#but he feels y/n will never belong to him

[parkerslatte]

Right Where He Belongs

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: mentions of a difficult pregnancy. mentions of death.

Summary: Y/N and Azriel were in love, and they still were even when Azriel was bound to Velaris for fifty years. When he goes to visit Y/N after so many years, he runs into a male who looks an awful lot like him.

Requested: yes. based off this request.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

“I need to get home,” Azriel muttered, pressing kisses down the side of Isla’s neck. 

Y/N giggled. “You said that nearly an hour ago.”

“I know,” Azriel groaned, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck. 

Y/N smiled and gently pulled Azriel’s head away so she could look him in the eyes. “My love, I will see you in a few days. Surely you cannot miss me too much.”

Azriel gently cupped Y/N’s face. “I miss you whenever I’m apart from you.”

Y/N kissed Azriel on the tip of his nose. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Azriel said before surging forward to connect their lips. 

Almost instantly, Y/N melted. She always did whenever Azriel kissed her. Every thought seemed to fade from her head until she was only consumed by Azriel. Her fingers threaded into his soft hair, gently scratching at his scalp. Azriel hummed in delight. 

Reluctantly, Y/N pulled away. “As much as I am enjoying my time with you, I do need to get to work soon. And so do you.”

Y/N pulled her body from Azriel’s and threw the sheets from her bare body and stepped into the cool air. From the bed Azriel watched her, nothing but pure love in his hazel eyes. He propped himself up on his elbows and shuffled up the bed until he could rest comfortably against the headboard, his wings slumped comfortably. 

Feeling eyes upon her, Y/N turned around to face Azriel. “What?” she asked, failing to keep a smile from her face. 

“Nothing,” Azriel shrugged. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “No, you were clearly thinking of something.”

Azriel shrugged once more. “All I was thinking is that you are beautiful. It’s nothing you don’t know already.”

“Stop trying to coax me back into bed, Az,” Y/N said and picked up Azriel’s clothes from where they were laying on the floor. 

Azriel caught them before shuffling out of the bed himself. While Y/N changed into her clothes quickly, Azriel changed slowly delaying his return back to Velaris. Once Azriel was fully dressed, he sat down on the edge of the bed and simply watched as Y/N styled her hair in the mirror. 

Y/N could see him looking at her in the mirror and she couldn’t help but smile. “I can feel you staring.”

“I’ve already told you, it’s because you are beautiful,” Azriel answered. 

“You’ve already said that,” Y/N said, turning around with her hands on her hips. 

“I’m only stating the truth,” Azriel replied. 

Y/N walked over to him and as soon as she was in touching distance, Azriel wrapped his arms around her as she settled on his lap. 

“I need to go,” Azriel said miserably. 

“I know,” Y/N said, brushing a strand of hair away. “But you will see me in a few days.”

Azriel huffed. “But that is too long. Why can’t you come to Velaris with me?”

“I still work for Thesean, Azriel,” Y/N said. “Just because I have been given more freedom over the past few months does not mean I can skip out on my duties when it calls for it.”

Y/N stood from Azriel’s lap and pulled him up with her. “Now as much as I hate to kick you out, I do have to get to work soon.”

Azriel sighed. “So do I.”

Y/N dragged Azriel to the door of her apartment. “I know that if I don’t push you out, you will not leave.”

Azriel chuckled. “You know me too well.”

“Better than I know myself,” Y/N replied and opened the front door. “I will see you in a few days, Azriel. 

The shadowsinger stepped through the threshold. “No kiss?”

Y/N huffed out a laugh and pulled Azriel close for a kiss. Everything within her told her to pull him back inside and take him to bed and never let him leave. But she didn’t do that. The moment her lips pressed against Azriel’s, Y/N was pulling away once more. “I will see you in a few days, my love,” Y/N said, slowly closing the door. 

“I love you too,” Azriel said, a playful smile on his lips. 

Y/N blew him a quick kiss and closed the door in Azriel’s face. Though she felt a wave of regret washing over her as she stepped away. Y/N quickly shrugged it off and went back to the mirror to sort her hair out. A few days. She would see Azriel in a few days. 

If only Y/N knew how wrong she was, she would have let Azriel remain in bed with her just a little longer.

***

50 Years Later

The moment after Azriel reunited with Rhys, he immediately winnowed to the Dawn Court. For fifty years he had yearned for Isla. There had been no way to contact her or send word, he was bound in Velaris with no way of communicating. That last time he had seen her, she had pushed him out of the door. Azriel wished he refrained only a little longer. He wished he would have coaxed her back into bed. Perhaps he would have spent these past fifty years wrapped in her embrace instead of sleeping in a cold bed, devoid of her warmth and scent. 

As soon as Azriel appeared in the Dawn Court he walked the route he remembered like the back of his hand. He would never forget it. Despite Y/N spending more time in the Night Court than Azriel did in Dawn, he still memorised every route possible to her apartment. An apartment he wasn’t even sure if she still lived in anymore. 

In the distance, Azriel could see the familiar building. He smiled to himself and quickened his pace. Azriel’s eyes were fixed on the building in the distance so he didn’t notice the figure stepping out in front of him until it was too late. Azriel stumbled back and maintained his balance but the figure was not so lucky. 

Azriel’s hand shot out to catch them but the attempt was futile as they went tumbling to the floor. 

“Watch where you’re walking,” the figure spoke, obviously annoyed. 

Azriel scoffed. “I should be telling you the same thing.”

The figure slowly stood to their feet and Azriel took the opportunity to look at them. The moment he did he felt his heart stop. 

It was as if Azriel was looking into a mirror. The male had the same hair as him, although styled differently. His eyes were the same shade of hazel as Azriel’s were, even the male’s dark lashes were the same. What Azriel picked up on most was the large illyrian wings tucked into the male’s back. Azriel’s mouth opened and closed. The male standing before him was related to him, there was no doubt about that. 

As Azriel’s eyes surveyed the male again, he noticed something familiar– very familiar. The male’s mouth didn’t match up with his at all. It was the perfect replica of the love of his life, even down to the slight scowl upon it. 

Azriel’s hands shook as the realisation dawned upon him. The male standing before him was related to him. And he was definitely his son. 

“I need to go…” Azriel mumbled before speeding off in the opposite direction of Y/N’s apartment. 

His heart beat so fast as his vision blurred. Azriel had a son. Not just a son. A son who was grown up. A son who had grown up without Azriel. 

There was an area surrounded by trees where Azriel hid himself from any onlookers. As soon as he was out of sight of everyone, he finally allowed the tears to fall. He had a son. Azriel had a child. Not being able to support his weight anymore, Azriel slumped onto the grass. 

Many thoughts swum through Azriel’s head. All of them of Y/N. She must have been pregnant before he was bound to Velaris. She must have sent so many letters that he wouldn’t have received. She must have thought he found out and left. More tears sprung to Azriel’s eyes. 

For fifty years, all Azriel had dreamed of was the day he would one day get to hold Y/N in his arms once again. Feel her touch. Hear her voice. Now, perhaps, he never would. If she thought he left her to have a child on her own. Let her go through birthing him alone–

Azriel suddenly stilled as dread filled his body. He had wings. His son had wings. Isla’s body was not fit to carry an Illyrian child. There was a possibility that she was not alive at all. 

A scream of anguish left Azriel as the realisation dawned upon him. All those hopes and dreams about reuniting with Y/N. Asking her to marry him. All of those hopes and dreams were shattered in an instant.

Azriel let his wings slump to the floor, not having the energy to lift them up. He clawed at his chest feeling his heart shatter as the thought that the love of his life may not possibly be alive. 

“Azriel?” A familiar voice spoke softly. 

Azriel’s head snapped up from where he was staring at the grass to look at the source of the voice. His tears blurred his vision but he shakily rose to his feet. 

“Y/N?” Azriel whispered. 

He blinked the tears away and Isla’s beautiful face came into focus. Wasting no time, Azriel rushed forward, as did Y/N. As soon as their bodies collided Azriel wrapped his arms around her as they sank down to the floor. 

“You’re really here,” Y/N whispered, emotion clouding her voice. 

“I’m here,” Azriel replied, his fingers threading in her hair as he cradled her head against him. “I’m here.”

“I sent so many letters,” Y/N cried. 

“I didn’t receive any,” Azriel explained. “I couldn’t receive any.”

“I missed you so much,” Y/N mumbled. “I never should have sent you out that day. We should have never left that bed. It’s my fault.”

“Hey, nothing was your fault,” Azriel said softly. “There was nothing we could do.”

Y/N continued to cry into Azriel’s shoulder as they held one another. Her scent was the same and it felt as if Azriel had never been apart from her. Holding her felt just like that last day they spent together. 

As her cries subsided, Y/N pulled away from Azriel to look at him. “There is so much I need to tell you.”

“I believe I already met one of the things we need to talk about,” Azriel said, taking Y/N’s hands in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. 

Despite the tears, Y/N let out a breathy chuckle. “He came to me acting like he had seen a ghost.”

Azriel’s eyes stung as he thought about the male he had met not even ten minutes ago. “What is his name?”

“Forrest,” Y/N replied. “His name is Forrest.”

Azriel nodded and looked down at their joined hands. “He’s grown up.”

Y/N nodded sadly. “I found out I was pregnant only the day after I kicked you out. It was too early to pick up on a shift in scent but I just knew.”

“That was the day I was bound to Velaris,” Azriel said sadly. 

“It was, I tried all I could to contact you but it was impossible,” Y/N said. “At first I thought you had received the letters and left me.”

“I would never do that in a million years,” Azriel said. “Isla, please believe me when I say that if I had found a way to come to you, I would have.”

Y/N cupped Azriel’s cheeks, wiping away the fallen tears. “I know you would have. After not receiving a response from you, I tried to contact Mor, then Cassian and finally Amren. When I did not get a reply from anyone, I knew that there was something stopping you.”

“When I saw Forrest, and saw his wings,” Azriel began, fighting back the tears, “I thought something could have happened to you. Your body is not built to carry a child with wings.”

Y/N trailed her hand from Azriel’s face to link her fingers with hers. The feeling of holding Isla’s hand again sent shivers down Azriel’s spine. 

“I won’t lie to you and say the pregnancy was easy because it wasn’t. I was so scared the entire time,” Y/N explained. “But despite how frightened I was, I live in the Dawn Court, a place with the best healers Prythian has ever seen. The recovery was tough and painful but it was worth it in the end just to hold Forrest in my arms, a beautiful boy who looked just like you.”

Through his tears, Azriel smiled, thinking back to the boy he had run into. A life he helped create. 

“And Forrest,” Azriel said, “was he okay after he was born.”

Y/N sighed. “His wings were damaged during his birth, the healers did all they could for him. A lot of visits to multiple healers. He can fly but only very short distances or it hurts him. Forrest always tells me it is not a big deal but every single time he flies he is always in an extreme amount of pain after.” Y/N chuckled. “But he has your stubbornness. No matter how many times I tell him to take breaks and work on the programme his main healer had put him on, he still decides to go out on long flights. He says it makes him feel closer to his dad.”

“What?” Azriel said in disbelief. 

“Did you really think I haven’t told Forrest anything about you for the past fifty years?” Y/N said, squeezing Azriel’s hands. “Even though he had never met you personally, he loves you. Admires you. He has only just begun asking recently, but he has wanted to meet you for so long. I never told him the full truth, mainly because I didn’t know the full truth and because I know that if I did, he would try anything to get to you. He has your determination too. He is your son through and through, Azriel.”

Azriel looked down at his hand linked with Y/N’s. “I have missed so much of his life. How can I ever be a good father to him? I don’t know a single thing about being a father.”

“And you think I know anything about being a mother?” Y/N replied, a smile pulling at her lips. “I have been one for fifty years and I am sure I am still figuring out things as I go.”

“Will he want to meet me?” Azriel asked.

“He would want nothing more,” Y/N said. “But can I be selfish for a moment, I am sure Forrest will understand.”

Azriel nodded, pulling Y/N closer to him.

“I just want to be with you for a few moments longer,” Y/N said. “It has been so long since you have held me in your arms.”

Azriel smiled at Y/N. “I love you so much.”

The smile that lit up Y/N’s face was the one that haunted Azriel’s dreams and nightmares. But she was real, Y/N was real and Azriel held her tightly to him, afraid that he would wake up in his cold bed. 

“It has been a long time since you have told me that.”

Y/N surged forward once and pressed her lips against Azriel’s. Azriel simply melted into her, knowing that it was real. Y/N was real and he was never letting her go again. 

***

“Forrest,” Y/N said, pushing open the door to her apartment. “I have someone with me you have been wanting to meet.”

Azriel stepped in the room behind Y/N. The apartment was different, there were different decorations and furniture but it was still all familiar to Azriel. He noticed the small gifts he had given her over the course of their relationship in obvious spots around the room. Azriel smiled. 

As Azriel stepped further into Y/N’s apartment his eyes fell upon his son standing still in the centre of the room. 

“Forrest. This is your father, Azriel,” Y/N said. 

Azriel took a deep breath and took a step forward. “I bumped into you just outside,” Azriel said somewhat awkwardly. “I am sorry about that.”

Forrest didn’t respond as he took a few steps closer to Azriel. From this distance, Azriel could see clearly just how much Forrest looked like him but Azriel could also notice all of Y/N’s features in his appearance, all of the features he loved so much. 

“It is good to finally meet you,” Azriel said, feeling far too formal. 

Forrest still didn’t respond as he took a final step closer to Azriel, his face not giving away any emotion. Azriel noticed that Forrest wasn’t too much shorter than Azriel himself but the shadowsinger couldn’t help but feel intimidated under his son’s stare. 

“I thought that maybe, you and I could–”

Azriel was cut off by Forrest hugging Azriel tightly. Azriel’s body remained rigid until he could feel Forrest’s body begin to shake as he cried. Almost instantly, Azriel’s arms wrapped around Forrest as he tried to calm his son. 

“It’s good to meet you, dad,” Forrest mumbled. 

Azriel’s grip only tightened on Forrest as he felt his own tears well in his eyes. He was holding onto his son and the love of his life was standing just behind him. Despite his tears, Azriel smiled. He was right where he needed to be.

[pellucid-constellations]

If It All Fell (9)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, pining

a/n: Thank you so much for sticking around. I had to reread this entire series to write this part and it made me remember how much I love sharing it with you all ♡ Italics indicate memories (oooooo👀).

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

~~

One of the many downsides to losing your memory was your lack of card game knowledge. An inconsequential tidbit when you took a step back and evaluated the hardships that plagued you, but a fact that was currently causing you a massive headache and a massive loss, all the same. 

“This is just completely unfair,” you huffed, tossing your cards on the table and leaning back in your chair. “I can barely even remember what you said the rules were.” 

“Hardly my fault, sweetheart. I gave you a run down before we started,” Cassian slyly grinned. 

You scoffed. “There were over fifteen steps to this game! And I feel like you made up half of them!” 

“While that would definitely be something he’d pull,” Mor piped in, an accusatory glance in Cassian’s direction. “He’s innocent, this time. This is just a really complicated game.” 

“Oh yeah, great. Make the amnesiac play the complicated game so she’ll lose. That's really classy, Cassian. Great sportsmanship.” 

Cassian had the gall to look offended, a hand placed at his heart. “You used to be great at this game, I’ll have you know. You won every time. We banned you, actually.” 

“You banned me from playing a card game?” 

Azriel, who had been fighting off a laugh with his tongue against his cheek, spoke up from beside you. “Very strictly banned, as well. For the last hundred years. You’re lucky we’re letting you play now.” 

Your mouth dropped open in the most wounded expression you could manage, mirth dancing in your eyes as you turned your head to catch the shadowsinger’s blush-tinted cheeks. 

Things were… good between the two of you. The same, but good, mostly because you had refrained from even alluding to his mate. When you didn’t talk about her, or look at anything that might have belonged to her, or question Azriel on the sadness in his eyes, he stayed glued to your side. It was a wonderful friendship the two of you were cultivating—one built on one-sided secrets where the answers were locked in your brain. 

“What could I have possibly done to get banned from a card game for a hundred years?” you gaped.

Azriel’s wings rustled behind him, unfurling to cloak your back in warmth. He laughed. “You cheat.” 

“I cheat?” 

“I wouldn’t call it cheating, exactly,” Mor defended, sliding her cards face-down on the table in favor of the snack plate in the center. “Not when it’s not your fault.” 

“Bullshit!” Cassian exclaimed, fist coming down in a loud bang. “She knows how to control her magic. She chooses to use it during the game and that makes it cheating.” 

Mor pointed an accusing finger in Azriel’s direction. “And what about his shadows, then? You’ve never had a problem with him playing, oh great game warden.” 

Cassian narrowed his eyes as if looking at Azriel for the first time. “Brother, you cheat as well?” 

In the most jovial tone you’d heard Azriel take, he refuted, “I absolutely do not.” 

That had spiraled into another argument you were not part of, and you took the opportunity to pick your cards back up and attempt to run through the rules again. It was a game of chance, really, but it was also a game of wit and that wasn’t your strongest suit at the moment. 

Maybe if you tried a little bit harder—

“Okay, your turn, y/n,” Azirel called you out of your fruitless thoughts. “Just try to pick one.” 

Your lips twisted to the side as you examined your cards and looked up at your opponent. Cassian appeared quite average, no shifting eyes or telling sighs. He was very good at this game, allegedly. 

You flicked your eyes back down to your cards, but, no—something didn’t feel right about that. 

You looked back up at Cassian, and something shifted. 

Something… seemed off. Like he was—

“You’re lying,” you stated as if it were a well-known fact. “You’re lying so hard right now. So that means I should take this and…” 

Your last words trailed off as you slapped a pair of cards on the table. You looked up to Cassian with a smug expression, the general narrowing his eyes and swiping his own cards aside. He scoffed, and then scoffed again, the second time paired with his arms across his chest. 

“Yeah? And how would you know?” he challenged. 

Your head jutted back in disbelief. You gazed around the table but none of your opponents offered the same look. “Are you kidding? It’s practically pouring off of you.” 

“What is?” Azriel softly asked. 

“His lie!” you exclaimed, hands raised in shock. 

“How so?” Mor posed. 

“All around him.” You shook your hand in the direction of the General, making some form of a circle. “He’s just a terrible liar and you can see it. I thought you all said he was undefeated?” 

“I was,” Cassian huffed out with a laugh. “Against everyone other than you.” 

His words sobered up your competitive mood, the rest of the table having come to a conclusion you only just realized. Azriel sat beside you with bated breath, tenseness apparent in the coil of his wings and shadows. Mor tried and failed to hide her smile behind her lips. Cassian didn’t even attempt to hide; his smile was vibrant without a hint of defeat. 

“Does this mean—” 

“Yes!” Mor gave a small cheer. “Something is happening in that beautiful brain of yours and you’re coming back to us!”

Coming back to them. 

As if you weren’t sitting right there. 

“We should ask her questions,” Cassian boomed with another laugh. “See what else is in there.” 

“Oh! We should. Think of something, Cass.” 

“What about…” 

The air around you felt suffocating as those at the table began talking as if you weren’t there. Any joy you felt at the revelation was washed, evaporated—creating a somber resolve that made your skin feel dull. 

“Maybe ask her things associated with her magic. Maybe that’s coming through first,” Mor offered. Walnut shells and wine glasses lay empty and scattered beside discarded cards. 

“I don’t think—” Azriel’s response was muted by a buzzing in your ears. 

It would never be enough. You were a full person sitting before them, but you weren’t. You weren’t the person they expected—not the person they wanted. You had been stuck in this limbo for weeks now, living under pitying eyes and hopeful half-smiles that never met their eyes. Secrets were kept because they hoped you—the real you—would eventually return and save them from sharing the hard things. 

You blinked away the dryness in your eyes. 

“We should get Rhys. He might find an opening now that her magic is—” 

“I’m right here,” you interrupted, the gravel of your tone barely audible below Cassian’s excited tone. The table fell silent, anyway. “I don’t know why you all insist on speaking about me and not to me.” 

Mor’s voice was still light as she replied, “Y/n, we don’t mean—” 

“You don’t mean what?” you laughed, the sound bordering hysterical. You caught Azriel turning his head down towards you in your peripheral. You ignored it. “You don’t mean to make me feel like half a person? Like a ghost? Because I’m right here and I have been for weeks but you all are so concerned with what I’m going to be in some undetermined amount of time that you seem to forget I’m alive now.” 

Cassian’s lips parted to speak, but words continued to spill from your mouth. “I mean, I wasn’t even allowed to know about most of my life until recently. You all expect me to get better instantly, making decisions and keeping secrets as if this isn’t part of my life—as if when I get my memories back… if I get them back… all these weeks will just disappear.

“But I’ve been here,” you stressed. Your fingers were tingling and your neck felt hot. “I’ve been here and all of you—you all talk over my head. I finally get some semblance of myself back and all you can think about is what more I can do. You don’t care about me. You care about some version of me that I’ve never met.” 

You rose from the table, hands coming down harshly as you stood. Mor quickly mimicked your action, but you held a hand up, dismissing the person who had been your safe space at the start of this mess—at the start of your memory, really. 

“I need—I need,” you choked. Dim colors and minute vibrations emanated from each person in the room, making your head hurt as you looked at them. You didn’t have the capacity to analyze that development. “I need to be alone.” 

You heard yourself mutter an apology as you went, unsure what exactly it was for. Your feet stumbled out of the room, getting stuck in cracks and shuffling on marble flooring. A small prickle of embarrassment made you flinch as you went, but it was nothing compared to the harrowing emptiness that guided you out to the balcony. 

Maybe it would be better if you spent your time alone—at least until you got your memories back. You loved being around everyone, but even that was a half-truth. You hadn’t even met everyone that was supposed to be in your life.

Gripping the railing of the balcony, you sucked in a deep breath, greedy for any kind of reprieve. A soft wind met the heat of your cheeks, but it did little to soothe you. If you could just become who they wanted you to be… if you could just know everything they wanted you to know. 

Everything felt like too much. 

You had so little to go off of, but somehow that was to your detriment. 

You thought the first sign of your old self would have been a cause for celebration, but instead, it was only a call for more. More, more, more—you weren’t enough now. 

You heard your name in the wind, a soft sound that carried delicately past your ears. For reasons you could not place, the single word sent anger pulsing in your veins. 

You whipped around, unsurprised to see Azriel standing beneath the archway to the house, his expression unguarded and his shadows reaching and reaching and reaching towards you. 

He seemed to recoil at your furious gaze. 

“What?” you asked, still breathless from the way panic had taken control of your chest. “What, Azriel?” 

But words seemed to fail him as he stood there. He blinked more than necessary, shaking his head and then righting it, unsure of the direction he wanted to take. 

It infuriated you. 

“What could you have to say?” you instigated, and the harsh words made you sick. “You of all people treat me as a stranger. You say we’re close—that we are the closest of anyone—but you keep secrets, Azriel. You keep secrets and you make it impossible to get to know you. What happens if I never get my memory back, huh?”

The notion of that reality set the Shadowsinger into motion. “Don’t say that,” he almost begged, desperation lost behind gritted teeth. “We are still looking—” 

“Would it be that terrible for you? Truly, Azriel. You slink around me, afraid to share things I don’t even know are there! How am I—What am I supposed to do if this is just me now?” You tugged at your hair as frustration captured your voice. You hadn’t meant to say any of this, hadn’t planned on even hinting at your displeasure, but something snapped today. 

Something snapped and there was nothing you could do to cope with the breakage. Because you were a stranger to everyone—most of all yourself. 

“That won’t happen,” Azriel attempted to reassure, taking small steps towards your pacing figure. “We are going to figure this out and everything will be—” 

“It won’t!” 

You screamed. 

You hadn’t meant to. 

Azriel stopped in his tracks. 

“It won’t be fine, Azriel.” Back to a normal volume, your voice sounded hoarse. “I can’t keep living like this—like a ghost. It’s been weeks and there are no leads. All I have now is this hint of my powers that I’m not even sure how to parse out. They don’t make sense. None of this makes sense.” 

Your eyes were glued to your feet as Azriel’s words broke at the syllables. “I know.” 

“None of you will want me if I can’t be her.” 

“I will always want you,” he was quick to respond. 

When you raised your head, the stray tears held captive by your waterline fell. Azriel stared back at you in earnest but it felt incomplete. 

“You keep things from me still,” you said, words thick in your throat. “It’s like you’re waiting for her—for someone else. With Mor and them, it’s different. It feels different with you.”

Azriel whispered a broken rendition of your name. The color you saw reflecting from his shoulders was sharp against the backdrop of the dark house, and you had no idea its significance, but something within you told you it wasn’t going to get you what you so desperately wanted. 

