chasing the last bits of air out of his lungs. His hands reached out in a frenzy of muscle memory.

“Azriel?”, and it’s the surprise—the hints of horror, almost pain—that sounded in the way you said his name. But his mind was too far gone to register that. So much of an always-alert spymaster. “Oh, no, no," you dragged your hand out of his grip, “You shouldn’t be here”, you shook your head, putting distance between you two. "Please," and here goes that plea. The desperation. “No, Azriel, we had a deal, remember? Last week was the last time,"��you hissed at him, turning to look over your shoulder. 

“This will be the last time," Azriel muttered. A lie. He knew that. But maybe you didn’t. Maybe he could lie to himself to the point where even the ones around him believed him. “Oh, no, I know how this goes." You shook your head repeatedly, “I warned you, you stupid fool." He could feel the frustration flowing through you. The panic. “You promised me you were decent. That you had a hold of your mental shields." There was nothing sweet in your tone as you hissed out, reaching to open the door leading to your shop.

“They were. They are," Azriel muttered, stepping after you. “Don’t lie to me. You can’t fool me”, you huffed, looking through the drawer, cursing as loose pieces of paper swayed, falling to the floor. And Azriel just stood there, watching. Drinking in every single movement. “When?”, you asked, wild eyes looking up at Azriel. And he knew exactly what you wanted to know too. Should he lie? Alter the date? Hide a symptom or two. “Last month," his mouth betrayed him, however, and he had a first-seat ticket to watching your face fall. “But it’s not bad; I have it under control," Azriel quickly jumped in, hoping to defuse the situation, “It just flared up tonight, I promise." Another lie. But if he wanted to get what he was looking for, he had to push this narrative in a convincing enough manner.

“I’m telling Rhys," you muttered. "No,"  Azriel cut in so quickly that it made you jolt. “No need, plus he is aware that I am seeing you," he added in a much calmer tone. “Seeing me or seeing me now?”, you pushed. It was the mess with Elain that had made him crumple. Had taken him out for months before he found his footing once again. Even if he knew that the relationship had an expiration date, the mating bond always won. No matter the stories others showed down one’s throat about the chance of rejecting it.

“All of it. Knows all of it”, Azriel nodded. Just one more, he thought, just for tonight. “I’m saying this as a friend. You can’t keep coming back," you whispered, “This needs to stop." It was Rhys who had found you. An illusionist manipulating people’s emotions, threading together images that felt real to the depths of one’s bones. An alter of wished they called you. People and even high-fea prayed at your altars for Mother's sake. You were something some feared and others were ready to sacrifice themselves for.

“What illusions do you obtain from?" It was your fifth meeting, and Azriel, much to your dismay, had pushed the idea of getting to know each other. After all, he would have to let you into the depths of his soul. So that had been his one rule—befriend me first. You had stayed silent for a long time. Twirling the red wine in your glass. “Of love," you muttered, and Azriel could have never imagined that those two words would alert all of his life. “Why?”, was a question brought up by pure curiosity back then, with no implied intentions. “It gets messy, and the falsification of love feels wrong. Such feelings shouldn’t be tainted by magic," you said, pushing your hair over your shoulder. You glowed even in the dim light. The curves of your body were breathtaking as you lounged in the day bed on the balcony of Azriel’s apartment. It was a lethal kind of beauty, and with a handful of heartbeats, he knew that he was already slipping. 

“I saw Elain today; she... we spoke, and I just..." It was a hell of a lie he was choosing, but the need won out in his logical sense. “Mend it for me; I can’t keep feeling as if I have nothing," he breathed out. His eyes filling up with tears. “Just this one time," Azriel said, sinking to his knees. He saw your walls cracking slowly as you rounded the table. Fingers reaching out to cup his face. His hands reach to hold onto your hips. Pleading eyes burning into you. “I should have never said yes, and I hope you know how much I regret this," you muttered, clawing at his heart. 

“Admit it, I’m a fun company." Azriel leaned closer, making sure you could hear him through the music. You had no clue how he managed to drag you to Rita’s of all places, but here you were. One of the finest silks on your skin. A private booth. The lights. The drumming of the crowd. You shook your head, suppressing a smile. “You’ve gotten cocky," you observed, “Who knew you had that in you." Azriel leaned back, undoing the first button of his black shirt. "Oh, there’s so much more you don’t know about me, baby," he said, speaking into thin air. Knowing that you could hear him. He had leaned in only to feel you closer to him. Smirking as he lifted his glass. 

His hands reached out, taking hold of your legs as he pulled them up, draping them over his lap. Caught by the sudden movement, you were forced to reach out. Hand on his shoulder as you steadied yourself. That’s when he caught that unrehearsed glimpse of need in your eyes, but it was quickly pushed back. “Now this is crossing the line," you huffed. But before you had a chance to move, Azriel clasped his hand on your thigh. “What are you afraid of?” He threw that question absentmindedly, not realizing how deep that root of pain was. “Wasn’t that what you asked me the first day we met?” Azriel smirked before averting his attention back to the crowd. Leaving you slowly breaking down beneath the feeling of him. Beneath the fear of yourself.

“I should have never given in," you said, lifting his chin, and he obliged without a fuss. “You liked this too. Admit it," Azriel bit back, his hold on you tightening. He would fight hell in hopes of being able to keep his hands on you. In hopes of keeping you. “We had a deal. No falling for one another," you hissed, nails digging into the sides of his face. “I warned you that my kind doesn’t do happy endings and picket fences, Azriel," you huffed. “I don’t need that from you," he argued, “I just need you to chase Elain away. That hasn’t changed. I still love her, not you." Another lie for the night. A bitter chuckle slipped through your lips, “You’re one shit of a liar, dear spymaster of the night court.”. 

You were to blame for this just as much. You should have stood your ground. Should have never been entertained by that wimp. Because Rhys had warned you. Told you about Azriel's tendencies. So the fact that he had asked for a night that would make him feel loved should have been a red flag. But it was the empath in you that buckled at the feeling of his sadness. The loneliness that could drown out the whole army. The crippling emptiness. The way he broke down crying as he held onto you.

