#even picked some colors from his covers

[no-side-us]

Without speaking, Holmes examined it with care. Finally he shook one of the dimpled fists which waved in front of him. “Good-bye, little man. You have made a strange start in life. Nurse, I should wish to have a word with you in private.”

Little art of Holmes and the baby cause I thought it was really cute.

[xiao-come-home]

Thinking about Neuvillette finally starting a relationship with you and the melusines immediately noticing it,,

The Chief of Justice, although still seemingly appearing as the cold judge from the courtroom - softens his gaze at the sight of flowers, stopping by a merchant who offers them freshly picked.

The melusines quickly catch on; after all, the judge always tended to leave straight to his home after a long day of work. His amethyst-colored eyes scan the plants carefully, ordering a beautiful bouquet. People who pass Neuvillette by think nothing of it - if anything, better not to disturb him - but the tiny creatures observing him from afar can't stop wagging their tails excitedly, noticing a warm smile appearing on his lips.

The melusines notice how quickly the rain stops after trials. Back when the rain poured down until the sun rose the next day, now it takes a few hours less.

The little creatures hide behind corners and observe both of you; they gasp and cover their mouths when they see Neuvillette kissing your hand goodbye, quickly shushing others.

Every single one of them notices that the chief’s aura glows with happiness; slowly, some people do as well - they greet him with smile, and Neuvillette reciprocates it.

The melusines giggle to themselves when they see you and Neuvillette together, sometimes loud enough for you to turn around and laugh yourself; their cheeks turn rosy, and before they run away - they mutter an apology and storm off to share the news to others.

But when you finally make it official, they SWARM you. They offer to help you with shopping bags, to accompany you to make sure you’re safe, some even offer to do your hair. Small hands wave eagerly when they notice you. They stop by just to cling to your leg and hug it tightly, and you can’t help but ruffle their hair. They offer you their most prized possessions - after all, you’re the same to Neuvillette… or that’s how they understand it.

The melusines craft a special ribbon for you, so you and Neuvillette could match.

It seems like they love you just as much and Neuvillette couldn’t be happier.

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x single mom!reader; your ceiling is leaking at 3 in the morning and you don't know what to do so you go ask for help from the man across the hallway(inspired by real life events that were not nearly so charming).

no need to have read the others in the series but can be read as a week or two after the aquarium date.

cw: Sukuna being a menace

Sukuna had always been a light sleeper so when there were knocks on his door at 3am, he was up instantly. The knocks weren't even loud but he found himself annoyed enough to stomp to the door. If he wasn't sleeping, the people below him didn't need to be either.

He yanked his door open, prepared to make whoever it was regret every moment of their existence but it was you, holding your daughter and clearly on the verge of tears.

You seemed contrite when you saw his expression but before you could even start to apologize, he was slipping on his boots and grabbing his key.

"What's wrong," he asked.

"It-it's the ceiling, I woke up and it was leaking water. It's getting everywhere and I don't know what to do and the landlord isn't picking up."

Sukuna rubbed your arm, trying to give you some comfort and you relaxed a little.

"Okay, let me come take a look. I can call the super, he's probably more likely to answer than the landlord." You nodded and he followed you back to your place. Holding his hand out to stop you at the door as he made to go in first.

Sukuna heard the water pouring in before he saw it. He had never been in your apartment before. It was clear that a woman there. There was color everywhere, more blankets than made sense for two people and the walls were covered in photos and artwork. It felt soft, it reminded him of you. And now, it was being ruined by water raining down from the ceiling.

"Why don't you wait in my apartment. You both look like you could use some rest. I'll sort this out," he said, handing over his key. You looked ready to protest but then your daughter started crying.

"Go, I got it."

You looked so relieved and he wiped away a few tears from your daughter's face and pressed a kiss to her forehead which helped bring the tears down to a more tolerable snuffling.

"Thank you so much, I don't even-"

"Don't worry about it. You two just go settle in the guest room and I'll wake you up when it's settled."

You smiled at him and you seemed to hesitate before you went up on your toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

Sukuna couldn't stop himself from grinning as you took your daughter out the door and towards his apartment. He turned around to look at the mess that was your apartment. It looked like a pipe must have burst in the apartment above yours. Annoying, but a quick fix when caught this early. He grabbed his phone, opening it to call the super before a thought came to him that just wouldn't leave.

It would be a shame if you had to terminate your lease because of unsafe conditions, after all you must still have a good six months left on it. He knew you didn't have any family in the area and it would be a lot for a working mom with a kid as young as yours to go apartment hunting all the sudden.

Of course, he did have that guest room. Plenty of space for the three of you and it wouldn't be hard to bring over the stuff you needed while you looked. His apartment was bigger than yours, even though it was just him.

Even if it was a tight fit, his lease was up at the end of the year anyway. You could always get a bigger space, one for your soon to be growing family.

Sukuna pocketed his phone and took a seat at your dining table, away from the water. He figured it would only take another hour before the damage passed the point of no return.

He hoped you and your daughter were resting well in your new home.

[radiance1]

Damian: [brushing his teeth]

The shadow hanging over his shoulder: [Gets its teeth dangerously close to Damian's shoulder]

Damian: [Shoves a toothbrush into said shadow move and starts brush]

The shadow: [Pauses before starting to let out a contented purr]

Damian then spits out the foam and washes out his mouth, then makes the shadow do the same and then picks out pjs.

Damian: [Currently decided if he should go with the cat, dog, or knife imprinted one]

The shadow: [Starts getting dangerously close to Damian with, toxic green spirals it calls eyes]

Damian: [Throws the dog imprinted one behind him at the shadow and takes the cat imprinted one for himself and tells the shadow to put it on]

The shadow: [Stares at the clothes before hesitantly putting them on before letting out a noise of distress]

Damian: [Turning around to find the shadow somehow stuck in the pjs, lets out a sigh, then starts to help them fit]

Damian then moves over to the bed, he points to one side and tells the shadow to go there. The shadow listens, laying down as Damian also lays down, grabbing the sheets and covering them both.

It barely took a few seconds for the shadow to fall asleep, and Damian stared at it. Damian wasn't quite sure why the shadow of his dead twin was following him, nor why it was even able to and seemed to hide itself from anyone who isn't Damian.

Nobody besides him knew about it, and Damian decided that he liked it. This could have been his younger brother, if the other had survived, and they would have probably been told to fight to the death to decide an heir.

At the very least, that won't ever happen.

Even if his brother was slightly unusual.

===

Danny did not remember much of the before, he remembered people with blurred faces and features, blurred colors. He remembered a lot of colors, then red, then white, then pain.

He doesn't like pain, he believes.

Then he remembered going to sleep, and then he woke up. It was dark and slimy and cramped when he woke up, especially when he realized someone else was in their with him.

Then he fell asleep again, then woke up to that same dark and slimy place, then fell asleep again, all in some weird cycle. Then, moving, and pain.

It hurt, and he was sluggish when it eventually stopped. Then came pain again, and he was asleep.

Then he woke up, again.

He didn't know what was happening, wasn't really aware of too. But he woke up next to the other who was in that dark and slimy with him, and decided he wanted to stay with them.

He wasn't aware enough for most of the things that happened when Damian grew up, but he still stayed regardless, and hide from everyone else.

Danny loves his brother, and he thinks his brother loves him too. Even if he was slightly unusual.

[moonchildstyles]

pleasing

y/n is harry's best friend and she'd never received a valentine's present like this one before.

wordcount: 9.5k+

—————

Just as she finished patting in her skincare for the night, (Y/N)'s phone vibrated for where she had it plugged in, in her bedroom. There was only one person that would be calling her this late at night. 

Dismissing the products she had scattered on her bathroom counter, she rushed back into her room. Upon the screen was a blurry, distorted picture of her best friend with his hair on top of his head in different spikes, thanks for a heaping of sticky hair gel and free time during a snowstorm. His name was plastered across the top, the peapod emoji right next to it. She didn't hesitate before she answered the call. 

"Harry?" she sang after pressing her phone to her ear.

"Hey, are you busy?" 

"I'm just getting ready for bed. Why?" 

"Can I FaceTime you?" 

She barely had time to give a yes before the call switched to a FaceTime in her hand, her screen lighting up a beat later. In front of her was the top half of his face, revealing only his eyes and up. His hair was pulled back with a claw clip, the angle showing off the length of his lashes and the furrow of his brow. 

(Y/N) could see herself in the small box in the corner of the screen, showing off a rather similar angle to what he was giving, though she thought hers was much less flattering somehow. 

"Hello?" 

The furrow in her best friend's brow decreased at the sound of her voice, giving away the smile that was spreading across his lips even if she couldn't see it on screen. 

"Can y'see me?" he asked, his voice sounding muffled and far away. 

"Yes, but I can barely hear you. Are you covering your speakers?" 

Her world went askew as Harry shuffled his phone in his hand, his mouth set in a comical frown for a glimpse before he righted his grip and was back with the half view of his face. "Sorry, can y'hear me now?" 

She hummed a confirmation, smiling to the camera. "What did you want to show me?" 

Harry's cheeks lifted, giving away the hint of a dimple in the corner of the frame. "I have new samples." 

A gasp fell from (Y/N) lips, excitement filling her. "For the collection?! Or different ones?" 

"For the collection." 

Her excitement only rose at the new information. "Let me see!" she bubbled, eagerly curling up on her bed, ready to spend the next hour poring over the new development with Harry.

After a small struggle and a lagging view of Harry's face, the camera suddenly turned to show a view of prototype nail polish bottles and first prints of shimmery nail stickers laid out on his black bedding. 

Even in the low light of his room, (Y/N) could see flecks of glitter in a few of the polishes, the stickers glimmering in the shapes of hearts and flowers. The colors themselves ranged from quiet pastels to vivid brights, some left creamy, others containing barely-there shimmers, and the remainders boasting chunky bright glitters. The collection was large, containing two sets of polishes: one set was full of delicate pastels ranging in the pink family, with the other championing rich, clinging colors. The first iterations of the polish packaging came with the iconic spheres on the tops of the bottles, though this collection featured watercolor petals draped over the shape, leaving the illusion of flowers encased in the bottle all in the same color as the polish inside. 

"What do you think?" 

(Y/N) was sure he could see the wide set to her eyes, the way she was practically fawning over them already. "H, I love it! This is for the Valentine's collection, right?" 

"Something like that, yeah," he answered, his smile evident in his voice, "I figured y'liked the pink ones." 

"I do," she chirped, bringing her phone closer as if she could gain a clearer look of each shade that way. "Put your phone closer, I want to see the colors and the stickers better." 

Harry did just that without hesitation, bringing his phone to his bed, though he went a step further and picked up the stickers to show off in front of the camera. 

Gasping, (Y/N)'s brows bounced over her eyes when she took in the sticker sheet. 

"Harry." 

"What?" 

"Are those bows?!" 

He only laughed.

—————

"Goodnight, (Y/N). I'll talk to you tomorrow." 

"Talk to you tomorrow, H," (Y/N) yawned, unabashedly showing off a downturned angle of the moment while Harry watched on. "Let me know if you want to get dinner later this week. Love you." 

His heart squeezed in his chest at her casual declaration. "Love you, too." 

With that, the video of her sleepy face disappeared, showing only the simple photo he had saved to his lockscreen. Harry's gaze lingered on the empty space for a heartbeat, just a split second away from calling her back despite the late hour and the fact she'd been half asleep before he'd suggested she head to bed. He forced himself to lock his phone and set it on his bedside table, keeping it out of sight and hopefully out of mind. 

Still spread out on his bed, where he had sprawled out his limbs and grew comfortable amongst the bedding, were the new Pleasing products he had been so eager to show off. Everything was still in the test package, nothing completely finalized or one hundred percent polished just yet, but he'd been too excited. He'd shared the concept with (Y/N) ages ago, right after he'd made it out of a meeting with Harry Lambert and Molly, unable to keep the secret under wraps—especially when he found his own inspiration for the collection. 

(Y/N). 

It had been Molly's idea to unveil a Valentine's themed collection after the small set of apparel that would be released around his birthday, hoping to tap into another facet of him that was so beloved to the public. She had in mind something that would commemorate the love songs he was so famous for; the kind of sweetheart, love-sick energy that he often utilized to make his most memorable lyrics and showcased on stage.

As she had gone on, sharing what kind of feeling she wanted to invoke for the season's rollout, Harry was only thinking of his own inspiration. 

It was the same thing that inspired his music, his attitude, his want to improve and be more and more than he started as. 

His best friend. 

He saw his own idea for the collection coming in flashes of her favorite colors, the shade of the dress she wore to his birthday party, the hue of her eyes, the colors that falling in love with her made him see in the world. He could see her with her fingernails proudly painted in his brand, the way she always did when Pleasing made something new just so she could support him. There were already prototypes of new apparel, manicure stickers, and campaign designs forming in his head. 

Harry had come away from that meeting with plenty of ideas to think on, and lyrics forming that he hoped he wouldn't forget before he had a chance to write them down. 

Months later, he had enough ideas for more than one micro-collection. Each one had been passed by Molly and Harry Lambert—both being excited and surprised that there was so much to be used and saved for later collections—leaving with a duo of aesthetics they planned on basing the campaign around. 

That was what he had shown (Y/N) tonight, and was now spread across his bedspread as he tried to calm down his winding heart after their late night call. He kept seeing her face when she spotted the romantic set that was directly inspired by her, the way her eyes lit up when she took in the shades of pink and the shimmery accents. That had been the kind of reaction he had been hoping for when he received the initial samples. 

Collecting each piece, he took his time pulling each bottle, rolling them in his hands with bubbles floating through the polish. He wondered if (Y/N) would catch the connections when he revealed the names to her. He wondered if she would know that he named this shimmery soft pink Woman with her in mind, including inspiration from a song he penned that now was soaked in her memory. The buttery yellow with golden reflects dubbed Home, would she know that was based on the golden dress she wore the first time she saw him on tour? The rich, creamy red he'd called Feast, he hoped she'd see the lipstick she wore the first time they met in the shade. 

He lingered over the bottles, all eight shades invoking a specific memory that went into the creation. Carefully replacing them in the drawer with the rest of his Pleasing pieces, ensuring nothing clinked together too hard with the sticker bundle staying together, he allowed himself a moment with the full collection under the bright light of his bathroom. It was near perfect, seeing it all together. All that was left to sample was the apparel that had been drafted up a few weeks prior with Harry Lambert's guidance, and the extra accessories they were debating on adding in the collection.

He had a feeling (Y/N) would fight to take the samples from him. The idea had a small smile spreading on his lips by the time he was flicking his bathroom light off and padding back to his room. 

By the time Harry bundled himself in his bedding, his phone settled away in his bedside table, he shuttered his eyes though he could still see the ghost of (Y/N)'s excited face on the inside of his eyelids. Just as much as he hoped she would notice the names of the polishes, catch the fact that the stickers were an ode to her, the apparel made with her form in mind, scents formulated to sweep over her skin, he feared she wouldn't notice in the same way she'd never noticed him in the way he wanted. 

Did she remember the yellow dress she wore to the first live show she could make it to? (Y/N) barely ever wore lipstick these days, did she even have that tube of red anymore? Did she ever listen to Woman and hear the words he was too scared to say to her every time she introduced him to a new boyfriend?

The idea needled at the center of his chest just as it always had when he was reminded that he was years into an infatuation that had no sign of ending either from sweet reciprocation or his heart moving on.

Nonetheless, he thought, grasping at positivity as always, he was going to revel in the reactions she gave him as if it were for himself. Those delicate compliments and the joyous excitement, he would hold tight as if they were for who he was and not something that he made. 

And, probably try to convince her to be a part of the product shoot. 

—————

      i'm here !! 🍣🍣

(Y/N) pocketed her phone as she approached the small gate surrounding Harry's home, the concrete divider and plethora of greenery giving privacy to the space. The bag of takeaway sushi hung at her side, the hood of her coat lifted over her head in case there was anyone around hoping to spot a glimpse of Harry's personal life and spin whatever tale. 

She didn't have to check if her text went through, having to wait only a moment before she heard him make his way from his front door and going through the protective greenery. "(Y/N)," he sang through the trees, the syllables of her name sifting through the plants. 

"Harry," she reciprocated, a smile spreading across her lips at the familiar greeting. 

Swinging open the gate, Harry welcomed her in with his hair held back in a familiar flower clip and dimples thumbed into his cheeks. She quickly stepped over the threshold, heading towards his porch while he locked the gate behind her. Only a beat after the click of the lock sounded, he fell into step beside her, hooking an arm around her shoulders. 

"Hi," he smiled, dimples clear on his cheeks as he gazed down at her. 

"Hi," she answered, her own features curling and softening. Feeling his eyes on her face, she took on the responsibility of guiding them towards the front door without stumbling through his garden. "Sorry I'm late. The sushi place was packed for some reason today." 