“Stop,” you begged, chin wobbling. “Stop… formulating what you’re going to say to me. This is worse, now that I have my magic. I see your every indecision around me.” 

Azriel’s expression pinched and the color fizzled out as he stepped forward and held your face in his textured hands. Your anger dissipated as he titled your head up to meet his gaze, replaced by the uncertainty that often mingled with regret when he was near. 

What you were regretting, you didn’t know. 

“You are the one sure thing in my life,” he confessed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel this way—that we all have. I—I have been keeping something from you. I’ve been afraid it would be too much, that I would lose you if you knew. But I’m only losing you now.” 

You gave no reply, unblinking, short breaths escaping you. 

Azriel licked his lips and slid his hands down until his thumbs rested along your jaw. 

“You have asked about my mate.” Discomfort panged within your chest as he spoke, but you needed to hear this. Azriel closed his eyes for a pause, brows furrowed, before he met your eye once more. “It’s you.” 

Your shock came second to the blinding pain creeping up your neck. It fought with you, edging closer and closer to your brain before it fell behind your eyes and shattered all comprehensible thought. Another beat and hazel eyes were lost to darkness. 

You heard your name, felt your body go slack and arms brace your fall, but then there was laughing. You were laughing, but the sound wasn’t coming from your body. 

“We have to go back,” you heard yourself admonish in a breathless tone. “They’re all waiting for us.” 

“Let me be alone with my wife for a while longer.” 

Figures materialized in the dark space of your mind.

A purple dress. 

A ring around your finger. 

Flowers woven into the lapel of a jacket. 

“I have only been your wife for about….” you saw yourself gaze up to the ceiling of a room you did not recognize in feigned contemplation. “An hour?” 

Azriel bit back a grin and nuzzled his face into your neck. “But you have been my mate for my entire life.” 

“That’s not even true. It snapped a few months ago.”

You stood in the corner of the room as the scene unfolded, feeling like a stranger in some iteration of your life. You looked so at ease, wrapped up in the man who had caused you so much inner turmoil over the last few weeks. 

He had said you were mates. 

Was this…

“That’s not how mates work, my love,” Azriel hummed closing the distance between the skin of your cheek and his lips. “When we were created, we were created for each other. There has never been a time in my life that I did not belong to you.” 

You watched yourself smile—watched yourself curl your fingers in your mate’s hair and press your forehead to his. “Gods, you’re the biggest sap.” 

Azriel laughed. The sound was light and free and everything you had sought after these past few weeks. But you heard it here as he laid with you in his arms. 

“I can’t believe you married me,” he whispered, his nose brushing yours. 

“Of course I married you.” 

A pause. 

“Do you think you would have married me if things hadn’t worked out—after Day I mean.” 

From the corner of the room, you analyzed how your body seemed to recoil at the question. 

“Azriel, nothing could have kept me from you. Not even that monster from Day. If I hadn’t gotten my memory back—if I had to live with forgetting you—” Azriel shuddered, taking a long breath through his nose. You only brushed your fingers softly against his temple. “—I would have found you again. It probably would have been a pain in the ass to get me to listen but…” 

Azriel scoffed and pulled you closer. “You’re already a pain in my ass.” 

“That was the goal.” 

Another soft round of laughter. 

You felt like an intruder, flinching at the gleam of the ring on Azriel’s finger, hesitant to gaze around the room you had no recollection of. By the door, you could hear others in the hall. You made out Cassian and Mor’s voices, but others sparked no recognition within you. Curiosity pulled you in that direction, but before you could touch the doorknob, Azriel spoke again. 

“You wouldn’t have had to find me.” He paused. “I never would have left your side.”

And then the scream of your name woke you. 

[lolitasangel]

CHURCH- Noah NSFW MDNI 18+

I posted a little thought that made some people go a little feral….oops…definitely didnt plan that…

I didn’t want to keep yall waiting for the smut so I made the back story as small as I could so you guys can enjoy.

And all the attention this is getting is making me nervous so, also I’m high so nothing is proof read, I’m high and I’m rereading all that I’m sorry

TW- hair pulling, corruption, dumbification if you will

Tag list- @yarasdead @bluestdai @english-fucker @fadingintothegrey

Sunday Morning-

You had just moved to this town a few weeks ago, you had spent forever trying to convince your parents to let you move out. You were fairly innocent, your parents wanted to keep it that way. Their sweet little girl, never kissed anyone, never had sex, never touched your self, never watched porn,you were pure.

You were aware of what sex was, masterbating , you just never did it, it was a sin, and swore to your God you would stay innocent and pure and you promised your mom and dad it would stay that way, you just wanted to expand on your location, grow up a bit more.

Walking into your new church, looking around at the beautiful statues, murals, it was all so beautiful, the rows of seats, the choir stage huge, the podium standing tall in the center demanding all of your attention.

You were noticed by everyone, a new comer, it was kind of a small town, everyone here was so kind.

You were now standing outside in the front yard of the church communicating with church choir students, all so respectful.

He saw you standing there in your sundress, short heels, a beautiful pink and white dress, resting on your upper thighs, showing your beautiful skin, the way the sun blew some of your hair, revealing your neck line.

He had never wanted someone like this, of course he has had sex with countless woman before moving to this town years ago. But, its been so long since he’s fucked someone, since he has had his hands on someone. He had an image to upload, he was a priest, under god.

He could tell by the way you talked, walked, sat, addressed others, you were raised innocently by your folks. He wanted to change that, you belonged to him, as soon as he set his eyes on you he wanted to corrupt in ways you couldn’t even image.

“Hello, I am Father Noah, I am the priest here at the church, I have never seen you here before, I am guessing you’re new to town?” Father Noah gave you a kind smile. You had never seen someone so handsome before, or tall. “Hi, Im Y/N, I’m from Y/C” “Oh that is very far away, I will be more than happy to show you around if you like”

That’s how it started, months ago, each meeting up at the bookstore he introduced you too, learning that you loved to read and write. Always holding you by the waist “You’re too small, you could get lost in the crowds, I dont want you to get lost and scared” that was his excuse as to why you were always pulled close to him, never realizing that it was more of a possessive thing, letting others know that you belonged to him.

No one in town knew his plan, they just thought “what a sweet couple” not knowing he was planning to corrupt you and have you worship him instead.

“Why don’t you come over to my place tonight? I can cook us dinner, we can watch a movie, and relax.”

It was Sunday, Easter, you decided to volunteer and help set the Easter egg hunt up for the kids. You were wearing another sundress, except the collar was a little shorter than usual, Noah noticed it immediately, he noticed every new little thing you changed about your self.

Looking up from the table you sat at outside the church, watching the kids run around and play. You looked to your left and saw Noah standing at the front of the church greeting the adults walking in and out the church.

Feeling someone’s eyes on him, Noah turns to the right, catching your eye, looking away blushing.

You didnt mean to be caught watching him, he just looked so handsome today, he normally his hair up in a low bun, but, he cut it off, all of it, he looked so handsome with short hair, slicked back. Lately you had these feelings, of course you knew you had feelings for him, but you were experiencing different feelings too, horny feelings.

Of course you were familiar with the sensation, you never acted upon it, you never dreamed of it, until last night.

Take dream was about him, Father Noah, and you felt so guilty, so ashamed, it was a sin to do that, and to even have that kind of dream about a friend, your priest at your church. You felt so ashamed and guilty.

And this new hair cut didnt help. You hear footsteps in the grass next to get louder, and a arm thrown your waist. Looking up at him, you didnt know that he had cut his hair until you saw him at the door, seeing him up close like that though, you could start to feel your core get wetter, and wetter for him.

“Hi, Y/N, thanks for throwing in a helping hand, it means a lot to the church and I that you did that, especially in that dress” of course he didnt say that last part out loud, he couldn’t let you know about his plans. “You cut your um, you cut your hair?” Noah sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck chuckling “Yea, thought it was time” You noticed as you looked up at his tall figure, you started to trail down to his neck, not realizing what you were doing, you touched his collar of his priest suit, before you continue you snap out of it, “I-I am so sorry, I dont know what i was doing, im so sorry” you rambled on

God, she truly is gorgeous Noah thought to himself. Before you could continue, Noah interrupts you “Would you like to come over and have dinner with me? I can cook and you can pick out a movie for us to watch, you should relax from the long day today” you were shocked, of course, yes you wanted to “yes, i would love to” “Great, I can pick you up if you would like, so you can change and feel comfortable”

Father Noah is so caring, and considerate, you thought to yourself.

After the both of you clean up your messes, saying good bye to everyone, Father Noah walks you hold, arm once again wrapped around your waist. “I’ll pick you up around 7 so that way you have to time to get ready, maybe even a nap, you work too hard, I want you to take a shower and relax before you get ready, understand?” you couldn’t help but blush from the caring yet stern voice. You had never heard that from him before he was always so gentle spoken, you could feel that tingle going back down to your core again.

Stop it, this is a sin

You thought to your self, felt so ashamed by it, feeling a hand on your chin, making you look up at Father Noah “what’s wrong, angel?” He looked at you with a look like it said you can tell me, I’ll take care of you

Looking away again, turning your attention to your rose bush next to your front door “could I talk to you about something, I…I committed a sin..” you felt so guilty, horrible, to something so wrong, of course it wasn’t your fault, you were asleep, it was your dreams fault, but it won’t disappear

Noah, pulling you off of him, making you look at him by your hair “what’s wrong, doll? Too dumb to know how to suck cock? It’s okay, I’ll help you, I thought I told you to behave, and that I would teach you but no, here you are acting up, you need to listen to what I have to say to know what to do, you’re too dumb to know what to do,remember?”

You wanted more of him, to taste him, and make him proud

Chuckling he realized how much you really wanted to make him proud that he got you and no one else

Trying to suck his cock further down your throat, moaning, it felt so nice to finally have him in your mouth, you had been craving it all week long

“Sweetheart, are you okay? You zoned out there for a bit” you looked up at him “I just feel guilty” Noah gave you a reassuring smile “don’t worry, I’ll help you repent them, we can talk about when we have dinner” you nodded your head

Inside your house :)

After you took a shower, you layed down on your bed, still in your towel, you look over at your phone, you had changed your background to a photo that Noah took of you both.

You in a flowered printed dress and Noah in is priest uniform, both at the book shop, in a mirror, he had a gentle smile, as you looked at the photo you realized, he had something green poking out the collar on his neck

Your mom and dad told you tattoos were also bad, it was like changing your body in a horrifying painful way.

You came to the realization that maybe, he had fallen at one point, repented and got help! Yes! That’s it! He has to know what to do, but, how would he feel knowing you had those dreams about him…oh god… you thought to yourself.

You hated to admit it but, you thought tattoos looked…dare you say,hot?

You knew it was wrong but you loved how they looked, you hated the process though…and you knew it was bad but…you can’t help that… you thought to your self.

The longer you stared at his hands the longer you started to think of him again.

What they would feel like on your thighs, your throat, in your mouth

Stop it, stop it

You kept thinking to yourself, you decided to then get ready to distract yourself. You were rummaging through your dresser and closet.

None of these dresses work, you decided that a flowy maroon Minnie skirt and a white shirt would work fine, getting your shoes on, touching up your make up, and hair up in a pony tail, your hair framing your face. You heard a knock

Running over to the door to open it you see Noah, still in his church attire, you were secretly hoping he would wear something different, you wanted to know if the tattoos expanded, and if he repented and regrets them.

“You look beautiful” blushing, you walk outside with him, you lock your door, make sure you have everything one last time, and take off with Noah

——————————

Walking up to the front door his house, he unlocks the door, welcoming you in first, before walking in after you and locking the door.

You take your shoes off and look around.

The living room was beautiful, a black couch and a matching love seat, a huge tv screen propped up on the wall with a fireplace beneath it.

Looking on the opposite side of the living room you see the kitchen, an island with bar stools, pantry’s, pots hung up from the ceiling.

Gently grabbing your waste he walks you to the tv, “Pick whatever you want to watch while I cook, I’ll be making spaghetti, I heard you tell the girls you’ve been craving it” you blushed looking away, you were hoping he didn’t hear the girls also say how you two would be a nice couple.

You picked a show but decided it would be rude not to help Noah cook, you walk over to the kitchen and freeze in place.

Father Noah’s white collar was off, and unbuttoned, he had rolled up his black sleeves and was grabbing the ingredients for the spaghetti. Feeling someone watching him he turned around.

“Oh didn’t see you there, would you like some wine? I have many kinds if you would like” you were still shocked on hot he looked standing there, deciding wine would help loosed up your nerves a bit you agreed. “Perfect, I’ll go get it now” while he walked down the hall to fetch the wine you took this time to gather your thoughts

He has tattoos

He’s hot

He cut his hair

He’s hot

You need to tell him about the dreams

He’s hot

You need to repent your sins

He’s hot

The whole nine yards, just back and fourth in your head.

Hearing footsteps you push those thoughts away you help him lay out the ingredients, “go sit down, and I’ll cook” he told you, objecting you told him that you wanted to help but you weren’t the best cook,

Noah saw this as an opportunity, and he was gonna take it, now.

“Here, you can cut the garlic for the sauce” he gave you a cutting board and knife. Keeping a close eye on you, he’s heard horror stories from you about how everytime you are a kitchen you manage to hurt yourself somehow. Watching you grab the knife not realizing the sharp side was facing up, about to press your left hand down on the blade to cut the garlic, he moved quickly over to you. “Wait,wait” stoping what you were doing you looked at him confused.

Walking up behind you, pressing his whole body against yours, running his hands down your arms, to your wrist, to your hand grabbing it, mouth close to your ear whispering “baby, you can’t hold a knife like that, that’s how you get hurt” after fixing the position you had of the knife, you felt him slip away, but you could’ve sworn his hand swept down and stroked your ass, you could’ve sworn.

It must’ve been an accident, had to have been. Father Noah wouldn’t do that, he’s not like that..

After the food is cooked and you both eat, Noah takes you by the hands and leads you to the living room, pouring another glass of wine. “You mentioned earlier that, you committed, a sin, of some sorts, would it be okay if we talked about that now?” Noah asked sitting across from you on the other side, giving you hit full attention.

You looked down fiddling with your skirt, you sat with your legs pulled to the side of you, “I had, I feel so bad” you mumbled, you felt your hand being pulled gently, behind held.

Tilting your head up, you see Noah giving you a reassuring smile. “If you want to repent, I can help you, after all, I am a priest, and it’s my job to help people, aren’t I” he asked, tilting his head to the side, that last part with a bit of a tone, don’t forget your place, I am closer to god than you”

Sighing, you nodded your head “I had a dream…and I did something bad in it and it feels wrong”smiling, Noah nodded his head, “see that wasn’t so hard to say” shaking your head you stand up “no,no, the dream was about you, it was a dirty dream….im really sorry Father Noah, it just happened and I didn’t mean for it to happen” Noah sighed, looking back at you, grabbing your hand, placing you in his lap.

You were shocked, you had never sat it in a dudes lap before, and you didn’t think the priest of your church would do that, much less Noah.

“Why don’t you tell me about the dream.” Noah whispered in your ear, he sounded so serious, and stern. Your back was facing his front, not realizing you were sitting directly on his cock, it’s taking everything in his system to not get hard, just from the thought of you in his lap, but to have also had a wet dream about him? Oh he is about to have you worshiping him by the end of the night.

Pulling you closer to his chest, you leaning your head back on his shoulder, him in the crook of your neck.

This felt so wrong, you weren’t married, you weren’t even dating.

Yet here you are in a priests house, his lap even, and he is a very good man, and he’s been in the church for a while so maybe, maybe this was normal?

It was a priest willing to help you repent, and help you with your dirty thoughts, so it couldn’t have been wrong.

You were coming up with different reasons, you are so innocent, you have no clue what’s gonna happen to you.

He was in the church longer than you, maybe it was wrong cause you weren’t married but it was okay if it was someone directly under god…that made sense…right?

Oh how naive of you…

Feeling hands rubbing your inner thighs, you started to get that tingly feeling again.

Oh god

“Tell me about the dream, it’s okay, I’m your priest and your friend, I can’t help you.” He whispered in your ear.

“I…I was on my knees…in front of you…” you were very hesitant to tell him, you’ve already been on edge for days because of him, you could feel your core start to throb.

“Keep going, baby” he said, running his hands up and down your thighs, he was speaking so gently, yet so close, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me” he whispered, leaving a small kiss on your neck.

“I was naked, and I was doing something…”

Noah was loving all of this, here he was with an elaborate plan, just for your brain to do half the work of what he was gonna need to do..he was now pulsating, he was sure you could feel it, with how close you were to him.”what were you doing, baby doll?” You started to fidget, you could feel his cock pressed right up against your core, one wrong move you were cooked.

“I was um….my mouth was on your um….you know, and you were saying things…”

Noah leaned away from you groaning, he was not expecting that, he expected a hand job, but naked, pulling your hair, giving him a blow job.

Noah could die a happy man.

You on the hand just wanted to die, you cant believe this is happening, you probably made him uncomfortable, you probably ruined a relationship,, you wanted the world to swallow you whole.

“Come on, baby doll” You stand up confused, Noah groans, grabbing his glass of wine, and your hand. Leading you down the hall, he brings you to his office. Noah opens the door welcoming you in,leading you to chair behind his desk, sitting down he pulls you onto his lap, straddling his waist.

Noah grabs your chin, gently forcing you two to make eye contact, he flashes you a smile, you feeling shy look away, “look at me, I’m not disappointed or mad” you look back up, realizing, he’s wearing grills?

You didn’t realize he was wearing grills, they looked good on him.

You didn’t realize it but you gently lift your hand to his mouth, pulling his bottom lip down, taking a closer look at them, they looked really nice. Noah started to smirk, looking away, you stuttered “I’m sorry”

Noah shook his head “you don’t have to apologize, I’m starting to realize, you’re very shy about a lot of things, baby doll” you rest your head on his shoulder, taking a closer look at his tattoo, tracing it.

“Baby doll, you have to finish telling me about your dream”

Your eyes widen, slipping your mind of what caused you to be in this situation.

You decided that you were just gonna let it all out, he was a priest and your friend like he said so, he couldn’t be too mad.

“Well, in the dream, you were sitting in my bed and I was naked and sucking you off or something and you were pulling my hair and telling me I was going a good job, and I really liked it and it made me feel horny down there but, I didn’t do anything I swear, I didn’t commit that sin, Father Noah, I really didn’t!” You let out, panting from how quick you spoke.

You hid your face closer to his neck, to scared to see his reaction, not even wanting to look anywhere near his face out of fright of what he might think.

Not saying a word, Noah wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his hands on your ass, silently walking to his bed room.

Grabbing a chair, sitting it in front of a mirror, he stands you up, looking at you in the mirror, giving you a smile. “You’ve been a very very good girl, baby. You didn’t give in to those dirty thoughts, you deserve some pleasure. Even better that it’s from your friend and your priest. I can help you repent baby”

Grabbing your waist gently, sliding his hands up your thighs to your hips, grabbing you pants, gently pulling them down. Shoving them in his pocket (you will never get these back) sitting you down on his lap. Noah spreads his legs, as well as spreading your own.

Reaching around you, pulling your skirt up, to reveal your pussy, your thighs were soaked from your wetness. Noah groaning from the sight, he wanted to taste you, and nothing was stopping him now.

You started to reach down towards your core, rubbing your clit gently, it felt so good to finally touch yourself, you started to realize it wasn’t wrong cause it was Noah, and he was always helping you. He knew what to do, always had the answers to your questions, he always treated you right.

You wanted to make him proud, so you continue to play with yourself. You could feel yourself close to some sort of relief but you couldn’t quite get to that point.

Leaning forward into your ear he whispers “I want you to play with yourself, it’s your reward from me, remember, after all you came to me for help, that man in sky isn’t your god, I am baby” started to toy with your tits, giving them a squeeze.

You started to whimper, grinding against his cock, he felt so big, Noah, groaning from the sensation, taking a moment to look at you in the mirror, you looked gorgeous, cheeks flushed, hair disheveled, whimpering his name, he’d never seen something so beautiful.

You started to pant from the sensation, you never felt so good before, not even the dream could compare to this.

“Noah…it feels to good…” you panted out, your cheeks were flushed red from being so exposed.

“You feel good, huh, baby?” You started to whimper from feeling so close yet not getting to cum yet. “Noah…please…I need help…I’m so close…please” Noah groaning from this picked you up, trapping you between him and the bed, he starts to leave kisses down your neck, making his way up to your mouth looking you in the eye, grabbing your chin, he whispers, as if it’s your dirty little secret to keep, looking you deep in the eye “I am your god, baby doll. You repent your sins to me and only me. Where was your god when you got heart broken? No where, I was here, remember? Where was your god when you couldn’t sleep at night cause you were worried about having nightmares? No where, it was me, baby. Don’t you see I am your god” You nodded your head in understatement, that made sense, god never answered my prayers, not like Noah did. You thought to yourself.

Placing his lips to yours, he slowly teases you, licking your bottom lip, slipping his tongue into your mouth, demanding dominance.

“I wanna taste you so bad, baby” Noah sits up “get undress, baby, give me a show” Noah starts to unbutton his shirt, taking it off, revealing more and more tattoos the more clothes he took off.

“You look so gorgeous for me, baby. God I can’t wait to have your pussy, in my mouth, I’ve been dreaming of fasting you”. Diving straight into your pussy, he starts to lap directly at your clit, arching from the sensation, it felt so god, you had never felt to good, so much pleasure “Noah…it’s too much, please” you whimpered out, Noah completely ignored you. Noah starts to slip a finger inside you, stretching you out slowly, not wanting to hurt you. Moaning from the sensation, you pull at his hair, eating you out like there was no tomorrow, like you would disappear if he stopped.

Slipping another finger inside you, fingering you gently, leaning up to your ear “you taste so good, princess. I knew you would taste incredible but not like this. You’re doing such a good job for me,baby. You’re making your god very proud tonight” slipping another finger in you stretching you more, letting out a whimper “Noah, please, I need you”

“Yea, you need me? Pray to me, baby? Show your true god some love” sitting back, running his hands along the way, throwing your legs over his shoulders, lining his cock up to your entrance.

“Please Noah, please, I need you” normally Noah planned to wait it out, but being deprived of your pussy pushed him over the edge.

Slipping his cock in, Noah let out a groan, you moaning from the feeling of being full of his cock, “fuck” Noah let out.

Noah started to gently pull out though, leaving you empty, except the tip of his cock “what do we say, baby?” “Please, I’ve been good for you, I’ve been a good girl, please.” You begged and pleaded Noah to take you whole.

“Alright, baby, you got it” Noah thrusted his cock back into you, pulling you close, he felt so big stretching you out. Reaching down to rub your clit “you feel so warm and tight, god you feel incredible” he was moving faster and faster “I can feel you tightening up, baby? Are you gonna cum for me?” You nodded your head, too fucked out to speak “aww, are you so cocky drunk you can’t even speak right now” pulling out slowly and giving one harsh thrust, pulling you closer by the hips, feeling himself about to burst “go on, baby, you can cum, cum for me”

You feel your legs start to shake, and the feeling of release finally hitting you like a tone of bricks.

“Fuck!” Noah lgroaned in your ear, feeling Noah, empty his cock inside of you felt so good, you pulled him closer, whimpering.

“Good girl, baby, you did so good, let me get you cleaned up.”

Noah gave you a gentle kiss on your forehead, grabbing a warm wet rag, wiping you down, putting his t-shirt and boxers on you, after changing the sheets, he turns the tv on, pulling you close, playing with your hair.

“You did so good tonight for me, baby. So good, I have so much to teach you.”

You curl your body closer into his body, you knew you could trust me, and he was right, he helped you more than god.

—————

Hello, I hope you enjoyed this story, I was so nervous to write it as I don’t ever really write smut, well in depth smut so I tried my best. Also if you didn’t read it in the beginning I was high writing this so nothing is proof read, I’m too stoned to try and reread anything I’m sorry

I was so nervous Ughhhh but anyways I hope you enjoyed, i will try to write a part two, i know I definitely want to but that might also take some time as well.

I hope you have a good morning/evening/ Ight

-LP🫶🏼

[annaesterella]

Heyo!! Here is part two of “Don't be Silly, I would never be a Wayne”

I'm sorry if is not good, I just like to write 😞😞

LET'S GOOO

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. ☆

Mentions of: murderous thoughts, crimes (huahaha) Bat-family going crazy and spiraling into paranoia and Delulu

“Don't be silly, I would never be a Wayne.”