But all that could have been forgiven. Could have been managed. But it was yourself that you threaded into that glimpse of hope for him. Something you had never done before. It was always a made-up face you used while creating an illusion. It was the safest way. But you had been just as selfish. Nights spent getting to know each other left you wondering what it would feel like to know the touch of a man who wanted you. Who craved you. Who chose you even though loving you was a forbidden act of insanity.

And then it felt as if sending a ship you knew was destined to sink set sail. The next time Azriel stopped by, he was barely through the door as his hand grabbed the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. It felt so raw. So powerful. Whatever was happening in that small corner shop was way too big for it. Too big for Velaris. The whole world. As his hands danced over your body. Unraveling parts of you no one had seen before. Laying you bone bare beneath him. “Make me feel," he had whispered over and over. That sad lost man, making you break your own rules as you wrapped him in the sense of eternal peace as he made love to you over and over again. Digging a grave for each of you.

“If loving that silly girl with flowers in her hair had an explanation date, this has the date of your death engraved on your gravestone," you whimpered, your eyes burning as you held back tears. You warned him. Kept on warning him. In hopes of being able to wash your hands clean afterward. Because he knew the consequences. Loving you wasn’t something that could ever happen. But it only dragged you deeper. “I know. I  remember everything," Azriel muttered, pressing ghost-like kisses over your stomach. His hands already slipping past the hem of your dress. Fingers skimming over your legs. You pressed your own hands over his, “Just an illusion this time, nothing more." You reached to pull back from his touch, but his grip on your thighs only tightened. “Let me make love to you," Azriel pleaded, and if you could justify the opium your magic gave him before, it was oozing out in ugly sores now. You had doomed him. Pained tears fell down your cheeks as you kneeled in front of him. Cupping his face with both hands. You let yourself take in the sight of him. Both because you knew that you would never meet another man like him and so you could torment yourself with guilt for fracturing him for the rest of your existence. 

“You’re all better now," you muttered, smiling up at him. Azriel’s eyes grew hazy. “Do you remember the night we danced in your apartment after way too much wine?” You pushed the damp curl from his forehead, biting the inside of your cheek so you wouldn’t break down alongside him. He nodded eagerly. “You’re there, my love, in that moment," you said, taking a steady breath. Savoring the warmth of him. The feeling of him being close. “But you’re not there with me. Because I’m not real, Azriel," his shoulders sagged at your words. You could feel him trying to pull back, but you kept your hand on his neck. “I was never here. Never with you. You dreamed me up, baby," you said, pressing your lips to his forehead. You closed your eyes, feeling your own heart shatter, “But it was a nice dream, Az, and you will wake up way lighter tomorrow.”

Those same words were like a broken record as Azriel jumped up. Body aching and drenched in sweat. He turned aimlessly, as if in hopes of seeing you there. But he was in his room. The black sheets covered his body. "No," he grunts, yanking the black silk off him. Without a second thought, he winnowed. To one place that had been calling for him all of these weeks. And he’s nearly falling to his knees as the side of the wall comes into view. No windows. No sign. A solid concrete wall. “I know it’s your doing," he screams angrily into the depths of night. Hands pushing against the solid foundations. But there’s nothing. Not even a breath of you. As if it were never there. As if for the entire time it was just the corner of the street.

“You can’t push me away," he roared, beating his fist till the skin of his knuckles cracked, “You’re a fucking coward; that’s what you are." There was no way he had dreamed it. That you were a fleeting image of the night. Drafted by his brain. “You promised...", Azriel sank to his knees. His hands still pressed against the wall as he leaned against it. “I know it was real; you can’t make me believe otherwise," he crocked out, angry tears rolling down his cheeks. Falling to the ground, he pressed his back against where the door of your shop used to be. His wings sagged on either side of him. And he just sat there. The stars up above keep him company throughout the rest of the night. He wasn’t gonna move. He won’t go. He wouldn’t go. The wind kissed his damp cheeks but he was numb to it. You watched him from the other side of the alley. Hand on your mouth as you drowned the shattering waves of pain within. You watched until the night took you away forever.

[cobaltperun]

To Never See You Again

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: She was unattainable, radiating with blinding beauty that went above and beyond her appearance. And though you knew you shouldn’t, you flew too close to the Sun, hoping one day she would look at you the way you looked at her. (Set right before Scream 5)

Warning: Angst! And I don’t usually write full on angst with no happy ending, but I tried. Big spoiler, since I know some of you prefer to be warned about this, Reader dies. Also, a request, you know who you are, love you!

Masterlist

Word count: 2k

Growing up in Woodsboro didn’t exactly come with a lot of perks, in fact, it came with occasional Ghostface lunatics terrorizing a very specific group of people. Somehow, you didn’t care much about that. You weren’t a fan of horror, despite your best friend being a biggest horror fan you knew.

You didn’t dare to try and get into horror, fearing it would make your feelings for the girl even more obvious than they already were. Because Tara Carpenter wasn’t just your best friend. She was the strongest person you knew, going through abandonment after abandonment and still finding it in her to let new people in. She was gentle, accepting of anyone who wasn’t against her or her friends, and she was fiercely loyal and protective. And you loved her, you’ve been in love with her for years, yet you never said anything, because…

Well, Tara didn’t feel the same way.

And honestly, a part of you felt like you weren’t worthy of her love.

It wasn’t anything Tara did or said, you just felt like she could do better, and that she deserved better. It wasn’t even your self-esteem, you hoped, it was more the fact that Tara deserved perfection.

So, that was where you were. Sitting in her living room with an almost completed school assignment between the two of you. She looked so focused on it you dared to look at her a bit longer than you usually did.

“Y/N?” she suddenly said your name and you jumped, embarrassed that you got caught staring, but Tara just laughed a bit. “You can tell me if I have something on my face,” she rubbed the corners of her lips, trying to find the nonexistent smudge.

“There’s nothing on your face, T,” you laughed, looking away to avoid meeting her puzzled eyes. “You just looked kinda cute,” you tried to brush it off.

Tara rolled her eyes. “You always say that,” and you did, you very much did often say that.

“It’s true!” you defended yourself, turning to once again look at her and seeing that slightly mischievous look in her eyes. She was teasing you, thinking the compliment wasn’t serious. You couldn’t blame her, regardless of how lovestruck you were you thought you were fairly good at hiding your feelings for her.

“Sure, it is,” she brushed it off and somehow, for whatever reason you felt compelled to just tell her everything.