"Yeah?" he sounded, voice decidedly softer than just a beat before, "'M sorry. I would have gone if I'd known it would be that busy." 

"It's alright," she told him, leading them through his front door to which he dropped his arm from around her to instead shut and lock the door, "I just figured it wouldn't be so bad since they just opened, but everyone else probably had the same idea."

Placing the takeaway bag on the coffee table, (Y/N) shed her jacket and the knitted beanie covering her head. She had another question on her lips as she turned to face Harry once more, though that line died once she took in his outfit for the day. 

"What are you wearing?" 

A small smile spread over his lips at her words though he didn't offer his own response. 

His legs were covered in athletic joggers, the same heather green ones he always seems to be wearing lately, but that wasn't what caught her attention. Draped over his torso was a delicately pink crewneck, thick and warm, with Pleasing scripted across the center of the chest in a mauve shimmer. 

"That's new, isn't it?" she prodded, stepping towards him with her eyes on the shimmering puff print on the crewneck. He had mentioned something about adding apparel to the polish collection she'd been shown last week, but he didn't offer any specific details. 

"Maybe," he teased, "Do you like it?" 

Reaching his arms out, he let her see the full piece, including the glittery stitching that ran through the garment and drew her eyes along his form. She stepped towards him, running a finger along the seam at the cuff of the sleeve. 

"I love it," she smiled, "I didn't know you were making these." 

"I know—I wanted it to be a surprise," he told her, his arm flexing under her fingertip before dropping back to his side with his hands sliding into his pockets, "I know you've been wanting a pink one since the first set came out, so I thought it was finally time." 

"For Valentine's Day?" she bubbled, thinking back to the samples he'd shown off to her the week before. 

Something flashed over his eyes as they dropped from hers, taking in the rest of her features. "Something like that, yeah." 

"Do you have any more?" Before he even answered, she couldn't help herself but to start edging towards the stairs bordering the wall behind her. 

A plume of laughter fell from Harry's lips, catching her with his palm landing on her arms before she could scurry away. "No," he drawled as he pulled her back towards him, "But, you can have this one if y'want." 

"Are you sure?" she asked, eyes wide as she fixed her gaze on him, hands on his chest over the puff print of the lettering. "I don't want to take it if this is the only one you're testing right now." 

Harry shrugged her off, his hands on her arms sliding down in a lingering drag before they finally fell back to his sides. "'S alright. No one knows yet, anyway." 

Tucking her bottom lip between her teeth, (Y/N) dropped her gaze from his to peruse over the glimmering neckline of the crewneck. "I don't want you to get it in trouble, though, if you give it away." 

He scrunched his features, shaking his head as if what she said was completely incredulous. "(Y/N), I made it for you." 

His words were cemented as he began pulling the piece off completely, leaving him in only the vintage shirt he'd had on underneath, the print faded and unfamiliar. He shoved the garment in her arms, a waft of his scent enveloping her. 

(Y/N) hesitated for long enough that Harry had to have noticed, prompting him to set a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Really, lovie. 'S alright. I don't want y'to have to wait to get your own." 

Relenting, she fell into his chest, Harry wrapping his arms around her with a laugh rumbling his chest under her cheek. "Thanks, H. I promise I won't wear it out or anything until you announce it, though." 

She could feel him smile when he buried his nose into her hair, his arms pulsing around her a snug embrace. 

For a brief moment, (Y/N) let her eyes close as she sunk into his arms. The fragrance of his washing detergent and the lingering scent of his cologne that had sunk into every fiber of his home washed over her. There were times she could see her friendship with Harry moving into territory she'd been too fearful to even explore in her imagination, but feeling his embrace and the words I made it for you ringing in her ears, she could be coaxed to imagine a lot of things with him.

Before she could run too far away in her head, she drew away with a bright smile, hoping he didn't catch the warmth under her skin. 

"We need to eat before our soup gets cold," she told him, stepping towards the couch with her new crewneck in her arms. 

Harry followed after her, becoming a warm shadow as he took his seat next to her. It wasn't until all of the containers were distributed out from the bag, and (Y/N)'s new sweatshirt was folded carefully at her side that he peeked at her from where he was stirring his miso soup. 

"I do have one condition with the crewneck," he murmured, taking a spoonful of tofu and seaweed. (Y/N), her own mouth full with a wonton, raised her brow in response. Taking his time to swallow, his words hanging in the air for a beat, Harry finally followed up with, "We might need an extra model for the Valentine's campaign."

"Okay," (Y/N) mumbled, a furrow pinching at her brows. "Do you need me to ask someone? I think I still have a couple of numbers of some of the people from your music videos if you want me to reach out." 

A sheepish smile touched at the corners of Harry's lips. "No, I mean... Would you want to be a model? The shoots in a few weeks, so." 

Pushing her chopsticks against the wontons floating in her soup, (Y/N) wasn't sure how to respond. "H, you know I'm not a model or anything—like, you remember that, right?" 

He laughed at her remark. "Yes, I remember. This one's going to be really special, though, and a lot of fun. I want you to be in it—if you're comfortable." 

She mulled over his words, rolling the short I want you around her head. "And this is a condition of taking the crewneck home with me today?" 

A single dimple touched his cheek. "Something like that," he tilted his head, stirring his miso soup into a slow vortex, "I am doing you a favor, aren't I?" 

She nudged his shoulder with her own, rolling her eyes. "You said it was made for me, how is it a favor to give it to me?" she teased, only shaking her head when he laughed at her. 

A beat passed before Harry returned his eyes to her, his features softened and warm. "Really, it would mean a lot to me if y'were a part of this shoot. At least think about it?" 

"I can do that," she compromised, seeing her best friend in front of her even if his words touched a separate part of her shoved into a box in the back of her mind, "I'll think about it, and let you know." 

It was the way that his smile bloomed across his features, something bright unfurling in his eyes that (Y/N) was sure she already had her decision pocketed away. 

—————

As Molly stood in front of the slew of models and talent sitting in wait for the day, Harry stood behind her as if to read the agenda in her hands even if all he really did was sweep his eyes towards (Y/N) standing at the end of the line. 

"First up is the pink side of the campaign," Molly read off, presenting the information with a smile while others ran around behind her setting up for the double shoot that would be happening, "Nail techs will be coming around to make sure everyone has something on their nails—remember which group you're in so we get the correct colors on your nails. Hair and makeup will follow afterwards..." 

There was more Molly was saying, the outline of the day being extra exhausting given there were two different aesthetics being achieved today, but Harry was much more focused on the extra model at the shoot. 

Truly, he hadn't thought (Y/N) would accept. He knew it was much for her to be in front of a camera like this, seeing as his own need for privacy definitely had rubbed off on her, so he hadn't been surprised that she had lagged on her response for a week. It was when she had called asking about details of the shoot, wanting to know about the times and location, and just how long they would be needed on set, all followed up with a chirped I'll be there! that had surprised him. It wasn't until that call that he planned on being on set all day, having previously only meant to pop by for a few hours before leaving everyone to get the real work done without him being in the way. That was how he ended up here right at eight a.m., hair back in a pink flower clip (another accessory for the collection), and his eyes searching for (Y/N). 

"Okay, everyone go pick a station and someone from hair and makeup will come help as soon as they can!" Molly dismissed everyone with a smile before turning on her heel and looking around for Harry Lambert. 

Harry stood back with the sets coming together behind him as he watched the line of models scatter towards the lit up tables. There was only one that strayed behind, hands in a bundle at her waist with her wide eyes immediately fixing to him. He didn't hesitate before he stepped towards (Y/N), reaching out to her until his arm was slung over her shoulders. 

"Y'alright?" he murmured to her, voice low compared to the bustle happening around the set. 

"Yeah," she sighed, scanning her gaze along for the last open station, "It's just weird being on set like this when I'm not just here to watch. I don't want to mess anything up." 

He shrugged his shoulders, his arm scrunching around her as he tipped his head. "You're probably going to, but 'm sure Molly or someone will be able to fix it." 

It wasn't until she looked up at him with her mouth a gape and an accusatory light in her eyes that he broke with his laughter. His shrug became a comforting hug as he held her to his side. "'M kidding, lovie. You're going to be jus' fine—we're gonna take care of you, don't worry." 

Harry pulled out the chair to the vanity for her, catching her reflection in the mirror. There was a part of him that, while he watched her, wanted to grab a camera and get his own shots for the campaign. There was nothing more romantic—in the Valentine's spirit—than the quiet moments with a partner; the moments that made it clear they were a team.

He was tugged out of his head when he heard her speak up. "Are you going to be hanging around for the shoot today then? Or are you going home soon?" 

"I'll be here all day," he decided then, setting his hands on the back of her chair as they met eyes in the mirror.

Her gaze brightened, seemingly reflecting back the lights ringing the mirror. "Are you going to be in any of the pictures?" 

It was the bubbling of her voice, the way she beamed at him that had his own lips curling into a small smile. "Maybe." 

It wouldn't be hard to convince his team to let him sneak in a couple of shots. His nails were already done up anyway. 

Before (Y/N) could say much more, one of the three nail techs flittered to her station. Familiar bottles of polish were tucked away in her apron, the pink bottles being placed out on the vanity as she offered (Y/N) a bright smile. 

"Hi," she greeted, eyes landing on Harry for a split second before bouncing away just as quickly. "I'm Mari, I'll be doing your nails this morning. How are you?" 

"I'm (Y/N). I'm doing good, thank you," she chirped, her voice decidedly higher and sweeter than when she had been speaking with Harry a moment before. He nudged her shoulder just a bit, a silent tease. "How are you?" 

"I'm doing well, thank you for asking," Mari said, carefully looking at Harry through the fan of her lashes, "And you, Mr. Styles?" 

"I'm good, thank you," he offered, his voice low with a pleasant smile given to Mari. He could spot the small ticks that gave away just how aware she was of him, he didn't want to make her any more nervous. "I appreciate your help today, Mari. I've seen some of your work, and 'm really excited to see what you can do for us." 

Mari's tan cheeks heated with a small blush bubbling underneath, faint under her skin. "Of course. Thank you for the opportunity—really." 

Harry's smile only spread wider when he felt (Y/N) nudge against his hand, her own quiet tease over his dazzling interaction. 

Before she could fluster much more, with all of her supplies spread out on the vanity table, Mari concentrated on (Y/N) once more. "Do you remember which group you were in today, (Y/N)?" 

"I'm actually in both groups today, but I think I'm a part of the pink shoot first," (Y/N) smiled, tilting her chin upwards to peek at Harry upside down, "Right?" 

"Right," Harry affirmed. It was a lot he was putting on her plate, being in both sides of the campaign, he knew that. But, just as he had told her when he laid out the details, it meant a lot to him to see her in both aesthetics. She was the face of the collection in his mind, he couldn't imagine her not pictured in every iteration.

"Long day," Mari muttered, her features school back into a pleasant expression. She plucked her fingers through the bottles, skating over the set of pink varnishes first. "Do you have a preference for what color we use today?" 

At this, (Y/N) looked to Harry once more. "Do you? I'm okay with any of them, but is there something you want me to have for the pictures, or anything?" 

Instinctively, Harry looked to the creamy baby pink shade embedded with opal flecks. He nodded towards the bottle, "That one if that's alright."

"This one?" Mari clarified, picking up the bottle he had in mind.

"Yes, please," Harry smiled, looking towards (Y/N) with his raised brows to which she gave him a small giddy nod. "And some of the stickers if y'have them." 

A quiet gasp left (Y/N)'s lips. He knew she would like that detail. 

"Sounds perfect," Mari bleated, asking for one of (Y/N)'s hands before she started prepping for the manicure. 

With her on hand free, (Y/N) reached for the opal polish to be painted over her fingers. "Do you mind if I look?" 

"Go for it," Mari smiled, concentrating on the alcohol wipe she was swiping over (Y/N)'s nail beds. 

Rolling the bottle around her hand, (Y/N) smiled up at Harry. "Is this the final bottle?" 

"Mhm," he hummed, a sense of pride touching at the center of his chest, "We changed a couple of things from when I last showed you, but this is it." 

He watched her admire the polish, tipping the bottle to and fro as she watched the color inside bubble and shift. The glitters shown in the light, going undetected until catching a ray and sparkling a vivid pink. When he saw her tilt the bottle to catch the name stickered to the bottom, he couldn't help the pulse his hands gave to the back of her chair. 

Would she notice? Was the connecting line thick enough to spot? 

Labeled on the bottom of the bottle was the word lovie printed in white ink on the black sticker. 

"Hey," (Y/N) called, her voice lilting, "That's me!" 

She pulled the bottle towards him, showing off the proof with a warming smile on her lips. 

His lungs squeezed even as he tried to play it off, squinting at the bottle as if reading it for the first time. "It is, isn't it?" 

"Did you do that on purpose?" she asked, alternating her hands once Mari gave a small tap to her wrist. 

"Maybe," he murmured. Did he sound as breathless as he felt?

(Y/N)'s mouth pulled into a bubbly smile—just as bright and attention grabbing as the first time he met her. "Harry," she crooned his name, the syllables cradled on her tongue, "I didn't know you did that. It's so sweet." 

There was a moment where he wondered if this was the moment. Was this the moment to share that of course he would name one of these shades after her, as this whole thing was an ode to his feelings for her. Was this warehouse being used as their set the perfect place to tell her what every single shade meant to him and how it was tied to her? It wouldn't be so bad, he thought. 

Instead, Harry only bashfully shrugged, tipping his shy smile towards his feet. "'M happy y'like it." 

Settling her hands for Mari to begin painting, (Y/N) still kept her attention tipped towards Harry. "Is that why you wanted me to be in the shoot?" she asked, leaning towards where he was still stationed behind her chair, "So, there's, like, platonic love in there too for Valentine's?" 

Harry's lungs squeezed for a different reason this time. Platonic love between friends. That's why he named a polish after her in his most romantic collection to date. 

"Something like that," he settled on, hoping she didn't catch the way his smile fell just a hair. 

Though (Y/N) parted her lips to offer a response, she was cut off before she could take a breath. Harry Lambert was fluttering by the stations, keeping an eye on every model readying for the campaign before he met Harry. 

"Sue, would you help me bring in all the clothing, please?" he asked, a tenor of stress entering his voice. 

Breaking away from (Y/N)'s chair, Harry didn't hesitate before nodding his head. "Course. Where do y'need me?" 

Vaguely, Harry Lambert pointed towards the set pieces before he shook his head. "Just follow me." 

Absently, Harry tossed over his shoulder to (Y/N), "I'll be right back, lovie." 

When he heard a small okay peep from her, he looked towards her only to see her already blinking at him with admiration in her eyes. No wonder he felt so warm.

—————

Harry was sure his dimples were deep in his cheeks as he leaned over Molly's shoulder, looking at the photos popping up on the computer screen as every shot was uploaded. Unsurprisingly, his favorites were of (Y/N).

Her makeup and hair was done minimally in true Pleasing style, leaving everything sheer and pastel. Her nails were glimmering in the light, dreamy filters to be added to the shots that would accentuate the glitter in the varnish. She looked entirely too cozy in the large pink crewneck clad on her torso and the comfy lounge shorts hugging her hips. Though there was still a stiffness as she transitioned between poses, as if waiting for someone to yell at her to fix her stance, he could see her growing more and more comfortable among the set. She made friends with a few of the other models, making it much easier for her to fit into those group shots and allow her laughter to filter through the room. 

It made him feel an undeniable hint of pride seeing her grow so comfortable in front of the camera. He knew she never much preferred being in front of the camera like this, so every small breath of progress she made had his heart glowing for her. 

Watching every shot come in over Molly's shoulder, Harry was almost disappointed when the photographer called for a cut; the lighting needed to be adjusted apparently with extra props being brought in before the focus would shift to the colorful end of the campaign. He stepped back, giving however many assistants were helping out all the space they needed to take care of every minute change. 

As the models scattered, (Y/N) made a beeline back towards Harry, ushering out of the way as quickly as possible. With everyone distracted, he didn't hesitate before he draped his arms around her shoulders in a loose hug. 

"How are y'feeling?" he asked, offering her a quiet smile, "Y'look like you're having fun." 

(Y/N) leant into him, her cheek smushed against the blocked muscle of his chest. "I am, but I'm getting tired. I don't know how you do this all the time." 

A breath of laughter left his lips at her mumbling. "'S surprisingly exhausting, isn't it? Being the center of attention really takes a lot out of a person." 

"No wonder you can fall asleep anywhere," she mused, playing along, "Your life is so hard." 

"I've been trying to tell you," he smiled, pulsing his arms around her when he realized just how hard she was leaning into him. 

She'd been on her feet from the second she had her makeup and hair finished and there were still hours left of her day, even after lunch was served. As much as he was teasing, he was sure she truly was rather exhausted with this being her first time being more than a spectator on set. 