Well, here you are now.. finally, someone in your house, with people who want to chat with you! You can hangout with your family now.. finally home. No more school recitals than anyone but Alfred went to, and even then few times, but he wasn't that guilty. No more Father's Day presentations with an empty chair, no more jokes that fall on deaf ears, no more neglect for your feelings, no more chasing after crumbs. You would never crawl for crumbs again. You felt like you might cry, not with sadness but with joy, as you hugged the bearded man, and then he appeared... "Mr. Joie nocturne" Your uncle.. you ran towards him, hugging him as you smiled, being spun around in his arms, as your new family watched the scene unfold happily. Everyone happy, even if they weren't exactly the good guys, all that matters is that you have a happy family.. everyone happy except the Bats..

Once in the mansion, a spiral of anger surrounded them, especially the bat, who even though he was against violence, he couldn't shake that constant thought of ending that circus, fire. They took his daughter, she must have been so scared, but she accepted, after all, they were her mother's family, but he was going to save her at some point... she was as grown up, as beautiful as her mother.. is a shame things ended like that.. It's a shame he didn't find her sooner, he could have... no... he wouldn't have done anything... and that only made him burn with more hatred, blaming himself and the circus... him for losing his daughter, and the circus for finding her. But it would end soon... she would return home. Meanwhile, Dick was thinking about how everything unfolded, how they lost his little sister so easily to a half-assed circus, but still, he knew they had a percentage of blame... Still..Why them?? They didn't even see her until what? A few weeks? Hatred consumed him too, as he thought about how to end it, how to convince them that they were bad... BINGO he could blame them for stealing the belongings, she would believe it and loathe that circus, and then she would go back to the comfort of her stable home, with her father and her brothers, with Alfred, all happy, and the members of that stupid circus in jail... where they would die because some criminal killed them.. perfect.

Tim and Babs, after hearing the plan, started working on finding everything they could about the Circus, the others members of the family went to see by their selfs what they meant by "Circus" and like the others, they did feel a pang of anger for Y/N exchanging them for a circus family... but still, the guilt was also present, they had to make up for the lost time. Of course she would forgive them, she always wanted more time with them, it just wasn't given when she wanted it, but she would receive compensation for that lost time, of course. What idiots.

You were getting ready for another show, until you heard a knock on your dressing room door, thinking it was a member of the circus, you opened it smiling, while putting on your gloves. Just to see the bats, of course, like citizens, all entering their dressing room, thinking they had that right. You raised your eyebrows, finding it disrespectful, you frowned, but of course they didn't mind.

: — First of all.. excuse me? Second of all, what this means?

Damian, being sure you would understand, raised his hand and said loudly, without a care in the world, while pointing to the door

Damian: — Your "family" are responsible for the theft of last night's belongings

You frowned, and clenched your fists tightly, shaking, as you lowered your head. You took a deep breath as you looked at the dressing room door, then looked at them, who seemed to be waiting for your reaction.

: — Get out. Now. What were you expecting me to do? Believe you? I know them better than you guys do.. don't you dare call MY FAMILY thieves

You questioned, as you stamped your foot angrily, and soon heard the footsteps towards your dressing room. He looked at them, who stood up defensively.

Dick: — Bunny, they are criminals.. you need to come with us! They are not good people, leave this magic nonsense behind, it will not give you a future.

You felt the tears in your eyes, as he widened his eyes, trying to explain himself, you opened the door, frowning, as tears ran down your cheeks. It was like a portrait of your mother at that moment, then, your uncle was on the door, asking about the noise. You just stayed silent, before hugging him. Sobbing in your arms, as your new family gathered around, hugging you, making the bats uncomfortable... you never ran to their arms like that. That was just the beginning... they hadn't lost yet... but still, feeling defeated, they left the dressing room, leaving you destroyed as always...

That night's show was canceled, and that was enough for the guilt to consume them... they needed to get rid of that circus as quickly as possible. What I was feeling most at that moment was Dick, after all.. He was the one who made you cry, he despised your story, your biggest passion and indirectly your mother, but he would make it up to you. He would ask Bruce to buy a magical institute if necessary, then, Suddenly, a pop was heard from the circus, followed by a bright purple light. They ran inside, and now they saw the truth... those freaks weren't the main thieves, you were. Again the despair was in the Circus, once again you and your troupe of freaks were gone, leaving only the children with their belongings. They corrupted you, left you dirty with villainy, and you needed to be cleansed again.

Now, at the back of the circus, you and your family were laughing, while looking at the boxes with the belongings. But the joy was soon dashed when they saw the bats, quickly descending towards the house. You quickly started doing some magic tricks, the main one being your Winchester, pointed towards them. You saw the pity, the guilt, but mainly the anger in their eyes, you see it. You sent your family away, coming face to face with them, while pointing the gun directly at the bat. You, his daughter, the man who swore not to use weapons, abhorred the use of them, pointing one at him. He got closer and closer, while the circus disappeared behind him, but still, your family didn't leave you, they slowly appeared behind you.

: — Hello Batman.. finally discovered the truth or are you here to ask me to return "Home" again?

Batman: — Y/N, please.. they aren't your family, the Wayne's are!

Nightwing: — They turned you into a villain

*BANG* It echoed through the space, you just shot to his side, eyes flashing with anger as you felt your uncle's hand on your shoulder.

: — Don't be silly.. I would never be a Wayne!

You said while laughing, ready to shot again, playin with the gun, before turning it into one of those silly wands, pointing it at them.

: — I am a Joie nocturne, now, I know how you guys work, soo.. let's turn a blind eye to all this bullshit.. after all, we will be leaving Tomorrow.

Their eyes widened, as they clenched their fists, they sighed, and walked closer, soon you heard something behind you. No longer your uncle, or your family, but Alfred, sighing sadly, before hugging you and then feeling a needle in your neck.

Alfred: — I'm sorry Master Y/N..

You only heard your name being shouted, followed by sounds of fighting, before your eyes became completely heavy, and then, darkness embraced you. Maybe, like your mother, you would turn into a spell.. and vanish

[sweetwolfcupcake]

Sweet Dreams

Secret Garden

Yandere Neo Anderson x Reader

Warning: Stalking, questioning of sanity and reality, dubious consent, somnophilia, theories and philosophies, existential crisis and a lot more.

Word Count: 9k+

The GIF is NOT mine. Credit goes to the rightful owner.

Unedited

Was she dreaming again? (Y/N) was unsure. Maybe she was…There was no other explanation for what she felt and saw. She would see a man, partially hidden in shadows, standing tall, dressed in all black, standing at the corner of her room.

He was still, hands behind his back. (Y/N) never saw much of him, if she did, she would not remember. But she saw him wearing black sunglasses. It was the middle of the night…It was dark, so dark but appeared darker, like a void sucking everything in. A void calling for her.

But (Y/N) could not move, she could only see. She saw him as he stepped closer, and closer, and…Her eyes closed again before she could see his face. But she could feel him, looming over her. And his chilling touch. His hand palm on her cheek was not cold as such. But there was something otherworldly about the sensation.

Wake up.

Soon

You will wake up

She gasped as her eyes flew open. Blinking groggily, (Y/N) watched the morning light filtering into her room through the half-opened blinds. She let out a breath, touching her bedding to ground herself. 

It was a dream…

Yes, a very realistic dream. 

Her eyes fell into the corner of the room, where stood the mysterious man in her dream. It was, indeed, the darkest corner at night. But with the natural light seeping into her bedroom, she felt safer. 

Not that she felt exactly unsafe in her dream. Just…strange. 

(Y/N) realised that she had been fisting her bedsheets and loosened her grip. Getting off, she made her bed and went on to freshen up. It was a dreaded Monday after all.

—----

“Did you hear about Brad?” (Y/N)’s colleague’s tone suggested yet another juicy piece of gossip, but that barely interested her. 

In fact, nothing truly interested (Y/N). For as long as she could remember, she never felt like she belonged. Not in the office, at home, or with friend circles, or family. She always felt like a misfit. Not in a glaringly obvious way, but it was a subtle yet constant reminder somewhere in her mind that she did not ‘belong’. But (Y/N) had grown up to hide it well. She could mix up with people and laugh—genuine laughter at times. But there was no…deep connection, home, in a way.

Yes, home.

(Y/N) never felt at home.

It was not the kind of feeling that would push one into soul-searching. No, it was…it was like she could never tell if she was dreaming, or was awake.

“Hi, are you even listening?”

“Huh? I–right sorry. I missed coffee this morning.”

“Let’s get some now, I can tell you all about it on the way.”

“About what?”

“Brad.” she leaned closer, looking around “I’ve heard some special agents came to pick him up. 

“Pick him up?” (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, following her colleague towards the.

“Yeah, for interrogation. He was into weird stuff. Sending crazy voice recordings to his family and friends.”

“As in?” (Y/N)’s curiosity sparked at that. 

Her colleague shrugged “He was into meditation and stuff. Was speaking of things like reality, stimulation, dreams…I don’t know. Not sure. All I know is that he was picked up from his house two days ago and he hasn’t returned.”

“Oh.” that was all (Y/N) could muster up. 

Those mysterious ‘agents’ were special forces, keeping the nation safe but she never felt right about them. The whole system as such—nobody knew their identity, they answered to no one and there was nothing concrete about their department. It was like some ultra-confidential, higher office or something.

Brad was, as far as (Y/N) knew, a normal man, kind. He thought deeper, he perceived differently. The kind to spend more time in the woods, fishing, or camping than on movies, partying, or games. It simply didn’t fit.

Because (Y/N) never felt off about him. Her feeling like that mattered because (Y/N) could sense things. Things that were not visible to the plain eyes. If she felt off about something or someone, it would be proven right. No matter how many hours, days, months or even years later, the uneasiness or eerie sense would prove to be a warning.

Like she had always felt uneasy near her previous neighbours. They were the friendly, bright couple everybody loved and knew. But (Y/N) never went beyond polite greetings and smiles. Small talks, sure, when she had to. But nothing beyond it.

Something just didn’t sit right in her stomach. No, she felt it with all of her body.

And she was proven right, two years later. But she was right after all. The police stormed into their apartment. Nobody knew what was happening, but the forensic team was called in too. The news headlines and stories had all the answers. 

The police found human remains in their house. At least five different samples. But they somehow survived the meticulous cleanings and scrubbings. No human could ever be an open book—there would always be a hidden passage, a hidden chapter somewhere, a part so deftly concealed in plain sight, that it simply did not exist for the onlookers until it was extracted out.

The human mind indeed was a dark, dark place. So complex, so wonderfully efficient and creative but so fragile. Filled to the brim with contradictions.

—---

She knew she was dreaming this time. At least it felt so. How could the long, endless corridor not be a dream? A larger metal door awaited at the end. While all other doors she passed by were coated with a distinctive shade of green—deep, matt but somehow striking. The metal door should have been her destination. Such dreams were not new to her. 

But this dream simply felt different.

Because her steps ceased midway before she turned to the door on her right. It was identical to all other doors she had passed by without much thought. But this door felt like an invitation. It should have been the metal door at the end but it seemed almost foreboding. Turning her attention back to the green door, she twisted the knob. (Y/N) held her breath when she found that it was unlocked.

The man standing behind it looked somewhat familiar. He was a towering figure dressed in all black. With his hair brushed back and black goggles concealing his eyes he seemed—wait! It was the man she saw in her room—dreamt of it, hopefully.

The man frowned at her.

“You are not supposed to be here.” His voice was quiet but held a pleasant depth.

“Wh–what?” (Y/N) blinked. She never had such a dream. “What is this place?”

Before he could answer, the metal door dinged.

“They are here.” his voice held an urgency to it and the air shifted immediately. Now, she felt off. Something was very wrong.

“Who?”

The man did not answer, but grabbed her wrist and pulled her inside the room, as soon as the door shut, she was plunged into pitch-black darkness.

(Y/N)’s eyes shot-opened. She could feel her heart thundering against her ribs and the way her thin t-shirt clung to her back. It was not supposed to be so hot. It wasn’t hot, but she was drenched in perspiration. 

It was just a nightmare. 

“Calm down, calm down, just…calm down.” (Y/N) repeated to herself.

It was just a nightmare. Nothing else. 

It would have been easier to believe that, had it not been for the tingling sensation on her wrist. 

—--------

(Y/N) was dreaming again of that man.

But he was closer this time. Looming over her bed like an omen. And she could only watch as he stood there. The darkness in the room concealed his face but she knew that he was looking down at her. Peering at her through those dark shades over his eyes. And then, she felt his palm on her cheek. Only this time her eyes were wide open. And his touch felt real, but still otherworldly, like she had touched something charged with energy. It did not hurt her, but it was jarring in a way that felt like she was waking up from a long sleep.

The dark liquid swirled as she mixed sugar into her coffee. It felt like forever since she had had proper sleep since she started having those strange dreams. How could one stranger plague her dreams like that? 

How could she function without proper sleep? Without answers?

Turning her gaze back to the computer, she sighed and resumed her work. Bills needed to be paid anyway—it didn’t matter how many hours of sleep she had.

—----

She was with that man again. But this time, she saw him. All of him, except his eyes. Was she lucid dreaming? Was it even real? And if she were indeed a lucid dreamer then why couldn't she control her dreams? 

What was this man doing in her bedroom? 

She could feel and only watch as his thumb swiped over her lips. It was soft, and smooth but left an electrifying sensation behind. And she thought that was it. She was going to wake up after this and it would be morning—

His movements were smooth when he leaned in. She registered the sensation of his lips first. Before she felt it…Nothing like she had felt before. She felt awake and alive and thousands of tiny electric sparks travelled from her lips to her toes. It was a foreign sensation, but she did not hate it. Instead (Y/N) closed her eyes and surrendered to it.

It was just a dream, after all.

He wasn’t real he wasn’t real

He—

(Y/N) woke up, gasping. There was a lingering sensation on her lips but it was all a dream, right? The morning sun was filtering in and…and there was no one in her room. There was no one in her fucking room. But it felt so real.

And it sparked a longing in her heart.

She was yearning for a man who wasn’t even real?

How pathetically lonely was she?

—-----

(Y/N) kept her eyes on the window glass this time. She knew it was all a dream. But there was a nagging feeling in her mind that simply won’t stop. It had to be a dream, there was no other way. No way that it was real. She had not spoken to anybody about it, afraid that one day those ‘agents’ would come, knocking at her doors. 

But she couldn’t stop thinking. It was like a splinter in her mind, she couldn’t stop wondering if she was living in a dream itself. Nothing felt—

(Y/N) stilled. 

There was a shadow, at the corner of her room. The darkest corner. It wasn’t exactly decipherable but it wasn’t as empty as before, share realised it, peering through the glass. And even through the uneven reflection, she could tell that the shadow moved, it was a man—his silhouette. But by now she knew who it was.

It was the same man she dreamed of.

Or was she even dreaming all the time? 

Had some crazy man been visiting her at night?

And was she crazy enough not to feel the fear? At least not before but now, she felt it with every ounce of her being. The hair at the back of her neck rose, her skin prickled but she remained frozen. Only breathing, trying—really trying to keep her breathing in control. 

He would know.

She knew he would know. Somehow she did.

He was looming over her bed again. In silence, he stood there like a creature of the dark, just observing waiting.

And then with a deliberate slowness, he leaned in. His motion seemed inhumanely slow. Was he…Was he a demon or something?

Did she have her personal sleep paralysis demon?

(Y/N) forced down the whimper that had made its way to her throat. 

Keep quiet, fucking keep quiet!

She shut her eyes close.

That was—

“I know you are awake.”

His voice reverberated in her mind. It was like his essence that travelled through her system. It was low, deep and calm. The kind that had discipline and understanding to it. She couldn’t put a point on it but it was oddly reassuring. The kind of control and confidence that was extraordinary, something that came with a different practice, something that made one stand out.

Her heart thumped against her chest, and somehow (Y/N) just knew that he knew how her heart raced. And the fact knowledge made her cheeks warm, it made her body warm. His breath fell on her cheek before she felt his lips. Soft and warm. His kisses trailed further, making her shiver, until he bit her ear and she gasped.

(Y/N) gasped, waking up to her lit-up room again. 

Was she…Was she dreaming again? But she distinctly remembered that she stayed up last night. She touched her cheek and ear. It was like she could still feel him there—his breath, his lips, his voice!

“Am I losing it already?”

She whispered to herself, running her fingers through her hair. Had this constant sense of alienation, this loneliness, the longing to be understood gotten to her?

She thought she had accepted the fact that she would never truly belong. Anywhere. With anyone. She was a lost cause. A hopeless case. Her life never felt hers as such. There was no true passion, no hobbies, nothing she felt truly connected to. Nothing she felt was truly hers. Only her intuition. 

But that would not be valid in this world. ‘Intuition’ was a myth—scoffed at, discarded. 

And this every intuition was telling her that everything she felt, saw and heard was real. But a larger part of her mind refused to agree. Logically, it seemed impossible.

Maybe she should book an appointment with a therapist.

But for now, she needed to get going. She couldn’t afford to be late for work again.

Gathering the last bits of her courage and some logic, she managed to book an appointment before she went to work. Perhaps the lack of sleep and company, a true connection was catching up to her finally. Perhaps a few sessions would help her.

—---

When (Y/N) trudged back to her apartment, wanting nothing more than to fall on her bed and sleep. But as soon as she stepped inside her apartment, she sobered up. The hair on the back of her neck prickled in warning, and the goosebump washed over her whole body.

“What the hell?” the whispered words were a part of her reflex. 

The air in her apartment felt still…charged.

Of all her ‘abnormal’ experiences, this was perhaps the most unnerving. (Y/N) felt like she walked right into a room of conflict. Like someone was seething. 

Gathering her courage, she checked each room and corner. Nothing.

Her apartment seemed untouched and pristine.

But the feeling lingered. Like some residual energy.

She knew this made no sense but it felt like something or someone was there in her room. So powerful that the is in her room was charged with the energy.

“Oh, I am truly going mad now.” (Y/N) whispered to herself, baffled by her own conclusions. 

Her intuition had never been stronger but this was making her doubt her sanity. She sat down, her palm supporting her head. Was she truly losing it? 

She was perfectly fine as long as she remembered but ever since those ‘dreams’...

Did something similar happen to Brad as well?

She reached her computer. What time was her appointment again? She was supposed to receive an email of confirmation and a call. But, now she realised, there had been no call from the centre throughout the day.

“What the—” (Y/N) could only stare at the email from the centre. It was sent around an hour ago. A confirmation of her cancelling the appointment.

How was it possible? She had made the appointment the same morning and—and…

(Y/N) searches through her computer frantically, trying to remember if she had sent any email by mistake. There was an email sent. From her computer but it was sent during the hours she was in the office.

Her mind went back to the strange, prickling sensation she experienced the moment she stepped back into her apartment. So someone had been at her place. 

But nothing was missing. 

Only this addition. This email was sent from her computer in her absence. She stared at the telephone across the room. Perhaps, she should be calling the cops? What was stopping her? Nothing.

But she hesitated.

Something in her did not want to—

No. Fucki it!

(Y/N) marched towards the telephone and dialled the number. But she was introduced with nothing but static. There was no ringing, on the other hand, only the constant static. She pressed the button to disconnect the line, but the beep never came. Instead, the static remained.

“What the—”

She stopped the moment she heard it. The unmistakable sound of someone breathing from the other end, even through the static.

“Don’t.”

The sound that escaped her lips was a mixture of a panicked gasp and a terrified whimper. Slamming down the phone, you scrambled back. The apartment was still and silent, but her heart was thundering, screaming in fear.

It–It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t be.

She was awake, how could he hear the same haunting voice from the other line of the phone? But it sounded hard, like a warning this time.

(Y/N) stood there, watching the phone, anticipating it to ring. She had seen enough horror movies to know that the phone rang if it was a sleep demon that was haunting her. It had to be, she had no other explanation for this. This, or she was indeed going mad.

Had the crippling loneliness, the yearning to belong caught up with her? Was it stress?

Or.

Or maybe…

Maybe someone was playing some dirty tricks on her.

Yes, it had to be so. 

Without a second thought, she rushed for her mobile phone. Flipping it open, (Y/N) dialled the police. 

The never-ending beep made her flinch. She did not wait long this time. She did not want to find out what would happen. She simply hung up. Exhausted, frightened and almost in tears, (Y/N) dragged herself to the couch and fell on it. Her fingers gripped her hair and ran through the surface of the couch—anything to ground her to reality. It all felt like an unending dream, a long, vivid dream. 

But how could it be? 

She was awake. She was in the real world. In the physical world and yet she had to keep reminding herself that because some dumbass was playing a sick prank on her. Added to this were her dreams that blurred the lines between wet dreams and nightmares.

Somehow, (Y/N) fell into a restless slumber on the couch. Her dreams were bizarre this time. Green walls, wavy? Moving walls? And—and guns? He was there, shooting. In a black leather coat, blazing guns, making his way through a corridor.

Why did it feel like she had been here? Right here?

What was she?

"It’s a programme."

“You choose to stay away, we hand to replace you somehow, otherwise, he would never make a choice.”

It was a different voice. But somehow she felt like she knew this voice. Something in her was desperate to grasp what he said. She—-she felt like she knew what he meant she simply had to…

What was she doing?

Who was he?

“We cannot do with simply a part of you, you must step in. This is the Seventh. It’s happening again. He is growing desperate, he will turn rogue.”

“Who is he?”

No answer.

“Who are you?” 

“Wha–what is happening?”

“What—”

(Y/N) caught herself speaking in her sleep. Waking up mid-sentence. 

“What the hell is fucking—” 

She gulped in a desperate attempt to soothe her aching throat. She parched again. Looking around, (Y/N) noticed that all the lights in the room were switched off. The space would have been pitch dark if not for street lights—

Wait.

The street lights were golden.

Where was the green hue coming from?

She looked around frantically until her eyes landed on her computer screen. Wasn’t it switched off? She never realised it but she was inching closer, and closer to the device, that showed what seemed like gibberish in neon green, moving downwards vertically.  Blinking her eyes, and on closer inspection, she realised what they were.

“Codes?”

(Y/N) whispered out before the screen abruptly went black, startling her. And then, the typing began. This time, in simple language. (Y/N) pressed on the keyboard, trying to make it stop, to escape the screen, but there was nothing.

I have been searching for you (Y/N)...Through every universe, every cycle. Every lifetime.

“What the hell…”

With shaking fingers, she tried to do away with the screen, but it just won’t go. Nothing sense.

I know you feel it. You feel like you never belonged…

Okay, that was it. With quivering breath and shaking fingers, she unplugged her computer. Relief, at last, came, with a blank, dark screen without any sign of greens or neons, or anything that was driving her mad.

Breathing a sigh, (Y/N) sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall as if she had fought a battle. And perhaps she had indeed. She did not dream of that man this time. But if this was what would replace those ‘dreams’, she would gladly go back to them.

—-----

 This time, she was planning to visit the clinic herself. Maybe she would have the energy and time to do so on the weekend. But she needed to see a therapist. (Y/N) had begun to believe that she was truly going mad.

It was Friday already, one more night, that was it.

That sleep demon did not appear last night, and she dared to hope that he might leave her alone for another night as well. Maybe she finally stopped having such weird dreams. The bed felt softer, or perhaps it was the fatigue that was pulling her into a deep slumber. (Y/N) could barely care, her eyes closed and she embraced the bliss of sleep.

She was in amongst lavender fields. The ground was green, but as far as her eyes could see, she, it was stretches of purples and some occasional patches of green. The sky was golden with a parting kiss with the sun. It had been a while since she had dreamt something like this— peaceful, the place she wanted to be, a place she could lay down and forget the rest. An upward slope in the field ended with a single tree on the top. This place felt familiar. It felt like home. She wished to make her way to that tree on the top. But it was like she was waiting…But for whom?

Instead, (Y/N) lay on the ground, surrounded by the blooms and the gentle breeze teasing her skin. It was all peaceful for a while until she felt the dip on the grass beside her, and then, the warmth over her torso. It was all dark with her eyes closed, but when they opened...

(Y/N) gasped. That was all she could manage with his thumb pressing over her lips. It was him. It was him, and she was no longer in some idyllic lavender field she was trapped in her room, on her bed, unable to move, or even speak with him hovering over her like a true sleep paralysis demon.

It’s not real

It’s not real

It’s not real

It’s not real it’s not real, it’s not real

It’snotrealit’snotrealit’snotreal

Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes as she felt her heart threatening to break free of her ribcage. Perhaps that was how she would die. 

He was the same man, he could see him clearly now. With his eyes still veiled under those dark goggles. 

Fuck.

Sleep demons weren’t supposed to be this attractive. She blinked, feeling the warmth of her tears as they escaped the corner of her eyes.

The fear was visceral, if she were able to move, she knew that she could at least attempt to hurt him, just to get away. With him inches away from her, she felt trapped. Like, the world around did not matter, would not matter. He had this…aura around him. Magnificent but chilling.