“I like you, Tara,” you ignored how hot your cheeks felt, how small your voice sounded, how loud your heart was beating, pounding against your chest. You ignored all of that and waited, suddenly finding the floor between your feet to be the most interesting floor to have ever been made.

“Well, yeah, we’re friends, I like you too, Y/N,” she said, puzzled over your decision to just suddenly blurt that out.

You should have taken the way out. She was serious. She didn’t realize what you meant. You should have accepted the chance she was unknowingly giving you. But you didn’t. “As more than a friend,” you told her, because deep down you felt guilty for having these feelings for her, for threatening to ruin your friendship, and for looking at her the way a friend shouldn’t. How long would it take for you to start blurring lines, to hug her as the one you were in love with instead as your best friend.

She needed to know. She had every right to know.

“As more- oh!” she gasped as she realized what you meant.

You dared to look up, to look her in the eyes. She looked surprised, but there was no anger, no disapproval in her eyes, just acceptance and apology.

“I’m sorry, you’re important to me, but just as a friend,” she didn’t move away from you, she kept the same distance as before you confessed.

“No, I didn’t expect you to! You deserve much better than me, anyway!” you tried to tell her, to make her known it was fine, that you never expected anything from her. Sure, you hoped. Who wouldn’t? But you didn’t expect her to return your feelings.

Yet, Tara frowned, scooting a bit closer and looked you right in the eyes. Her eyes, her big, expressive dark eyes were filled with anger. “Don’t ever say that again, you hear me, Y/N? It’s not about deserving more than you. Anyone would be lucky to be with you, I just never thought of you that way, you hear me?” she said it so firmly, without a hint of doubt, with so much conviction you didn’t have it in you to argue against her words. “Okay? I’m sorry I can’t return your feelings, but it isn’t because of you, I swear. There is nothing wrong with you,” there were no lies, no dishonesty in her words, Tara was completely honest, and you found yourself nodding.

“Please don’t apologize, I’m the one who blurred the lines,” you weren’t trying to make her pity you, you genuinely wanted to help her as well, because she was going to feel sorry, no matter what you said, and you wanted to lessen that feeling as much as you could.

“We’re okay, Y/N, you can’t decide who you fall for,” you could tell she wanted to tell you more, but she held back and that may have broken your heart more than her rejection.

Something did shift, she was holding something back from you, and she never did that before. And you knew you had to leave, to give her space and let her think things through. “Would you look at the time, I should get going,” you lamely said and just barely noticed the sadness in Tara’s eyes. She opened her mouth, as if to tell you something, maybe to stop you, though that was wishful thinking on your part.

In the end, she just nodded, getting up almost at the same time as you did and walking you to her front door. You stood there for a bit, silently taking the night in. It was late, close to midnight. You weren’t supposed to stay at her place for this long, but working on the project took more time than either of you predicted. Finishing it might be a bit awkward, but there wasn’t much work left to do, so you’d push through it.

At least your parents were out of town, so no one was worried about you. Even if they were, they likely would have guessed you’d sleep over at Tara’s place instead of walking back home at this hour. Well, either way, they weren’t home, so they couldn’t worry.

“Bye, Y/N,” Tara told you as you walked down the stairs. You turned around and saw she was smiling softly, her bright eyes still filled with an apology or not returning your feelings.

You smiled back at her, accepting her decision completely. You weren’t owed a chance at a relationship, no one was. Heartbreak hurt, but judging by Tara’s reaction you could still stay friends, though it would probably be best to keep your distance for a bit, just to let the feelings still in your heart fade for a bit. “Bye, Tara,” you said, raising your hand to wave at her as you took a few steps back. And then you turned, walking down the road through the darkness, you glanced back and saw she was no longer there. Of course she wouldn’t be, as much as she tried to be strong for you, you knew the talk was emotional for her as well, she needed her rest.

And then, just as you turned around you caught a glimpse of a cloaked figure and a white mask and before you could even realize what was happening you felt something sharp cutting through your flesh.

You didn’t hear anything but the pounding of your heart in your ears as you reached up, your bloody hand touching the mask. You looked at the eyes, barely visible in the darkness and saw cold, almost angry gaze bearing down upon you as you collapsed to your knees and the figure of death took your life.

~X~

Stabbed.

Gone.

Dead.

You were dead and Tara couldn’t remember the last time she cried her heart out the way she did today, at your…

Fuck… how could this happen?

Maybe you could have been saved, if anyone found you in time, but you were already dead when your body was found in the pool of your blood in the early morning. Cold, alone, with the killer not even bothering to hide your body or move it from the sidewalk. You died all alone, less than quarter of a mile away from Tara’s home, and she didn’t have any idea. She didn’t dare to call you, to make sure you came back home safely, because she didn’t want to make things even more awkward, she just sent you a text, one you never even opened, and she just thought you didn’t want to open her message. She thought it was a justified reaction. She didn’t think twice, even as the dread filled her. She thought it was dread of what’s to come, of how your feelings and her rejection of them would affect your friendship.

She was no stranger to losing people. First her father, then Sam, but they were, as far as she knew, alive. You were dead, there was no hope of fixing the relationship, of making up for the time that would be lost from now on.

She lost you. And she cried so hard she nearly had to use her inhaler, she cried and sobbed until there were no tears left to cry.

It wasn’t like she suddenly realized she had feelings for you, that she loved you back, or anything like that. She didn’t. She never looked at you like that, and she wasn’t in denial. She lost a precious friend and she grieved for a friend. And when she wondered if she should have done something differently, she wasn’t thinking about her feelings, but just letting you go home that late.

Because she had the same feeling she had when Sam was about to leave, that unexplainable dread that something important was about to be ripped out of her life and that she had no control over it as she watched you leaving. And Tara hated herself for that, she hated that she didn’t act on that feeling. She didn’t want to make it awkward between you two by asking you to watch a movie, let alone spend the night because of how late it was. She just turned you down, after all. And then she came to a conclusion the dread was just her reaction to what would happen between the two of you now, and she relaxed, letting it flow through her, instead of holding it in. How foolish was she to believe that? To not insist on making sure you came back home safely?