A companionable silence settled between them, Harry not needing to peek to know that she'd had shuttered her eyes while he hugged her. From the corner of his eye, there was a familiar production assistant flittering around with the polaroid camera Harry Lambert had passed off earlier in the day, tasked with documenting the day for behind-the-scenes content. Like a sixth sense, Harry swore he could feel the lens focusing on him and (Y/N), but he didn't flinch back or turn to spot the assistant. 

Instead, he stayed right where he was with (Y/N) in his arms even when the camera clicked and light flashed over the space. 

—————

"I'll be done in, like, ten minutes, 'kay?" Harry murmured, dropping his bag by the station (Y/N) had claimed for the day, "Lambert said there were only a couple of totes left, so I won't take long." 

"Okay," (Y/N) nodded, matching his eyes in the mirror as she pulled out makeup wipes, "I should be done by then." 

Harry lingered behind her for a moment, eyes bright in the reflection, before he stepped away. (Y/N) felt her skin warm in his wake, heart fumbling in its beats before she settled in her chair. She made a point to fix her attention to the makeup wipe she was skimming over her skin, keeping her eyes forward instead of following after him. 

The other models had cleared out as soon as the photographer had called for a wrap, leaving production behind to clean up and clear out for the night. Harry had, of course, volunteered to help clean as much as he could for the night causing (Y/N) to stay back with him. She had helped break down stations and pack props before finally retiring to the final standing station so she could get un-ready herself. 

From her peripheral, (Y/N) spotted Molly bustling around, trusty clipboard in hand. Catching her eye in the mirror, Molly finally paused her constant rushing with her muscles visibly relaxing. 

"I've barely been able to talk to you today," Molly said in greeting as she approached (Y/N)'s station, gifting a small hug with an arm around her shoulders. "Thank you for helping out today." 

"Of course," (Y/N) smiled, the bulbs around the mirror catching the shimmering stickers on her nails that only made her smile stretch wider. "Thank you for letting me be a part of the shoot. I had a lot of fun." 

Molly shifted her weight and leant against (Y/N)’s chair, her features softened. "I could tell. Harry was so worried for you this morning," she shared, "He felt bad, like he had made you say yes when you didn't really want to do this." 

Wiping the light mascara off her eyes, (Y/N) shrugged, "You know it's not really my thing, but he said this one was really important to him. I'm really happy I did it, though—the collection is gorgeous, you guys really did so well with this one." 

 "All of the ideas were H's, so I can't really take any credit for it. Lambert and I just put it all in production," Molly shared, fondness on her features. "We only told him we wanted to do a Valentine's inspired collection, and he already had all of these ideas. We weren't planning to do a dual release, but he'd had so many that he wanted to add that it turned into what we have now." 

"He didn't tell me that," (Y/N) chirped, feeling herself begin to soften. She had known Harry had a large hand in the creative side of these collections, but she hadn't known that he had brought all of the ideas to the table for this one. "I don't know where he gets all of his inspiration between writing and everything with this. He never stops." 

(Y/N)'s teasing comment prompted Molly to laugh along with her, both of them familiar with how hard Harry tended to push himself both creatively and physically. 

"Like, you don't know," Molly said, amusement carrying over her words. 

A pinch touched at (Y/N)'s brows, her hand slowing over her skin to leave her mascara as only smudges under her eyes. "What do you mean?" 

It was Molly's turn to cant her head, her lashes fluttering as she blinked at (Y/N)'s reflection. "I thought that was why you decided to finally be a part of the shoot. That Harry told you." 

For a heartbeat, (Y/N) swore she was in some kind of movie scene. The theatrics of the moment seemed to be blown out of proportion, if only in her eyes. 

"Told me about what?" 

At this, Molly seemingly realized that she may have hinted at something (Y/N) hadn't known anything about. She pursed her lips as if she wanted to keep in her next words, but both of them knew she didn't have much of a choice now that she had started on this avenue. 

"That it's you—the inspiration for the collection. He wasn't very good at hiding it before he finally just told Lambert. All of the shades have something to do with you." 

(Y/N) was hyper aware of Molly's words, even if the sound of her heart pumping began to flood through her ears. 

Strings began to connect throughout the last month since he initially showed her the samples of the polishes. The crew neck he claimed he made with her in mind. The dual collection having four different shades of her favorite color—a fact about her he knew without a doubt. The varnish named after the pet name he had dubbed her as throughout the years, something he had immediately tied to her when she had pointed it out just that morning. 

Maybe it was the new information getting to her head, but more and more pieced itself together. That lingering look he gave her in the mirror just moments earlier felt like more evidence, including the way he held her between shots today, tiny moments that didn't feel out of the ordinary for him. Now those memories could be tinted in rose as moments that were only ordinary because it was between the two of them. 

"Oh," (Y/N) simply sounded, dropping her eyes from Molly's with a flutter of her lashes.

A beat passed before Molly piped up with an apology in her tone. "I'm sorry, (Y/N). I thought you knew, or I wouldn't have said anything." 

"No, no, don't be sorry!" (Y/N) rushed, turning in her seat to match her eyes truly, "It's okay, I'm just surprised." 

Casting her eyes around the dwindling room, Molly lowered her voice by the time she matched (Y/N)'s gaze once more. "Good surprise?" 

Before (Y/N) could give an answer—one she wasn't even sure of—Harry joined their group, He reached towards his bag on the vanity, lookin at the two women with a question in his eyes. "Did you need a couple more minutes?" he asked, not-so-discreetly looking at the shadows left under (Y/N)'s eyes. 

She could feel her stilted smile on her lips, but (Y/N) hoped Harry wouldn't notice. "Why? Did I miss something?" 

Molly made a quiet getaway with a quick pat to Harry's shoulder, taking his attention for a moment as he gave a small way and murmured his goodbye. For a split second, Molly shot (Y/N) a sheepish glance before she was hustling through the space once more. 

When Harry returned to (Y/N), his gaze was scrutinizing this time, a pinch to his brows as he ducked his head to be level with her. 

"I don't think so, no," he said, answering her teasing remark. Reaching out, he gently dragged his fingertips over the soft skin of her under eye, picking up some of the smudgy mess on the pads of his fingers. Her breath caught in her throat at the touch, a stillness touching her muscles she hoped he wouldn't catch. He made a show of inspecting his hands with a comically deep frown on his lips. "Thought I saw something, but, no, y'got it all. Ready to go?" 

Looking at her through the fan of his lashes, (Y/N) saw the teasing gleam to his eyes, though she swore there was something more floating in his irises. 

Had that always been there?

"Um," she mumbled, dropping back into the moment, "Yeah, I'm ready." 

The amusement in Harry's eyes faded at her stilted answer. Creases appeared between his eyes as he gazed at her, his bag loose in his hand. "Y'alright?" 

"Yeah," she attempted to chirp, hopping out of her chair, "I think the day is just catching up to me and all. Just got really tired." 

"Well, then," he started, standing to the full of his height before slinging an arm over her shoulder, "let's get y'home, lovie." 

When he gave a small pulse to the cuff of her shoulder, his fingers denting the soft of her arm, (Y/N) tried to remember if it always felt that charged when he touched her. 

—————

"Hey, you." 

Harry held back a sigh when (Y/N) reached his open arms, burying his nose into her hair as she wrapped her arms around his middle. He settled instead for shuttering his eyes and sinking into her hold. It'd been a long week since he'd seen her last after taking her home after the Pleasing shoot; both he and (Y/N) seemed to be too busy to send more than a few texts to one another throughout the day. It wasn't a secret to him that (Y/N) was the brightest party of his day, but he hadn't realized just how good he had it until she had pulled back those days. 

"How are you?" (Y/N) murmured, her voice muffled from the way her cheek was squished against his chest, "I feel like I've barely talked to you since last week." 

"Me too," he said, drawing away just enough to see her face with his arms a warm loop around her, "I've been alright, though. You?" 

Her eyes skated down his features long enough Harry swore he could feel her gaze like a touch from her hand. His skin warmed in her wake, a pinkened blush surely rising to the surface of his cheeks. 

"I've been good," she finally answered, the heartbeat between his question and her response seeming hours long instead of mere seconds. "Just tired still. I feel like I haven't recovered from last weekend, yet." 

"'M not surprised, y'worked hard." Harry dropped himself back into the moment, clearing his throat. "Molly emailed me some preliminary shots the other day." 

Perking up in his arms, her eyes brightening. "She did? How did they look?" 

A lopsided smile poked at the corner of his mouth. "I can show you, if y'want. Jus' need to grab m'laptop from m'room." 

All it took was a giddy nod from her and a quiet yes, please! that had him untangling from her arms and heading towards his room.

As much as he wanted to stay right where he was in her arms, he needed a breath of air. Perhaps distance, no matter how small it was, really did make the heart grow fonder and Harry wasn't immune to the effects. 

His paces were measured as he scaled his stairs to his bedroom, grabbing his laptop from where it was charging on the side of his bed. The email in question wasn't hard to find, especially since one of his favorite shots—the polaroid one production assistant had nabbed of he and (Y/N) snuggling during a break—was now his home screen on his phone. (And, one of (Y/N)'s official shots was now her contact photo). 

Heading downstairs, he found her already making herself at home on his couch. With a blanket his mom had knitted for him thrown over her legs, she was scrolling through her phone despite the streaming service pulled up on his television. 

"Comfy already, lovie?" he laughed, crossing from the landing to take his own spot next to her. 

"A little," she answered, decidedly reserved in her teasing. That had been much of how it was this past week, (Y/N) too distracted, or tired, or whatever it was to play with him too much. He hoped it truly was nothing more than being a little tired. 

Leaning in close, he settled his laptop on his thighs as he pulled up the attachments.  Beginning to card through the photos, he offered a short explanation, "They're not edited completely yet, but we've got some of the effects added. We're still picking which shots are going to be used for the site and which will be used for the socials, but it all turned out really well." 

Even as every picture lit up his screen, the pad of his finger on the touchpad, Harry favored watching (Y/N)'s reactions as opposed to looking at the shots themselves. He wanted to know if she loved it as much as he did. 

The bright colors cast washes of pale color over her skin, shining like the moon at times with others giving a petal softness to the high points of her face. He could tell when a picture of her appeared with the way she rolled her lips between her teeth, a quiet bashfulness softening the edges of her features. 

"Wait, wait, go back," (Y/N) asked, leaning forward as if to get a closer look at a missed photo. 

Peeling his gaze away from her profile, Harry looked to his laptop to see the photo that had caught her attention was the same one that he favored. An artistically framed shot of their polaroid filled his screen, the nature of the camera already giving fuzzied edges to their forms, an extra set of dreamy editing adding that much more to the sight. 

"Y'like this one?" he murmured, a delicate edge to his voice. 

"When did they take this one?" she asked, her voice a quiet whisper for only him to hear. 

"During that break, remember? Lambert and Molly had an assistant going around to get production shots, and they caught us," he smiled, reliving that moment with her in his arms and the warmth of her form against his, "We're thinking about using this in one of the social shots." 

(Y/N) was silent then, her eyes flitting over every pixel that made up the photo. He hadn't expected her to go so quiet. 

"But, we don't have to use it if y'don't want to," Harry carefully offered, already rearranging the composition of the offered rollout to accommodate her if she was so uncomfortable. "I can talk to Mo—" 

"No, no, that's not—" she started, stumbling some through her words when she managed to meet his eyes finally, "I just... Can I ask you something?" 

The connotations of the phrase had Harry's heart fumbling and palms sweating right away. "'Course. What is it?" 

Hesitating as she rolled her lips between her teeth, (Y/N) let his words hang between them for a few heartbeats too long. 

"Molly told me something after the shoot," she started, her words careful and calculated, "I wanted to know if it was true." 

He couldn't imagine what Molly would have shared that would have had (Y/N) so cryptic and unsure. "Okay," he offered, drawling over the word. 

"She said..." (Y/N) paused, dropping her eyes from his until they landed on the hollow of his throat—a safe place to look when she was too afraid of his reaction. His palms became that much more clammy. "She said something about how this collection was about... me. That you told Harry that you had all these ideas because they were from me." 

In the same moment that time attempted to stop, everything in Harry's body went into overdrive. Was it safe to feel his heartbeat in the base of his throat? Was it normal to want to suck in more air than his lungs needed? 

What was he supposed to say to that?

More importantly: what answer did (Y/N) want to hear? 

Would she be excited to hear that yes, everything Molly had told her was true and he just didn't know how to tell her himself. It was easier to manifest it all into cute little nail polishes and matching stickers. Or did she want him to say no, Molly's imagination had run a bit too wild, or she had heard him wrong, or, or, or—

"Yes," he suddenly blurted out, his mouth ahead of his brain. 

(Y/N) blinked at him. Her eyes floated back to his, bewildered at his blunt answer. "Yes, it's true?" 

The dam that was his filter had too big of a crack to be properly repaired, it appeared. There was no holding back the river. 

"Yes," he affirmed, a weight in his chest pushing the words out before he could offer more thought, "The—um—the yellow one with the gold glitter, it matches the dress y'wore the first time y'came to one of m'shows. And, pink is your favorite color, so I wanted to make as many different ones as we could so you'd have as many as y'wanted to wear. I don't even know if y'have this lipstick anymore, but the red was to match the one y'were wearing when we met. A-All of them are for—about you." 

By the time he managed to zip his lips, there was still plenty to be said but he figured the rambling was more than enough to both humiliate himself and put (Y/N) on the spot. 

The longer she didn't say anything in response, the more Harry sweat. His thoughts were nothing but a swirl heading down a drain, too heavy and incoherent to make sense of.

"(Y/N), I—I didn't m—" 

As quick as he opened his mouth like a guppy, fumbling over his words, he was silenced with (Y/N) pressing her kiss to his lips. 

It was startling at first, taking every ribbon holding him together unraveled, turning him into a scramble. It was only when he felt a careful smile spread over her mouth and she drew away a hair that Harry came alive. 

This was what he'd dreamt of, why was he wasting it? 

Molding his lips to hers, Harry tasted the soft curve of her cupid's bow when he tucked his bottom lip between her two. Faint traces of a fruity chapstick remained on her mouth, though the only taste he got was her. There was no other way to describe the fragrance other than it being (Y/N). Every soft parting and letting of their mouths gave him a rush of that essence, pulling him in deeper and deeper each time. 

The laptop on his thighs was a forgotten object as he turned his body to face her, the device sliding somewhere among the cushions of his couch. His hand landed carefully on the soft of her cheek, feeling a warmth blooming in her skin under his palm. He could feel every pacing of her muscles, feeling how her body moved for no other purpose than to kiss him. It brought a pinch to his brow, an unfurling happening in his chest he couldn't even begin to unpack right then.

While it wasn't an urgent, explicit kiss, Harry didn't want to pull away first. Hours could have been spent on his couch just like this, if not for the fact (Y/N) decided she needed air more than his kiss. 

Following her cue, he gave her some space when she drew away. Her skin was warm as she blinked her eyes open to match his own. He watched as a smile spread over her lips the longer she looked at him.

"You like me?" 

A peal of laughter fell from Harry's lips, bursting through his chest and filling his bones. 

"Maybe. Why?" 

(Y/N)'s laughter filled the one place his own happiness couldn't fill quite as well: his heart.

—————

     Pleasing's Cupid Collection available now. 

(Y/N) barely noticed the notification sliding down the top of her screen, seeing as she was already on the main page of the brand's website. Refreshing the site, the homepage completely rearranged to showcase the dual collection now available for patrons to browse, her own face flashing in the campaign video playing at the top of the page. It was terrifying and thrilling at the same time. 

Was this how Harry felt every time he released music? Or really anything for the world to see?

With the way her heart hammered in her chest, she wasn't sure how he survived things like this. 

Another notification pinged at the top of her phone. Pleasing had just made a post on Instagram. 

Tapping on the dropdown, she was taken from the Pleasing page and to her instagram app. The new post popped up automatically. 

The shot showcased a collection of polaroid photos, some of behind the scenes shots of official photos for the campaign and others showing candid moments between the models and production during the making of the shoot. They were all laid out on a satiny pink sheet, a dreamy filter adding gleaming lights and iridescent shifts throughout the page. 

There was one familiar polaroid that caught her eye—one that was barely within frame but something she had seen enough times she could spot with the barest of pixels. Just barely, she could see herself leaning against the chest of someone who was almost completely cut out of the frame, leaving only a set of arms to be seen wrapped around her shoulders with her eyes closed in contentment. 

Just barely, through the haze of the filter, (Y/N) could see a small tattoo on her companion's hand: a black cross. 

As if being summoned by her thoughts alone, those same arms draped themselves around her from where she stood in the middle of the kitchen. Harry's chin settled on her shoulder, looking at her screen as she pulled up the comments on the photos. 

"What's everyone saying?" he murmured, his lips pressing against the column of her throat in a delicate kiss. 