“Why would you do that? Why would you deny this, me?”

He spoke, but she felt it in every part of her brain. As if they were connected, somehow. (Y/N) was terrified, sure, but she was confused as well. His touch felt like sunlight after storm, his voice was a haunting melody to her senses. It was a frightening combination but it was real, more real than anything she had felt all her life. 

And then, he removed those dark shades, revealing his eyes. Dark, deep eyes that had a sense of recognition and melancholy. And something else…it felt almost old—ancient almost. A yearning she never wanted to dig deep into, the kind of confidence that came with knowledge and power.

Perhaps she was hypnotised, maybe transfixed. Or probably, she had gone truly mad. Why else would she flutter her eyes close in anticipation? Her lips almost prickled, waiting to feel the softness once more. A potent drug that could make anyone an addict. It was beyond reason, beyond fear. The fear remained, but this was not new either. It simply reared its head up.

“You feel it too, don’t you? You have felt it all your life.”

She felt his breath, she could almost feel his lips move. He was so close, and yet just out of her grasp. Like the feeling. The answers she had searched for all her life. 

What was she searching for?

The answers felt just out of her grasp and—

She tasted heaven again. The warmth, the moisture, the feeling that made her toes curl. If it was a dream, it felt more real than the reality itself and if he was real, then perhaps she had never known anything more real before. 

Had she been so isolated, so alone that one dreamy kiss awoke something in her that she did not even know existed? It was arousal, yes, but there was something more to it. It was like she could feel her blood rushing a bit faster, her heart beating just right.

Like she was awake.

"Don't do this, they will come after you if you go."

And she was awake again. His words reverberated in her mind, though she did not even remember him talking. Heck, she remembered nothing beyond that maddening kiss. 

How did he know...Wait, wasn't he a dream?

A peaceful dawn of the weekend.

But her heart was sinking. It was like she had tasted a divine nectar and it was snatched from her after just a touch of the tongue. It made her yearn more. The realisation of how miserable she felt because all her life, she wanted to be understood, to belong, even to the point of desperation. She wanted to be part of the very crowd she unconsciously looked down upon. They appeared so…puppet-like. They had had no proper thought, nothing out of a box, a system. They were almost unreal to her. She pitied them initially. But eventually, she came to envy them. They did not feel that something was wrong, they were happy, they were living, and she was the one observing, turning more disillusioned with each passing day. Questioning. Trying to find a purpose. 

She had all the reasons to go and see a therapist. She did not. Somehow, she could not bring herself to do that. His eerie, unexplained warning rang in her mind.

Instead, she lay on the bed for a while, for a long while, thinking. By the time she was fresh out of the bath, watering her plants, it was afternoon. Her stomach had ceased to grumble, and it was no good news, not with the slight chest pain that came with bad eating habits. Begrudgingly, (Y/N) boiled some eggs and cut some fruits. The leftover spongecake would complete her brunch.

The weekends were a mindless loop, like the weekdays. But (Y/N) felt trapped inside her apartment. A safe trap at that.

She was messed up, wasn’t she?

Feeling trapped and oddly safe at the same time in her own home?

Maybe a walk outside would do her some good.

It was not a pleasant day by any means. Cold, cloudy, gusty wind slapping on the face, ruining people’s hair. Yes, her favourite kind of weather. All she needed was—oh, there it was! A flash of thunder in the sky followed by rumbling. (Y/N) leaned against the bench, casually observing as life went by.

She had seen people marvel at nature, at architecture. She loved this weather, she really did, but she never could truly ‘marvel’. She was sick of this feeling, something in her inherently felt wrong, misplaced. She could never marvel at things, get all those morality and principles fed into her system. They never felt to be…genuine. She felt like the odd one out, no one would understand her. They could not even empathise with her, although all her life, she could feel the aura around people, their energies, their perception, their reasonings, she understood them, to some extent. But what she failed at, was to make sense of the world she was in. And it left her desperate, gasping, tormented.

But the moment she felt his lips on hers, she felt alive. The emotions, the reactions in her felt so real, so intense, it was like something shifted in her. She felt thrilled, truly thrilled by something. Because it felt so real, it felt exactly what she had been searching for all her life, through meaningless relationships, friendships, and interactions.

Nothing felt this deep, this real.

She could not go to a therapist. She was afraid that if she went, she would lose those…dreams and would never see him again. He scared her, true, but she craved him beyond explanation. Like, it was always meant to be. She was meant to crave him. 

It was already pouring when she was walking back to her apartment. (Y/N) rushed through the streets, bumping and brushing against umbrellas and people. 

The moment she stepped inside her apartment, she was ready to carefully keep her shoes away so that they would not dirty the carpeted floo—

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed in disbelief. How could this be?

There were no muddy footprints. Heck, there was not a single trace of wetness on her clothes, or mud, or anything that would indicate that she rushed through a bustling street while it was pouring. Peering out, it still was raining cats and dogs.

“What’s going on here?”

She checked her arms and back, anywhere she was expected to find dampness. She did not even have an umbrella. How could this be? She felt the rain on her clothes and skin, she felt the chills that came with it. But looking at herself now, it felt like a figment of imagination.

(Y/N)’s eyes kept wandering back to the windows. It was raining when she fell asleep.

And it was raining when she opened her eyes. The heavy downpour was now reduced to pitter-patter. But that was just the background noise. Her focus shifted to the familiar figure looming over her. This time, she could move, she realised it the moment his lips descended on hers and her fingers went instinctively for his hair. 

He mumbled something like ‘I missed you’ but she could not heed that. Not when his lips devoured hers. 

“You aren’t even real.” (Y/N) whispered it out. An attempt to keep herself grounded in reality. 

His eyes had a strange gleam to them. Something akin to a menacing amusement. It reminded her of her fear. But well he was tenfold more attractive with that smirk and there went down her self-preservation. She was doomed to die alone, perhaps in the hands of this sleep demon.

“Oh, honey…I am more real than anything you have felt all your life.”

His lips brushed against the shell of her ear as he spoke, words seeping into her brain, and she knew they were to stay with her for the rest of her life.

Yes, you do feel too real though…

She wished she could delve into it more, but how could she, when his hands were all over her? They cupped her breasts just right, with no trace of uncertainty— unlike the touches she had felt before with her previous lovers. As if just doing things for the sake of it. No, with him, she felt seen and appreciated. Like he was invested, like he was experiencing her, not just looking. She felt the tenderness with which his lips traced her skin, as he had craved her, yearned for her as she had yearned for this…something so real, it tasted nothing like all the realities she had ever known.

His lips measured her through her skin till her breasts, stopping for her buds. And she felt like they should have been on wet grass, underneath jasmine blooms on a full moon night, be the inspiration for the poets who could make the ink and paper make love. He paid attention to each of her buds, until they were erect with need, like the wetness between her thighs, it was almost uncomfortable, added to his warmth. 

His fingers never felt intrusive, instead, they were like the guests her walls had been waiting for all day. They slid in through a smooth motion, and her walls clamped around his digits as they rubbed through her essence and her fluttering walls, delving deeper, bending just at the right angle and meeting her eyes the moment they pressed against the sweet spot that made electricity run through her veins. 

If this was a dream, then perhaps it was the universe’s twisted way to compensate her. For (Y/N) never felt so loved, never felt such intense attention, like he was studying her to be a devotee, not a puppeteer. But wasn’t he one already? Moving her as he wished, parting her legs, digging his fingers deeper—knuckles buried into her whispering wetness until she sprung into a violent bloom, shuddering, moaning into his mouth, then his thumb as it entered her mouth and sat on her tongue. 

His parting kiss was sweeter than the dreams of lavender fields. Her eyes were already closing when she felt him untangling himself from her arms. The separation scratched her painfully, but the pull of slumber was so deep, the dreams were so sweet…

The digital columns on her computer screen stared at her. The dreams were turning vivid. Every night, she would feel him, touch him. Experience a strange burn that felt like a cremation of her soul. It was ironic, how the filthy acts felt like purification. If the dreams were her prison, she would be a willing prisoner. He was her night jasmine. Haunting her all day but letting her experience him only under the veil of the night. The darkness was their shroud of secrecy and he was the fire that consumed her. Burned her desires, put her heart and body on fire and consumed parts of her soul.

“What are you doing?”

(Y/N) flinched at the familiar cold voice. Of course, her boss had to come at the time she was zoned out.

“Uh, completing the table?”

“Yeah, I can see that. Technology hasn’t reached the level of completing by itself, so you must work on it. Like a regular employee, you know. Or do you think you are entitled to free money?”

This asshole…

“No, Mr Rick, I am not. I will take care of it.”

The man squared his shoulders, lips curling into a snarl.

“I need it done by today itself.”

She opened her mouth to defend herself but one tilt of his head made it clear that it was either this or her job. Well, rent was expensive in the city.

“I will complete it, Sir.”

His lips turned up into a cold smile ��Thank you miss (L/N)”

And with him, went away her night’s sleep. She won’t be going home at all, it seemed. But there was still some hope if she started now. With a sigh and popping some gum into her mouth, she straightened up in her chair and cracked her neck. 

Back to work.

By lunchtime, she could see light at the end of the tunnel. But she needed her dose of caffeine and some food in her stomach too. It was a pleasant break away from the headache-inducing work. She hated the monotonous computer screen, something in her felt repulsed by it. But it paid for her expenses so…

At least her colleague’s rambling was far not as bad. Not that (Y/N) ever was truly invested in small talk. The question she had almost never concerned the weather, was…’Why’. Why were they doing what they were doing? Why were things like this, or that? Was the true purpose of existence only to work, and go home? Be born, study, work, reproduce, work, die and then? Repeat? It felt like a factory, a prison to her. Sure, there were things to marvel at and entertain but that was it. They were small dopamine dosages. 

But recently, other than the toe-curling hot sleep paralysis demon haunting her, something else had been on her mind. One of her colleagues basically vanished. He was arrested and then? Nobody seemed to even care. Nobody spoke of him after that day.

“Do you have any news of Brad?”

Her colleague frowned at that.

“Brad?”

“Yes, like, our colleague, Brad.” (Y/N)  stated the obvious.

“Who's Brad?”

—---

Was she seriously losing it?

Was she past a sitting with a psychologist?

Was her place in some institution?

At this point, all the cubicles seemed identical.

Focus. Focus on the numbers.

She remembered Brad’s cubicle number. There had been no new employee who had joined in the department recently so that cubicle should be empty. Thoughts raced in her mind as (Y/N) rushed towards Brad’s cubicle. Reaching his cubicle, she walked into it, expecting it to be empty but, there was already another man sitting there. He had Brad’s hair and his eyes but…he wasn’t Brad. No, not at all.

“Oh, hi, (Y/N), how may I help you?”

“Uh, where’s—”

Wait, how did he know her name?

“How do you know my name?”

The man chuckled incredulously “What do you mean, we’ve been working in the same department for months.”

“Wh–What?”

She took a step back when he rose from his seat “Are you alright? You seem pale.”

“Wh–where’s Brad?”

The man had no trace of recognition “Who Brad? (Y/N) you are sweating…”

She gulped and shook her head. She felt nauseous. “No, I’m good…Need some sleep I guess.”

“You do not look well, why don’t you take the day off?”

She shook her head, managing a shaky smile “I’m good, thanks.”

She rushed back to her cubicle, avoiding the curious glances of her co-workers.

—---

The empty rows of dark cubicles along with the dull lighting above had an eerie effect on the visual of the workspace. The otherwise silent space echoed with the subtle sound of (Y/N) typing away on her computer. It was already one in the morning, and her home was a thirty-minute drive away. Oh, and the best part was, she wasn’t even close to being done yet. 

At this point, she was losing focus on the task. Whatever had happened in the office had left her shocked. 

Was she losing it?

How come no one remembered Brad? What was wrong with people? She even checked the entry data, there was no trace of Brad. Not anywhere. Like he never existed.

There was either something very, very wrong with her…

Or there was something very, very wrong with the world.

Rubbing her palm over her face, (Y/N) leaned away from the computer. The sickly white body, the keyboard, and the stagnant screen made her uneasy. Standing up, (Y/N) stretched her limbs a bit. She needed to wash her face, or she would drop dead.

It was wonderful how a few splashes of cool water could make someone feel so much better, or refreshed. (Y/N) felt much lighter. Though she was still disturbed regarding whatever was going on with the case of Brad and—

“Shit!”

She rushed to her screen, which was blank, other than one green dot blinking. She was stupid enough to not have even saved hours worth of work and they were probably gone!

“Fuck, go back!” No matter how hard she pressed the ‘ESC’ button, the screen remained black with one glowing green dot blinking. She felt mocked by it. 

Long day?

The green dot typed out. Her mind instantly took her back to the nightmarish evening a few days ago.

“No, no, no…” she pressed to switch the device off. But nothing happened.

Stop trying to switch it off. Listen to me. Do not mention Brad. They will know.

“What the hell is happening?” her voice cracked at this point. 

The events until now made no sense, she could not grasp but it felt almost like a computer glitch. A glitch in reality. Taking several steps back, she rushed to collect her things. 

Fuck it!

She was out of this place.

—---

(Y/N) had already prepared another resume. She was getting fired, there was no way that her boss would believe her, or give her another chance. She had spent the remaining hours drafting a new resume for herself. 

“(Y/N), Mr Rick wants the report submitted to his table.” One of her colleagues informed her as soon as she entered the office. 

Of course…

Nodding at her, (Y/N) made her way into her cubicle. Looking at the computer, everything that had happened a few hours before seemed like a dream. The device was switched off, even if she distinctly remembered fleeing from her office without switching the computer off. After starring contest with the device for what felt like hours, she gathered her courage and switched it on. She was being fired anyway, so who cared? The creepy computer would be left behind. Like this shitty place.

Perhaps a less stressful job would be better for her. Maybe a barista? A receptionist? No, they won’t pay her—

It felt like the screen was staring back at her. The columns that should have been empty due to what had happened last night…were filled?

(Y/N) checked it, several times, again, and again. No mistakes. The table was completed without any correction required. At least there was nothing her eyes could catch.

“(Y/N), I think I asked the files to be submitted!”

She jumped at the voice, Mr Rick stood at the entrance of her cubicle. At her stunned silence, he rolled his eyes and moved towards the computer, pushing her away. It was his turn to be stunned.

“It’s...completed.” 

“Yes, it is” (Y/N) added, still in disbelief.

—----

It was raining again. As the droplets descended in a rush, mingling into the flowing water, (Y/N) sat by her window, eyes on the glass despite the obscured view, only flashes of blue, green and red remained visible with the street and traffic beneath. It was late, but she refused to fall asleep. Instead, lighting up a cigarette, she leaned against the cushioned surface of her couch. As the cigarette stick hung from her mouth, she let her mind wander off, counting all the bizarre events that had followed her in the last few weeks.

At first, she thought that it all started ever since her…dreams but, then, she realised that she had been having those dreams for months.

It may not be her sleep paralysis demon. Unless…

(Y/N) sat up, realising that it all began after she started to… acknowledge him, interact with this…thing, this man, whatever or whoever he was. He was a dream, of course, he was, but he felt so real, and the recent events turned it more difficult for her to decipher what was real, and what wasn’t. She glanced at her computer. (Y/N) had not plugged that device in since that evening. The television wasn’t working, the weather was turning worse and sleep had turned into an experiment for her. 

She sat by the window, exhaling the fumes, inhaling and exhaling. Thinking, watching…Thinking…

Turned out, she did fall asleep. But there was no trace of the man this time. She woke up, drooling, with the sun rays falling over her eyes, disrupting the blissful slumber she was granted after a trying week. The cigarette was only half-finished, but extinguished and kept safely on the ashtray. She did not even remember doing that. But then again, she did not remember falling asleep either. 

—-----

The day at work had been particularly draining. Though on the streets, passing through the crowds, or even silent alleys, she thought she saw him—the man who haunted her dreams and her mind like some life-altering enigma. But every time she would turn around, he would be gone, as if he were nothing but a wisp of her imagination. 

One night without a sight or touch of his and this is what she was reduced to? Her mind bringing him up in random public places? Just out of reach, out of sight, driving her mad.

Oh, wasn’t she already mad, though? 

(Y/N) scoffed at herself. Her pathetic self, unable to build any real relationship, unable to accept what was being given to her, searching for something event she did not know or could name. Just searching, like a lunatic. Waiting, for what? For whom?

She was tormented and she did not even know the source, the cause, the end of the road. Heck, she did not even know the road.

All that was left was to accept what she saw. All that was left, after a long, tiring day of meaningless toil was to fall on the comfort of her bed, be thankful that she at least had that.

.

He returned this time. When she wasn't expecting him to. She wanted to laugh at herself. Like a silly schoolgirl, her heart leapt at the sight of the familiar dark coat. She felt underdressed in front of him. Laying there, in nothing but her bedclothes. But something told her that he appreciated this.

“Did you miss me?”

All thoughts evaporated, there was no doubt left when his touch felt so warm, so real, his hand sprawled over her thighs, the comforter long tossed away while he spread apart her legs, A delicious smirk curled his lips at the absence of any undergarment. An answer to his question. She could not wait. She missed him. She missed him like water and air. Cupping his cheeks, (Y/N), pulled him into a kiss—desperate to feel his lips, desperate for the same awakening feeling his touch ignited. 

And he followed gladly, pulling her closer, hand slithering on the back of her neck as he pulled her into a sitting position flushed against him. And she wish they were closer. Skin to skin, soul to soul. Melting into one another. 

But it did feel like milk and honey when his lips descended to her neck, her heaving chest, over her stomach until they reached her womanhood. He was a man starving—why else would he put her legs over his shoulder? Even through the layers of clothing, she could feel the strength they carried while his lips explored her dewy folds. He made her cry out and twist, tug at his hair and see the dancing stars right in front of her eyes. And yet she wanted more. Needed more.

When he faced her again, lips glistening, smelling like her desire, she knew she was an addict, even though it was his eyes that gleamed with a promise to wreck her the sweetest way possible. 

“Open your mouth”

His voice was a siren’s call and she was a willing sailor. Dreamy eyes looked up to him as if she were the poet, and he, the moon. Perhaps he was the moon. The way he glowed, draping himself in a black attire. For him, she could be a poet. For him, she could be a sailor, it meant seeing him one more time.

She opened her mouth, a twinge of uncertainty, though, still rang somewhere in her brain. He recognised it, she could see his eyes soften.

“What are you?” 

She was breathless when his fingers danced along her opening once more like the tides soaring up—-high, higher and higher until they crashed—tremors shook her form, as she realised what it was to be loved the right way between the sheets. 

“I am what you have been searching for.” 

He replied moments before dipping to fuse his lips with hers once more—a perfect fit where she could taste his tongue and her essence. She found a home in his arms, the heat in his eyes had kept her warm through the cold reality.

“But aren’t even real.” Her tears came in silence while her body still savoured the pleasure.

“Oh, honey…only if you try to know…”

—----

His words echoed every now and then in her mind, all through the day while she waited for the night. He would not visit her dreams every night though, and it made her crave him more. Even if she saw the devotion in his eyes, she felt like he was the deity, and she was the devotee…offering herself to him every night. 

He was the night jasmine, blooming at the darkest hours of the night, and just dawn would kiss the sky, he would be gone, the blooms falling on the soil, spreading essence until the soil smelled like the flowers. He haunted her similarly—- she could feel the ghost of his touches when he was gone, the finger in her mouth, against her fluttering walls, the warm and folds—it was like his essence was fused with hers, like he left something of him behind every time. 

She had other dreams too—snippets, images, someone speaking, not him, someone else. Saying things that went over her head.

‘Integral Anomaly’ 

Something that came up often, but she had no idea what or who it was. A deviation in the system? But that would be something to do with computers. The dreams never made sense. 

But (Y/N) relied on her experience, and if experience had taught her anything, it was that her dreams had seldom been ‘meaningless’. What they meant, she had no idea. But they had to mean something. Even the attractive sleep demon. Well…she did not like to ponder much on his existence.

In his dark eyes, she could drown. Give up this life and live in his realm. It was a fleeting thought that would be followed by dreamy sighs, but (Y/N) knew, that ultimately, he was just a dream. A dream that felt disturbingly more real than anything ‘real’ she had ever known. But that was it. He ‘felt’ real, but there was no way that he was, real (Right?).

“What do I call you?”

 She asked one night, feeling particularly vulnerable at the realisation that he had never taken off a single layer of his clothing, while he had her sprawled for him, all bare, twisting and arching as he played her like his favourite instrument, creating a symphony, eliciting the most sinful of sounds and words. 

She panted with his fingers buried deep inside her, thumb pressing on her engorged clit just the right way, her dress bunched up, showing parts of her breasts. He did not answer her immediately, instead, fit her lips with his and pressed his fingers harder on that sweet spot that made her mewl out for him.

Somewhere, in the deepest recesses of her mind, she had a feeling that this was no dream, that he was real. Somehow, anyhow, but he was. But if she were to believe and acknowledge that, nothing else made sense. It threatened her sanity.

“Neo.”

He finally replied, after tipping her through the edge, letting the pleasure crash on her like hungry waves while his thumb slipped into her mouth again. Somehow, this act made the whole experience more intense.

Her dazed, blinking eyes must have given away her confused state of mind, he smiled at that, kissing her forehead with the tenderness she had never known before him.

“That’s my name– Neo.”

Neo…

The name struck with her. Haunted her like his voice and touches. Every morning, she would wake up and look in the mirror, hoping to find a trace of him, any evidence that could tell her that he was real. That could break her out of the hypnotic effect he had on her. 

He was magnetic, addictive and she knew her ultimate demise. The very staircase that was spiralling down to an abyss of madness and she was descending it, doing nothing to stop herself.

How long had it been since she first acknowledged him?

(Y/N) could not remember that. 

A month, a week?

Weeks? Months?

How could she care about any of it with his face buried between her thighs? Tongue and lips fueling a fire that was consuming her in its slow, agonising flame. She wanted more, she wanted to scream out to him to undress and let her see him as he saw her—- all bare, vulnerable and exposed.

But how could she demand from a dream itself? A lucid dream, a piece of her imagination giving her what she had craved all her life. Her eyes fluttered closed when she came crashing through the flames, it licked her like it wanted her in ashes. And perhaps she would be turned into ashes under him. Nothing to complain though.

She felt his thumb over her lips again, a silent gesture, and like every time, she parted her lips— eyes closed, so trusting, a dream was a dream, and she could be and do anything in a dream world.

He wasn’t even—

It was a different feeling this time. Something cold and tiny that stuck to her tongue moments before his thumb pressed it further down.

(Y/N)’s heart dropped to her stomach with a ringing in her ears as she opened her eyes in a snap, finding those dark eyes on hers already. The fear she had almost forgotten rushed back in her system with vengeance, she wanted to spit out whatever he had given her, it felt something like a pill. But she had gulped it down already, he made her gulp it down.

“It’s time to wake up (Y/N)...”

Spoke his honeyed voice.

And suddenly, it was freezing cold---everything convulsed in and around.

****

Phew! Completed this finally, the idea had been with me for a while and thanks to my mutuals for helping me with it. It's still unedited, please excuse the errors.

[jeonghunny]

— special occasion, xu minghao.

fluff | 810

minghao was just like you in the sense that you both found joy in the simple things in life. you’re both happy with just sitting at home watching silly little tv shows or movies, sharing about your day over dinner, going grocery shopping together every friday night and having your tea ceremony every sunday morning. fancy date nights were reserved for special occasions like birthdays or anniversaries.

“makes every fancy date night we have feels more significant,” he’d told you.

that’s why he knew you wouldn’t suspect anything. it was a regular sunday morning and you were both preparing for your weekly tea ceremony. minghao was setting up his little table when you heard him calling out for you so you poked your head out of the kitchen to ask what he needed.

“could you go get the tea set from the cabinet in our room?” he said as he adjusted a cushion that he’d placed on the floor.

“the one you said you were saving for a special occasion?”

he nodded wordlessly at your question and it made the curiosity inside you grow.

“what’s the special occasion?” you probed and minghao shrugged and mumbled a quick “just felt like using it today” and you decided not to ask further.

you pulled open the cabinet door and stood on your tiptoes to try and reach the highest part of the shelf but the box was too deep inside so you decided to use the stool from your dressing table as a step ladder. the moment you pulled the box out from the shelf, a small box wrapped in a silver wrapping paper that was hidden behind it caught your eye. you didn’t recognise it at all so it definitely didn’t belong to you. was it minghao’s? you brought it out of the room with you and minghao tried his best to hold back his smile once he noticed it sitting on top of his tea set.

“is this yours?” you asked as you set everything down on the table before you. “i found it in the corner of the cabinet.”

“it’s yours.” he answered nonchalantly.