She could never look at you the way you looked at her, but she would forever regret that her last words to you were. ‘Bye, Y/N,’ such meaningless words, small, so ordinary. And Tara feared those were the very last words you ever heard spoken to you. Thinking of them now, they were even chilling last words to hear, so innocent and not in any way sounding like the final words. She wished she could have told you something else. She wished she could have properly explained to you that her rejection didn’t mean the end of your friendship, that she cherished every moment you spent together and that you were one of her best friends, if not her best friend.

She didn’t though. She thought she’d have time. That she would let you process everything and then try and see if the friendship could be continued or if you’d be prefer to keep your distance. She should have known better.

She should have known better.

She should have never left anything unsaid.

The sound of landline phone ringing in the kitchen broke her out of her thoughts and she reluctantly got up from the sofa to answer it.

[dead-enby-detective]

I wonder how much this scene plays a role in Monty choosing to target Edwin over Charles after Esther sends him to befriend the boys and then later how it impacts him falling for Edwin.

Edwin is the first one to enter so he’s the first one Monty sees.

Monty doesn’t crow when Edwin enters the house but waits until Charles enters. Does he already like Edwin better? Did he see Edwin and see something special?

Charles immediately responds to the crowing by telling him to hush. Did Charles’s words stick with him after Esther gave him a human body and mind and feelings? Were his feelings hurt or was he just annoyed by it?

Edwin pulls his gloves off as he passes Monty’s cage, does he think about that after becoming human? The way Edwin takes off a piece of his armor right before going into danger?

After Edwin tell his partner he believes in Charles’s ability to open the lock, Monty crows, and Charles sasses back. Edwin pays him no mind. Does that frustrate him, later when he’s human?

After Charles opens the lock, Edwin is the one who figures out that cabinet is a trick door.

I may not like Esther but she is clever. Was Monty learning from her the entire time he was her familiar? Does he take after her in that way? Always learning, always being wanting to be clever?

Monty, is shown soon after becoming human, to have a vast knowledge of zodiac signs. Did he learn all that in that short time span or was some of it things he’s taken in from Esther over the years? How much had he learned from her, from her spells, her books over the years?

Was he “raised” to appreciate cleverness even as a crow? Did he admire Edwin’s cleverness from the beginning?

Did he become human and immediately think back to when they first entered the house and wonder if Edwin would appreciate cleverness in return? Would appreciate the opportunity to learn something new from him? Hoped that they could be clever together?

There’s just so much to this scene from Monty’s perspective that I think we should consider.

Did he ever wonder if he was clever enough, would it be enough for Edwin to give him a chance?

Like he said, he never asked to be human… did he hope that, when the time came, with all his cleverness, that Edwin would understand that?

That he had never really had a chance in the first place?

[aeruia]

↻. GENSHIN IMPACT

↻. EYES ON ME .

in which [name] can't really handle eye contact very well, can they handle scara's gaze on them? ( they can't . /j )

pairing : scaramouche x reader

warning/s : lowercase intended, not good very cringey!

word count : 714

note : not really my best work but i'm doing this for the sake of keeping this blog alive and active, i have sm pending works istg i've been trying to finish them all at once 😭

you have a habit of staring everywhere except to whoever is talking to you. every time someone speaks with you, you're looking in the other direction and aside from that you will only look at them if necessary. several of your friends also noticed that if you're talking to others, your gaze seems to avert and look elsewhere.

they asked you about it and it appears that you're unable to hold eye contact for too long since you weren't used to making eye contact with other people and got used to working alone or with only a few people you had known like family.

by the time you have finished your work, you find yourself having a drink and a chit-chat with scara. it was only supposed to be a small chat with how your work and his work is but seems like scara has other plans. he made you his drinking buddy.

you weren't really a fan of drinking yet you accepted the offer since you don't wanna be rude and now, you're here drinking with none other than scara as you avoid looking at him as possible. everything around you now looks interesting to you. it now appears that each thing has a deep meaning that it should have. with your eyes glancing almost everywhere you still managed to catch everything he says word by word.

he notices that your eyes have been glancing everywhere but he never saw you glance at him even for a second. tilting his head to the side, his arms crossed near his chest.

“ are you listening? ” that didn't sound like a question to you yet it is a question. you're just interpreting it differently. “ huh? yes, of course. i'm listening. ” answering his question only looking at him for a few seconds and then smiled before looking away again.

the indigo haired man smiled. it wasn't visible but you can see it if you look closely. he stopped discussing things with you besides everything that was coming out from his mouth was complaining.

in exchange for the silence, his eyes linger on you, you can feel his eyes on you as if he was burning holes into your sitting figure in front of him. your [e/c] slowly side eye scara's own orbs. he was definitely just looking at you and by the looks of it he doesn't have any plans on looking away soon even if you aren't staring at him.

“ you genuinely can't keep an eye contact, huh? ” he questioned as if it wasn't obvious enough by how you tried to avoid his gaze. he knows that you aren't that used to looking at someone in the eye and also knowing that it's disrespectful to not look at the person who's talking to you.

you didn't even notice there was a lump forming at your throat if you haven't gulped. everything looks so interesting right now, you just want to run away from here and look for something that looks interesting and pretend to study it. “ i should really practice on holding eye contact.. ” you thought, you can even do it by looking at the person in front of you but that doesn't seems like a good idea.

the person in front of you is scaramouche. everything about him feels intimidating for you. building up the courage you finally give in and looked up at him. he was taken back when you looked back at him, his eyes widened for a second before he smiled smugly at you.

that lasted you well, not that long but you're proud of yourself for that. you hear him chuckle as he uncrosses his arms as he puts his hand on the table.

“ very well then, can't really keep your pretty eyes on me for so long? ” he teased with a saddened tone when he said the words so long as your cheeks heat up.

you didn't even answer it as you just left him alone there, not wanting to embarrass yourself any further as scara just watched you walked away.

he noticed the tip of your ears were red when you stand up and he couldn't help but smile by just how adorable you are.

maybe teasing you more often, will make him see your other side?

date posted 052024

[damiansgoodgirll]

could you please maybe write an Damian Priest X Fem Reader Story where both became parents to an beautiful baby boy, and the first night at home with the baby reader witnessed that Damian is taking care of the Little One by holding him in his arms standing by the window and telling his son the story how reader and him met and that he was blown away from her the first time he saw her and reader comes to him and wrapped her arms around him and tells him that those feelings were mutual at that time and Damian thanks her for not only making him the happiest guy on earth but also an Dad.

this request was so cute 🤧 + i decided to make it what i always wanted part 3 because it fits perfectly with the storyline

damian priest x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

this could be read as a stand alone but if you want to read the other two parts, here we go:

what i always wanted, part 2

‼️mention of pregnancy and child birth (i never had a baby and pregnancies scare me, don’t judge lol - so i don’t know how accurate this could be)

what i always wanted pt. 3

“i think my waters just broke” you said standing there in the middle of the kitchen, frozen on your spot.