The smile that landed on her lips was tender and instinctual, something that settled there without her permission. She didn't have to truly read any of the commented reactions to know the public's opinion. 

"They love it," she told him, voice a quiet croon. 

"Yeah?" His smile was audible in his tone. "I think this one's gonna be the most popular yet." 

"You think so?" (Y/N) questioned, swiping out of the reactions if only to see the glimpse of their polaroid once more. 

Placing a gentle hand on her cheek, Harry tipped her chin to face him. There was a gleam in his eyes that (Y/N) never realized was so familiar until the first time they kissed. There was a small tug to the corner of his lips, a single dimple denting his cheek. 

"Yeah. I've jus' got a feeling." 

He dipped his head, pressing his lips to hers.

—————

:)))) thank you for reading, so sorry if there's any mistakes and if theres any questions or anything you have please please send them in! I hope you enjoyed :)

[withahappyrefrain]

The 5 Times You Flirted With Bob + The 1 Time He Picked Up on It

Summary: You've fallen for your friend and have decided to drop some hints that you're flirting. Unfortunately, Bob doesn't realize that immediately.

Warnings: Language, no y/n, female reader, reader has a callsign (Honey)

Thank you to @dissonannce for this amazing idea. Thank you @acewritesfics for the dividers!

"Your hands are so big."

It took Bob a moment to register that you were in fact, talking to him.

"Oh! Um yeah. My ma made me do piano because she felt I was given the hands for them," Bob wiggled his fingers for extra effect, "Y'know, since they're so long."

Yes, they were quite long. It was one of the first things you noticed about Bob. Well, after you noticed his beautiful blue eyes, his endearing lopsided smile, the way he was so considerate of everyone else, so gentle, and yet there was an underlying confidence about him. He was sure of himself, but he didn't feel the need to brag.

Who could blame you for falling head over heels for him?

You flashed him a smile, hand reaching towards his.

"It's just, your hand is so much bigger than mine. See?" You propped his arm up, allowing your palm to press against his, both your fingers spread out to showcase the difference in size.

"See? My hand is so small compared to yours," You giggled. Bob looked down at your hands. Your breath hitched, your fingers twitching, dying to entwine with his.

"Yeah, there is quite a difference in size," Bob said, giving you that small smile you adored so much. That smile gave you the confidence to entwine your fingers with his.

"I think they fit pretty well together, see?" He wasn't letting go. He was still smiling as he looked down at your hand holding his.

Maybe this was finally it, he'd finally realized that you liked him and would-

"I'm gonna go get some more peanuts, can I get ya anything?"

You mustered up a smile, trying to cover up your disappointment, "I'll take a water. Thanks Robby."

As soon as he left, you shot Jake a dirty look, "Seresin, you said that shit would work!"

Jake, who had been pretending to play a game of pool with Bradley, Javy, and Mickey, put his hands up in defense, "Because it usually does! Everyone knows when a girl compares hand sizes it means she wants you!"

"Everyone but Bob apparently," Javy muttered.

"Maybe you just need to be more obvious?" Mickey suggested.

You sighed. You knew Bob. The last thing you wanted was to be so blunt it would overwhelm him. But at the same time, you two had been doing this whole 'friends but also more than that and I'm pretty sure we're flirting?' for the last month and you were getting annoyed with it how seemed to be going nowhere.

Perhaps Mickey was right. You were going to have to be a bit more obvious.

"Bee? You ready?" Bob called out from your living room. Bob's nickname of your callsign (Honey) always brought a smile to your face, as well as heat to your cheeks.

"Almost! Can I get your thoughts on this top?" You asked as you walked in.

"Yeah, I'm sure you look-oh." Bob's eyes widened as he took in the green top you were wearing.

It was tighter than the shirts you normally wore, highlighting your breasts. The fabric stopped right at the end of your rib cage, showing off your stomach and bringing attention to your high waisted jeans, which according to Jake "did wonders for your ass".

"What do you think?" You clasped your hands together, the action causing your breasts to stick out even further.

"Um the uh, the color is really great on you. B-brings out your eyes," Bob said, his eyes looking everywhere except you.

With the way his cheeks were bright red, it gave you confidence to step forward, your body now inches away from his, "I was hoping it would bring out something else besides my eyes Robby."

"I mean you you look great in everything you wear! So mission accomplished," Bob said quickly, his hands fidgeting with his car keys.

"Anything else you want to say about the outfit Robby? I really value your opinion." You stood on the tips of your toes, bringing your chest closer to Bob's face.

It was the first time since you walked in that his eyes landed on your chest. He cleared his throat, as if he was gathering up the courage to say it.

"You should grab a jacket, it's supposed to go down to the low sixties tonight," He said, turning around to head out the door.

God damn it.

You grabbed your phone, quickly texting the group.

Honey: We need to go to Plan C.

Rooster: Plan C?! You're saying the top didn't work?

Bagman: Dude, your tits were like out.

Rooster: Maybe they weren't out enough?

Coyote: If they were out any more, Honey would be getting a public indecency charge.

Phoenix: Maybe we shouldn't use clothes to express our feelings? Just a thought 🤦🏽

Fanboy: Yeah Nat, that's plan C.

Payback: Can we not blow up the group chat tonight? The finale of Insecure is on.

Your right leg bounced up and down in nervous anticipation, your eyes never leaving the entrance to the Hard Deck.

"You don't think this is too much, is it?" You asked your friends/coworkers.

"Nah, it'll be perfect!" Mickey reassured you.

"You and Bob are going to walk out of here holding hands by the end of the night, guarantee it," Jake commented as he lined up the balls for a round of pool.

It took all your strength not to jump out of your seat when you saw Bob walk in. His iridescent blue eyes scanned the room, landing on you. He always seemed to search for you, which had to be a sign that he wanted more, that he felt the same way as you did.

You greeted him with a smile, patting the empty seat next to him.

"Hey Robby! I got something for you!" You called out.

Bob just smiled as he sat down, "I see you got my signature: water and peanuts. Thanks Bee!"

You giggled, shaking your head, "Yes, but that's not just it. These are for you!"

Bob stared at the bouquet of flowers you were holding out for him.

"For me? These are for me?" He asked, eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes! I was just thinking, like why is giving guys flowers not a thing? Because it totally should be! And no one deserves these flowers more than you Robby," You explained, a hopeful smile adorning your face.

Bob gently took the bouquet, admiring each flower.

"I thought they would go well with your eyes-that's why a most of them are yellow," you explained, trying to hide how nervous you were.

"These are perfect," Bob said before leaning down to smell the flowers.

"Really? Each flower has a different meaning," you began, hoping that by fidgeting with your hands, you'd be able to conceal your nerves.

Bob simply smiled, his face the epitome of saccharine, "Oh, I already know."

Your breath hitched, "You do?"

Bob nodded, "Oh yeah! Alstroemerias symbolize support, sunflowers are for loyalty, and violets stand for intuition!"

He wasn't wrong. You couldn't tell if you were upset by that or the fact that Mickey forgot flowers can have more than one meaning.

Time for Plan D.

"Hey Robby! You ready to watch hot people make poor decisions?"

"Ready as I'll ever-that's new," Bob said softly, taking in the new loungewear you had on for your biweekly Love Island watch.

"Oh this? I think I got it last week," you said as you let Bob into your apartment, "It's super comfy and it has pockets!"

It also was cut low, showing off your cleavage, as well as the tops of your thigh.

"Yeah, the uh, color looks really good on you Bee," Bob commented. The compliment brought a smile to your face. He noticed you, noticed you were wearing something new, and seemed to be noticing your now exposed skin.

"Well, let's go see if these folks gain any common sense," you grabbed his hand, practically beaming at how your hand fit perfectly in his.

"Somehow I doubt it," Bob chuckled.

When he offered to hold the popcorn for while you two watched, you weren't disappointed. Sure, it meant you weren't able to hold his hand. But it did mean you could move closer to him, your thighs practically touching.

"I really hope he doesn't take her back," Bob muttered, his eyes glued to the screen.

"He will. They always do," you sighed, gently moving your head so it rested against one of his broad shoulders.

If your action had any effect on Bob, he didn't show it. Which was the problem.

"I would pick you in the recoupling," You revealed, hoping that would be enough, would finally be enough.

Bob smiled, placing a hand on your knee, "That's kind of you Bee. But I think friendship couples go against the nature of the show."

It took everything in you not to scream.

The rest of the night was just a typical Love Island watch night, no touching, no initiating, no declarations of love, and ending with Bob giving you a friendly hug goodbye.

With a sigh, you flopped onto your bed to check your messages.

Bagman: Bee, please tell us it worked and you're marking sweet love to baby on board

Phoenix: you're disgusting Seresin.

Rooster: why would they stop fucking just to text you Bagman?

Bagman: so we can pop some champagne to celebrate

Fanboy: Why the fuck is would we do that?

Coyote: It's a big event! Bee told Bob how she feels AND Bob's getting laid!

Payback: Can I just get one night of peace? Just one night?

You: No one's doing anything bc it didn't work!

Rooster: Not trying to be rude, but weren't you like almost naked?

Bagman: Like 52% nude.

Phoenix: JFC, we're going to plan E folks.

Coyote: Is that when we just lock them in a closet?

Bagman: No that's plan G

"Hey Bee!"

The cheerful, charming voice always brought a smile to your face.

"Hi Robby!" You greeted him with a hug, the comforting scent of rosemary filling your nostrils, "You smell really nice."

"Oh um thanks," A hand flew to the back of Bob's neck, a nervous (and also adorable) habit, "Wanted to smell nice after doing all those pushups out in the sun."

"Well it worked, you smell great," One of your hands reached up to the nape of his neck, toying with the hair that had curled at the end, "Look great too."

The tops of Bob's cheeks were now a dusty pink, "It's just a white Tshirt."

You took a step forward, placing your hands on his chest, "It's a good look Robby. Shows off your muscles. I like it on you.

Bob's lips parted, then promptly closed.

"Uh, t-thanks Bee." He had to know now that you were flirting with him. It was clear as day.

Feeling confident, your hands trailed down to his, grasping them, "We should dance!"

You didn't wait for Bob to answer, dragging him out to the middle of the floor. The sounds of Bradley covering Frankie Valli (begrudgingly, as apparently Jerry Lee Lewis was better) filled the bar.

After a few minutes, Bob's shoulders visibly relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. You threw your head back laughing as he bust out a goofy dance move.

Everyone thought Bob was shy, but that wasn't the case. He was observant, determined to get a good read on someone so he knew how to approach the situation accordingly. Once he was comfortable, his personality shined and he was a sweet, goofy man who you adored with all your heart.

The grin you had was so wide, your cheeks were beginning to hurt. But you couldn't stop, not when he was twirling you around.

"Where did you learn to dance like that?" You asked, having to say it into his ear so he could hear your voice above the music.

Bob shrugged, "I come from a big family. When you know you're going to a lot of weddings, knowing how to dance helps. That and my mom made me do cotillion."

"Well, all that practice paid off. You're a great dance partner Robby." You rested your chin against his broad chest, looking up to meet eyes bluer than the ocean.

In that moment, all you could do was focus on him. The way the corner of his eyes creased when he truly smiled, his comforting scent, his pink, thin lips that you were dying to feel on yours.

You wondered if he could hear your heart pounding, if he could feel it since your body was practically on his.

His hands found their way to your arms, gently placing themselves on your biceps. Was this it? It had to be.

So you stood on the tips of your toes, your lips now closer to his. Your eyes began to close as you leaned in to-

"I gotta go. Jake stuck his foot in his mouth again."

This wasn't a lie. But it still didn't dull your disappointment. Nor did it sedate your growing frustration at this whole situation.

Perhaps you didn't need Plan G or H Perhaps it was time to go with your original plan.

The next time you saw Bob was when Nat threw a small get together to celebrate the end of a long week.

He was wearing that damn white Tshirt again. Whenever he brought his cup of water to his mouth, the fabric stretched across his bicep.

Was he doing this on purpose? Did he know? Consciously or not, that you had fallen for him ever since you two first met at training?

Either way, you were tired of this game you had been playing for the past month.

"Are you sure about this?" Natasha asked.

You simply nodded before taking a shot of vodka. A little liquid courage was always nice.

"Nat, he's oblivious. Honestly, I don't know why we didn't do this the first time," Jake commented as he took the shot glass out of your hand.

"Because we didn't expect him to be that oblivious," Mickey countered.

"Well everyone, wish me luck." You walked out of the kitchen to find Bob still sitting on the couch, glass of water in hand.

His eyes met yours and he gave you a smile sweeter than honey. Your legs began to wobble, whether it was from that smile or your nerves, you couldn't say.

You walked over, making a beeline for him. Bob's eyes widened, his fingers gripping his cup. Your gaze was so intense.

"Hey Bee-oh!" Bob froze as you sat down in his lap, your thighs straddling his lithe hips.

"Hey Robby," your hands found his shoulders, fingers toying with the thin cotton fabric of his shirt.

"Uh Bee, there's um, there's a seat right there," Bob weakly pointed to the empty space next to him.

"I don't want that," you leaned forward, your forehead grazing his, "I want you Robby."

His eyes widened once more, as if he just saw an incoming train, "M-me?"

"Yes. Wanted you ever since that first day of training, when you offered me a mint," you told him.

"I uh, you looked sleepy and mint is known to wake you up and," Bob paused, "Did you say since the first day of training?"

You nodded, smiling at how you were able to see him process this information.

"The first day of training?" He repeated.

"Yes Bob, all you did was offer me a mint and smile to make me fall head over heels for ya," your fingers now went up to the back of his neck, twirling the curled ends of his hair, "Been trying to tell you that for the last month."

Bob opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, his brain still processing everything.

"You good Rob-" You never got to finish your sentence, as Bob decided right then was the best time to press his lips against yours.

His lips were soft and tasted faintly of vanilla, no doubt from the chapstick you watched him reapply. His touch was gentle, his thick fingers ghosting over your thighs, trailing up to your waist. Every move, no matter how small, made your heart fluttered.

Being so close to him, you could smell his aftershave, a mix of eucalyptus and sage. It was intoxicating and you wanted to be surrounded by it all the time, wanted to kiss him all the time.

When he broke away for air, you had to hold back a whimper, your lips desperate for more.

"FINALLY!"

You turned your head to find Bradley, along with Mickey, Natasha, Jake, Javy, and Reuben standing by the doorframe, in perfect view of you and Bob.

You smiled and opened your mouth, ready to make a quick remark. But Bob's fingers hooked underneath your chin, turning your head back to meet his lips again.

Unlike the first kiss, this one was bolder. His lips moved against yours with more confidence. Your whole body felt warm, as if you were floating. His hands now cupped your jawline, which is how you learned that Bob's hands practically covered your whole neck, a discovery that sent you reeling.

Your hands trailed up to his head, desperate to feel his sun kissed locks, desperate to find out if they were as soft as they looked. But just before you could, Bob broke away.

"What?" Anxiety came rushing back, dragging you away from Cloud Nine, your previous location. Did he regret it?

"Let's go."

He moved your body to the empty space on the couch, quickly getting up. You took his hands, allowing him to help you get up. You held onto one hand as he led you to the front door.

"Bob! What are you doing with my backseater?" Javy called out.

"Making up for lost time!"

Maybe you should be a little embarrassed. But how could you? You had finally kissed the man of your dreams, he kissed you back. He wanted to leave with you.

The sounds of the house party fainted, becoming soft background noise as you went outside.

Bob stopped, turning around to face you. Before you could get out a sound, his lips were on you again. His hands pulled your body to his, closing the gap in-between.

You couldn't help but moan when you felt his tongue slide against your bottom lip, immediately granting him entrance. You could hear Bob's breath hitch, his hands roaming across your body, touching your soft skin.

Abruptly, he pulled away, leaving you desperate for more.

"Why do you keep doing that?!"

"I...." His face was flushed, "I meant to ask you if if you drove yourself here. But you looked so kissable. You still do, God I just wanna kiss you again."

"I'm not stopping you Robby," you grinned, stepping towards him, "I'm not stopping you at all."

"Oh don't tell me that darlin'" his Midwestern upbringing laced his words. You always loved his accent, having found it not just unique but also comforting.

Somehow, despite his lips pressed against yours, Bob was able to walk you back to his car, your back meeting the cool metal.

His broad body draped over yours, his tongue frantically exploring your mouth. Your fingers reached up, grasping his hair. It was soft and much thicker than you expected.

What else was there about Bob you had yet to learn? What kind of toothpaste he used, if he drank tea or coffee in the morning. Did he fall asleep to rain sounds or silence? How many pillows were on his bed?

You wanted to know everything.

But right now, you just wanted to kiss Bob.

Your fingers tugged on his hair in an attempt to pull him closer to you. Despite his chest being pressed against yours, it wasn't enough. You wanted all of him.