“mine?” you reached for the gift, unwrapping it to see what was inside. “but my birthday isn’t until feb—” your mouth dropped open and you let out a gasp once the navy blue, velvet box was revealed.

minghao stood up and made his way over to you and you barely registered him taking the box out of your hand or sitting down next to you.

“y/n,” his voice pulled you back to reality, turning to him with a hand over your mouth, still in shock. “earlier you asked me what the special occasion was and now you’re probably thinking this is the special occasion but it actually isn’t.”

he moved closer to you so your knees were now touching and grabbed the hand that was resting on the table. “being with you is the special occasion, you make all the mundane things in life feel special. i never thought sitting at home eating a simple home cooked meal with the tv playing in the background could make me feel so happy and content, but then i realized it wasn’t what i’m doing but rather who i’m doing it with.”

you felt a warmness spread across your entire body at his words and the tears that were pooling below your eyes now rolled down your cheeks. minghao grazed his thumb against the back of your hand, “y/n, will you make all the days for the rest of my life special? i promise i’ll do my best—”

before minghao could even finish his question, you were already nodding in response. he quickly placed the box on the table to remove the ring from it to slide it onto your finger before pulling you into his embrace. after what felt like forever, he leaned back to look at you with the softest smile on his face, cupping your cheeks to wipe the tears away with his thumbs.

you lifted your hand up in an attempt to admire your new ring and a chuckle escaped you causing minghao to shoot you a questioning look.

“i wanted to look at the ring but i couldn’t because my vision is still blurry from all the tears,” you explained and minghao let out a small laugh and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“you’ll love it. i got the inspiration for the design from your pinterest board.”

you looked at him with wide eyes, “how long have you been preparing for this? i had no idea you were even looking at that.”

“since after the first month of us moving in together.”

tears started welling up in your eyes again as minghao stood up and went back to his side of the table and started pouring hot water into the teapot.

“tea?”

[lemoncrushh]

Fratboy Harry - Part 7

Summary: Harry Styles was a boy with a reputation, one that you couldn’t care less about. Yet one night at a frat party changed everything.

Warnings: Smut, drinking, angst, a very cocky Harry. 18+ ONLY!!

Part 7 Word Count: 2323

STORY PAGE

I'm sorry.

I swear, she's not my girlfriend.

If you'd answer my calls I could try to explain.

Will you please talk to me?

These texts and more filled your phone all evening, but you left them unacknowledged. He'd tried calling you several times as well, but you never answered. Finally, as you laid in bed, your mind wandering though you were trying your best to read your English chapter, Harry sent one more text.

Fine. I know you're mad. Maybe you just need some time to cool off. I'll leave you alone. Call me when you wanna talk.

The next morning you managed to make it to class despite a restless night. You'd probably gotten a total of three hours' sleep, and you prayed to God you wouldn't be quizzed on that English chapter because you had no idea what you'd read.

You didn't know why you'd let this boy get to you, but somehow he had. Hell, you didn't even like him at first. Now not only was he invading your mind, but you'd allowed him yourself you get angry and hurt over something that had nothing to do with you. Something that shouldn't have surprised you and you should have seen coming. Dammit.

Coming out of the English building after stopping to talk to your professor, you were zipping up your backpack so you didn't see him at first. Lifting your head, you spotted him on the sidewalk, a small group of people gathered around him. Pulling your backpack over your shoulder, you walked briskly, trying to get past him before he saw you.

"Y/N!" he called.

Shit.

You walked faster, your eyes focused on the sidewalk ahead of you. Hearing puffs of breath as he jogged to catch up you, you rolled your eyes. He called your name again, pleading you to wait. You stopped in your tracks, turning to face him.

"Hey," he said. "Didn't you hear me?"

"I did," you narrowed your eyes.

His shoulders dropped in disappointment. "Why won't you talk to me?"

"I don't feel like talking," you remarked.

"Will you at least hear me out?"

You crossed your arms over your chest. "Fine. I'm listening. But you have about two minutes because I have to get to my next class."

Harry stepped closer to you, lifting his hands like he was about to touch you but changed his mind.

"She's not my girlfriend, okay?"

"You've said that."

"She has a thing for me," he added as though that just cleared everything up.

"Apparently," you raised your brows.

His eyes shifted away from you as he tried to think of the next thing to say. Biting his lip, he looked back at you.

"We slept together once," he muttered. "It meant more to her than it did to me."

You glared at him in disgust. Was this guy for real? If it wasn't for the curiosity taking over, making you want to hear the whole story, you would have stomped off.

"I know that's an awful thing to say," he admitted. "And I don't mean it like it sounds. I wasn't a jerk to her afterwards, I know that's what you're thinking."

"Don't tell me what I'm thinking," you scoffed. "You have no fucking clue what I'm thinking."

"Fine, fine!" he held up his hands. "I'm just trying to explain."

You pursed your lips. "Go on."

Harry sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "She kept calling me and texting me. She was a sweet girl, so I didn't wanna hurt her. But I could tell she wanted more than I did. She started showing up to all the parties, following me around. Anything I was doing, she'd ask if she could come along. She found out where I lived and somehow got the impression that we were a couple."

You stared at him incredulously as he ran a hand through his hair.

"I still don't really know how it happened. She got it into her head that she's in love with me and that we belong together. I felt bad at first and tried my best to let her down easy. I told her we could be friends."

"Oh yeah, that's what every girl wants to hear," you rolled your eyes.

"I didn't wanna be an asshole!" he exclaimed. "I know you think I'm one, but I'm not."

You opened your mouth to retort but he held up his hand. "I know, don't tell you what you're thinking."

You sighed and uncrossed your arms, gripping your backpack.

"So what, she's stalking you now?" you inquired.

"Sort of, I guess. She won't stop calling or texting me, even after I've had to be harsh with her. She shows up at my door unexpected. After you left yesterday? She came by again. She actually said she forgives me and that we can work it out."

"Eesh," you sounded. You weren't sure who you felt more sorry for, him or her.

"You asked why I don't just block her number. I tried that. That was when she starting coming over. I'm trying to keep tabs just in case I do have to call the police. I'm being a jerk to her now so hopefully she'll listen and finally give up."

You sucked in your lips, allowing his words to sink in. You wanted to believe him. But what if he was just making it up? You stared down at your watch and cleared your throat.

"Your two minutes are up," you muttered.

Harry swallowed. "Listen, you probably don't believe me, but I just wanted to explain."

"Fair enough," you nodded. You gestured toward the sidewalk. "I gotta go."

Turning away, you heard him say your name again. You sighed, looking back at him. He stepped closer to your again, reaching for your hand. You surprised yourself by allowing him to do so, staring down at it as he threaded his fingers through yours.

"You might not believe this either," he murmured. "But I wasn't lying when I said I liked you. And you definitely do something to me."

You blinked, raising your head to look him in the eye. You felt him lean forward and you almost thought he was going to kiss you.

"Really do have to go," you whispered, pulling away from his grip.

You didn't look back as you hurried toward your next class, for which you were certainly already late. Your heart pumped in your chest with anxiety. You heard someone else call his name followed by a hearty group laughter.

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to so badly. But you couldn't get the poor girl's face and sound of her cries out of your head. And as you sat down at your desk, that's when it dawned on you.

That could have easily been you.

Three days later you and Mandy sat at the kitchen table, you with your nose in your Algebra book, Mandy on her laptop. You'd clued her in on everything that had gone down with Harry, though she still wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"You know, there are some crazy stalker girls out there," she commented.

You lifted your head, dropping your pencil. "Are we still talking about this?"

"I'm just saying," she peeked over her computer. "I mean, he is a popular guy. He probably has girls chasing him left and right. She might have gotten caught up in his charm and turned all psycho on him."

"Or maybe he was just giving me a load of crap so I wouldn't think he's a cocky asshole," you stated.

You heard Mandy click her tongue. "I don't think so..." she sang.

You rolled your eyes, resolving to ignore her so you could finish your math homework. The truth was...you didn't know what the truth was. You had so many conflicting thoughts and emotions it was driving you mad. And the fact that Harry hadn't bothered to get in touch with you since you'd run into him on Monday, just added fuel to the fire. Granted, you hadn't called or texted him either. But something told you it wouldn't make any difference. You'd still be just as confused.

When Friday came and went and you still hadn't heard a peep out of Harry, you'd decided you'd given up. You were just some other girl to him, another lay. Whatever, so be it.

You told Mandy you'd go to the party with her Saturday night, but that you weren't going to stay long. If she wanted, she could get a ride home with someone else, or she could call you later when she was ready to leave and you'd come get her.

"But it might be super late," she whined. "You'll be asleep."

"No I won't," you declared. "I haven't slept in days."

As soon as you walked into the house, you knew he was there. You couldn't see him, but you knew. Mandy made a beeline for the kitchen, saying she was ready to get drunk. You followed her until you reached the doorway. You heard someone say his name followed by a cheer. Frozen in your spot, you listened for his accent, but when it didn't come, you changed direction and headed for the nearby beer keg.

A pleasant looking guy in a University t-shirt was standing beside it, pumping for a handful of people. He smiled at you before handing you a red Solo cup.

"Thanks," you grinned before bringing it to your lips. You gazed at him over the rim of the cup as he gave you the once over and then winked.

Mandy nearly scared you when she came around the corner and grabbed your arm.

"He's here," she whispered loudly.

"I know," you remarked.

"He's just with some buddies though," she added. "I don't think that Jamie girl is here."

You shrugged. "So what if she is."

"Have to say..." she paused, bringing her cup to her mouth. "I think it's kinda shitty that he shows up here without calling you first."

"Mandy," you turned to face her, "what did you expect?"

She gave you a look of disappointment and sympathy, her mouth scrunched up to the side of her face.

You stayed for a little over an hour, the one beer the only drink you consumed. You were bored. And trying to avoid running into Harry was not your idea of fun. You found Mandy chatting with the cute keg guy, announcing that you were leaving. She pouted but told you she'd most likely get a ride home.

Just as you were heading for the door, you caught sight of a blonde girl, her eyes wide like she was scanning the room for someone.

Jamie.

Curious, you stood still as you watched her make her way to the kitchen. You followed her, only stopping in the doorway. You saw Harry leaning against the counter, a cup to his mouth. You didn't miss the fact that he raised his eyebrows the second Jamie walked in. But you weren't exactly sure if it was because he was happy to see her, or just an acknowledgement. When she walked up to him, however, you noticed he didn't say a word to her. Instead, he turned to his friend next to him and began chatting.

Okay, so maybe he was ignoring her. But it was also very strange to you that he didn't make any move to tell her to leave him alone. Jamie reached for a cup then, filling it with ice to make her own drink. Then she returned to Harry's side, brushing her fingers up his hand that rested on the counter. He didn't even flinch. Deciding you'd seen enough, you turned on your heels and exited.

That evening you'd just finished brushing your teeth and were getting ready for bed when a new text popped up.

So are you gonna continue to avoid me?

You sighed as you began to text him back. He must have known you were at the party.

What are you talking about?

I'm talking about this silent treatment. You can't tell me you're enjoying it.

There you go again, assuming you know what I think.

Then tell me.

Tell you what?

What you think.

You paused for a moment, gathering the words in your head before typing them out.

I think you're an asshole. But not because of the reasons you think I do. I think you're a phony. You want people to like you, but you also want them to fear you. You want them to think you're a cocky asshole but you're really not. I think you slept with some girl who really liked you knowing you didn't really like her, just because it fit your persona. I'm not sure if she's stalking you or what, but I think you get off on it because it makes you look like a big shot.

You saw the three dots indicating Harry was typing, but you were surprised when all he replied was one word.

Wow.

You decided to continue typing, feeling liberated that you were finally getting your feelings out.

To be honest, Harry, I don't know exactly where I fit in to all of this. You say you like me, but I don't know what to believe. Maybe you do, or maybe it's again just something you feel like you have to do because it's who you want people to think you are. Like I'm some conquest or a notch in your belt. You have a reputation to uphold. But I do know one thing. I hardly even know you. And I'm not going to waste my time worrying and wondering about some fratboy who may or may not have some other girl in the wings.

I told you I'm not in a fraternity.

You laughed out loud, but not out of humor. He was unbelievable.

Goodbye, Harry.

If you enjoyed, please like, comment, reblog or send me a msg!

MASTERLIST | KO-FI | FEEDBACK

[crazedauthor]