“what?” rhea looked at your with terror in her eyes, especially when she saw the water down at your feet.

“my waters just broke rhea…” you said, trying not to panic. this wasn’t supposed to happen now. you were only at the eight month, you weren’t ready.

“what-what do we do?” she tried not to panic too.

this wasn’t how you imagined it. you imagined being already at the hospital, being taken care of by the doctor and nurses, and, most importantly, being there with damian and not rhea. she was your best friend but seeing the way she was panicking gave you more anxiety that what you already had.

damian was training and, even if he refused to let you, you had almost to kick him out of the house. he wanted to stay by your side in case “something happened” but, the baby was supposed to come in three weeks, not now, so you imagined that being with rhea wasn’t a big deal. he reluctantly accepted and left you under rhea’s supervision but he was checking on you every ten minutes, making sure you were okay.

“i don’t know rhea, maybe drive me to the hospital?” you didn’t mean to sound so rude but you couldn’t explain the pain you were experiencing so, in that moment, being kind and caring was the last of your worries.

“oh yeah yeah, let’s go, let me grab a towel for you..” she got up from the couch and ran to the bathroom to get you a couple of towels and then she helped you into her car.

she was probably panicking more than you did.

“should i call damian?” she asked, knowing the answer but, she wasn’t gonna lie, you were scaring her, and not because you were about to give birth but because you were mean.

“please do…” you whispered. you were focusing on your breath, in and out, despite the huge pain you were feeling and the fear of everything not going how it was supposed to be.

“he’s not answering…”

“try again! please rhea…i don’t know if i can’t do this without him…” maybe the hormones, maybe you getting more and more agitated, but you started to cry and rhea couldn’t do nothing to help. not even her comforting words - that usually worked - were working this time.

in the meantime she got you safe and sound at the hospital.

finally you were taken care of. brought to your room, changed into the hospital vest and now doctors and nurses where helping you getting ready to deliver your baby.

rhea was by your side for all the time damian was missing. when she called him for the tenth time he finally answered and he almost had a heart attack when she told him that you were in labor. he changed and with finn he drove - like crazy - towards the hospital.

he didn’t want to miss the birth of his baby but his first thought was you. how scared you must have been being there, laying in an hospital bed and not knowing what’s going on.

when he made it, he ran through the hospital corridors, looking for your room and when he finally saw you, his heart broke. it was clear to him that you were in extreme pain, rhea holding your hand was all the support she gave you as you didn’t want nobody to talk.

“hey love…” he slowly sat next to you, opposite to rhea.

“it’s not how it was supposed to go damian…” you softly cried.

“i know mi amor, i know…but we’re here together…i’ll be with you the whole time okay? rhea is here too and finn is waiting outside, he probably just called dominik so he will be here soon too. you have a big loving family here for you, you are not alone” his words seemed to calm you down a little.

in reality he was more afraid than you were. he knew becoming parents was going to be a big change and, no matter how excited he was, deep down he had a fear of failing.

“it’s not how i imagined it tho…i wanted it to be a perfect and this is a complete chaos” you said making him chuckle.

“well, our little baby wants to come sooner than we thought…are you excited love?”

“i’m terrified right now! plus what if my vagina is gonna break? what do i do?” he sensed you were terrified, and no matter what he said, he couldn’t calm you down.

“i promise you your vagina is not gonna break mi amor”

“how do you know?”

“hey hey love…let’s breathe together…in and out, follow me…” he showed you and you did like he said.

“i’m scared…plus it fucking hurts…”

“everything will be okay…i’ll be with you the whole time hermosa” he gently kissed your cheek.

he wished his arms was made out of titanium because the way you were squeezing his hand when you were giving birth, it was as painful as it was probably for you.

but no matter how broken his hand was - it wasn’t broken, he just liked to be a drama queen - he comforted you and praised you the whole time.

“one last big push y/n…you’re almost there” he softly whispered in your ear before the both of you heard a little cry.

“oh my…” you said, tears streaming down your face.

“congratulation mom and dad, it’s a baby boy” your doctor happily said as she quickly cleaned up your new born and gently laid him in your arms.

“hi baby…” you softly looked at your baby who was still crying but quickly calmed down when he realised where he was. your eyes met up with damian’s. he was crying too, probably more than you were as he was expecting the happiest moment of his life.

“he’s so…” he couldn’t describe it with simple words but somehow you understood.

“i know” you simply said.

a couple of minutes later you were finally getting cleaned up and while damian was giving your son his first bath with the help of a nurse, you decided to close your eyes for a few minutes, feeling relaxed and happy. when damian came back, he put his son to sleep in the little crib near your bed while he smiled at how peaceful you were while sleeping .

once you woke up, you found yourself in a room full of people and filled with happiness and joy. your best friends, damian’s family and your family too. every single person you loved was there to support and help you and you couldn’t be more grateful.

two days at the hospital and you were finally ready to come back home. you hated hospital food, hospital showers and hospital beds, they were the most uncomfortable places for sleeping. so you couldn’t deny how happy you were when you finally laid down on your bed.

the little nursery room you both decorated was perfect for your little boy.

damian has been by your side for everything, even the smallest things. he cooked for you and he helped you showered once you came back home. he knew how tired you were and he didn’t want to put you in any stress. he was there when you were breastfeeding your son, admiring the little guy in your arms.

he couldn’t keep his eyes off of his son and neither could you.

he was perfect.

“i’m so tired” you said yawning, once your son had fallen asleep.

“you should rest a little, i’ll wake you up when dinner is ready okay?” he smiled looking at you and you definitely agreed with him.

you slept for a couple of hours before waking up when you heard a little scream coming from the nursery. you immediately went on your feet and rushed to your son’s bedroom.