"We should get in the car," He said, voice breathless. With the way his chest was rising, one would think he had just ran ten miles.

Bob began moving towards the driver's side of his truck, but he stopped, turning back to you.

"I want to take you home," He stated. It sounded like a confession with the way guilt laced his eyes.

"I would love that Robby."

Instead, he just shook his head, "But I shouldn't because you deserve more than that. You deserve a nice date, like that Italian restaurant we always pass when we go to Bradley's. You deserve that and flowers and a lovely dinner with candles and wine that's older than both of us-"

You cut him off by gently pecking his lips, "It's okay Bob. You could take me to that diner up the room from your place tomorrow morning and I'd be elated because I would be with you."

He shook his head, clearly torn between continuing to talk and continuing to kiss you, "But....it's the least I should do. I mean, after all the hints you were dropping. I thought you were just being friendly and-"

"What friend asks another friend to look at their chest?" You asked incredulously.

"I thought maybe we were just really close! That you were really comfortable around me, which is why I didn't think anything regarding what you wore when we watched Love Island. I mean," his face reddened, "I did think about it. Um I thought about it a lot and if you ever want to wear it again, I would not mind-"

"Bob," you stepped forward, placing your hands on his chest.

"I mean, you got me Violets! Those mean loyalty and devotion, as well as delicate love! And believe me I wanted to kiss you at the Hard Deck, but that is entirely Jake's fault-"

"As most things are."

"And looking back it was so obvious and I can't believe I didn't pick up on it," He paused, "Sorry, I I had to get that out. I can take you home or back to my place, whatever you want."

You giggled, delighted by his ramblings. You wanted to hear more of it.

"And now I just want to kiss you. Like all the time," He confessed, his lips moving closer to yours.

"Robby, get in the car," you instructed.

"Oh, um, okay," Bob unlocked his car, moving towards the driver seat.

"No Bob. Get in the back of the car," you instructed.

Bob's brows knitted together in confusion, "But then how will I drive-oh!"

Who knows if you were going to make it back to his place or yours. All you cared about was getting your lips and hands back on Bob Floyd.

[deadghosy]

Do you know about the Welcome Home fandom? So what about Wally Darling!Reader?

HAZBIN HOTEL X WALLY DARLING! READER

prompt: you are a greeter of the hazbin hotel! Who knew a muppet looking demon could be so colorful.

You are so soft spoken! Like that soft voice you have can hypnotize anyone into doing anything.

“hello, welcome to the hazbin hotel. i’m your greeter.” You say with a “:D” face

You’re so colorful and you’re definitely shorter than Lucifer…i can see Lucifer picking you up like a damn doll at times as you just smile with your muppet ass smile.

You’re just TOO DAMN CUTEEE! 🦆💗 literally even husk grumbles and gives you apples by the bar for you to stop giving him those doe eyes you give him when you are needy for apples.

I feel because of your muppet look, it would bring attention to yourself as a muppets looking demon is quite rare around the pentagram city, or even hell itself as Lucifer and Charlie have a muppet or Marionette look. 

Literally you are friends with Lucifer because of it and he finds your muppet look adorable. Even with your 3 ft height. (Yes I looked up his height and damn he short as hell!😭)

You are just chilling after greeting some new sinners in the hotel as you read the news paper, Lucifer comes out of no where. Dead ass reads the newspaper trying to understand your likes and dislikes.

“Lu-Lu?” You said softly as Lucifer awkwardly smiles and does finger guns at you. “Oh what a coincidence? What are you doing here..?” He says awkwardly as he sweatdrops at his attempt to start a conversation with you. “I live here?” You said raising a brow sitting down the newspaper.

“Oh I do too! What a very crazy thing?!” He says pointing his finger at himself as he poofs away in embarrassment as you just sat there…..*cue in pure confusion*

Alastor would not hate you because you are colorful, lemme be realistic. You two would be mutuals. Not like “oh I hate you but you are cool” type shit. I mean you two are the people who wave at each other but never approach each other because you don’t know if they like you fr. 🥲

One time a sinner had shoulder bumped you on purpose thinking you wasn’t gonna do anything…BUT NAH! YOU GRABBED THAT MF BY HIS NECK AS A SHADOW COVERS YOUR FACE, only leaving your eyes showing as you kick they ass out. You ain’t dealin' with no bullshit at this establishment. And for your friend’s sake.

Angel likes to play with makeup with your face since it’s calling out for his makeup kit. Literally he does blue eyeshadow on you.

I headcannon you wear blue eyeshadow just like how Wally’s eyelid is blue up there. Dead ass it would be cute if it was just blue eye shadow and you had a natural blush on your cheeks. You are quite beautiful reader💗😘

Since Angel is a drag queen, he would also try to make you wear drag queen makeup only for you to sneeze at how much product he used…yeah he never used it on your face.

You’re beautiful natural anyway…just don’t sneeze in his face. Ever again.

You definitely look like you listen to 1970-80’s jazz music as you dance in the lobby with Alastor nodding along happy. Just two jazz buddies liking jazz.

I can imagine Charlie trying to hold you back from eating the fruit gift basket for the guests…you’re only aiming for the damn apples as your mouth was drooling for it.

Imagine Vox has you on his channel because he brided you with apples. He stalked you through your tv you had that has rainbows and apples on it-

Well anyways Alastor “recused” you because you just sat there “begging” to be saved is what he saved when you munched on an apple confused by why Alastor came to take you away from Vox.

If you and Lucifer hung out doing hobbies together, which he suggested. You’re panting a portrait as he makes a duck based off of you….he can’t help but show affection of making you a duck version of yourself.

Niffty and you definitely get along well as hell! As you two have the same fashion taste as you both will dance to the genre of music you guys like.

With you being the greeter, you always have a soft smile and a soft approach to make the guest and residents feel safe in the hotel.

Sir Pentious will absolutely admire you…like a friend crush. He just wants to be your friend but you are too pure to approach as he thinks he won’t be cool enough to be your friend.

Imagine Valentino seeing you shopping and he tried to approach you only for a red smoke to cover you as you blinked confused to see an overprotective Lucifer smiling at you as you had teleported to the hotel. But with Lucifer, you could see his real feelings as you felt confused.

After a few months you and Pentious became friends because of one of his egg boiz named Frank said his “boss” wants to be friends with you. You giggled and nodded as you and sir Pentious do trust exercises together when Charlie host them.

Husk had dilated eyes and purr at you because you scratched under his chin which made him snap out of his cat daze and slap your hand as you giggle with a soft gaze.

I headcannon Velvette to be your girl who makes your outfits in primary colors. Like that or just cute aesthetic kid core fits. 💗‼️

I can see how reader always gives balloons to sinners who had trouble reliving their childhood. So they give balloons out to the sinners who had childhood trauma. You are a greeter, and a hell of a good one. 🦆💗

Imagine how Wally! Reader has those safety pins that say “Welcome!” And it’s so cute because you made them a t hand and Lucifer saw his you had effort in it so he made you more to give out to the guests.

I feel like Valentino will try to get you under his contract so he can use your pretty look since you seem like a femboy….but really you’re just a little guy who likes apples and his friends.

YOU’RE ONLY 12 APPLES TALL! 😨

But the hazbin crew literally cockblock him to the point he just stops doing he was trying to do to you.

I can see Lucifer trying to impress you at times as he never has a friend that had a cute appearance like you so your blank eye stare always catches him off as you just stand there smiling so adorably.

I headcannon waking up to find an apple by your night stand as a note reads “hope you like the apple, my angel!”- Lu-Lu. You just blinked at the apple completely ignoring the note and eating the apple as you smile at the taste.

“…yummy apppleee….” You say until you open your eyes looking at the note. “Wait what.”

You had gave Lucifer back an apple basket with rubber ducks that had painted apples not it for your appreciation of the apples he gave you 

[serpentandlily]

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny II

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny II - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: none

a/n: sorry for the long wait with this one! Hope you guys like it!

Part I

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You slipped into the private library in the House of Wind, humming slightly to yourself. The faint scent of crackling embers and something else indiscernible met your nose as the door slammed shut behind you but you brushed it off, figuring it must've come from the fireplace on the other side of the large room. 

You meandered to the section that was filled with romance books—the ones Nesta had made sure to stock up on ever since she became the owner of this place along with Cassian. You brushed your fingers against the spines of the books, pulling out some that had interesting titles and stacking them in your arms. 

A Heart Ablaze.

The Prince of Fire.

Your skirt flitted against the tops of your boots as you walked. You bit your lip, pulling out another book. This one titled, The Flames that Bind Us. You’d read it before but it was one of your favorites. 

“You should be a bit more aware of your surroundings, bunny. You have no idea what sort of monsters are lurking around.”

You gasped, jumping in fright and dropping your stack of books to place a hand on your chest. You whirled around with a wildly beating heart. 

You had recognized the voice immediately but you were still taken aback to see Eris lounging in one of the armchairs by the fireplace. He was sprawled out in the chair like it was his throne, a glass of whiskey in one hand and his other lightly stroking the soft velvet of the armrest. His red hair gleamed the same color as the burning flames behind him. 

Your gaze dipped to his chest, to his cream colored tunic that had a few buttons undone, exposing the silver layered jewelry resting against his chest. He wore dark brown breeches, perfectly tailored for his long legs and brown riding boots. How he managed to make such casual clothing look elegant and refined was beyond you. 

When you met his eyes again, those devastating amber eyes, Eris gave you a fox-like grin that looked anything but friendly. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you bent down to pick up the books you had dropped. You held them against your chest like a shield. 

“That is no way to address a Lord,” Eris purred. 

You huffed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Apologies, my Lord,” you replied, sarcastically. “What a delight it is to see you again. What brings you to our humble court?”

Eris’s eyebrows rose in amusement. 

“If you must know, I’m here for a meeting with your High Lord and Lady,” Eris said. “Pray tell, what are you doing here, bunny?” 

His eyes darted to the books in your arms and you blushed, trying to discreetly cover the titles. Eris didn’t need to know your reading preferences. 

“If you must know,” you said, mocking him, “I live here.” 

You split time between here and the River House. Mostly because Nesta had once accused you of favoring Feyre. You hated nothing more than to be used as a pawn against your sisters. But being the youngest, your role in the family oftentimes required you playing mediator between your siblings. Sometimes, messenger too. 

“Poor little bunny,” Eris teased. “Locked up here in a cage.” 

“Stop calling me that!”

You glared at the handsome Lord, hating the way that made him seem even more amused. 

Eris said nothing, just twirled the glass in his hands as his eyes assessed you. You felt the hairs on your arms stand up, felt a chill run down your spine at his look. His smirk never left his face. You were quite sure he had been born wearing it. 

“Don’t you normally meet with Rhys and Feyre in Hewn City?” you asked, unable to take the silence. You should probably leave, but something kept your feet glued to the floor. 

Eris shrugged. “Sure, when our business involves Keir.” 

He spat out the older male’s name with disgust. 

“I’m surprised they didn’t order you to stay in your room knowing I was here,” he continued, his amusement back once more. “Can’t let the little bunny be ensnared by a fox again.”

His grin was more of a display of teeth. It did nothing to quell your nerves. 

“They never tell me anything,” you murmured, annoyed.

Your lips slammed shut when one of Eris’s eyebrows raised, like you had just unknowingly passed along information you shouldn’t have. 

The doors to the library slammed open and you jumped, sucking in a breath at the sudden noise. Azriel stormed in, his eyes narrowed at Eris. You suddenly felt tense, sensing the way the energy seemed to shift in the room. He stopped once he was in front of you, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed at the redhead. “You’re supposed to be waiting for Rhys and Feyre in the war room.” 

Eris didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, unlike most fae did when staring down the shadowsinger.

He plucked a piece of lint from his tunic, unbothered. “Apologies, shadowsinger. I got lost.” 

You doubted that and by Azriel’s growl, you realized he did too. He turned to look down at you, his lips pressed in a straight line with a stern look. 

“Go,” Azriel barked, nodding his head towards the door. You bristled at the command, as if you were a dog he could order around.

But it was Eris who stood to his full height and snarled, “Don’t speak to her like that.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise. You stepped out from around Azriel to see Eris staring down the shadowsinger. You swore the flames in the fireplace grew, the crackling of the wood the only thing breaking the tense silence. 

You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat as the temperature rose—Azriel’s shadows growing with it. You placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder, trying to calm him.

“I’ll leave,” you said softly, glancing up at Eris but his focus was on your hand touching Azriel, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

“It was lovely speaking to you again, my Lord,” you said, sarcastically, bowing your head at Eris. At the sound of your voice, you watched as Eris’s mask slipped right back into place, all the tension leaving his body. 

His gaze met yours and he shot you his infamous fox-like grin. “Indeed, Lady.” 

Azriel growled, lowly, and that was your sign to leave. You scurried out of the room, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach—the ones that had been there since the moment you laid eyes on the handsome Lord of Fire.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

It had taken a lot of persuasion on your part, but you had finally talked Rhys and Feyre into letting you have more of a role in their court. They had decided to let you shadow Lucien as an emissary, but so far the only place you had gone with him to was the human realm—not that you minded.

You were currently in the deserted manor that Vassa, Jurian and Lucien were now living in since the end of the war. You had just had a meeting and dinner with them, but out of politeness, had offered to clean up which left you in the kitchen alone, scrubbing dishes. You supposed you could’ve used magic, but decided on doing it the only way you knew how: the human way.

“I thought I smelt a bunny in here.”

You let out a squeak of surprise, dropping the plate you were drying back into the filled basin. Water and soap splashed all around you, speckling the smock you wore over your dress and the counter. 

You yanked a small hand towel free and began to blot at the water spots as you whirled around to face Eris. The grin he wore only infuriated you even more. 

“Must you always sneak up on me?” you grumbled, tossing the towel back on the counter. 

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, bunny,” Eris purred. 

“Oh, for Gods’ sake, stop calling me that!” 

“Perhaps when it stops to suit you so well.”

“It doesn’t suit me now,” you argued back. “I am not some little bunny.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Eris took a step towards you but something about his demeanor made you mirror his step backwards, your backside hitting the counter behind you. His grin sharpened at your movement.

“Are you scared of me, bunny?”

Your cheeks flushed, your heart skipped a beat in your chest. 

“N-no,” you stuttered. 

He took a step closer, that fox-like grin still on his face.

“Really?” Eris mocked. “You seem quite scared.” 

“You tend to have that effect on everybody.” 

“Do I?” 

You knew he was teasing you, but it didn’t stop your heart from pounding nor did it do anything to quell the butterflies in your stomach. He was close enough now that you had to tilt your head back to look up at him. You had almost forgotten how tall he truly was.

You nodded, losing your voice as he took another step closer.

“And why is that?” 

You cleared your throat, your hands finding the edge of the counter behind you so you could brace yourself. “It probably has to do with your reputation.” 

“I have a reputation?”

The question sounded more like a joke on his tongue. Eris raised his eyebrows at you in suggestion and you swallowed audibly. 

He took another step closer, now easily within reach of you. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, a small tremble shook your legs. But it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. It was more like anticipation. But for what? That was the part you couldn’t figure out. 

“You know you do,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “You’ve gone to great lengths to make sure of it.” 

Something inside of you could see the mask Eris liked to wear. Another step closer and you could feel the heat coming from his body. It seemed to reach out to you, like standing near a warm fire. Your body softened in response. 

“You’re right. I have,” Eris cooed. “But I don’t care about everyone. I want to know if you are scared of me.”

He was so close now, only inches away from you, his handsome face looming over you. The sun setting caused a golden hue to stream through the window, making his crimson hair shine like molten metal.

“No,” you whispered, your head now fully tilted up to look at him. “But I think…I think I should be.” 

Based on everything you had been told about him, at least. 

Eris’s eyes darkened as he gazed down at you. The silence was thick, the tension in your body heightened. You were captive to his stare—to those whiskey amber eyes. Something ached terribly in your chest. 

Eris reached out a hand, hooking some of your hair behind a pointed ear. He leaned down, resting his hands on the counter behind you, caging you in. It almost seemed as if he was going to kiss you but instead his mouth landed by your ear.

“You’re right, bunny,” he purred. “You should be.” 

A chill ran down your spine as Eris stood back up. He seemed to relish in the way your body had responded to him, his grin turning smug and haughty. You should step away from him. Logically, you knew you should move. But something kept your feet ensnared—just like that day in the library. 

His stare held an intensity that made your mouth dry. Something loomed beneath–the weight of all the secrets he seemed to keep. Your eyes were a stark contrast to his. Wide and full of every emotion that ran through you, no deception to be found. 

Footsteps coming towards the door to the kitchen broke whatever spell you had been under. In a blink of an eye, Eris was almost on the other side of the room, his back resting against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest.