Phantom of the Daycare

Anyone wanna read me putting Moon through a sweet moment broken by angst? What am I saying. Of course you do! (This is sadly non-canon to 404: Personal Space Not Found because Moon can’t sing copyrighted songs and “Music of the Night” is not public domain yet.)

~~~~~~~~~

“Moon? You still here?” you call into the Daycare as the wooden doors close behind you. Silent darkness is the only response. Furrowing your eyebrows, you plop your laptop bag on the security desk and walk further in, squinting at the now muted mats. “We’re still up for movie night, yeah? Or should I turn on the light and let Sun have another turn?”

A growl. From somewhere above you. It sends a chill down your spine and a laugh out your lips. Shrugging your arms, you address the grumpy nothingness around you.

“Is that a yes? Use your words, buddy. The night is louder than you.”

Teasing the previously violent animatronic? Not bright, but so worth it, if your cheeky smirk is anything to go by.

Before another snide comment can escape your mouth, though, a distant melody echoes through the still darkness. Soft, somber, and familiar. You suck in a stuttering inhale as the Daycare is enveloped by the sweet crooning of Moon’s music box.

Moon intends to use his words in his favorite way.

 “Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defenses.”

 His voice washes over you, but Moon himself makes no appearance. There is just the music and the emotions he wields. A spell of the purest kind. You sigh and close your eyes, happily falling under his sway.

 “Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor

Grasp it; sense it, tremulous and tender

Turn your face away from the garish light of day

Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light

And listen to the music of the night.”

 There’s rhythmic clicking above you. A near silent dance. You join in, following your invisible shadow through the pitch-black Daycare. Each step is a measure of trust; no obstacles will block your way with Moon guiding.

Is it any wonder why this is one of his favorite songs? The lyrics were practically written with him in mind.

 “Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind

In this darkness which you know you cannot fight

The darkness of the music of the night.”

 Air whooshes behind you. Your breath hitches in your throat as you open your eyes and turn around, broken from the trance. Warm red light dances on your skin, masking the flush across your cheeks. Before you can even speak, gentle hands take yours into a twirl. The music box inside Moon never stops, even as you let a few giggles escape.

You think this may be one of the few times Moon’s grin looks genuine. He guides you around a jungle gym, his eyes the only light. They are all you can look at.

 “Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world

Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before

Let your soul take you where you long to be.”

 A pause. You find yourself at the edge of the ball pit, Moon loosening his hold hesitantly. Slowly, his hands drag along your arms, eliciting goosebumps, until only the fingertips of one of you two’s hands are still touching. Your fingers barely make it to the first joint of his.

 “Only then… can you…”

 He doesn’t finish. There’s no sudden cut in music or croak of his voice. The sound just… slowly dies out. As you wait in confusion, mouth open in a silent question, Moon pulls the rest of his hand away. You stare for several moments before he slinks back towards the front of the Daycare.

You don’t think you have ever felt his fingers tremble so hard.

[ozzgin]

Omg bro yk whats been on my mind for do long?? A demon king trying to court a hero reader. Like the hero has already fought and defeated the king but somehow he comes back and he's desperately trying to get the hero to join him (in more ways than one). He wants the reader to be his spouse and leader of his army against the corrupt human race and the reader (now fallen from stardom due to the evil kings defeat) just wants him gone and to be left alone. Idk if this makes sense but I need to see SOMEONE write abt it before I lose my last marble.

-Doll

This is giving me Dragon Quest vibes, haha. Not a trope I'm too familiar with, but it sounds interesting nonetheless. I shall do my best! Sorry for the delay, I hope it's close to what you imagined. :)

Yandere! Demon King x Hero! Reader

As it goes with villains, they always find a way to return. This time, the Demon King has a different plan in mind. You were prepared for anything, from evil schemes to ancient conjured weapons...except for a wedding ring cordially placed before you. Do you say yes?

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, 🔥proposal (literally)

[Part 2]

You still remember everything so fondly. How you crawled out of that enormous crater, body battered and weak, as everyone watched in horror and held their breaths. Finally, you raised your fist victoriously. The Demon King had been, at last, defeated. The people cheered and cried and pulled you up under thundering waves of applause. Peace was no longer just a dream.

A sweet, innocent memory, even more so given its fleeting nature. The genuine smiles of gratitude quickly turned into crooked grins asking for favors. Before you knew it, you became some sort of political accessory to convince the masses. Posing for photos, shaking hands, being interviewed with bizarrely planned questions reeking of propaganda. You suddenly felt burdened, heavy, disappointed. This was not the kind of fame you envisioned for yourself.

Thus, you gradually vanished from the limelight, keeping your distance from everyone else and spending most days in solitude. Better than having to look into those unscrupulous, opportunistic eyes measuring up your worth. You had fulfilled your job and purpose.

This morning you're woken up by the sound of your belongings rattling in their shelves. The wooden frame of your bed is creaking, and you struggle to get up. An earthquake? A wave of nausea flushes over you. You recognize this feeling all too well, though you never expected to deal with it again. This is a disaster alright, yet the forces of nature have nothing to do with it.

You rush outside, swinging the door open and nearly tripping in your hurry to confirm your suspicions: the demonic creature is approaching your humble adobe with heavy steps, as the ground crumbles and shatters underneath. The Demon King himself, in flesh and blood. Although the blood splattering his armor is most likely not his. Same for the visceral remains threading his weapon. Regardless, your jaw tightens nervously, and you stand back, in a defensive pose. "You're a stubborn one", you say smugly, trying to maintain your composure. "Can't say I'm a fan of dying, that is correct." A ragged, monstrous voice erupts from the tall, armored figure.

"What brings you back?" You demand. The surroundings are too peaceful for him to have tampered with the city. Did he stop by to formally announce his destruction? "I have an offer that might interest you." The Dark Overlord has closed the distance between you, now looming above your much smaller body. You shiver. "I don't barter with Demons!" You conclude, turning around, prepared to leave. "Even when your precious people are on the line?" The horned beast warns with a grin. "If there's nothing better to do as a Ruler of Realms than killing petty humans..." You swiftly retort, going back into your house and slamming the door shut.

He stands for a moment, speechless. "Y-your Majesty? Should I take care of the humans, or (Y/N)?" Only now he notices his scaly butler, bowing to his side with claws resting over the weapon. The Demon King raises a hand, shooing the servant away. The annihilation of the human race can wait. There are more important matters to deal with presently. He'd expected your rejection, naturally, but not in such fashion. The indifference, the flat voice, the empty eyes devoid of emotion. Have the city dwellers tampered with his hero? He expected to see your fierce rage and in return he was met with a hollow shell.

Bright blue flames erupt from the openings of his armor, resulting in a menacing show of lights. He's known it for the longest time, of course. Humans are rotten to their very core. Vile, deceitful creatures that have slithered their way up, exuding undeserved arrogance. He's been trying to show you this very fact, yet you were blinded by naive faith. Your unwavering, honest heart that won him over has turned out to be your early demise. Not anymore. His vengefulness knows no bounds when it comes to traitors.

The sudden spike in temperature alerts you. Was it your rudeness that angered the Demon? You don't care anymore. Whatever happens to the city is out of your hands. And yet...you're buckling the straps of your old suit made for battle. Sword in hand, you gaze at your reflection. What could the Beast want? The fortified city no longer holds the value of its olden days. Just like you've left your hero days behind. Without much contemplation, you run out and head for the main gates. The path is paved with ash and rubble and your grip on the weapon tightens. Regret immediately wells up in your chest, ready to burst out. Is it too late? The entrance is engulfed in fire, charred corpses toppling against the ruins of the walls.

You reach the town hall - or rather, what remains of it - and face the Demon King. Has he gotten stronger since your last encounter? You hold your breath as the horned monster turns towards you. "I've tried to tell you, again and again. Time after time." He sighs, defeated. "Between the two of us, I'd say you were the stubborn one all along." His voice is softer than what you would've expected from someone that had just massacred an entire settlement. There's not a single scratch or sign of struggle. Was he merely holding back during your last fight? One thing is certain: you're his final obstacle. You raise your sword, determined. Hot sweat trickles down your face as the flames surround you. "Well, at least you've convinced yourself now, I hope. There's nothing left for you here." The Demon King lowers himself, extending a fist towards you. A spell? Secret weapon? Your leg muscles contract in anticipation.

His fingers open and stretch out, slowly. In his palm, a barely noticeable ring. Given the ridiculous size difference, you assume this is better fitting for a human. You stare at it in confusion, discerning the wedding vows carved in the noble metal. "What's the meaning of this?" You mutter, glancing at the Beast now resting on one knee before you. "What? Is it not your human custom?" He looks away for a moment, clicking his tongue. "That useless butler. He told me- Forget it! You are to return with me to my Kingdom. As my spouse."

Of all the things you've prepared yourself for...Your brows furrow and your mouth hangs open in shock.

What is your answer? The Demon King will not leave empty-handed.

[celesterayel]

something out of my dreams | luke castellan

pairing : luke castellan x dionysus!reader

request: could you possibly write a luke x daughter of dionysus please? maybe she’s like super nice and when percy gets to camp she becomes like an older sister and luke is super whipped for her? @elz-zalarrr

IN WHICH — all he knows is that you were something out of his dreams.

"trust him like a brother, yeah, you know i did one thing right. starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night" - t.s.

w.c. 1.8k

warning(s) : cheesiness ゜✭・.

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note okay i've begun to realize that low-key i feel like i write in cursive if that makes sense? if a feeling could describe it i'd say its like using poetry to write? that's likely not any better lol :)

there was but one person that everyone could agree they adored at camp half blood.

it didn't matter what grudge who had with whom or what ancient rivalries transcended the ideals of reality, everyone loved you. not the typical type of brittle love that crumbled at the slightest of touches, but pure adoration that endured the sands of time.

you with the gentle soul, who healed others with each laugh and smile. when new half-godlings were brought to camp, you made sure to comfort them and make them understand that they belonged here and would find a home whether they wanted to or not. you made sure that no birthday was forgotten, no deed undone.

children of minor gods or elders, of Ares or Aphrodite, you became an older sister to all who needed you. you, the daughter of fertility and chaos, the god dionysius.

there was no debate that at camp half blood there was only a before you and an after you. you were like that high right before the free fall–invincibility and smoke and curiosity wrapped into the form of a demi-god. you were the gentle breeze during summer nights when the heat became too much. and none ached more to feel it than luke castellan, who had been burning for as long as he knew.

your relationship in itself was tentative, you danced around your feelings–scared one wrong touch or word would break the shaky, fine line that lay between you two. but you could not hide the way you loved the other to yourselves nor the children of the beings of divine blood. 

luke castellan loved you like the stars would fall out of the sky with one harsh touch, free and incandescently self-destructive. like you were a wild, wonderful thing out of a fantasy.

you loved him like there was no hell or heaven but the cosmos that lay in his eyes and the worlds that lay in his soul. something so sacred and rare. a love so true and mortal it put all the greek tragedies to shame. 

you knew that whatever you and him were made of, in every lifetime or the next you two were made for each other. 

loving luke castellan would be both your redemption and destruction in the making, your elysium for whatever good thing you had done in your previous life. 

✩ ‧₊˚

you first met percy jackson when he came to camp, he was a scared little thing who had just lost his mother when the veil between reality and deception flickered. everything he’d known came crumbling as quickly as the truth was uncovered: gods and monsters were real and played games of hell and heaven on earth. some thing about him called out to the vulnerability you once knew when you first came to camp so you made it your mission to be the sister he never had. 

you met him at the front of the steps of the main office, “my name is y/n, percy jackson. welcome to camp halfblood.”

“do you just somehow know everyones name,” he raised his eyebrows at you. 

“yes.” no, but you supposed it’d be fun to let him think that. 

“of course you do.”

“come along, i’ll show the ins and outs here. if you're nice enough, i might let you in on the cook's secret stash of blue ice cream,” you laughed out.

he contemplated his choices before grabbing your outstretched hand and shaking it, “deal.”

you showed him who to avoid and the best people to befriend. the history between your kind and why the gods were as they were. the truth behind his bloodline and the legacy that he was now responsible for. the tribulations and the pain that was cursed to follow the children of the gods. 

“and this is chris. the best person to ask if you need to know what plants are poisonous,” you say, introducing him to a guy with black hair and soft eyes. 

percy looks at chris before looking around to see where the hermes boy is, “we’ve met. he was with luke when he was showing me around”

you’re cheeks heated at the mention of his name; looking around to see if you can spot the familiar tan skin and soft eyes that belong to your luke. 

“oh! luke! yeah, he’s around here somewhere. he’s sly like that, wandering and then popping up the next second.”

a voice pipes up behind you suddenly, “y/n, already telling percy everything about me?” 

you whirl around and there he stands in all his glory with the curls you love and the sun in his eyes. your golden boy.

“just telling him the truth, castellan. you’re hard to get a hold of sometimes.”

a hue of pink covers his cheeks, “i’m never far from you.”

both of you oblivious to percy and chris who seem to be conversing about you both and the tip-toe dance you play. 

percy just wonders what’s happening here: firstly, luke is looking at you like you’ve hung the moon and the stars and that’s saying something because he has shit observation skills–his analysis essays can attest to that. secondly, he swears he can see hearts in his eyes from where he’s standing and is that…is that a blush?

he turns to chris, who is just staring at the two like it's not out of the normal for what’s happening, “what’s happening here? is he blushing?”

chris just nods, “yeah. luke’s kinda–very obviously to everyone–in love with y/n. if i didn’t know better i’d say she’s gotten him insane in love. very likely as her dad’s the god of insanity.”

he turns back to the two who are laughing and standing closer than before, “like super, super in love. if there was a word for love, luke’s found it”

“huh.” 

chris says it like it’s common knowledge like how the best food is blue jelly beans, “i mean i ship it, y/n’s the sweetest person around here–the type of person people write songs about. she’s like a sister to us older ones and a mother to the younger ones. the whole camp is waiting for him to just man up and ask y/n. they make each other happy, you know?”

“yeah, i think i do.” 

percy thinks it’s something the poets would write about.

✩ ‧₊˚

fridays are capture the flag days.

you’re not the type of person to engage in these types of games all that often but you suppose there’s a first time for everything. someone’s got to show the percy boy how it’s played. 

“okay, percy. remember, keep your senses open and make sure that no one gets close enough to engage. once they engage, it’s hard to fight them off.”

all around you two, people have begun to don their armor and raise arms. the sun has just reached its height and you’re huddled together discussing your gameplan. even though your cabin house is pretty small, you’ve joined athena and hermes for this game. 

percy’s voice rises a little high as he tries swinging his sword around only to drop it, “yeah, okay. i’ll just try not to die, i guess. that’s not like hard or anything.”

“just follow my lead and if i’m not here find luke.”

you're not exactly excited about percy’s odds. the kid is lanky as is and his sassiness doesn’t help him out much when others target him for it. 

that’s exactly why you’re gone to his rescue when he nearly gets hit in the face by a spear after he insulted one of the boys from house ares. 

your heel nearly buckles under a sharp hit after you block the attack that’s directed to percy. you manage to reset your heel and push the sword off before you drop down into a crouch and sweep the legs of the warrior in front of you.

unfortunately you're slightly too focused on what’s in front of you and protecting percy you don’t realize that someones charging toward you from the side. 

fortunately, a block from a familiar sword stops any attack that might meet you head on. no sooner do you hear the block that luke’s got the other guy on the floor and surrendering. 

you grin at him, “i had that handled.”

giving you that grin that makes you feel like your future's right in front of you, he replies: “i’m sure you did. but why let you deal with him when i can save you the trouble.” 

“why don’t you go and help annabeth win the games, romeo.”

he gives you a wink, throwing a quick ‘yes ma’am’ before he’s already running off again. 

no sooner than later, a quick gong resounds throughout the camp, concluding the games. you’re standing slightly battered while percy walks behind you pointing out all the flowers he’s found. you definitely need to teach him how to defend himself. 

the players are just trickling in for the woods they’ve been fighting in to reband together and in the distance you see a figure running toward you. 

holding onto the flag, he continues to look at you like you’re everything he’s ever needed to breathe. he’s taken his helmet off and you can finally see him fully: brown eyes and all dimples.

“see you’ve found the flag.”

he takes a couple of steps closer to you until only two steps separate him and you, “yeah, someone told me to go win the game so I did just that for her”.

“really now?”

he whispers, “yeah.” 

his eyes twinkle and you’ve never wanted anything more than to continue to stare at them. 

you hope he’ll make the next move but luke castellan, the boy you’ve fallen for in every lifetime, is always content to admire you.

so, you take those two next steps, grab him by his neck, and press your lips to his. 

he stands shocked for a minute, wondering if what’s happening is really happening. but no sooner, he’s dropped the flag on the grass and holds you like your the greatest treasure he’s ever had.

there’s a certain type of tragedy that your golden boy tastes like, fire and freedom all in this moment. it’s the price of redemption and damnation that you’re willing to pay. 

to him, it’s the stars aligning like you’d will them to–the power you held and every thing he’s ever needed. your his past, future, and present: the threads in his life giving him the one thing he’s ever wanted. something he’s only ever dreamed of. 

he pulls back slightly before murmuring, “in every lifetime or the next, i am yours. i don’t know what i did to deserve you. you’re something only out of my dreams, y/n.”

"you sap"

you just kiss him again, ignoring all the campers and those still trickling in. 

✩ ‧₊˚

“definitely a child of dionysius. she’s reduced him to insanity,” pipes up percy as he tears off the petals of the flower he holds in his hand. 

chris just grabs a flower and continues to rip the petals off like the boy beside him. 

“damn straight!” shouts luke toward the two.

[pucksandpower]

That’s Not My Name

Toto Wolff x wife!Reader

Summary: in which people assume you are everything except for your husband’s wife

Warnings: mentions of a significant age gap

The Daughter

You take a deep breath as you step through the paddock, clutching your pass tightly in your hand. The noise and energy of the Formula 1 weekend thrums around you. You’ve never been to a race before, and it’s all so new and overwhelming.

When Toto invited you to join him for the British Grand Prix, you were hesitant. This stage of your relationship is still so new — you’ve only been married a few months. But Toto was insistent. He wants you by his side.

Still, you feel out of place among the teams and journalists. You’re just a normal girl, plucked from obscurity by a man twice your age. What must they all think of you?

You arrive at the Mercedes garage and glance around nervously. The mechanics are bustling about, focused on their work. You spot Toto across the garage, talking intensely with his drivers. He looks stressed, his brows furrowed as he discusses strategy. This high pressure environment is his domain, but it’s foreign to you.

Toto glances up and notices you hovering near the entrance. His face breaks into a smile and he quickly excuses himself from his conversation to come greet you.

“Mein liebchen, you made it!” He exclaims, enveloping you in a tight hug. You cling to the solidness of him, drawing comfort from his familiar embrace.

“I wasn’t sure I should come,” you say softly, glancing around. The mechanics are staring curiously. You know how it must look — their team principal hugging an unknown woman half his age.

Toto cups your face gently, “I want you here. This is your world now too. Don’t worry what anyone else thinks.”

You bite your lip but nod, trusting in him. If Toto believes you belong here, then you do.

He tucks you under his arm and leads you further into the garage, introducing you to his team. They greet you politely, hiding any surprise or judgment. You know you’ll have to win them over, prove that you’re more than just Toto’s midlife crisis.

A sudden commotion draws your attention across the paddock. The Red Bull Racing team is gathered around the entrance, greeting their team principal enthusiastically as he arrives. Christian Horner is holding court, shaking hands and clapping shoulders.

You tense involuntarily. The rivalry between Mercedes and Red Bull is legendary, with Christian often attempting to get under Toto’s skin. You don’t know how he’ll react to you.

As if sensing your thoughts, Toto tightens his arm around you. “Don’t worry about him,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

But you can’t relax as you see Christian look your way, his gaze sharp and assessing. He says something to his team and begins walking towards the Mercedes garage. Your heart sinks. There’s no avoiding this confrontation.

“Toto!” Christian calls out jovially as he approaches. “I see you’ve brought a special guest this weekend.”

Toto presses his lips together but forces a polite smile. “Yes, I wanted her to experience her first race weekend. Christian, meet Y/N, my wife.”

You extend your hand nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Christian raises his eyebrows, blatantly looking you up and down. “Your wife? My, they do start young these days.” His tone is patronizing.

You blush deeply, humiliated. But Toto comes to your defense.

“I’d appreciate if you leave her out of our rivalry,” he says sharply. “She has nothing to do with it.”

Christian holds up his hands in mock surrender. “No need to get defensive! I just didn’t realize you had gotten hitched again. And to someone so … fresh faced. She could be your daughter!” He chuckles.

Your face burns. You hate Christian for putting voice to that thought. You know people judge you and Toto for your age difference. Hearing him joke about it so callously stings.

Toto steps forward angrily but you grab his arm, silently begging him not to cause a scene. He takes a deep breath, struggling to contain his temper.

“It was lovely to meet you, Christian,” you say as evenly as you can manage. “I do hope you’ll have a good weekend.”

Christian looks surprised by your composure. He nods farewell and heads back to the Red Bull garage, throwing one last smirk over his shoulder.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Toto turns to you. “I’m so sorry about that,” he says earnestly. “Christian is an ass. Don’t let him get to you.”

You shake your head, swallowing back tears. “It’s fine, I knew people would think those things about me … about us ...” you trail off miserably.

Toto cups your face in both hands. “Look at me. None of that matters. He can think what he wants. But I know who you are. You are my heart, my present, and my future. No one can take that away, not even Christian bloody Horner.”

You give a watery laugh at his vehemence and he kisses your forehead tenderly.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you tell him, finding your courage again. “I want to be here.”

Toto smiles proudly and laces his fingers through yours. “Good. Let’s show them we’re not going to hide. I want you here, where you belong.”

Holding hands firmly, you walk with your head held high back into the bustling garage. Let them stare and whisper. You know your place is here with Toto. No judgment or rivalry can change that. This is your world now.

The Assistant

The day has been a whirlwind so far. After the confrontation with Christian Horner, you tried your best to settle into the hectic swing of pre-race preparations. Toto has been swept up in strategy meetings and sponsor obligations. You trail along behind him, clutching your paddock pass, trying not to get in the way.

During a rare free moment, Toto turns to you. “Why don’t you go exploring for a bit? Get a feel for the place. I need to take this call but I’ll come find you soon.”

You nod uncertainly. Venturing off alone makes you nervous, but you want to prove to Toto you can handle this new world.

You wander toward the garages housing the Formula 2 teams. The cars are lined up, mechanics hovering over them making final tweaks and adjustments. You watch them work, enthralled by their practiced movements.

“Are you lost?”

You turn to see a mechanic frowning at you. He’s from one of the backmarker teams, a lower budget operation.

“Oh no, just looking around,” you stammer self-consciously.

The mechanic’s eyes drop to your pass. “Ah a VIP pass eh? Who are you with?”

“Oh um Mercedes ...” you trail off awkwardly.

His eyebrows raise, impressed. “Posh. You must be Toto’s new assistant then?”

You freeze, the old insecurity rising. Assistant. Because why else would someone your age be hanging around the Mercedes garage? You want to correct him, but the words stick in your throat. You don’t want to make a scene.

So you just nod and mumble something noncommittal. The mechanic looks sympathetic.

“First race weekend is it? They can be chaotic. But don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it. Who knows, if you impress the boss, you might get to travel full time!”

He means it kindly, but his words dig into your wounds. You give a thin smile. “Thank you, I appreciate the advice.”

You turn away before he can respond, a lump forming in your throat. No matter what Toto says, people will make assumptions about you.

Lost in thought, you wander toward the bustling fan zone. It’s a sea of colors, supporters wearing their favorite team’s kit. You pass unnoticed, just another face in the crowd.

The roar of an engine makes you glance up. The Formula 2 cars are being pushed out of the garage, heading for the grid. You hurry over, eager to get a closer look.

A harried looking engineer nearly runs right into you, focused on his tablet. “Oh, sorry, excuse me.” He does a double take. “Hey, you’re Toto’s new assistant right? I saw you with him around the paddock earlier.”

Your heart sinks. Word has spread. You open your mouth to correct him but he barrels on.

“Listen, I hate to do this, but any chance you can help me out? My usual assistant called in sick and I’m swamped. I just need someone to hold these and stand with the engineers during the race. You’ll get a front row view of the start!”

He looks at you pleadingly. You hesitate, but his need seems genuine.

“Um, sure, I can help,” you say.

“You’re a lifesaver!” He exclaims, piling several tire blankets into your arms. They’re heavier than you expected. “Just follow me.”

He leads you onto the grid and you get swept up in the controlled chaos, focusing on not dropping the blankets. The cars pull into position around you. The engineer directs you where to stand and you end up right against the barrier, the engines roaring just feet away.

Your heart races with excitement. The start is exhilarating, the cars peeling away in a blur. You forget your insecurities for a moment, lost in the thrill of the race.

The checkered flag waves and the engineer finally relieves you of the weight in your arms. “Thanks so much for your help! I really appreciate it ...” he pauses. “Actually I don’t think I got your name?”

You open your mouth but a familiar voice interrupts. “There you are!”

Toto appears through the crowd and pulls you into his arms. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Are you alright?”

He notices the engineer standing there awkwardly. “Can I help you?” Toto asks coolly.

“Nope, we’re all good here. Thanks again for your help,” the engineer nods at you and disappears into the dispersing crowd.

“What was that about?” Toto frowns. “Why was he giving you tire blankets?”

You sigh, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on you again. “He thought I was your new assistant. He needed help so I said yes.” You shrug helplessly.

Understanding flashes across Toto’s face and he swears under his breath. “I’m so sorry, I never should have left you alone. I should have made things clearer who you are.”

You shake your head. “It’s okay. I don’t mind helping out, really.” But your voice wavers, betraying your hurt.

Toto cups your face gently. “No, it’s not okay. You are my partner, my equal. Not my assistant. I need to show people the extraordinary woman you truly are.”

His faith bubbles up your own courage. You straighten your shoulders, looking him in the eye.

“Then let’s go show them. I’m not hiding anymore. Take me where I belong, right by your side.”

Toto kisses you fiercely. “With pleasure, meine liebchen.”

He tucks you under his shoulder proudly. You keep your head high as you walk back through the paddock, passes reflecting in the sun. Let them stare and whisper. You know where you belong.

The Trespasser

A few months later, you’re starting to find your stride. Each race weekend poses new challenges, but with Toto by your side you’re learning to navigate the hectic world of motorsports.

The Mercedes team has slowly warmed up to you as well. Seeing how happy Toto is has softened their skepticism. You pitch in where you can — bringing freshly baked pastries and trying to make yourself useful. Having a purpose eases your lingering insecurities.

The Singapore Grand Prix means a sweltering heat that makes the paddock sticky and humid. The stuffy garage offers little relief so you wander outside hoping for a breeze. You end up in the fan zone, mingling with supporters visiting the various team merch shops and activities.

You chat with a few enthusiastic young fans, gently deflecting their eager questions about Toto and the team. Despite the heat and crowds, their passion for the sport is contagious and you find yourself smiling.

Toto texts that he needs you back at the garage, so you reluctantly leave your anonymous conversations and make your way through the paddock. As you draw closer to the Mercedes garage, you realize your pass has gone missing from your lanyard.

Your heart sinks. The passes grant crucial access and you don’t want to cause problems. But the garage is just ahead so you decide to explain yourself once you’re inside.

Slipping through the open door, you immediately spot Toto in the back. As you weave between bustling mechanics, a hand grasps your shoulder.

You turn to see one of the newer Mercedes mechanics frowning down at you. “What are you doing in here?” He demands. “This area is restricted.”

Flustered, you try to explain about your missing pass. But the mechanic’s stern expression doesn’t waver.

“How did you get in? I know all the team members but I haven’t seen you before.” His eyes narrow suspiciously.

Other mechanics have noticed the confrontation and start drifting over. You shrink under their doubtful gazes.

“I, uh, I’m Toto’s ...” you stammer, but the mechanic cuts you off.

“A likely story. Every race some starry-eyed fan tries to sneak in for an autograph or photo. You picked the wrong garage for that. Come on, let’s go.”

He takes your arm in a firm grip. Your protests fall on deaf ears as he escorts you briskly outside.

To your dismay Toto is occupied with an intense conversation, his back turned. No one intervenes as the mechanic marches you away from the garage and into the paddock.