“it’s okay baby” you heard damian talking softly “it’s okay…you’re waking up mom with your little screams” he gently laughed, your heart melting at the sight of such sweet scene “you know, i messed up really badly with mommy, there’s a time where i almost lost her…we had this stupid fight - oh right - bad fight, no bad words in front of you little guy, and when she left i felt completely lost and alone…and if i could turn back time i would have never let her go..”

you tried to hold back tears hearing damian’s conversation with your son but you were still very emotional so you let a few tears fall.

“the craziest part is that your mom doesn’t even like wrestling…” he laughed again “but she gave up her career for me…she started working with me, following me everywhere i went and if it wasn’t for her best friend taking her to a wrestling show many years ago, i would have never met her…i know you’re too little to understand this but y/n is the best mom you could have ever ask for…she’s been waiting for you for a while and now that you’re here, we’re going to be the best family for you, i promise you little boy…” damian started to get emotional and before he could have the chance to cry, you stepped in.

“just for your information, i still don’t like wrestling” you said smiling.

“but you love me…” damian smirked.

“i do…”

“i’m so glad you didn’t give up on me love…i love you so much” he smiled at you while gently rocking your son.

“i love you more” you wrapped your arm around his chest and gently laid your head over his shoulder, admiring the little creature you just created.

[zoeykallus]

hai!!! how are you doing? i saw ur doing requests again soon... and i wanted to request a tbb something ^^

how would they react to their s/o like. BITING THEM. not full on CHOMP! duh. but a little soft nibble anywhere(jaw, cheek, neck, hand, nose, YOU GET THE POINT)... like the same way you would bite when giving a hickey or biting an earlobe. cuz holy moly i need to bite the FLIP out of these guys.

thank you and i hope you're doing well :D

Aloha! Interesting Question 😁

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - That Little Bite

Warnings: Mostly Fluff/ Partly Suggestive

Masterlist

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

Hunter

If you suddenly nibble his ear while he is cuddling, you will certainly not hear any complaints from him. In fact, it doesn't matter where you're gently nibbling, you'll hear Hunter humming contentedly. The next moment, you have at least one of his arms wrapped around you and are pressed close to his body.

He's crazy about your every touch anyway, and the more sensual and closer, the better. Small bites and nibbles are actually a good way to get his motor running if you're in the mood for more.

In any case, Hunter is a big fan and not shy when it comes to returning the gesture.

Echo

At first, he may be perplexed and keep completely still. Echo is trying to make sense of what is happening, but shortly afterwards you hear a soft laugh coming from his mouth.

“Am I that appetizing?” he teases you.

An approving coo from you and more small, gentle bites make him melt away. Whatever jokes may have occurred to him a moment ago are quickly gone again.

Don't be surprised if he sighs and shivers under your teasing touches, he enjoys every second.

Wrecker

He giggles, surprised, perhaps a little startled at first, but quite taken with the very sensual touch.

“Didn't you get enough to eat today?” he asks you teasingly.

Cling to him and keep nibbling, the jokes will soon be forgotten. His strong arms will pull you closer to him and a little later you will hear pleasurable sounds coming from his mouth.

As he gives in, he says softly, “Go ahead, make me your feast”

Tech

Your gentle nibble triggers a very abrupt, unexpected reaction. Tech jumps up and stares at you with wide eyes from behind his lenses.

“What's wrong?” you ask gently.

Tech clears his throat, pushes his goggles up the bridge of his nose with his index finger and seems to collect himself before answering in his trademark matter-of-fact tone.

“I'm confused. At the moment, I'm trying to categorize your actions on my body, which are new to me. Are these touches of an erotic nature? Do you just want to cuddle? Or should I perhaps be worried about a previously hidden tendency towards cannibalism?”

Disguising and suppressing the impulse to laugh with a cough, you finally answer, “Well, I'd say the first two options are true to a certain extent”

A small sigh of relief crosses his lips, then a smile twitches at the corners of his mouth before he lies back down with you and says, “I'm not averse to that. Go on if you like”

Crosshair

You hear a coo coming from his throat, a satisfied grin on his face. Crosshair is a connoisseur, especially when it comes to physical contact between the two of you. You certainly won't hear any complaints from him.

He lolls around like a cat, snuggled up to you, his long fingers trailing under the fabric of your clothes. Physical contact between you is like a balm for him.

But he doesn't just take, he's also only too happy to give. Don't be surprised if you suddenly find yourself lying under him, his teeth gently grazing your neck or nibbling teasingly on your earlobe. Basically, he's interested in just about every sensual touch in your relationship.

Don't hold back, you won't regret it.

Little Bonus

Gregor

He giggles his adorable giggle.

“Pretty daring today, I like that,” he says, quite taken with it.

Expect him to want a nibble too and very likely to leave a tender mark or two. Gregor is sensual and playful. Such moments often end in you rolling around in the sheets.

But it doesn't necessarily have to end like that, Gregor is also a cuddly bear and his strong arms are a great place to rest and recharge your batteries.

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

@clonelovr

@ivyyyyy

[my-fancy-hat]

Denji's hypersexuality is a common coping mechanism in SA victims, to try to give the assault a logical meaning of why did it happen, or to get to know the foreign at getting close to the act itself. Genitalia in this case would be representative not only of his lust but also the element reminder of his trauma: wanting to have tons of sex lead his life to end up miserably, so, the victim blames himself for feeling hurt. The yakuza reminds him of his failure in performing manhood, as Katana Man calls him weak, crybaby, "Chainsaw woman" as kicking his genitals joking to stick them in his behind, and Makima to have twisted his idea of love and taken advantage of his needs, making Denji believe he isn't deserving of happiness. At the end it all falls into self-harm, the result of this macabre recipe to make a human to hate every facet of his being: his identity: as Denji, as CSM, as a man / his existence: to have born in poverty, orphan, to have killed his father and adoptive family, suggested to perform downgrading gender roles in prostitution (accused woman's job to give men pleasure) / his hopes and dreams for the future, everything is poisoned on his mind. This chapter is about relapse and realization.