The doors pushed open and Lucien walked in. He paused on the threshold, his eyes narrowing on his brother before they drifted to you. He looked you up and down, as if he was inspecting you for damage. Seeming content that you were in one piece, he glanced warily at Eris. 

He rolled his eyes at his brother’s grin. 

“Leave Y/n alone,” Lucien grumbled. “She doesn’t like your little games. Come, you requested a meeting with me. Let’s get this over with so I take her home.” 

He nodded his head towards the door before leaving Eris to follow him. Eris gave you one last parting look on his way out. A look that would linger in your mind for the following weeks. 

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

The Dawn Court was radiant and you couldn’t stop spinning in circles, taking in the opalescent golden stone palace, grand staircases and ornate archways. Morning glories wrapped around pillars, drooping wisterias hung from every railing. It was beautiful, breathtaking. You could hardly believe your eyes.

You smoothed down the skirt of your midnight blue ball gown, feeling slightly out of place amongst all the pretty pastel colors of the Dawn Court. It was the first time you’d been out of the Night Court, besides that slight, accidental trip to Autumn. 

Later today, you would be meeting with the rest of the High Lords, as well as Vassa and her court to discuss a peace treaty. Rhys had insisted on bringing you despite Feyre’s hesitation. But he had made the point that the humans might take more kindly to someone familiar, someone who used to be like them. 

Nesta had been the first choice, but she and Cassian were still away on their mating vacation. Elain had been set to come today instead of you until Rhys had found out that Lord Nolan and Graysen would be attending the meeting and thus, Elain was spared the uncomfortable reunion and you were put in her place.

Not that you were complaining. You were excited to finally be involved.

The courtier from Dawn led your group to the suite your court would be staying in. It was carved from sunstone, with a lavish sitting area and private dining room—all decorated beautifully with jewel-toned fabrics and cushions stacked along the thick carpet. Bird cages hung from the ceiling in the corner of the room, right next to a large window that overlooked the countryside.

Once the courtier left, Rhys was quick to throw up several wards around the room. “Don’t get too comfortable yet. Eris is slipping by to meet before the official gathering.”

Mor groaned and plopped down on a settee, throwing her arm over her eyes. 

“Perhaps you’d like to go rest for a spell in your room, Y/n?” Your sister suggested.

You saw her words for what they were though. They didn’t want you around when Eris came. You might’ve tried to argue against it but decided to not push your luck today. They were already letting you come to the meeting.

You gave her a small nod and disappeared into one of the rooms. Still feeling a bit nauseated from all the winnowing, you laid down on the soft bed and drifted off into a mid afternoon nap. 

It only felt like a second had gone by when you eventually woke. You cursed as you looked out the small bay window, seeing the sun far lower than it had been when you had fallen asleep. You rose quickly and smoothed out your hair and dress. 

You sat down at a small vanity and touched up your makeup before finally leaving your room, not even checking if they were still in a meeting with Eris or not, not wanting to be late.

Your door creaked open and several heads twisted your way—including a very handsome one with flaming red hair. You blinked in surprise, your cheeks turning a bit pink at the sudden attention.

“My apologies,” you murmured, embarrassed. “I didn’t know we still had company.”

Your eyes darted to your sister, hoping she wasn’t upset with you, but Feyre’s face didn’t falter. Her eyes only softened as she looked at you. “It’s okay, we’re almost done here anyways.” 

Eris shot up suddenly, knocking his chair back.

“What is she doing here?” he hissed. 

Your eyes widened in shock, taken aback by both his words and his tone. Rhys’s eyebrows raised and Feyre frowned at the redhead.

“What does it matter to you?” Rhys asked, his face carefully blank. 

Eris scoffed and straightened out the sleeves of his coat. The frazzled look in his eye flickered away and his perfectly crafted mask was back in place. “It matters little to me. But considering you’ve gone to such lengths keeping her hidden, I’m surprised you’d allow her here knowing who will be at this meeting. My father is going to be displeased to know that you have not three but four Made females residing in your court now. It might make him…less agreeable.”   

“You think having her here is going to cause problems with your father?”

“I know having her here is going to cause problems with my father.” 

You bristled at the way you were being spoken about as if you weren't standing in the very same room as them. 

“Why should we care about your father’s feelings on the matter?” Azriel spat out, crossing his arms. 

“You want him to sign your little peace treaty, do you not?” Eris sneered at Azriel, his tone full of condescension. 

“We also need the humans to agree upon the treaty,” Feyre cut in. “And Y/n has been working with your brother as an emissary to gain their trust. Since Lucien cannot be here, it is vital that she is present at this meeting.” 

“You're delusional if you think it’s going to be harder to get the humans to sign the treaty than my father,” Eris said in that haughty tone of his. “He still thinks about that kernel of power you took from him. Power is all that matters to him and having all four made sisters in your court is going to be an issue in his eyes.” 

“We have other ways to entice your father,” Rhys said with a shrug.

You were still taken aback, unable to even form words to leave your mouth. You hadn’t been aware that your presence would cause such drama. You were nothing. No one. Just another Archeron sister. You didn’t even have powers outside the normal High Fae ones, like summoning things and winnowing. 

You didn’t miss the blink of fear that passed through Eris’s eyes, but no one else seemed to catch it. He still stood, his palms now pressed against the table separating him from the rest of your court. 

“Why is it that no one knows about her, anyways?” he asked. “Why is it that all reports only mention the other two sisters being put in the Cauldron and not Y/n?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the sound of your name on his lips. But whatever feeling that was passed as a memory of that horrid day came at the reminder of the Cauldron. 

“Put the little one in first,” the King of Hybern ordered, smugly, as he kept eye contact with Feyre. She was pleading with him to let you go. Pleading and begging with her own life. You knew why he chose you to go in first. He knew that it would cause Feyre more grief, more stress.

The feeling of hands all over you as you fought against your binds. Hands that were dragging you closer and closer to the huge Cauldron that sat in the middle of the room. You were screaming through your gag. Tears were streaming down your face. 

You could even hear your sister’s ex lover demanding the King put a stop to this. 

“She is just a girl, a child,” someone in the room hissed. “Stop this!”

And you supposed you were—especially to the fae. You were almost seventeen, your birthday falling on the Autumn equinox, when both day and night were equal lengths. It was all you kept thinking about as you were dragged to the Cauldron.

Four months.

Four months until Autumn. 

And then you had been pushed underneath the dark water and your humanity had been stripped away from you.

Your heart was pounding at the thought of that day, of everything that had happened afterwards. Eris’s eyes flickered to you for a moment and you got the sense that he almost knew where your mind had drifted. Feyre gave you a look of concern. 

It struck you now that it had been three years since that day. 

Three years.

Three years since your life had been forever changed.

“Your contacts must not be very good at their jobs,” Rhys said in answer to Eris’s question. But you were also pondering it. Why is it that most of Prythian did not know of your existence? Why is it that the reports of that day only ever mention Nesta and Elain?

Eris didn’t look like he believed Rhysand either. 

“Fine, whatever, I don’t have time to argue with you. My father is expecting me back any moment now,” Eris finally said, standing to his full height. His gaze drifted to you for a second before he glared down at Rhys. 

“Send her away,” he spoke through his teeth and then he winnowed away, leaving only crackling embers in his wake. 

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

a/n: I got a lil inspired by that tiktok audio that’s like “I’m spooky? Do you think I’m spooky?” or whatever for the kitchen scene if you couldn’t tell haha. I hope this second part did not disappoint! So sorry for how long you guys had to wait to read it!

Tag list: @dwkfan @pinksmellslikelove @vellichor01 @whatdoyxumean @minnieoo @hnyclover @daughterofthemoons-stuff @ferrarisbitch @thaynarajejheje @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @the-sweet-psycho

*If you asked to be on the taglist and you don't see your username, tumblr wouldn't let me tag you for some reason :(

[tasteracha]

kinktober - day sixteen

kink: sex toys with jilix

warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. sex toys, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, afab!reader. mention of hentai (typical jlix things). 3k.

it’s something that felix and jisung bring up all the time. throughout your entire time as roommates slash best friends with benefits they’ve talked about it, but they’ve never followed through with it. 

they want to ruin you. stretch you so far that you’re left with your pussy gaping, fill you up so far that it feels like your breath is taken away. the thought of it sends you into a dizzy spell if you think about it too long, but it’s always just that. a thought. you’re not sure why, since every other kink that’s been brought up has been tried and added to the ranked bulletin board in your room.

handcuffs? yes, enthusiastically. 

petplay? no, much to jisung’s poorly concealed disappointment.

stuffed full of sex toys? TBD.

but no matter how many times any of you had brought it up, whether it be giggling into a glass of wine or holding hands in the dark under your covers, they never made any moves to make it become reality. 

so, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

it’s almost too easy to sneak an excessively large order of sex toys onto jisung’s credit card, the one he had given to you with a wink and a whispered you know what to do with this. you hadn’t known what to do with it, but you pocketed the card anyways, saving it for a rainy day. maybe this is what he had meant when he said that to you - you’ll find out soon, probably. 

by the time it arrived you were almost sick with anticipation, the thought of it not leaving you as you obsessively checked the tracking of your package every possible second. when it finally arrived they weren’t home, and you opened it without abandon, ripped pieces of cardboard littering the floor. they looked…daunting. almost scary. incredibly exciting.

“tomorrow,” felix says, more to the contents of the box than to you. “tomorrow, we’re going to ruin you with these.”

“tomorrow?” both you and jisung whined together, and you exchanged a fist bump over the box as felix huffed at you. 

and yet, with all of the impatient waiting you did in the past week (and jisung in the past day), tomorrow came sooner than you could catch up with. you were naked on the mattress before you could even blink, cunt clenching around nothing as you watched them lay out the materials that you had so meticulously picked out.

it might be a little too soon for an endeavor like this, it would be smarter to try out every toy first and make sure you were comfortable with all of them, but they’ve kept you waiting too long for this for you to think about being smart right now. 

they lined the toys up at the foot of the bed, all washed and sanitized and ready for whatever filthy use they were going to be put through. there’s four of them, varying in size, girth and length, color, and vibrations and thrusting ability, and you’re already a bit overwhelmed just looking at them. 

or rather, a lot overwhelmed. 

they make eyes at each other over you, having some kind of silent conversation in the creepy way that they do. felix nods and moves to sit by your head, moving you around until your upper body was half in his lap. jisung, on the other hand, picks up the first toy and examines it, twisting it around in his hand. 

“relax, baby,” felix’s voice rumbles through you, and you melt into him a bit when he runs his hand through your hair. 

jisung’s eyes are fixated on your pussy now, and you can almost see the wheels turning in his head as he imagines how wrecked you’re going to be once they’re done with you. 

“jisung, come on,” you whine, wriggling a bit in felix’ lap. 

“let me enjoy this,” he bites back, sending you a playful glare. 

“i think i’m the one who’s supposed to be enjoying this,” you pout, relaxing back into place when felix tugs at a strand of your hair. 

“oh trust me, you will,” felix’s voice grumbles from behind you, vibrations from it dousing your body just as jisung finally touches you. it’s not quite where you want, his hand is tracing up and down your thigh, but it’s something. 

he takes his time mapping out your skin, planes of smooth flesh that he’s seen and felt and loved before, but never this slowly. never this reverently. it’s almost frustrating, but felix begins massaging your neck and shoulders and you’re too relaxed to provide any protest beyond a frustrated huff of breath as your eyes flutter closed. 

“no, stay with us,” felix coaxes your eyes open, and you almost giggle at how funny he looks upside-down from where you’re laying. it feels like time is moving in slow-motion as jisung uncaps the lube and drizzles it on the toy, the smallest one you had chosen. it’s thin with a bulbous head, created specifically to hit right at your g-spot, a smooth metal with a lustrous purple finish. it’s beautiful, even more so when he runs the cool metal head up and down your folds, warming it up. when it gets to your hole you nearly swallow it up, the glide almost too easy from the lube and your wetness that’s been building since before you even took off your clothes. 

“eager, are we?” jisung teases, and you just snarl back at him, too impatient to deal with being in a sarcastic argument with him right now. you usually love his playful banter during sex, but that’s when you’re in a mutual push and pull dynamic. right now the only thing you want him to push is the toy into you. “fine, i’ll give you what you want, but remember that you asked for it.”

all at once, he’s thrusting it in and out of you, twisting his hand just right so that it hits your spot every single time. it’s already almost too much, and you push up against felix to try and get away from the sudden onslaught. he just laughs, pinning you in place as jisung keeps going and going and going. 

it only takes a few minutes for your orgasm to approach, expectantly fast with how keyed up you’ve been since you woke up. you’re just starting to come when — in one quick move — jisung removes the toy and replaces it with his fingers, crooking them up right where he knows you like it best, over and over. the change in pace makes everything so much more intense, and you can’t stop your body from arching off of the bed, your head pressed into felix’ thighs. it feels like minutes before you slump back onto the mattress, panting hard and twitching from aftershocks. he removes his fingers, holding them up so you and felix could see how slick they are from being inside of you. he sticks them in his mouth, sucking at them a bit like a lollipop, and lets out an appreciative noise at the taste. you hide your face into felix’ leg, embarrassed at his actions. 

jisung doesn’t let you recover before grabbing the second toy, a bright pink vibrator complete with a thrusting head. he forgoes the lube this time, choosing to scoop up your wetness onto his fingertips and spread it across the toy instead. you whine when his fingers brush your clit, overly sensitive even though it hadn’t been touched yet. he settles the tip of it against your hole, rubbing at it in tiny circles.

“what a greedy fucking pussy,” jisung says, almost clinical in the way he looks at felix with an arched brow. like he’s not talking about a person. “just came and she’s already leaking for more.”

felix just hums, dark eyes fixed on the way your bottom lip is stuck between your teeth as jisung slides the second toy into you. it settles in perfectly, leaving you so comfortably full that you think you could fall asleep like this, especially after coming as hard as you just had. 

“what did i tell you?” felix says, accentuating his words with another sharp tug to your hair. “stay with us, baby.” 

“i’m - ah,” your breath leaves you as jisung flicks the vibrator on. even at it’s lowest setting, it sends pulses of pleasure swimming through you, and you feel hot all over. the heat intensifies when he pushes the toy just a little further into you and presses the button for the thrusting to start. it feels strange at first, the rubber head so different to jisung or felix’s cocks, but then he angles it upwards just so and there it is. 

every time you clench down onto it you feel your toes and fingertips tingle with pleasure, little pricks of static taking over your limbs. jisung holds the base close to your entrance, keeping in place as it thrusts into you in a perfectly delicious rhythm. 

“this one might be my favorite,” jisung says, and he sounds like he’s kneeling down to worship something rather than kneeling to absolutely wreck you. you try and reply, but your words get swallowed by a series of sounds that escape your throat. “felix, find a way to shut her up, will you?” 

it’s almost comical the way jisung turns into a control freak when it came to sex; you weren’t complaining though, even when felix hooks his thumb into your mouth and presses down on your tongue. jisung turns the vibrations up and you come for the second time, your eyes rolling so far back that you’re almost scared they’ll get stuck there. he keeps the toy there, letting you ride out your orgasm, and he only turns it off when you start to twitch with oversensitivity. 

“is it my turn now?” felix takes his thumb out of your mouth and strokes his hand down your face, leaving a trail of your spit down your cheek. “i want a turn, you’re hogging her.”

“whiny baby,” jisung tuts, but he stands up from where he had been kneeling in front of you. he drops a kiss to your inner thigh before switching spots with felix, settling in behind you. 

while felix had let your hands wander, clenching in and out of fists as you got more and more into it, jisung had no such notion to give you freedom. he immediately traps your wrists into one of his hands once he was sure your head was comfortable in his lap, and his other hand comes to rest at your collarbone. it’s possessive, the way his fingers curl up just a bit like he’s waiting for a reason to run his nails down your skin. 

the third toy that felix picks up is a normal dildo, clear glass in a respectable size and length, and you’re almost glad for a little normalcy right now. 

“should i eat you out first? make you come on my tongue before using this?” he asks, mouth so close to your clit that you could feel his breath hitting it. it made you shiver. 

“if you do that i might not last,” you groan, trying to clamp your thighs shut but you were stopped by felix’s hands. “you’ll have to scrape my body off of the bed.”

“i’ll have to do that anyways when i’m through with you,” he teases, drawing back a bit. “but you’re right. i want to see your face when i ruin you, and it’s hard to do that from down there.”

the slide of the dildo entering you was almost undetectable after jisung had dealt with you, the only thing you could feel was the coolness of the glass and the fullness in your lower belly. 

you sigh, letting your head fall back into jisung. maybe felix would go easy on you for the first one? you let your body relax so felix could push it all the way in. 

you regretted that almost immediately though - felix, with all of his dancer’s grace and control, knows exactly what to do with his hands. knows how to twist his wrist just right, how to speed up and slow back down in perfect timing, and it doesn’t matter that it’s just a normal dildo because he isn’t a normal fucking person. 

he alternated between an insanely fast and agonizingly slow rhythm, never letting you get used to one before switching to the other. every time you got close, he’d angle it just away from your spot, leaving you teetering on the edge of an orgasm over and over. 

if jisung wasn’t holding you down you’d be thrashing against the sheets right now. 

when felix finally let’s you come it’s with his mouth sucking at your clit and your body taught as a rope. it feels like hours before you come down, wave after wave of boiling pleasure burning through your veins, taking over your whole body. 