“I don’t know how you got in here, but I’ll be reporting this. We can’t have unauthorized people wandering around restricted areas.”

You tug uselessly against his hold, trying to explain it’s all just a misunderstanding. But he remains stoic, unmoved by your pleas.

Other teams and drivers are staring now as he parades you past. Your face burns with humiliation at the thought of causing a scene or being accused of lying.

In a stroke of luck, you spot Lewis heading towards the Mercedes motorhome ahead. He knows you, surely he can clear this up!

You call his name desperately. “Lewis, Lewis! Help, please!”

Lewis turns, confusion clouding his features. But then he recognizes you and his brow furrows.

“What’s going on here?” He asks sharply, striding over.

The mechanic snaps to attention, clearly intimidated to be addressed by Lewis directly.

“I caught this girl sneaking around the garage! She claims to know Toto but it’s obviously a ruse to get access. I was just escorting her out.”

Lewis looks incredulous. “This is Toto’s wife, mate. She’s supposed to be there.”

The mechanic gapes, his authoritative air dissipating. “His wife? But she’s so young ...” he glances at you uncertainly. “My apologies, ma’am, I didn’t realize. We have to be vigilant about security.”

You shrug off his now-slack grip. “It’s fine, just a misunderstanding,” you mumble, face still burning.

Lewis places a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you back where you belong.”

He leads you away from the shrinking mechanic back toward the Mercedes garage. You feel tears pricking your eyes.

“Thank you, Lewis,” you say shakily. “I tried to explain but he wouldn’t listen ...”

“Don’t worry about it. That guy is new around here, still learning the ropes.” Lewis pats your shoulder consolingly.

You nod, trying to brush it off. But the encounter left you rattled. Will there always be those who see you as an outsider?

Lewis seems to sense your swirling doubts. “He was just new. The team knows you well by now. Stuff like this will stop happening once the rest get used to you being around.”

You want to believe him. You’ve tried so hard to find your place here.

As you near the garage, Toto comes rushing out, scanning the paddock anxiously. His shoulders sag with relief when he spots you.

“Where have you been? I turned around and you were gone!” He exclaims, pulling you into his embrace.

Over his shoulder, you see Lewis mouth “tell him” before discreetly slipping away.

You take a deep breath and explain what happened with the mechanic. Toto’s expression darkens, his protective anger rising.

You touch his cheek gently. “It wasn’t his fault. It was just a misunderstanding.”

Toto sighs, anger melting away. “I should have been there. I should have introduced you properly to the new staff.”

You shake your head. “You can’t be responsible for how everyone sees me. I don’t need you fighting my battles. This is something I have to earn for myself. Their respect, their trust … I just need more time.”

Toto gazes at you with so much love and pride it takes your breath away. “You are so much stronger than you know. And if they can’t see that, well that’s on them.”

He kisses you softly. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through this together.”

And wrapped securely in his arms, you finally believe it’s true. This is your world now. Your place is here, with him.

The Nanny

The warm early autumn breeze ruffles your hair as you wait outside the primary school, keeping one eye on the time. Any minute now the bell will ring, signaling the end of your son’s second day of preschool.

You smile thinking of this morning and his eager goodbye hug before practically sprinting into the building, too excited to look back. He has his father’s confidence.

Shifting the baby carrier holding your sleeping newborn daughter, you smooth down your dress self-consciously. Even after years with Toto, you still can’t help but feel out of place at posh schools like this.

The other mothers eye you curiously. No doubt wondering about the young woman with an infant waiting alone.

You know some of them recognized Toto yesterday when he dropped off and picked up your son. Your heart had lurched seeing him cradling Leon’s small hand, both your boys glancing back to wave goodbye.

But duty called for Toto today with important meetings at Mercedes’ Brackley Headquarters, so pickup fell to you today. Not that you mind another glimpse of that overjoyed grin when your son spots you.

The bell rings and a stream of children come pouring out the doors. You crane your neck, looking for a familiar head of tousled curls.

There! You wave eagerly as your son breaks into a run when he sees you.

“Mama!” He cries joyfully, slamming into your legs. You stroke his hair, hugging him tight.

“Did you have a good day baby?” You ask as he looks up at you adoringly.

He nods, launching into a story about finger painting that you can barely follow. But his enthusiasm is contagious and you can’t help but smile.

A polite cough interrupts you. An immaculately dressed woman is hovering nearby, eyeing your son curiously.

“Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to introduce myself properly. I’m Clarice, Emma’s mum,” she gestures to a girl clinging shyly to her leg.

“Lovely to meet you,” you say politely, shaking her offered hand. “I’m Y/N and this is Leon.”

You ruffle his curls and he gives a dimpled smile before hiding against your side. Clarice’s eyes flick between you and your son, a slight furrow in her brow.

“I hope I’m not overstepping, but I met Leon’s father yesterday during drop off. Is his mother … not around?” She asks delicately.

Your cheeks flush. Of course she would assume you’re the nanny, not the mother. Bracing yourself, you shake your head.

“No it’s okay! I’m his mother. Toto — Leon’s dad — had meetings today, so it’s my turn to do pickup.”

Clarice looks mortified. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry for assuming. You just look so young, I thought ...” she trails off, flustered.

You force an understanding smile. “Don’t worry, it’s an easy mistake. Our age difference does raise some eyebrows.” You punctuate this with an awkward laugh.

Clarice seems eager to change the subject. “What a beautiful baby!” She gushes, peering at your daughter sleeping in her carrier. “And so well behaved.”

Grateful for the redirected conversation, you chat politely about your little girl. Clarice coos over her sweetly.

Other parents begin dispersing with their kids and Clarice makes her goodbyes. “So lovely meeting you both. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

You smile and take Leon’s hand to drive home, his chattering filling your ears. You know curious parents will likely gossip about Toto’s young wife. But it doesn’t sting as much as it once did. You’ve grown used to the assumptions by now.

Unlocking the front door, you’re greeted by the smell of cooking. Leon goes tearing off to the kitchen, shouting “Papa!” at the top of his lungs. Chuckling, you follow after, your daughter beginning to stir in her carrier.

Toto is there to sweep Leon into his arms, smothering his cheeks in kisses as your son giggles. The scene warms your heart.

Noticing your arrival, Toto sets Leon down to embrace you and peer at the baby. “How was pick up? Any tears today?” He asks Leon.

Your son shakes his head proudly. “I made a picture for you, Papa!” He runs off to retrieve it.

You meet Toto’s gaze over your daughter’s downy hair. “It was fine. Just the usual questions about my age from a school mum. She thought I was the nanny when we first met.”

You try to say it lightly, but Toto’s face tightens, protective anger flashing. Even after all this time, he hates when people judge you unfairly.

You touch his arm gently. “It’s okay, really. I don’t care what they think.”

And it’s true. The opinions of strangers can’t touch the beautiful family you’ve built together.

Toto lets out a long breath, anger melting away. “I know. But I still wish people could see you how I do.”

He pulls you close and you lean into him, breathing in his comforting scent. “As long as you and the kids see me, that’s all that matters.”

Leon comes barreling back in, brandishing his painting. “Look!!”

You both admire his abstract swirls of color dutifully. “A masterpiece!” Toto proclaims. “We’ll hang it on the fridge.”

Leon beams under the praise then dashes off again in pursuit of a toy.

You and Toto share a wry smile. “Never a dull moment with that one,” you remark. The baby begins fussing and you gently sway her.

“Here, let me.” Toto takes her expertly and she settles against his broad chest. Your heart squeezes at the sight.

Toto meets your gaze. “I know I’ve put you through a lot over the years. The stares, the gossip … you’ve endured it all with grace when you could have walked away.”

You stroke his cheek. “You and our family are worth any trial. I would do it all again without a second thought.”

Toto leans into your palm. “Having you by my side is the greatest gift.”

You kiss him softly, your heart brimming with love.

From the other room, Leon’s playful giggles reach you. The smell of dinner being prepared still fills the warm kitchen. And your baby girl doses off in her daddy’s arms.

This is your world. The only one that matters. And you know for certain you belong.

The Husband

The morning sun streams through the hotel window as you sip your coffee, scrolling absentmindedly through social media. Race weekends are always a whirlwind, but you’ve learned to carve out small moments of calm when you can.

Toto is already down in the paddock prepping for qualifying today. The room feels empty without him. Sighing, you click over to TikTok, hoping for a distraction.

Immediately a video pops up on your feed from a fan account, the caption “so cute!” catching your eye. You tap play, assuming it’s another clip of drivers’ kids or someone’s grid walk antics.

But you nearly spit out your coffee when the video loads. It’s Toto, standing by the circuit entrance, surrounded by a gaggle of teenage girls. They’re prodding phones toward him eagerly, voices babbling over one another.

“Toto, what’s it like being Y/N’s husband?” One asks boldly.

You freeze, breath caught in your throat. In all the years by Toto’s side, you’ve never heard anyone flip the script like that. It’s always been “what’s it like being Toto’s wife?” You’re an accessory to his fame, not the focus.

Toto looks momentarily surprised, then laughs good-naturedly. “She is extraordinary,” he proclaims sincerely. “Being with her is a privilege every day.”

The girls sigh dreamily at his romanticism. Another chimes in, “You must be so proud of everything she’s accomplished!”

Toto nods, his expression tender. “I am in awe of her strength and resilience. She has faced so much scrutiny with grace. And now people finally see her incredible spirit.”

You press a hand to your mouth as tears spring to your eyes. After years by his side, Toto’s steadfast faith in you still takes your breath away.

“So you’re proud to be Y/N’s husband?” The first girl presses.

“Absolutely.” Toto doesn’t hesitate. “She is my inspiration.”

The video ends and you sit staring at the screen, cheeks wet. Never did you imagine your own fans, separate from Toto. But these girls look up to you, see you as more than just “the wife.”

Your phone buzzes with a text from Toto.

Have you seen the video? The PR team says you’re trending on TikTok!

You type back shakily.

Just watched it. Made me cry happy tears 🥹

His response is immediate.

You deserve all the praise, meine liebchen. I meant every word.

Wiping your eyes, you get up and dress quickly. Down in the paddock, you spot Toto right away. He sweeps you into his arms.

“There’s my superstar wife.” His eyes shine with pride.

You kiss him fiercely. “Thank you for always believing in me. Even when I doubted myself.”

Toto touches your cheek. “You’ve earned every bit of admiration. Don’t ever forget your worth.”

As he walks you into the bustling garage, mechanics glance up from their work to smile and wave. The fans hover nearby, whispering excitedly when they see you.

You no longer feel out of place here. This is your world now, as much as Toto’s. You’ve claimed your seat at the table.

Standing confidently by your husband’s side, you wave back, ready to take on the day.

[obsessedwithceleste]

The Cat Chronicles

(Or five times Theodore Nott *accidentally* stole your cat)

Theodore Nott x reader

word count: 5.9k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

1

The first time your cat went missing, you didn’t think entirely too much of it. You knew many of the Hogwarts cats liked to gather behind the herbology greenhouse where a particularly plentiful patch of catnip grew. However, Gladys was never one to miss meal time, and when the time came to 30 minutes after her usual feeding time, you knew something was amiss. With a sigh, you made your way out to your common room where you saw Cho sitting by the fireplace with several other of your class mates.

“Has anyone seen Gladys wandering about? She missed feeding time and I haven’t seen her much today,” you say as you approach the group.

“I haven’t, sorry y/n. We’ll keep a look out for her though,” Cho tells you.

You let out a small sigh of disappointment.

“Thanks Cho,” you say before heading out to wander the halls of the castle, hoping to find your elusive, black cat.

You start out by the greenhouse where you see a whole gaggle of cats, but none with the sleek black coat that identified your furry friend. You then walked around the grounds a bit more with no luck, before moving on to the kitchens where several of the house elves promised to keep an eye out for the small black cat. You even checked several empty class rooms before coming to a stop outside the library. It wouldn’t hurt to check. Twenty minutes later, you were still completely out of luck. Tired and frustrated, you were about to call it a night when a loud chorus of voices turn down the hall. You look to see who it was and find a hoard of Slytherin boys making their way towards you. You recognized them of course, but didn’t exactly know them. What you did know however, was the mop of black fur one of the taller boys in the back of the group was holding.

“Gladys!” You exclaim, rushing towards the group of boys.

Their eyes all turn towards you and at the sound of her name, the fiesty black cat springs from the arms of the boy and runs towards you.

With a large grin of relief, you scoop the cat up into your arms, feeling her light purr as you scratch behind her ears. Feeling several pairs of eyes on you, you look up to see the group of boys still staring at you and your cat.

“Um, thanks, for finding my cat,” you say awkwardly, squeezing the cat to your chest lightly. The tall, brunette boy who had just been holding your cat only nods silently before turning and walking off, the rest of the group following, except one.

“Hey, sorry about Theo. He means well, really. Man really likes cats, but doesn’t have one of his own, so he sometimes makes friends with cats wandering the halls. We’ve all told him that he should probably stop, ah, borrowing, people’s cats, but he can’t seem to resist. Names Enzo by the way,” the boy says with a friendly smile, extending his hand out.

You take his hand, shaking it cautiously before a smile creeps it’s way onto your face.

“Thank you, Enzo.” You say, hesitating a moment before adding, “You know, Gladys is a picky bitch. Theo must be a pretty okay person if she let him carry her around.” You tell him before disappearing with your cat.

2

The second time your cat went missing, you honestly didn't realize she was missing at all. Theo had found his way down to the kitchens about a week after the original cat incident. That's how he thought of it anyway. The kitchens were one of his favorite places to lurk as not many students knew of the secret entrance behind one particular painting of a fruit bowl. The real attraction that often drew the brunette boy to the hidden sanctuary however, was the constant stream of cats that often visited the house elves who happily offered up dishes of cream and other treats. Plopping himself down on the floor next to a particularly populated bowl of milk, Theo's eyes were immediately drawn to a familiar set of glowing yellow orbs.

"Hello there, Gladys," he said hesitantly, decently sure that was the name called out by the pretty Ravenclaw girl who had stolen the cat from him a few nights ago.

Well, stolen in this case was rather relative, as the cat was technically hers, he supposed. Hearing her name however, the little black cat pranced over, nuzzling her head affectionately against his leg with a soft purr. Picking the sweet creature up into his arms, Theo stroked her soft fur, thinking back to his encounter with her owner, a grimace reaching his face.

He had been a downright bloody idiot. That was for certain. Theo was not usually one to be rendered incompetent by the mere presence of a pretty girl. No. That was meant more for Enzo. Or even Draco sometimes. But never Theodore. In fact, Theo had quite the reputation for his tendency to sleep around which made the idea of his mind completely blanking at the sight of this cat's owner all the more embarrassing. Matteo had made fun of him ruthlessly later that night. What had he said again? Right. Absolutely nothing. Just nodded like a right dunce.

The only solace Theo had gotten from that night was when Enzo pulled him aside quietly and told him what the pretty girl from earlier had said about him. "He must be pretty okay." It was hardly a compliment, but after the fool he'd made of himself, it really was the best Theo could hope for. Shaking the thoughts from his mind, Theo once again focused on the little beast snuggling contentedly in his arms, carefully scratching behind the ears, a spot he'd found the cat quite liked.

The sound of the entrance painting swinging open startled Theo; and he honestly wasn't sure if he was elated, or absolutely mortified that the very girl who had been previously plaguing his thoughts was stepping through into the kitchens.

You honestly weren't entirely surprised to see the boy from a few nights ago sitting on the floor, cradling your cat, when you entered the kitchens. After Enzo had admitted to you that the handsome brunette had a soft spot for the castle's feline population, you figured it was only a matter of time until you bumped into him here considering it was a hot spot for the four legged beasts.

"Hello. See you've managed to find my cat again," you say, offering a small smile to the boy in front of you. After your encounter with that particular group of Slytherins, you did a bit of asking around, finding that Theodore Nott, while a bit known for his escapades with the female population, was actually one of the more talented wizards of your year. And one of the more level headed. (But in comparison to Draco and Matteo, you weren't exactly sure how much credit to give him there.)

The boy blinks up at you once before seeming to find his voice.

"She's a sweet little thing," he says finally, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but you.

You cautiously move forward, more worried about spooking the boy in front of you than the cats. Sitting down, you allow a pretty little Siamese kitten to wander into your lap. Gladys hisses with jealousy, but remains snuggled in the arms of the boy.

"She really seems to like you. Bit surprising. She's really not much of a people person," you tell him.

Theo nods at you, an action you found yourself growing familiar with.

"Enzo told me." He replies curtly.

You open your mouth to respond, but don't quite know how, so you let an awkward silence roll over the two of you.

"Well, I find that Gladys is a very good judge of character," you say finally.

Theo lets out a small smile at this, continuing to stroke your cat's soft fur. After that, the two of you fall into a comfortable silence with Theodore continuing to shower your cat with affection while you distract the many other felines, crowding the kitchen floor.

"Theo?" you wonder finally, the question burning away at you. The boy looks up, and you find yourself getting lost in the surprisingly soft brown eyes staring back at you. Breaking from the trance with a small shiver, you ask, "If you like cats so much, why don't you have one of your own?"

Theo's eyes immediately fall, and his hand freezes mid pet, much to Gladys' dismay. A pang of guilt washes through you.

"My father isn't much of an animal person," He replies stiffly.

You give him a small nod in response before rising from the floor.

"It's getting pretty late, I should get going," you say softly. "Gladys can find her way back to the tower on her own just fine," you add when you see Theo make no move to release the cat.

Without another word, you move to open the portrait door. You enter the hall with a small smile gracing your lips as you hear his voice quietly as the door closes.

"Thank you, y/n."

He knew your name.

3

The next time Theo met Gladys was much sooner than he expected. He had left the kitchens several hours ago and was now laying in bed. The clock sitting on his bed side now read 1am. The deafening silence was about to finally lull him to sleep when an insistent scratching at the door caused his eyes to fly open. Sitting up, Theo glanced at the door warily before finally deciding to cross the room to find out what was causing the noise.

As soon as the door opened, a black shadow darted through, making a beeline for his bed. How it seemed to know exactly where it was going, Theo had no clue. Making his way silently back to his bed, careful not to wake either of his roommates, Theo was finally able to make out the dark shape of an ever familiar black cat.

"Hi there, principessa," he whispered, gently stroking the cat's ears before crawling into the bed next to it. Gladys seemed to take this as an invitation to curl up in the nook of his arm, and Theo wasn't about to object. The last thought he remembered before drifting off was how nice it would be if Gladys' pretty owner was there too.

"Theo, what the fuck."

Theo woke with a start, to the loud voice of Lorenzo Berkshire ringing out above him. His eyes opened to see the other boy hovering over his bed, a look of shocked confusion apparent on his face.

"Is that y/n's cat?" he asks, leaning down as if to get a closer look at the fluff ball still snuggled in Theo's arms.

"No way," Matteo laughs from the other side of the room. "You stole her cat again? What, is this some sick and twisted new way for you to lure girls into your bed?"

Theo launches a pillow at Matteo's head. He doesn't miss.

"You better go return that thing before y/n starts to worry," Enzo advises, going back to his own side of the room. "And maybe just ask her out while you're at it hmm?" He adds, quickly ducking behind his fourposter before Theo has the chance to send another pillow flying his way.

With a heavy sigh, Theo comes to a stop outside of what he's pretty sure is the Ravenclaw common room. He's about to raise his hand to knock, when the golden eagle head mounted to the door springs to life.

"What gets broken, without being held?" The eagle asks, blinking at him slowly.

Right. Theo knew about this. The most annoying of the common room doors because instead of a password, the bloody door required you to answer a riddle. Theo was about to turn on his heel to leave when he felt a light presence behind him.

"Hello Theo. Hello Gladys." The platinum blonde haired girl said, giving the two of them an airy nod, before turning her attention to the door. "Would it perhaps be, a promise?" she asks.

The door swings open and Theo quickly hurries after the girl, making his way up the staircase. He'd never actually been inside the Ravenclaw common room, and his breath hitched when they reached the top of the stairs. The main room really was magnificent, nothing like the dark, eerie dungeons of the Slytherin common room. Theo eyed the shelves of books lining the wall longingly.

"Her room is just there, up and to the left," the blonde girl he'd followed in says, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Y/n? Her room is just there," the girl repeats, gesturing to a door at the top of another small flight of stairs.

"Oh. thanks," Theo makes out, giving the girl a nod of gratitude.

"Name's Luna by the way. Luna Lovegood." She says whimsically before floating off.

With a deep inhale to calm his nerves, Theo makes his way up the stairs and knocks gently on the door. Gladys lets out a meow of protest. Absolutely nothing could have prepared Theo for what was on the other side of the door. He felt his throat go completely dry as the door swung open and you stood in front of him in what was probably the shortest, skimpiest set of clothing that could possibly be considered pajamas. Theo tried not to stare, he really did, but he was only a man. A very weak and smitten man.

"Oh! There you are Gladys. I wondered where you wandered off to last night!" you say looking at your cat and then back up at Theo, and then again at your cat before looking back up at Theo expectantly. "Um. May I have my cat back?"

Theo jolts back to life, realizing he'd been staring and looks at you sheepishly.

"Sorry, don't know how this little one found me. Snuck her way into the Slytherin common room and then into my dorm. Didn't want to leave her in the halls alone, so I let her stay the night," he tells you.

You stare at the boy in shock, realizing that was the longest string of words you'd ever heard out of him.

"Wow Theodore, I'm impressed. I think that's the most I've ever heard you talk. And here I was thinking you were secretly illiterate," you say with a playful grin.

"Please," the boy scoffs. "I'm the picture of eloquence."

Interested in where this sudden burst of confidence that you didn't normally see from him had come from, you take a step back, inviting him into your room. He hesitantly accepts your invitation, bringing Gladys along with him.

"No roommates?" he asks, perching on the edge of your bed as Gladys purrs softly on his lap. At the moment, you found nothing more attractive than this man absolutely pampering your beloved pet.

"Not many Ravenclaw girls in our year, we had the option to share, but most of us opted for solo rooms. Wanted the extra privacy, I suppose," you tell him, leaning on one of the posts at the end of your bed.

Theo nods his head at this.

"I have two roommates," he shares.

"One of them happen to be Enzo Berkshire?"

Theo nods again. "And Matteo. Riddle" he adds.

You cock your head at that with a grin.

"Interesting pairing," you comment, imagining the chaos those two must bring with them.

"It never gets boring," Theo responds.

A moment of silence passes.

"I was wondering if you wanted to study together sometime. I hear you're exceptionally talented at potions. And Charms. And everything really." Theo lets out finally.

You raise an eyebrow at the boy, internally screaming.

Trying to keep your cool, you tilt your head, "I hear you are too."

It's like a switch flips inside Theo.

"Well, we're obviously perfect for each other than," He replies easily, a cocky grin beginning to spread across his face. "Meet you in the library tomorrow at 7? And bring the cat."

You let out a laugh as Theo rises from the bed, gently placing Gladys down on the pillow, before going to make his way out of your dorm.

"You only like me for my cat," you joke, shifting to watch as he crosses the room to the door.

"Not just for your cat," he assures you, "I love the outfit, wear it for me more often, hmm?" he says slyly before the door thuds shut behind him.

You look down at your outfit, jaw dropping open and heat rushing to your cheeks.

4

Theo's head was pounding. Music pumped through the Slytherin common room and Theo could barely see through the crowds of people around him as he pushed his way to the circle of sofas occupied by his friends. Collapsing into a spot next to Matteo, the boy offered him another shot of who-knew-what which he quickly knocked back.

"When's that pretty little thing that's been occupying all your time gonna join us at one of our little gathering?" Matteo slurs out, gesturing to the large crowd around them.

Over the past several weeks, you and Theo had grown significantly closer; your first study date quickly becoming a daily occurrence as you found that you each were able to easily keep up with one another. Something about having a partner who was actually able to challenge you was exhilarating. From there, you found yourselves often seeking each other out simply for the sake of good company, Gladys largely increasing the number of these meetings.

"Don't know that Gladys would like it. Cat's aren't supposed to ingest alcohol," Theo responded, not quite drunk enough to fall for his friend's taunting.

Enzo places another shot in his hand, and Theo raises a brow at him, before knocking that one back as well.

"Did you ever ask y/n why in Salazar's name, she choose to name her cat Gladys?" Matteo asks. "If my name were Gladys, I'd being running off constantly too."

Theo thumps Matteo on the back of the head.

"You leave our cat out of this, she ain't do nothin wrong," he says, glaring at his friend.

"So now she's our cat is she?" Enzo asks, a smirk growing on his face. "Didn't know you and y/n were so serious."

"It's our cat damnit! If marrying y/n is what it takes to finally have a cat of my own, so be it," Theo says decidedly.

Enzo snorts at his clearly, very drunk friend. "Careful, or one might think you're only into her for her cat. And not the cunty kind."

Theo scowls at this. "Y/n says that all the time, but have you seen that ass? And the way she mopped the floor with Draco in potions the other day? She's perfect."

"Yeah? Why don't you go tell her that then?" Matteo says, wanting nothing more than to see a drunk Theo try to make his way to Ravenclaw Tower.

"You know what? I will. And I'll pet Gladys too." Theo states. A look of pure, intoxicated determination set on his face.

Lorenzo eyes his friend warily. While not exactly sober himself, he didn’t particularly like the look his friend was giving them.

“Aw c’mon Enz, don’t you try and be the voice of reason now,” Matteo drawls, sensing the hesitation coming from his friend. “Don’t you want to meet the lil thing our beloved Theodore has been obsessing over for weeks now?”

“I’m not obsessing,” Theo snaps, taking a sip straight out of a random bottle he’d picked up from the table.

“Let’s go. I’m gonna steal her cat. For real this time.”

With a wide grin, Matteo jumps up, ready to follow his friend wherever the night took him. With a low groan, Enzo followed suit, knowing that his pair of roommates would need some sort of guidance to prevent them from walking themselves straight of the edge of the astronomy tower.

You didn’t have a lot of expectations for the quiet Friday night that you were spending curled up with a book and your cat. It was late, and after a long and stressful week, the time alone with Gladys was just what you needed to really recharge. You had spent most of your day lounging out on the lawn next to the Black Lake with Theodore, studying with and harassing the boy. A small smile crept onto your face, remembering the way his brown curls had floated about in the soft breeze.

You really hadn’t expected for the two of you to become so close, so quickly, but you weren’t complaining. You’d grown quite fond of the boy, especially once he started opening up a bit more. You’d initially thought that he was a man of very few words, but quickly learned he was in fact very sharp witted and even a bit snarky at times. Time spent with him had easily become your favorite part of the day and was something you were constantly looking forward to.

A sharp knock jolted you from your thoughts, causing you to jump a bit where you were sitting, Gladys letting out a yowl of protest.

You quickly cross the room and open the door to find a very miffed looking Cho, a frown imbedded on her face.

“Sorry to bother, but could you please come get your boy under control? He’s upsetting the portraits.” She says.

You blink once. Then again.

“Sorry?”

“Your Slytherin fellow? He’s out in the corridor with two of his friends harassing the door,” she explains, turning to lead you down the spiral staircase.

You’re not even halfway down when you begin to hear the voices.

“Who in the bloody hell would want to be in Ravenclaw with this blast-ended skewt ass looking-“

“Matteo you can’t curse out the door.”

“I’ll curse at the bloody door if I want to bloody curse at it.”

You grimace, looking at Cho who looks back with a similarly displeased facial expression.

“Sorry bout them. I’ll take it from here,” you tell her when you reach the bottom.

With a slight nod, she turns to retreat back up the stairs. With a sigh, you push the door open, almost taking out Matteo who had been leaning on it for support.

“Hi amore, fancy seeing you here,” Theo slurs, a grin taking over his face at the sight of you.

Enzo leans against a pillar, face in hands, looking like he wanted to disappear. You could smell the alcohol on all of them.

“Hi Theodore. Are you sober?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“I’m moderately functional,” he replies with a lopsided smile.

“I’m taking that as a no,” you say, glancing worriedly at Matteo who was currently laying spread eagle on the floor. “Let’s get you boys back to your common room.”

“I wouldn’t. Party’s not gonna end any time soon. They’ll just get more hammered and start wandering off again,” Enzo advises, head still in hands. “Like herding hippogriffs with those two.”

“And Theo hasn’t proclaimed his undying love for y/n yet!” Matteo adds.

You feel heat rise to your cheeks and Theo glowers at his friend.

“It’s okay Theo, I know he’s drunk,” you say, not certain if you were saying it more to comfort him or yourself.

Theo ignores you however, turning his attention back to the door.

“Let us in, I just want to pet the cat,” he tells the door, swaying ever so slightly.

For Salazar’s sake. Man gets absolutely wasted and just wants to pet your cat. You go to grab onto Theo to steady him, but he has other plans. Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your hair.

“Hi,” he mumbles, picking you up just enough that your toes barely touch the ground. “I missed you. Can we see the cat now?”

Not knowing what else to do, you glance helplessly at Enzo.

“Would you be able to get Matteo up the stairs?” You ask.

“I can try. He’s a stubborn bastard though.”

You turn back to the door, knocking once. The eagle once again moves to life, glaring at the scene in front of it.

“If the day before yesterday was the 23rd, what is the day after tomorrow?” It asks crankily.