Denji is under layers and layers of misconceptions, he is unable to see things through. He thinks his lust is the reason of his tragedy, when he hasn't done anything to anyone to get blamed on as a perpretator/predator. He isn't the one to blame for not being strong enough to stood by himself sooner against his abusers, and yet he still capable to recognize the act is wrong and undeserving (even if he was told through all of his life men should always accept a sex offer and sex = love/joy), ex with Fumiko he inmediatly recognized she assaulted him. Sex isn't Denji's priority and never was actually, and that's something admirable on itself, because is important to never forget how his happiest where with Aki and Power, putting their friendship above everything else, even above Makima's offers.

I don't think cutting his genitals or even transitioning will fix anything, it would be an impulsive act by trying to escape from the natural progression of the stages of grief and give the instant solution Denji wants so bad right now, where the real cause of his grief is the guilt of the survivor, his self-hatred for having been treated as an object of repulsion and failure through all his life he ended up believing it; to have suffered so much abuse which lead him to see his priorities unclear, amoung other things, seems like it started to click on his mind. This is why Yoru, of all characters, is the one who offers to give Denji "the solution", the character who exists to inflict pain and death on CSM. Also, because he's a hybrid, it will regenerate eventually. It's not gonna happen, probably.

[gurokiitty]

hii!! i love all of ur writing and headcannons so much, would there be any chance you could write about strade kidnapping reader who just so happens to be a virgin? he knows about this thanks to some talking beforehand at the bar and later brings it up. he ends up taking their virginity (unwanted hehe) thanks a lot if u write this !! 🙈🙈🙈 feel free to change the consent !!

a/n: tysm! as a certified virgin™️, yes i can!!! <3 hope you enjoy :3

IN THE WOLF'S DEN

{ strade x virgin! gn! reader }

word count: 2.2k

warnings/tags: NSFW (graphic), NONCON, build-up, brief alcohol use, kidnapping, violence, knifeplay, blood and injury, licking and biting, mild corruption themes, loss of virginity, creampie.

Your fingers glide along the rim of your glass, tracing patterns in the condensation that pools beneath your touch. Amidst the cacophony of voices in the bar, his presence stands out, a solitary figure who commands your attention. He emerges from the crowd, his sharp features softened by the warm lights, and his eyes gleam with a dangerous allure, drawing you in with each step he takes. He slides onto the stool beside you, effortlessly claiming the space as his own.

"Name's Strade," he offers, his voice smooth and accented. You introduce yourself in return, feeling the weight of his gaze as you shift nervously in your seat.

"You look like you have something on your mind," he observes, taking a sip of his drink. You're taken aback by his directness, but something about him draws you in, a magnetic pull you find impossible to resist.

You swallow, nerves dancing beneath your skin as you meet his gaze. His presence is overwhelming, yet oddly comforting. "I guess so," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, "but it's nothing I'd share with a stranger."

His chuckle ripples through the air, a low sound that sets your pulse alight. "Ah, but aren't strangers the best confidants? No judgments, no preconceptions."

His words resonate within you, coaxing a nod of agreement. "I suppose you're right," you concede, turning your gaze back to him.

You begin to open up, sharing things you've never told any stranger before. You tell him that you're alone, that your family lives in a different city, that you feel the most lonely you have in your adult life. The words spill freely from your lips and he listens with an intensity that both unnerves and excites you. And then, almost as an afterthought, you confess a truth you've kept hidden for so long— the truth of your virginity.

Strade's reaction is immediate, his lips curling into a wolfish grin. "A virgin," he muses, his voice edged with amusement, "how intriguing."

A flush blooms across your cheeks, a blend of embarrassment and exhilaration at his reaction. Your fingers linger on the rim of your near-empty glass, his gaze holding you captive.

"In what way?" you ask, a small thrill pulsing through your veins.

Leaning closer, his smile widens, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. "It's not every day you find someone so… untouched. It makes you unique, like a rare gem."

Your pulse quickens at his words, but before you can respond, the bartender interrupts; a temporary reprieve. You hastily order another drink, the liquid a balm for your nerves.

As the night wears on, you lose yourself in conversation, the sounds of the other patrons fading into insignificance. Only when the bar begins to empty does reality come crashing and you realize it's time to part ways.

"I should get going," you say, pushing yourself away from the bar. "I have an early morning." Before you can take another step, he's beside you, his hand grazing yours in a tantalizing caress. "Allow me to walk you to your car," he offers, his eyes twinkling with a dangerous glint.

There's part of you that hesitates, a silent warning echoing in the recesses of your mind; but the pull of his presence is undeniable, drawing you into his orbit once more.

The streets are quiet as you make your way through the night, the only sound is the soft shuffle of your footsteps on the pavement. You steal glances at him out of the corner of your eye, his silhouette a dark shadow against the moonlit sky.

As you round a corner into a dimly lit alley, the air suddenly thickens with an ominous tension. Your heart quickens its pace, a silent drumbeat of warning, and in an instant, he's upon you, pinning you against the rough surface of the alley wall. His grip is firm, almost bruising, as he leans in close, his hot breath fanning across your face.

"Don't make a sound," Strade whispers, sending shivers racing down your spine. His smile, once charming and enticing, now twists into something dangerous; like a predator revelling in its prey.

Panic surges within you as you struggle against his hold, your pleas swallowed by the gaping alley. With a sickening thud, your head meets brick and stars explode behind your eyelids as darkness descends like a shroud.

You awaken to the unforgiving glare of fluorescent lights, your head pounding with a dull, insistent ache. Disoriented, you blink against the harsh brightness, your surroundings slowly emerging from the haze. No longer are you in the alley; instead, you find yourself in a musty basement, the air thick with the scent of damp and decay.

Your heart lurches as you shift, feeling a cold metal pole press into your back and your arms bound tightly behind it. Panic claws at your insides, fueling a desperate struggle against the restraints.

"Ah, you're awake already?" Strade's voice cuts through the silence like a blade, sending a shiver down your spine. You turn your head to see him descending the stairs with an unsettling grace, his silhouette looming like a spectre in the dim, flickering light.

"Wha— What's going on?" you stammer, your voice trembling with fear.

He chuckles, a sound devoid of warmth, as he crouches to meet your gaze. "You don't remember? Our chat was going so well... You opened up to me about so many things,"

Dread coils in the pit of your stomach as your naivety sinks in like a lead weight. "Please, let me go," you plead, shrinking back against the cold metal pole, trying to distance yourself from him.