“okay?” jisung asks as felix pulls the toy out of you, shushing you when you whine at the feeling. 

“guh,” you let out, the most intelligent response you can offer him right now. he lets go of your wrists to intertwine his hands in yours, keeping you close but knowing that you needed the grounding. 

the last toy was really for them. you know that they’re little freaks inside, and you couldn’t stop yourself from selecting it - a bright green and red silicone toy, shaped like a tentacle. it’s wide at the base, about the size of your fist, and that brings up another idea that you store in your head for later. the tip is tapered, and little faux suction cups line the entire surface of the toy. it isn’t too long, but god it’s thick. 

felix picks up the bottle of lube and coats the thing generously, and you’re grateful for it. for how big it is, you weren’t sure if your body was capable of slicking it up without some help. 

“can’t,” you stutter out when he places the tip at your entrance, teasing it inside of you. you wanted to move away but you couldn’t, jisung made sure of that. 

“you can,” jisung coos at you, the first time he’s spoken since switching places with felix. “you know what to say it you really can’t. but i think you can, baby girl.”

he’s right. through all of this, your safeword hadn’t even breached through to your consciousness. you still wanted this, as insane as it was. 

“fuck, you’re stretched out,” felix curses, pushing the toy into you. you can feel it all the way in your throat, even though it was only a little over halfway inside of you. god, was he going to try and get the whole thing in?

the answer was yes, he was. he twists his wrist, letting your body get used to the girth of the toy for a moment before pulling it out almost all the way. he slowly slides it back in, and the squelch of the suction cups dragging in and out makes you flush so hard you feel lightheaded. 

jisung is breathing hard behind you, and you revel in how affected he is right now. you chose well, you did good.

you’ve never had something inside of you that felt like this; it wasn’t moving but you could imagine if it was, in the ways that tentacles did in the hentai jisung made you watch - you never understood the appeal until now. you wanted it to completely engulf you. you had almost forgotten that it was attached to felix’s hand until he started pumping it in and out of you, absolutely obscene sounds filling the room from both it and your own mouth. 

when you come for the last time it’s a fragile thing, slow rolls of heat washing over you, less intense but no less pleasurable. you feel floaty even felix removes the toy carefully, dumping it on the floor and pressing a flutter of kisses to your thighs. your head is sailing through the clouds just as your body feels weightless, the only thing keeping you tethered to the bed being their hands on you. 

“let’s get her cleaned up,” jisung says, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of your head. 

“no, ‘m not done,” you mumble, half into jisung’s arm where your mouth is now squished. there’s a line of drool running from your lips down his skin, but you’re too exhausted to care about something that would normally send you into a fit of embarrassment. 

“oh, she’s out,” felix sounds almost in awe, like he can’t believe the state the two of them had pushed you towards. that he couldn’t believe that, even though you couldn’t move a single limb in your body, you were still asking for more. felix reaches to the nightstand where he had placed a cool water bottle with a straw peeking out, and he holds it up to your mouth so you can suck small sips. the water feels heavenly, soothing your parched throat perfectly. did he put magic in this water? it sure feels like he did. 

you didn’t realize that you were talking out loud until they laugh, the sound of it sending happiness throughout your entire body. you made them happy. 

“hi baby,” felix materializes at your side, cradling your face in his hands so you are looking at him instead of the ceiling. “bath or washcloth?”

“can’t move,” you replied, hoping he’d understand. when he comes back with a washcloth and starts cleaning you up, you know he did. he knows you so well. 

you let out a series of whines when he cleans around your pussy, the burn of overstimulation bordering on painful now. jisung soothes you with a kiss for each one, his hands still intertwined with yours. 

you fall asleep before felix finishes, and you miss the way they both look at you with nothing but adoration in their eyes. 

—

kinktober masterlist

[leaawrites]

Flowers

Percy Jackson x Daughter of Apollo reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of fighting, jealous Percy, mention of Y/n

Wordcount: 2k (this is a long one)

Summary: To get her attenion Percy would even get into fights just to be healed by her.

Masterlist

Percy has been watching her for some time since he came to Camp Half-Blood. Always finding her in a crowd of people. Always letting his eyes drift over heads he couldn’t care less about until his eyes found her face, or her back, or her hair.

Y/n, daughter of Apollo, savior of people’s life. It wasn’t that dramatic, at least for her. Y/n was never given the damaged, just the hurt. A little cut here, a bruise that had to be cooled there, a kid that had to be cared about because it had gotten sick. Never the deep cuts, the bleeding face, the broken bones. It was never that. Not after she asked to take care of those in need of it a thousand times.

Percy knew that. He saw it. At first, he thought his eyes betrayed him, that it wanted to make her look small in his eyes, so that he could save her. But it wasn’t that. His eyes didn’t betray him. It were the people that betrayed her. They didn’t care about how soft her fingers were and how gentle she would take care of the hurt. They knew she was soft, she was sweet, perfect for the small things in life in their eyes.

• • • • • • • •

All eyes turned to him, as he stepped into the infirmary. There were cuts on his face, his knuckles bruised and split open. Blood dripped down from his lips on his orange shirt. It stained the fabric, leaving a mark of the actions he made for people to believe in her.

The sun was already slowly disappearing, leading to most campers be in their cabins already.

“Oh gods, what happened to you?” Laura, a sister of Y/n, asked him, pulling him by his arm to sit him down on one of the cots.

“Nothing bad, just another fight with Clarisse,” the boy shrugged absentmindedly, his gaze searching for a certain someone.

“This girl really has to get herself together,” the red head scoffs as Percy tells her what happened.

After searching for a little longer, his eyes found her body. He smiled as she smiled. His eyes lit up seeing her this happy, a flower twirling in between her fingers. A pink lovely flower, freshly picked from the boy in front of her. A son of Demeter. Percy’s gaze went sour as he saw that she was smiling at him. The red of her cheeks made him want to paint her face in a different color.

“They’re not dating,” Laura spoke, as she saw Percy watching Y/n. It wasn’t a surprise to her that he liked her. Laura knew her sister, she was amazing.

“I don’t care.” The boy quickly covered his jealous eyes with a nonchalant lie. Still they betrayed him, as his gaze found her again.

“Sure, you don’t.” She chuckled.

A loud whistle was heard from Laura’s mouth, making the whole room look at her. Percy saw her hand call for someone across the room and before he could process what she was doing, a bundle of sunshine appeared in front of him.

“What is it?” Y/n smiled at Laura, the flower steady in her hands.

“Can you take care of Percy here? I’ve got to go, Will just called me over,” Laura explained, pointing to a direction where Will apparently was.

“Sure,” she said back and then Laura was gone. Leaving the two alone, Percy cursed and thanked her at the same time. “What have you done to get in such trouble again?” Y/n was well aware of Percy’s reputation around camp. She knew that he was always on the lookout for danger.

“I haven’t done anything, first of all,” Percy defended himself.

Y/n hummed in sarcastic agreement, before her voice got lower and a sweet tone escaped from her lungs. The feeling of her skin against his made me Percy shiver in his bones. A sweet laugh appeared in between the humming when she felt Percy’s body shake as she brushed her hand against his face.

The cuts were healed, but the dried blood still decorated his face like a stamp of shame. When he was attacked by Clarisse, after he provoked her to do it, he didn’t fight back. When Poseidon wanted to rescue him he told him off. Running from the water, not wanting to be healed by a simple touch of water on his skin. Y/n took a cloth from one of the stacks, wetting it under the water to wash his shame away.

When Y/n approached Percy again, she couldn’t get a good look at his face. His eyes were fixed on his fidgeting hands, one finger tapping against his leg. A small touch and his face shot up to her. Y/n was laying her finger and his chin, softly touching his jaw to keep him in place as she brushed the cloth over his face, like he was her most precious painting that she still had to finish.

The silence between the two laid over them like a blanket over a child that tried to hide from the monster under his bed. The air around them was warm and comforting, they were wrapped in each others presence, but they couldn’t breath normally. It was stuffy, and suppressing them from being able to breath in properly. Her breath was warm against his face.

“That’s a nice flower,” Percy noticed, cutting the tension between them.

“It’s really nice,” the girl agreed with him, smiling at the memory of receiving it. It wasn’t about the boy who gave it to her, but rather about the gesture as it. She liked that someone cared.

“Do you like him?” His questions got bolder, as well as his tone. Percy Jackson would never admit that he was wrong. He would never agree that someone actually had him wrapped around their finger.

“I don’t know. Maybe sometime in the future,” she answered, not wanting to keep talking about it.

But Percy kept going. “Well, he certainly likes you. He cares about your happiness as it seems.”

“Why do you care?” Y/n stopped moving her hand, but held it in place to hold on to the possibility of touching him.

“I don’t.” Percy shrugged it off, his eyes going over to Laura who was watching the pair in anticipation.

Laura knew about Y/n’s slight crush on the son of Poseidon. She knew about how Y/n always wished that she could take care of the troublemaker for once. But she also knew, that the girl started to lose hope of ever being noticed by the demigod. She wanted to move on, so when a boy asked her out and later brought her a flower, she couldn’t deny his offer. Not if it meant that she showed Laura in the process of rejecting him, how she still liked the same guy for too long.

“Okay.” Percy looked back at her when the cloth moved again, a bit harsher this time. She didn’t hurt him. Percy was convinced that she could never hurt anyone. Not even her worst enemy. He saw a glistening shimmer in her eyes and the more focused look in them now that she actually looked at the task at hand and not the boy in front of her.

“What are your favorite flowers?” His question surprised her. His whole presence and interest surprised her.

“Why does it matter?” She asked back, finishing up with cleaning his face.

“What are your favorite flowers?” He asked again, a shimmer of something flickered in her eyes.

“I like Carnations,” the girl answered. She smiled at his question. Nobody asked her before, just if she liked flowers or not, or what flowers she would suggest to get someone on a first date. All these questions. But never what her favorite was.

“But these are roses,” Percy pointed out, motioning to the flower that now laid beside him. When she didn’t answer his statement, unsure of what to answer at all, he continued. “Didn’t that guy ask you about it before getting you one?”

“No,” she answered truthfully. “He only asked if I liked them and I said yes. I guess, it’s just because they aren’t that easy to get around here.”

“If a guy wouldn’t move mountains to get you even only a flower, he won’t move rocks to save your life,” Percy said, making the girl laugh at his quote. She liked the look on his face, like he was actually confused and embarrassed for that guy.

“That’s very sweet,” she said. Percy’s face turned red after he noticed how corny that sounded.

“I’m a very sweet guy,” Percy answered, holding his chin up in pride.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows in amusement of his sudden confidence. “Oh, is that so?” She tried to play his game, but just one look into his green eyes made her swallow back the rest of her words.

“Yeah, you should go out with me instead.”

All of her assumptions about what he would say were thrown out the window after he said that. Her eyes widened a bit, her heart stopped before beating rapidly. Percy saw the color draining from her face and jumped from the cot, ignoring the pain in his ankle as he landed.

“What’s wrong?” He asked concerned, thinking something might took over her body. His hands found her waist to stabilize her body. He didn’t want her to fall to the ground inside the infirmary, like he did something to her.

“Are you playing with me?” She whispered, blinking her surprise away. Her head felt dizzy and patterns started to appear on the walls and everywhere else around her. In fear of blacking out, Y/n put her hands on Percy’s arms, tapping her finger against his skin to keep her mind occupied.

“What? No.” The boy was more worried than shocked at her assumption. Noticing her state, he called Laura over. The red head looked concerned at her friend.

“I will handle her, you should probably go,” she told Percy. He knew better than arguing in this moment, so he nodded and slowly bagged out of the big house.

When Y/n woke up the next day, Laura was already by her side. Waiting with breakfast next to her.

“Oh gods, finally, you’re awake.” Laura threw her arms around the girls body, knocking her back down on the pillow.

The morning was filled with the two girls talking about what happened after she blacked out. Laura was telling her how Percy used to look at her when he came into the infirmary, when a knock on the door sounded. Laura wandered over to the door, opening it. Her eyes lit up when she saw who was stood in the doorway.

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said to the person in front of her.

Y/n looked confused at first, not knowing who was at the door. Until a blonde teenage boy with a lanky figure was pushed into the room. Percy stood in front of her for a moment, remembering every little thing in her cabin. Her body found his gaze again and they softened for a second when he saw her messy hair and exhausted posture.

“You brought me flowers?” Y/n asked the boy, noticing the flowers in his hand.

“I did, yeah.” He walked over to her, standing beside her bed, handing the Carnations over to her.

“Thank you.” Tears began to prickle in her eyes again. She mostly hated how easily it was to get her to tear up and cry.

“Look, I’m sorry if I did anything to you or something, I don’t know. If I did, please let me know so I can change that.” Percy stopped talking when Y/n moved up to hug the boy in front of her.

“You did nothing wrong, Percy,” she assured him with her head on his shoulder. When she lifted her head up, she pecked his cheek before pulling him down to sit onto her bed.

They sat beside each other the whole day, talking and becoming closer over time. The flowers shining beside them.

[dancewithdeath11]

Say Sorry

Pairing: Jason Todd X Reader

Summary: Jason reminds you nobody is allowed to talk bad about you, including yourself. 

Warnings: 18+ SMUT- (but not really, very self-indulgent) talks of body insecurity (stretchmarks, cellulite (specifically on thighs)), talks of wearing a skirt, mentions of prep & cunnilingus but none, 

Word Count: 1.2k

======

“Fuckin- Stupid- Saying shit like that..”

It was your fault. Entirely. But how would you know what punishment your best friend would come up with?

It started out when you were about to go out. Constantly going from your bathroom to the thrifted full body mirror in the corner of your room. Midway through you trying to figure out what you were going to wear, he showed up. Jason was going to give you a ride. He huffed and sat on your bed when he saw you were still trying to pick an outfit. From there he was commenting on them, trying to help you out so the two of you could get going. 

One of the outfits you picked out had a cute skirt that went to your mid-thigh. It was a pleated, classic plaid pattern with a nice brown color. You were pairing it with a brown sweater as well. Only problem was that you couldn't find any nylons to go with it. “Shit-” Turning to look at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t help but focus on your own thighs. Hands tugging at the skirt to try and cover what you were focusing on. But that only made it look awkward causing you to pull it back up. 

“I like that one. Why haven’t I seen you wear that skirt before?” Jason asks as he sits up on the bed, giving you his attention once more. You turned again, looking from the other side. Either way you hated how you could see the cellulite and stretchmarks that patterned your thighs. 

“I hate it. I should’ve stuck with the jeans!” Your head shook back and forth as you went to go to the bathroom again. 

He stood up and stopped you, a firm hand on your upper arm. “Hey- Why do you hate it? It’s a good look, just do your makeup and we can go.” The man chuckled lightly. Looking up at him, you hesitated slightly before shaking your head again. “No..talk to me. What is it?” 

Your eyes rolled as he took your shoulders, clearly not letting you go till he got you to talk to him. Jason was just that kind of friend. He was sweet and tried to help you where he could. A shoulder to lean on, a trusted confidant. “I..My thighs and skirts just don’t go together.” You tried to laugh it off slightly. However, he did not like that. 

“Your thighs are fine.” It was his turn to shake his head, a deep frown pulling on his lips. Looking like he didn’t believe it. Like he heard the most obvious lie spoken to man. 

“No-”

“Why would you say that your thighs and skirts don’t work together? Is there some war between us and skirts I’m not aware of?” He joked slightly, head ducking down to catch your gaze as you looked away. It melted your heart a little at the way he said us. A frustrated huff left your pouted lips as you narrowed your eyes at him. 

“It’s- You can see my stretch marks, and my cellulite, it’s just not a good look.” You once more tried to brush it off like it wasn’t a big deal. But now his face hardened, an almost angry frown on his face and brows furrowed.

“Don’t say that.” He said, his voice stern as ever. This tone is unfamiliar to you, but even then you wanted to argue back, opening your mouth to do so. But he knew you well enough to not let you get away with that. “Don’t.” That was all he muttered as he took you by the hips and turned you, walking you back towards the bed. “You’re so blind, I swear, ma.” He grumbled under his breath as he made you sit on your bed. 

But what started as a stern lecture from your best friend, quickly turned into more.

The evidence being the bites and hickeys on the insides of your thighs from when he ate you out till you couldn’t take it anymore. Slick coating them from when prepped you with his thick and long fingers. The pads of his fingers calloused from years of abuse, training, and killing. His grip on your thighs alone was enough to remind you what he was capable of. There would probably be bruises tomorrow. 