“We’re too fucking wasted for this bloody bullshit,” Matteo moans from the floor.

You try to ignore Theo’s tight grasp on your waist and Enzo prodding at Matteo with his foot before answering. “The 27th.”

The door swings open and you try your best to haul Theo through, Enzo following closely behind with a very disgruntled Matteo. Dragging the boys up the staircase feels like the most difficult task of your life as you constantly tell Matteo to lower his voice and mind his mouth while also trying to ignore the very minimal distance between yourself and Theodore. When you finally make it to the top, you rush to herd the boys into your room before slamming the door shut behind you with relief. Theo immediately stumbles over to your bed, collapsing face first in the middle and snatching Gladys into his arms.

“No roommates?” Enzo asks, looking around the room and seeing the single empty bed that you had pushed into the corner at the beginning of the year.

“No, thank Rowena. I would not want to have to explain whatever this is.” You reply, motioning to Theo and Matteo who was now wandering about the room.

“Room’s a mess. Coulda at least cleaned up a bit,” he says, poking at the various books and blank scrolls lying about.

“Had I known I would be having guests at,” you glance at the clock, “almost 2 in the morning, I’m sure I would have.” You say dryly.

Retrieving your wand from your desk, you point it at the spare bed. “Engorgio.” The wooden frame creaks as it expands until it can comfortably fit 2 people. You look at Enzo.

“Good luck with that one,” you say, almost feeling sorry for the boy as Matteo flops onto the bed with a groan.

“Looks like you’re gonna need it more than me,” he replies, gesturing to Theo who was out cold, Gladys trapped and bug eyed in his grasp. With a sigh you and Enzo each resign yourselves to your respective charge.

“Theodore,” you whisper, giving the boy a light shove. No sign of life. You give him a slightly harder shove, allowing Gladys is wriggle out of her prison. Frowning, you sit down on the edge of the bed, using most of your body weight to shove Theo to one side of the bed before sliding under the covers. Now deeming it safe, Gladys hops back into the bed, nestling into your arms happily. You’re about to close your eyes when you feel arms snaking around your waste, pulling you into the very warm chest of Theodore Nott. You freeze, holding your breath, not sure if the boy is asleep or not.

“Goodnight mi amore,” he whispers into your neck, causing the hairs to prickle.

Definitely not asleep.

“Goodnight Theodore.”

You hadn’t had any expectations for the night really, but you definitely had not expected to have multiple overnight guests who were trying to steal your cat. And you most certainly did not expect to drift off in the arms of Theodore Nott.

5

The next morning you wake up missing the usual lump of fur weighing down on your chest. Immediately you bolt upright, eyes shooting around for any sign of your furry companion before the events of last night wash over you. Enzo and Matteo are both still out cold and when you look down, your jaw drops open. Theo is fast asleep, back facing you, Gladys snoozing contentedly while cradled in his arms. Even in his sleep this absolute tosser had managed to steal your damn cat.

Careful not to wake the boys, or Gladys, you silently sneak across the room and disappear out the door. Once you’re safely out of hearing distance, you make your way quickly down the kitchens. A little known fact about the Hogwarts house elves was that many had once served in the homes of different wizarding families at one time or another. This meant that many of the elves were all too familiar with the valuable hangover potion that you sought.

Ducking in through the portrait hole, it wasn’t difficult to persuade the elves into handing over 3 glistening blue vials. You had always been kind to them, often chatting with them during your visits with the cats.

Your task complete, you made your way back to Ravenclaw tower, taking your time as you didn’t expect the boys to be up any time soon. They really had been plastered. Not even Enzo had been completely sober you recalled.

You’re just passing the entrance to the dungeons when a voice calls out.

“Hey! You!”

You’re ready to continue on your way before noticing that there was no one else in the corridor they could be referring to. You turn to see two girls you recognized as the Greengrass sisters hurrying towards you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” the shorter blonde girl says when they get closer. You’re pretty sure that one is Astoria. “You’re the girl Theo has been seeing right?”

You nod your head cautiously. You knew Theo had a reputation for getting around, so if that’s what this was about, things were about to become quite awkward.

“You haven’t happened to see him or Matteo or Lorenzo, have you?” The other girl, Daphne, asks.

“Draco said he saw the three of them leave the party together last night, but no one saw them come back,” Astoria explains.

You feel yourself immediately relax. Good. At least this was something you could help with.

“You two are lucky you found me then I suppose,” you tell them, gesturing for them to follow. “The three of them tried breaking into Ravenclaw tower last night, so I let them crash in my dorm.”

“Oh Salazar. Were they trying to steal your cat? I’m so sorry. When Matteo gets drunk he has a tendency to try and egg Theo on,” Astoria frets.

You give the girls a strange look. “You know about my cat?” You ask, surprised.

“Oh sure,” Daphne replies. “Whole group does really. Boys came back one night going on about how Theo was just smitten with some Ravenclaw with a cute cat. And I can see why. You’re gorgeous by the way.”

You blush at her statement, diverting the subject away.

“The boys should probably still be asleep. I just ran down to the kitchens to get these,” you tell them, brandishing the potions you had gathered. “Once they’ve downed these, they’re all yours.”

Astoria eyes the potions with jealousy and you realize the two girls were probably decently hung over as well.

“Oh you can keep Theo, we were really just looking to collect Enzo and Matt,” Daphne laughs, giving you a sly look. You open your mouth to reply, but stop realizing you had reached your common room door.

After a few attempts, you’re finally able to solve the blasted riddle and the door swings open.

“I don’t think we’ve ever had this many Slytherins in our common room before,” you joke, leading the girls up to your room.

Pushing the door open, you’re unsurprised to see the boys still passed out.

“This must be the infamous Gladys,” Daphne whispers, quietly approaching Theo who was still clutching onto Gladys as if his life depended on it. Again you’re surprised that these girls apparently even knew the name of your cat.

The two coo at the sight of your cat, coming to the conclusion that she was indeed worthy of warranting cat theft before Astoria finally decided it was time for them to get the boys out of your hair. They migrated over to the other side of the room where Enzo and Matteo were sound asleep, leaving you to deal with Theo.

You decide the easiest route, may just be to lure Gladys away, so you fetch her food dish before accio-ing her kibble container. At the sound of her food, Gladys was up and running, darting over for her morning feast. At the sudden loss of fluffy heat, Theo groaned, rolling over, face down into the pillows. After giving Gladys her food, you move back to Theo, giving him a rough shake.

“Come back to bed principessa,” he grumbles, reaching out and flailing his arm in your general direction.

“It’s time to get up Theodore. Come on, I got you three hangover potions,” you say, waving one over his head.

“Did someone say hangover potion? Give,” Matteo demands from the other side of the room. You look over to see Daphne and Astoria sitting on the side of the bed while Matteo and Enzo were groggily waking up.

Pulling out her wand, Daphne gestured for you to toss her the potions which her magic catches easily, levitating the vials over to the other two boys. Matteo snatches one out of the air, quickly downing half before offering the other half to Astoria. Enzo does the same, giving the second half to Daphne who graciously accepts. After a moment, the four of them are looking much more awake.

“Thanks for making sure these three didn’t drown themselves in the lake,” Astoria says, once the potion had really kicked. “And sorry you’re not having more luck with that one. He’s always been a late riser.”

“You’ll be lucky to get him up in the next hour,” Enzo agrees, rising from the bed. “Thanks again y/n.”

The four of them shuffle out of your dorm, a chorus is thanks and apologies strung along until they reached the door. Even Matteo gave you a nod of gratitude. Once they were all gone, you collapse once more onto your bed.

“They finally gone?” You hear Theo ask, as he rolls over to look at you. You nod, faces so close that your noses are practically touching and you can feel small puffs of air as he exhales. “Thanks for last night. I’m sorry for trying to steal your cat.”

You let out a snort at that. “Did you know when I woke up this morning, you had turned away from me completely, and stolen my cat away from me in your sleep?” You ask with a laugh.

Theo at least has the decency to look embarrassed as Gladys joins the two of you once more.

“I should do this more often,” Theo says finally, reaching out to stroke Gladys’s fur.

“What? Get downright plastered and break into my room, or steal my cat?” You scoff.

“Sleep in your bed with you.”

You freeze, looking up to see if the boy was being serious. His eyes blink back at you unwavering.

“You can come back any time,” you tell him, snuggling your way into his chest, ready to fall back asleep in the boy’s arms.

“Will Gladys be here?”

“Oh my god, yes she will be here,” you say dramatically throwing your head back.

Theo grins down at you, leaning in and pressing his lips softly against yours.

“I’m only joking amore,” he says, pressing another kiss to the top of your nose.

“Of course Gladys would be here, she adores me.”

“Get out of my bed.”

A/N

My biggest regret in life, is being highly allergic to cats </3

[osachiyo]

'TRYNA GET YOUR BABY MAMA FULL OF THAT DICK !

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — jing yuan, blade, luocha x fem!reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 & 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — n/sfw content, cheating, squirting, dumbification, neglect (from the husband), overstimulation, toxic relationships, dirty talk, petnames, reader is married, cucking, cowgirl, possessiveness (blade), vouyerism, luocha is your family doctor, etc • i never thought id write something like this but here we are lol anyway, happy reading and i hope you enjoy !! minors dni & not proofread

𝐉𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐀𝐍 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

"bounce on me just like that, baby," jing yuan groaned, palming the fat of your ass as you rode him on your husband's couch. "s'big — you're so big, ji," you bit your lip, trying your best to suppress any moans — not wanting your neighbours to suspect anything.

"yeah? even bigger than him?" a sleazy grin adorned jing yuan's lips, your back arched so sinfully as he thrusted up into you. "ngh —!" you threw your head back, clawing his broad shoulders with your pretty nails, that your husband paid for you to get done.

"answer me, sweet girl," he whispered, fondling your bouncing tits before pulling and pinching at your hardened nipples. "d-don't tease!" you swatted at his hand, which only made him pinch harder.

" 'm not teasing, so serious right now baby," his droopy eyes were glinting with mischief — he knew he looked good. you gasped when his hand reached down to flick and rub at your clit, licking his lips at the way you clenched down on his cock.

"gonna cum, pretty?" he captured your lips in a heated kiss before you could even answer him — as if he already knew what you were gonna say. you could practically feel your eyes rolling from the pleasure behind your closed lids, pussy gushing all over his thighs and abdomen — drenching his cock in your juices.

" yesyesyes — 's so big, so much bigger than him —!" you babbled into the messy kiss, back arching even more and pressing your tits against his own chest —

"that's what i thought."

𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐄 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

muffled grunts of complaint escaped your husband's gagged mouth, hard cock straining against the rough fabric of his slacks.

"enjoying the view, cheating piece of shit?" blade had you spread eagle on you and your soon-to-be ex husband's shared bed — with you chanting his name like a prayer everytime his cock hit that one spot with unbelievable precision.

"mmph!" your husband growled — veins popping out from his forehead as he tried his best not to hump the air. fuck, you looked borderline delirious getting split open by your co-workers cock; pupils dilated with lust — practically having hearts swimming in your eyes for blade.

"look at 'em, baby — look at how fuckin' hard the bastard is," he forcibly turned your head over to your husband and the man almost didn't recognise you — tongue lolling out with each heavy thrust from blade, sweat dripping down your sinful body.

you didn't even pay attention to the tied-down man — all too focused on the way blade's thick cock rearranged your guts. "see how she turns into a dumb little slut for my dick?" blade spat, cockiness dripping from his words — sharp hipbones digging into the soft skin of your thighs with each slam of his hips.

"who does this pussy belong to?" blade turned your head back to face him, licking the tears that rolled down your heated cheeks. "y-you! all yours — it belongs to you!" you babbled mindlessly, causing a devilish smile to appear on blade's lips —

"oh yeah? and what's my name?"

"bladeee—! oh fu-fuck, bla-de!" you cried out before spraying your juices all over him — some of it even coating his abs.

"good fuckin' girl."

𝐋𝐔𝐎𝐂𝐇𝐀 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

"are you sure you wanna do this?" luocha whispered against your lips, his minty breath filling your senses. "please," you begged, rolling your hips on his lap to show your want — no, need for the blonde man.

it's not like your husband was a good man either — always out drinking and partying, while you stayed at home. alone. he brushed you off everytime you asked about the lipstick stains on his collar — saying you were being dramatic, you were sick of it. could he really blame you for wanting luocha? the young, handsome family doctor — who was also a gentleman at heart.

"i've got you," luocha's smooth, velvety voice cut off your train of thought, a gloved hand tilting your chin up before pressing his lips to yours. his other hand found purchase at your hip, before snaking up to wrap itself around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

you couldn't help but moan into the kiss — he was certainly good at this, better than your husband, at least. luocha was elegant but warm — the complete opposite of your husband, who was rough and neglectful. the softness of the kiss had you melting in his touch.

a gasp left your lips when luocha flipped you over, your back now turned to him while you laid on your tummy. "luocha.." you all but whined, pushing your ass back against his rigid cock, earning a soft groan from him. he pushed your sundress up, bunching the thin fabric at your waist — "no panties?" he mused, landing a playful slap on your plush ass. gloved hands found your cunt before you could answer, rubbing your bare folds.

an amused chuckle left the man once he felt how damp you were, "already this wet? hmm.. the mister has been neglecting you quite a bit, hasn't he? worry not, i will take great care of you."

©osachiyo— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

[messylustt]

౨ৎ ‧˚

𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬

miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 1.3k words

fic masterlist pt one next part

i’ve gotten some help with my spanish and have approved/fixed accordingly (if you have any suggestions on the spanish please speak up!); enemies to lovers trope; not obvious, but subtle jealous miguel; human(not spider-person)!reader; spanish term of endearment ‘chaparrita’ — miguel o’hara has never liked you—a human—joining the team as the ‘person in the chair’. he’s made his distaste for you clear. but when he speaks certain spanish words you don’t understand, he reveals that his annoyance of you is by the fact that you make him feel ‘hot’. soon, a deal surfaces, his promotion benefitting you both.

Miguel watches as you fiddled with the different tech machines, tapping with a focused gaze. He tilted his head, staying by the large spider, having spread out screens filled with the many mission's info.

He had a slight scowl on his face, his expression usually one considered moody. But this time he had a reason for it. You.

You were a pain to Miguel, far too nice to every spider-person. He hadn't liked having you here the moment a few of them recommended you. They described you as the 'person in the chair'. You were smart, sure, but Miguel didn't think you belonged here. You weren't a spider-person like the rest of them, you were human.

He jumped down, landing beside you. You look to your left, having to tilt your head up at his sheer height. You gulp. You've always been nervous around Miguel O'hara. You didn't think he once smiled, his gaze only seeming to harden, especially when you would speak.

So, you kept it minimal. Only talking to him when it was required. "O'hara." You nod, turning quickly back to your work. "Anything I can help you with?"

"Nothing you can help with, y/l/n." His small jab at your inability in many areas, such as swinging from buildings with web, made you straighten your spine.

You ignore his tone, again not daring to meet his gaze. "Then, I'm sure Jessica will be here soon to help with anything."

Miguel's eyes wander your stiff posture. He could tell that he made you nervous, and part of him relished in that. It helped him think that you knew your place.

When you noticed that he wasn't leaving, you go to say something else, when Hobie and Peter burst into the room. Both yours and Miguel's attentions shift. Hobie easily moves towards you, making you smile. He reached his hand out as you did what many would call a typical 'bro handshake'. But Hobie instead chose to call something far from normality, in his prominent british accent.

Hobie was one of the ones who recommended you for this job. And you've been beyond grateful since.

"How's ya bloody borin’ shit goin’?" Hobie asks, leaning down to see whatever nonsense you had typed up.

"Describe 'boring shit'." You say, your tone turning smug.

He scoffs, eyeing the screen again, before giving up and grabbing your chin to turn back to the tech. "Keep working."

You chuckle, just as Miguel speaks. "Aren't you supposed to be out?"

Hobie looks to Miguel, straightening his guitar strap. "What—should I start callin’ ya boss, and kissin’ ya boots?"

Hobie has always been one to 'do his own thing' and completely bypass the rules. Miguel looks unimpressed, as Hobie holds his hands up in fake innocence. Peter chimes in. "He doesn't wear boots."

Hobie glances at him. "Thanks Peter. I didn't know."

Peter doesn't have time to respond before he's running after his swinging daughter. "Just get back to work." Miguel says. "That includes you, Peter. And didn't I say not bring her here?" He sounds exasperated, as he pinches the bridge between his nose.

You spin in your seat watching as Peter sends back a 'sorry', as he disappears, running through the large exit door. Hobie is quick to follow sending you a nod and a smile.

You wave them off, feeling the tension flood back into the room now that it's just you and Miguel again. You swiftly spin back in your chair, your fingers going back to tapping, as your legs spread comfortably.

Miguel looks back at you, before running his hand down his face, muttering. "No abras las piernas como una invitación." (Don't open your legs like an invitation.)

You pause, glancing at him. "What was that?"

He glances back at you, eyeing your confused expression. You, of course, didn't know spanish.

He places his hands against the desk, leaning a fraction closer to you, his gaze fluttering across your features. "Podría decirte cualquier cosa en español y no sabrías lo que quiero decir." (I could say anything to you in Spanish and you wouldn't know what I mean.)

"You know I don't know spanish." You mutter.

"I know. And the thought of you being so unaware, makes me want to tell you..." He leans closer to your ear, making your pulse beat rapidly. "....cuanto me haces arder, cariño. (how much you make me burn inside.) And it’s beyond annoying.”

You sigh, pushing slightly away from him. "Look, I know you find me annoying." You begin. "That's fine. But just...can you at least give me somewhat of a chance?"

"Do to what?" He asks, crossing his arms, as he leans back against the desk.

"To prove I'm helpful."

"Helpful?" Miguel asks, tilting his head. "You want to be helpful?"

"Of course."

"Then find a more suitable job." He stands to walk away.

"If you want me gone, then why don't you fire me?"

He pauses for a moment. "Sadly, I need a proper reason for that. So, if you want to be helpful to me. Then fuck something up."

"But while you're here being useless you should probably learn spanish." Miguel says as he walks out the door.

You huff, staring after him, watching as his back muscles contracted in a way that made you look away, gulping. Fucking Miguel O'hara.

;;

You sit, feet up by the tech, as you tapped away on your phone. You got a congratulatory 'ding' whenever you got a word or sentence right, and a rather loud 'booing' sound when you got a word or sentence wrong.

Yes, you're trying to learn Spanish. You sadly hadn't remembered word for word what Miguel had said to you, so you couldn't put it through translation. He must have purposefully spoken fast so you wouldn't have time to catch each word and remember.

'Me gusta ir al museo.' Your phone spoke. It translated to 'I like going to the museum' You had gotten it wrong, putting ‘park’ instead.

You groan, your head knocking back as your eyes shut in annoyance. You were only smart in certain areas. You let your phone drop to the desk, as you stretch, keeping your eyes shut tight, as if you could find the Spanish language hidden behind them.

"Spanish?" A deep voice spoke, making you jump, swiftly getting to your feet and spinning.

Miguel stands in his signature spider suit, your phone in his grasp. "I didn't think you'd actually listen to me."

You snatch it back, switching it off, as you scratch the back of your neck. "I was just..." You drift off sighing. "I like this job."

Miguel watches you closely. "You're committed, I'll give you that."

You smile, the word 'progress' swirling in your brain. "I learnt a sentence." You say, brows creasing in remembrance. "Me gusta...ir al...musio?" (I like going...to the...musio?) You say this more so as a question as you meet the amused gaze of Miguel.

"Ir al museo." (To the museum) He corrects, knowing the generic 'hobbies' sentences most kids learn.

"…I was close." You say, smiling, before you realise who you're talking to, your nerves returning.

Miguel nearly kicked himself for feeling warm at the small smile that you gave. You were trying to learn spanish—loosely—for him. "Can I make you a deal?" He suddenly asks.

You narrow your eyes a fraction. "What kinda deal?"

"One where we can help each other." He mutters, stepping closer. "You want to stay, correct?"

You nod.

"Then you're gonna have to convince me that you'd do anything for a mission."

You straighten, eyes widening at the chance to prove your worth. "I lead most missions, so loosely, you'd have to do anything for me."

He's much, much closer, eyeing you. "But we can make this a ‘give and take’. Let me teach you Spanish—something you'll need working here, close by me, and in return for every lesson, you have to do something for me."

You eye him. "Like what?"

"Anything." He answers. "Because you'll have to do anything that's required for those missions. Call it practice, or proving your worth, chaparrita."

You lick your lips thinking. You can't see anything inherently wrong with this 'deal', so you nod. And that earns you the very first smile you've seen from Miguel O’hara.

i know this is short, but I just wanted to see if any of you guys would be interested in a full fic like this…

also if you would like to be in a taglist for this story — just comment

[churipu]

STRAIGHT TO VOICEMAIL 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. gojo satoru

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. cursing, mentions of death, gojo being sad and angry, 2006 gojo geto shoko.

note. for some reason i feel angsty today and i just saw this prompt on pin, just had to write it lol.

gojo has never loathed himself more than when he missed your call — your very last call.

"i could've fuckin' saved them, suguru." gojo blankly stared at the ceiling, his head thrown back onto the couch's rest; he was conflicted, he didn't know what to do. it was as if his motoric abilities had just stopped all of a sudden.

"satoru . . ."

"i could've fuckin' saved y/n." the white haired male mumbled out, his face scrunching in frustration.

gojo has dealt with death. a lot. the concept of death isn't a stranger to him anymore, not in this world — and to think that he'd actually be alive to experience deaths of his loved ones, thinking he could have done so much more made him hate himself.

god, gojo hated crying in front of other people. the aura in the room was palpable. nobody spoke —nobody dared to speak— and the only sound resounding was the vague ticking belonging to the clock hanging on the wall.

"i could've fuckin' saved them," the male repeated for the third time, his voice breaking that he had to inhale sharply to stop himself from breaking down right there.

gojo pushed himself up, placing his palms above his eyes, pressing down on them harshly; he lets out a loud sigh, "where the fuck did it all go wrong?"

"y/n was killed in action . . ." god, gojo wanted to rip his hair out when yaga called him in privately to say that. the male had lost count of how many times the statement repeated in his mind.

frankly, it's haunting.

out of all the news he could have received today, he never expected to hear your death lulling into his eardrums. so soon. so many things swirling in his mind all at once that even he, deemed the strongest, felt the sensation of losing. he felt weak.

"hi, 'toru — you're probably busy since my call went straight to voice mail, but 'm just saying . . . i love you, and i miss you. so much." there was a slight pause and your breathing shallowed into the mic, every single detail in your last moments were graved in that file, "'m not sure if . . . i'll be back as soon as i promised, but, i just want you to know that whatever happens. happens."

there was a slight static before your soft voice recoiled back into the mic, "i've never broken any promises to you, but this might be the very first time — and just know that i've never wanted to do this, i fucking hate myself for this," your voice broke slightly, "'m bleeding. a lot. but 'm trying to stop it just like how ieiri taught me. and i think 'm doing shit at it . . . i don't know what happened, and how it happened; but 'm not doing okay."

"i don't want to die, 'toru." you whispered into the mic, hoarse and weak — feeling the life drain out, "i really don't want to die . . . i have so many things i want to do with you, and suguru, and ieiri . . ." you murmur out, inhaling sharply but it all ended up with you coughing out in pain.

"remember that time i said i wanted to open a pet hotel . . ? i don't know if you think i was joking, but i was really serious about opening one," you began to mumble out, all in random directions — none of your words make any sense anymore, and you could barely keep yourself awake.

"i don't want to die, please," you pleaded, desperate for life. no matter what you did at this point — the light inside of you was almost out, and you can't do anything about it, "fuck. i hate this. so much, 'toru."

"i want to see you again. i miss you. i miss you so so much," you softly murmur out, " . . . i love you. i love you so much, satoru."

and everything ended right after. including you.

gojo has never loathed himself more than when he missed your call. your. very. last. call.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[koenigami]

not sure if you allow it, but how does wriothesly react when the reader uses their safe word during an intense session?

tags : fem!reader, smut, crying, use of safeword, aftercare, comfort, +18

It's hot in the room, the constant gurgling of the pipes reminding you that WRIOTHESLEY must have turned up the heating higher than usual. Then why is your body shivering, with goosebumps all over your skin? You can't see him, can't hear him because he has barely talked to you ever since he's returned from his office. Yet you feel his large, intimidating form loom over your body from behind. You can't speak, can barely breathe with his constricting hand around your throat that somehow seems to get tighter by every passing second.

He's immune to your whimpers, to the tears rolling down your cheeks. With each forceful thrust of his, you hear the bed creak and feel your knees get weaker, your body loosing strength until you're nothing but a limp toy for him. You want to get up, push him away, but the grip his other hand has on your wrists while holding them behind your back- He's just too strong.

That's when even the last ounce of pleasure leaves your body and you're left with nothing but dread and panic. "Red, p-please." you barely recognise your own voice, hoarse and frightened. "No more, please, red."

The pressure on your windpipes is gone instantly. You realise it, not by the oxygen that is easier entering your airways, no, because you still feel like you're suffocating. You realise it because his warmth is as well gone in an instant. W-Where did he go?

Rough hands are all over your body, yet they treat you with so much care, helping you turn and lie on your back, soothing down your thighs. One of them at last settles on your cheek, the pad of his thumb caressing it and wiping the tears away. "Y/n? Sweetheart, you with me?"

You sniffle and press the heels of your palms against your eyes, your chest shaking with more sobs that won't stop racking your body. "I'm sorry, 'm so sorry. I-I don't even know-"

"No, no, don't apologise. There's nothing to be sorry for." Your brain still feels foggy as you finally look over at Wriothesley who's crouching beside the bed, giving you enough space to breathe yet still having his hands all over you, not wanting to let you go. Nonetheless, you're able to notice the tension in his posture, in his facial expressions. "Just try to relax, alright? You're okay now." his hand shifts to your hair, fingers combing through the messy strands until they settle on your scalp, soothingly massaging you there. "You did good. It was too much, wasn't it?"

"Couldn't breathe." you whisper and realise that you feel so small in his presence, but not in an inferior way. Wriothesley may look all brutish and intimidating with a strength that could crush any allegedly impenetrable door in the fortress, but you're well aware that he would never use that strength against people that he cares about. "And, uhm-"

Piercing blue eyes watch as you nervously fiddle with the blanket that he has covered you with. But the little peck he gives you on your shoulder tells you that he wants to let you have a breather and take as much time as you need to sort your thoughts. "You seemed a-angry. You were so quiet and, I don't know. It was..."

"Scary?" he finishes for you, a gentle and reassuring smile plastered on his face that alleviates the pressure on your chest.

"Yeah."

Silence invades the bedroom for a short moment, making you forget that you're miles beneath the water surface, that the room which you share with him belongs to a prison, that a few moments prior your body has been in a fight-or-flight mode. The silence reminds you that you're safe and that all of this, all of him, is home. "Will you come back to bed? And hold me?"

Wriothesley's eyes soften at your request and the timid sound of your voice. "Of course, my love." His knees pop when he eventually gets up, pressing a fleeting kiss on your temple before he picks his pants up from the floor and puts them on. Despite the previous events, you can't help but feel a light heat creep up your neck when you get a sight of his naked buttocks.

"Careful with those wandering eyes. I might think you want to continue where we left off." Wriothesley chuckles when you pull the blanket over your head, a futile attempt to hide your embarrassed expression.

"Come here." the mattress dips beside you and you let him tug the blanket off your head. The warmth and smell of his make you sigh in contentment once he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. "I'm the one who should apologise. I was not aware of how much I was hurting you."

The teasing smirk and brief leisurely attitude are gone, replaced by a seriousness that you usually only get to see when he's handling work related matters. He kisses your face again and again, further silent apologies that he hopes will lessen the pain inside your chest. And his. "I was a little irritated, yes, but that had nothing to do with you. Some inmates got their hands on a few bottles of wine." he explains. "Those drunkards started spewing lots of nonsense when I confronted them about it."

What did they say?" you inquire quietly, your eyes slowly but surely feeling heavier. With a palm against his naked chest, you notice the rapid heartbeat but decide to not give it any mind, since Wriothesley's tender strokes along your back are truly not making it easy for you to stay awake and think straight.

He stops his movements for a short moment, clenching and unclenching his fist as his eyes trail over the red, irritated skin of his knuckles.

"Your grace has turned quite soft." "Your little mouse must be doing a great job in bed, huh?" "Why don't you lend her to us? I'm sure we could teach her a thing or two?"

"Nothing you should worry your head about." his voice is merely a whisper as his lips move against your forehead before he buries his nose in your hair and resumes to trace more soothing shapes on your lower back.

a/n : thank you for your patience, dear anon! hope you'll see this since your request has been sitting for a while in my inbox-