But he only smiles in response, seemingly unmoved by your desperation. "I wanted to get to know you on a more... intimate level," He explains, his tone disturbingly casual. "So I took you home."

Your breath catches in your throat as he moves closer, the heat of his body an unwelcome presence. With a swift motion, he withdraws a knife from his belt, the blade gleaming in the dim light.

"Please," you whimper again, tears clouding your vision. "I'll do anything, just let me go."

Strade laughs, the sound echoing in the confines of the basement. "Anything, huh?" he muses, that menacing smile still etched on his face. "Well then."

He places the knife on the floor and leans into you, his body pressing intimately against yours. He's so close you can smell him— a dreadful blend of sweat and petroleum invading your senses. Rough hands reach for the ropes binding your wrists, causing you to flinch. With deft movements, he begins to untie the knots, his fingers brushing over your skin in a way that makes your stomach churn.

The ropes fall away, and you gasp in relief, only to feel his hands seize your shoulders, shoving you back against the pole. Strade retrieves his knife and kneels before you, his bulky frame illuminated by the overhead lights.

"Now," he commands, gesturing with the blade, "strip."

You swallow hard, bile rising in the back of your throat as you meet his gaze. Slowly, with trembling hands, you begin to remove your clothes, the fabric rustling loudly in the silence of the basement.

Strade watches you intently, his eyes devouring every inch of exposed skin. You strip down to your underwear, your clothes a crumpled heap at your feet. The cool air of the basement chills your skin, and you curl into yourself, attempting to shield your body from his invasive gaze. He steps closer, his free hand brushing across your cheek.

"Have you ever stripped naked for anyone before?" he asks, almost tauntingly, his face mere inches from yours. You shake your head, your voice barely a whisper. "N-No," you manage to croak out, the response hanging between you.

Strade chuckles as if amused by your innocence. "I figured as much," he sneers, "A virgin in every sense."

He watches your reaction with a sadistic delight, savouring your fear— your vulnerability, as you shrink further into yourself.

"Aww, you're trembling," he observes, his eyes raking over your quivering form. "Niedlich."

With a sudden, brutal motion, he grabs your ankles, dragging you forward until you're sprawled on the ground before him. He crawls over you, his weight pressing heavily, the knife still firmly in his grasp.

Strade brings the knife to your chest, the cold steel kissing your skin before biting in with a sharp sting. You gasp, a cry of pain escaping your lips as the red line blossoms with warm, crimson buds. His eyes gleam with sadistic delight, his thumb pressing into the wound and smearing the blood across your skin.

"So cute," he repeats, his lips curving into a predatory smile. "I could just devour you whole!"

His tongue flicks out to trace a wet, humid stripe along your jaw, his putrid saliva mingling with your tears. "Hah... You taste sweeter than I imagined, Liebling," he purrs, and you shudder beneath him, the sensation both revolting and terrifying. His fingers then trail down your stomach, his touch like a brand against your skin.

"But you forgot something," he breathes, forcing your trembling knees apart.

Your blood runs cold as he carves a delicate line along your abdomen with the knife. He stops just below your navel and flattens the blade against your stomach, sliding it beneath your underwear. His movements are slow, deliberate, and you can feel the blade prodding the delicate skin of your groin.

Strade's breathing is quick and shallow, his breath warm across your face as the flush of excitement tints his cheeks. "Don't squirm too much," he whispers, his voice trembling with anticipation.

Without looking down, he begins to slice through the fabric of your underwear, the knife gliding effortlessly through the thin material. The sound of ripping cloth fills the silence, mingling with the rapid beat of your heart. As the last shred of fabric falls away, your body is laid bare, exposed and vulnerable beneath him.

He runs the flat of the blade over your abdomen once more, a sadistic smile spreading across his face as he revels in your fear. "So rein," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "So unbroken. It's almost a shame." He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks, "but not quite."

As Strade sheaths the knife, you attempt to pull yourself away, the concrete chafing your palms with each drag. He follows close behind you, his cruel smile unwavering. Your heart is pounding in your ears as you desperately try to crawl faster, but it's futile. His hand clamps down on your waist with a bruising grip, yanking you back towards him.

You cry out in terror and frustration, the sound echoing in the desolate basement. He flips you onto your wounded stomach, your skin scraping painfully against the floor. With a sadistic grin, Strade forces your head down, pressing your cheek into the rough concrete. It bites harshly into your skin, and you can feel your tears mingling with the grime.

The metallic clink of a belt buckle sends a fresh wave of fear through you, and the sound of a zipper follows soon after. Your breath comes in ragged gasps as he positions himself between your legs, his weight pressing down on you. His hands roam over your body, squeezing and kneading, leaving blooms of purple on your tender skin.

His grin widens as he leans in, panting. "This may... sting a little," he taunts, his voice sticky against your ear.

"No! Wait!" you cry, your voice cracking with desperation. Your pleas are met with cold indifference as he slams into you, his cock worming past the resisting tissue and resting deep inside. A searing pain rips through your body, and you scream, the sound raw and guttural.

"Mmm, perfekt..." he huffs, revelling in your agony.

You choke on your sobs, the foreign sensation warm and heavy, and tearing with force. Something warm and wet trickles down your thighs, coating them—and him— in a cherry-red sheen. With each brutal thrust, your cheek grates against the rough concrete floor, the blistering ache engulfing your pleas. Strade shows no mercy, his movements relentless and punishing, each gasp and flinch you make fueling his perverse excitement.

"That's it," he breathes, heavy and strained. "Scream for me."

The pain blurs into a surreal haze, your mewls crumbling into incoherent moans and whimpers. Strade's weight is suffocating and his flesh is damp against yours; a clammy, sweaty layer uniting you both. His breath is hot and heavy as it mingles with the nauseating wet slapping between you.

His teeth drag threateningly along your shoulder as his thrusts become more frenzied. He curses against your skin before biting down hard on your neck with a sudden, primal urge. You yelp in pain and he cums, the warm spurts seeping deep inside your body.

Strade chuckles breathlessly as he pushes himself off of you, his eyes heavy and pupils dilated.

Your own eyes flutter open, puffy and glossed with tears as you roll over, curling into yourself on the unforgiving concrete. Through the haze, you dimly register the traces of your spit and blood splattered beside your face; the rough surface glittering almost beautifully under the light.