“Fuck-” Was all you could hiccup as he bites down on the junction of your neck and shoulder. Finally fucking his entire length into you making you feel impossibly full. If you thought he was big before, this was a whole new definition. 

Jason was a brick wall of a man. That was clear. Tall and broad, biceps that looked bigger than your head. But now you know, he was big in other places too. No wonder he was so attentive with prep, but even now it was still a lot.

He was kissing and licking along your tits as he scolded you, waiting patiently for you to adjust. Your back arched as he hugged you around your waist and held you close to reach your chest. Your fingers tangled in his hair as you whined to him, trying your best to watch him past his dark curls. 

He lowered you back onto the covers. Sitting back on his hutches as he watched you with hooded eyes that skated along your hickey littered skin. The same look you’d see when he’d read poetry or admire art. Large hands gently skating up your sides. Thumbs coming to rest just under the swell of your tits, fingers splaying out across your ribs. “Real stupid..” He comes back down and nips at the sensitive skin. Pressing a final kiss there before coming face to face with you. Resting on his elbows on either side of your head as he hovered over you, hiding you from the coldness of your own bedroom. He pressed a feather light kiss to your lips before staying there. Whispering against them, “Say you're sorry. Say you’re sorry for sayin’ something so stupid about my girl.”

God, his eyes were really intense. The way he was staring at you alone was enough to make your face flush more than it already was. 

“S-Sorry..” You whispered out weakly between shallow breaths. He chuckled slightly and nodded in approval, pulling out the slightest bit before stuffing himself back in. Your breathing stuttered as your hands searched desperately for something to grip, quickly latching onto his back. “Jay-”

“I know, ma...” He cooed softly as he sat up again, pulling you along with him. Your thighs draped over his leaving you pliant for him. Hugging around your middle once more as he thrusted slightly, pulling your back down onto him. Quickly you hugged around his shoulders not wanting to fall back. His lips pecked your jawline quickly before he locked you into a kiss. It was messy, uncoordinated and searing. Teeth clashing, heavy breathing and moans shared between the two of you. “God.. S’pretty for me, Princess..” He whispered against your lips as you pant softly. 

It was slow but hard. The push and pull, feeling the drag of his dick deep inside you. 

You’d never doubt your best friend again…

======

Sorry, just another thing i wanted to clear out of my drafts ;)

[assassinsblade]

Arrows and Ashes | 2

Azriel must balance his need for vengeance and his need to take care of you.

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, gross gore, injury, violence, blood, vomit, all that kind of stuff, fluff too though.

a/n: Holy shit everyone, the response to Part 1 was incredible! Seriously! All your comments and thoughts and everything are what make me want to keep writing, so thank you!!

Part 1 Part 3

—————————————

If someone would have told Azriel when he woke up that morning that he would later be kneeling in front of your bloody body, begging you to stay awake, he would have locked you inside of the House of Wind so you couldn’t leave.

He would have never let you get out of bed that morning. He would have come up with some excuse to keep you safe near Velaris, safe near him.

But he hadn’t known. So when you and Cassian left that morning to meet with Autumn Court heir, he was only slightly nervous. He hated the idea of you being anywhere near Eris, but Cassian was there, and he trusted his brother to keep you safe. He trusted that he would see you in only a few hours, sitting across from him at the dinner table, giggling at something snarky Nesta threw at Cassian while picking at the food on your plate.

So when his and Rhysand's talk was interrupted by a letter arriving from Eris Vanserra, one that made Rhys tense in his silent reading, Azriel felt his panic start to rise.

The way his heart had stopped in his chest when Rhys had read the words on the paper aloud: Your two spies missed the meeting window outside of the forest cabin, and upon investigation, were found in the dungeons of my father's establishment. We are doing what we can for the one you call Daisy, but I would advise arriving to the forest cabin expeditiously and with a healer in tow.

Azriel hadn't even waited for Rhysand to respond. He had barely gotten the words out before Azriel was winnowing to the forest cabin, his blood rushing in his veins, making him lightheaded with panic and rage.

And when he had seen you there, lying on a wooden table, bare and vulnerable with nothing but gore and a light blanket covering your form? He had nearly collapsed.

Your eyes had been swollen and wet with tears, cheeks splotchy and bruised. Everything around you had been red. The blanket, with creamy white fibers of wool woven together, was soaked red along your back. The natural brown of the table underneath you dripped with the dark red falling from your form. Your hair matted with both old and new bright red blood.

Something Azriel saw so frequently, and red quickly became his least favorite color.

He had tried to comfort you, tried to soothe any pain you were feeling, but nothing seemed to work. Each sob, cry, whimper, and croak had cracked something in his chest, and he was sure irreparable damage was being done inside of him with the agony he felt from your state.

The memory of your body shaking from the pain, of what your back looked like when the blanket was pulled back, was what made Azriel immediately demand to see what had happened in that cell.

Cassian had at first refused, tears in his eyes, insisting it was something neither of his brothers should see or experience. But Rhys also demanded to see, if only so they could track down the three males who had been with you in the dungeons.

Azriel could feel the self-hatred coming off of Cassian in waves, but the general acquiesced, giving Rhys a short nod.

Then Azriel was watching his brother go into Cassian's mind. And as Rhysand tensed and paled, stumbling at what he was seeing, Azriel found himself breathing harder, attempting to prepare himself to see you hurt.

When Rhysand came to again, both he and Cassian had tears in their eyes. Rhys met Azriel's and gave him a cautious look. Azriel only nodded.

And then he was in the dungeons, seeing from Cassian's point-of-view.

He watched as the soldiers walked into the dungeons and shackled you to the wall. There were wounds already covering your body from what looked like whips and manual beatings, and Azriel wondered what Cassian or Rhys was omitting from these memories.

But his thoughts were cut short by the sight of a sword coming down on your wings and your back arching in pain. You didn't even make a noise, your mouth open in a silent scream and body scrambling to get away.

Blood sprayed everywhere, and the motions of the soldier hacking your wings off were haphazard and angry, but also uncaring and almost bored.

Azriel had never felt as heartbroken as he did then, watching you lose your wings, your screams beginning to echo through the cell.

Cassian was trying to get you to look at him, trying to remind you that he was there, that you weren't alone, but you were too far gone to the pain and torture.

When both of your wings were nothing but ripped off limbs on the ground behind you, and your body slumped into your own blood, piss, and vomit, Azriel had already committed the males' faces to his memory.

Your bare vulnerable form, twitching and mangled on that concrete floor, would forever haunt him.

"Her wings are gone," Cassian choked out when Azriel had finished seeing the memory. "And it's all my fault."

Rhys shook his head. "It's no more your fault than mine."

Azriel didn't say anything though, because all he could feel was the anger raging under his skin, begging to be let out, and he didn't want to say anything he'd regret to either of his brothers.

He was shaking, his body burning, vibrating with energy. He turned to the auburn-haired male leaning against the wall.

"Are there wards surrounding the dungeons?"

Eris smirked. "You don't think us foolish enough to leave our prisoners unguarded, do you?"

Azriel nearly growled, his patience running thin. You were unconscious on a hard blood-soaked table only feet away from him, and it was driving him insane, panic, anxiety, fear, grief all morphing in his chest and begging him to act, act, act, seek vengeance for Daisy.

"I swear on the Mother, Eris, I will-"

"Relax." Eris sighed, pulling himself from his position by the wall. "There are wards, but I can get you through them."

Azriel only continued watching him, because it was obvious by the way the Autumn male eyed him that he was not done speaking. "The only question is -- should I? Will my father not be more angry when three of his guards turn up dead? Why should I put my ass further on the line for you bastards?"

Before Azriel could kill him, Rhys interrupted. "Having the three guards dead only plays into your favor, Eris. Say Cassian killed them when escaping. Leave evidence hinting at Cassian overpowering them."

Eris rolled his eyes but didn't protest. Azriel was glad because he was one word away from cutting out his tongue.

The Autumn male did grumble, though, as he lowered the wards long enough for the shadowsinger to winnow in. But by that point Azriel was already humming with bloodthirst, already savoring the fear he was going to suck out of the males who had hurt you, who had taken your wings.

He would make them pay, he would make them bleed.

The first guard he came across, he recognized immediately. He had been one of the two to lift you into the shackles, to make sure you body hadn't slumped out of reach of the sword.

The feeling of Truth Teller piercing his throat gave Azriel a satisfaction he would be wary to admit. He wished the male had wings Azriel could peel off himself, taking his time and basking in each scream of pain that came out of his mouth.

Instead, Azriel used his dagger to slash across the male's skin as he choked on his own blood, unable to scream. He targeted the most sensitive parts of the body, twisting the sharp weapon, pulling out nerves and tendons where he could.

When his body fell to the floor, Azriel was unsatisfied. It had been too quick, and he needed more.

He kept moving, relishing in the blood coating his hands. His siphons gleamed a bright blue that warned of his approach, that told the others he was there to exact his revenge.

When he found the second male who was backing away from him with a look of pure fear in his eyes, Azriel nearly smirked. He walked slowly toward him, and the way the male's body trembled only reminded Azriel of you. His smirk immediately dropped, replaced by an animalistic urge to kill.

Azriel thought of your shackled wrists, the way you were bound and vulnerable, and immediately threw his dagger into the male's hand with such force it impaled into the wall behind him, lodging into the space where two stones cracked.

The male screamed, and Azriel welcomed it. It filled his chest with purpose, with justice, as he screamed louder. Azriel took his sword out and cut the males arm off in one motion.

Didn't feel too good losing a limb, did it?

He did the same with the male's other arm, his legs, and then finally his head, watching as it rolled to the concrete floor.

He kicked it out of his way before moving forward once more.

He had one more target, and this one he was going to make sure lasted long. You had been held captive for hours. Tortured for hours. And he was going to repay that action, just as he told you he would.

Azriel reached where you and Cassian had been kept, and the smell in the air nearly brought tears to his eyes. It smelled of fear. Of urine, as if you had been so terrified you couldn't control your own bladder, and of blood. It permeated the room, your despair, and Azriel's hair stood on end at the scent. It made him want to return to you, to hold you and make sure you were safe, to make sure you knew you were safe.

But as he eyed the shackles on the wall, the stained red on the ground, the discarded wings in the corner, he knew he needed to slaughter this last male before he returned home.

He shoved the image of your wings, bloody and mangled only feet away, out of his mind and moved forward.

He found the last male one more room over. He was prepared, a sword raised in defense as Azriel sauntered in. His siphons blazed brighter, ready to fight and make this male feel the same pain you did.

This was the one who had cut off your wings. And he was holding the very sword he used to do so.

Azriel felt his power rumbling within him, and all at once, almost out of his control, he threw it toward the male.

It slammed into him with the force of a mountain, slamming the male into the wall behind him with a crack. The male groaned, the sword clattering from his hands, and Azriel almost complained at how easy it was going to be to kill him.

He kicked the male's sword away once he reached him, not wanting to touch your dried blood coating its edge. It made his skin crawl, and he needed it out of his sight.

Kneeling down in front of the male, he pulled him forward by his ankle, dragging him to one of the cells in the room.

He thought of you bare and vulnerable, naked and bleeding, scared and trembling.

He thought of your flayed flesh, the blood dripping down onto the floor under the table, the charred skin of your back.

He thought of your screams, your cries, the way you heaved in pain.

Azriel snapped the shackle around the male's ankle.

He flipped Truth Teller around in his hand, gaining comfort from its weight. He would do some carving with it. The male didn't have wings, but he had other things he could take away from him. He would make him feel the same vulnerability you felt, the same fear and pain you felt. And when he was done, he would burn just as you did.

For once in his life, Azriel was excited to watch flesh catch on fire.

—————————————

When Azriel returned to the forest cabin, the only people remaining were Rhys and you.

You were still unconscious, and Azriel felt his heart beat painfully in his chest at the sight. Fortunately, the excess blood, dirt, and other bodily fluids seemed to have been cleaned off you, presumably by Rhys and his magic. You now only looked pale and weak, skin still bruised and healing its wounds.

Azriel, on the other hand, was coated in blood. His fingers dripped with it, his face was splattered with it, and if his leathers were any color other than black, they would have been dyed with the red of blood too.

Rhys eyed his appearance cautiously. “I take it they are dead?”

Azriel only nodded, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. His fight was over, but he was still restless, still searching for something to quell the anxiety in his chest.

“I took Cassian back to Velaris. Madja fixed up his wings, and he’s healing there.”

“Must be nice that his wings are fine,” Azriel spit out before he could stop himself.

He immediately felt guilty. It wasn’t Cassian’s fault. Cassian loved you as much as they all did, and those guards would have hurt you regardless of what Cassian had done or said.

Rhys gave him a hard look, his following words stern. “Yes, it is nice. You should also be grateful our brother is still alive.”

Azriel was quiet. He didn’t need a lecture or scolding right now. He didn’t need a high lord.

But he also didn’t know what he needed.

He turned to look at you, still laying on your stomach on the table.

“I was waiting for you to take her back home.” Rhys’ voice was softer as he watched the shadowsinger eye your form.

“She hasn’t woken up?” Azriel asked.

Rhys shook his head.

Azriel felt a pit form in his stomach as he walked toward you. Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed even in your sleep, and he wondered if you could still feel any pain or if your mind was replaying traumatic memories while unconscious. The thought made him nauseous.

He reached out with a hand to lightly move the hair back from where it curled in front of your neck, but he paused seeing the blood coating his fingers.

The liquid matched the injuries on you, seemingly connected. Like a tether tied the red to the bruises on your cheekbones and undereyes, to the whip lashings on your arms, legs, and torso, to the haphazard gouges and burns on your back.

Azriel was grateful the blanket was covering the majority of your body, because just the bruises on your face made him feel weak. He was tempted to fall before you, to curl his body around your own and shield you from anyone else.

He would do anything to ensure not even a scratch was made on your skin again.

Rhysand eyed him from the other side of the room, watching Azriel hesitate to touch you.

"Let's get her home," Rhys spoke tiredly. As Azriel glanced at his red-rimmed violet eyes, he realized how emotionally drained everyone else must have been as well. "She'll be more comfortable there."

Azriel agreed. He couldn't imagine how sore you were going to be, and the wooden table underneath you was only going to aggravate your tired body. He wanted to wrap you in the softest blankets he could find, tuck you into his bed, and make sure you rested for days.

When he reached for you again, he noticed his hands were now clean. Rhys only nodded at him before Azriel could even thank him.

He eyed your bare shoulders peeking out from underneath the wool blanket and moved to grab the light nightgown presumably left by Eris. As much as he hated the male, he was grateful he had been mindful enough to grab you clothing, let alone clothing that was thin enough to not cause your injuries any irritation.

Azriel wrapped the blanket around your shoulders before pulling your body up to a sitting position. He then carefully pulled the nightgown over your head, gently moving your arms through the openings. Once in place, he readjusted the blanket around your body and picked you up into his arms.

Barely any time had passed, yet your body felt so different in his arms compared to the times he had carried you in the past. It was lighter -- a fact that caused pain to swarm in his chest as he realized it was due to your missing wings. It seemed more vulnerable as well. Fragile in such minimal clothing and covered in bruises and slashes and scars.

That protective instinct inside of him caused his scarred hands to grip you just a bit tighter.

Rhys approached, giving him an understanding look, and then you all were winnowing back to Velaris, back to your home.

As soon as he could feel the floor under his feet, Azriel was moving, filled with purpose. He needed you comfortable, he needed you warm, and he needed you safe.

So, he immediately made his way to his bedroom, not even sparing Rhys a glance or a goodbye. The high lord instead spoke into his mind: Madja left some healing tonics and creams on the counter. Directions are attached. Please keep me updated.

Taking note of that for later, Azriel laid you down onto his bed. He would have taken you to your own room, but he wanted somewhere he knew you would be safe. Somewhere he knew every inch of, somewhere he had fortified himself.

He turned you onto your stomach so as to not irritate the wounds on your back. In doing so, the wool blanket from Autumn slid from your body, and Azriel was left facing the bandages Madja had placed on your shoulder blades.

The sight of the white gauze caused Azriel to pause.

You had lost your wings.

Oh, Daisy.

Azriel slowly lowered himself to his knees beside his bed, needing a moment to compose himself before continuing to gather all the supplies he would need to care for you. Tears burned his eyes as he watched your back rise and fall with your breathing. He focused on that motion, on the reminder that you were here in his bed, alive.

He had never been more scared than when Rhys was reading that letter from Eris. When he had heard you had been hurt and that it was bad.

But there, kneeling before your battered body, Azriel was terrified all over again. You were safe now, living and breathing, but . . . he had no idea how he would fix this for you. There would no longer be any flights together during sleepless nights or teasing pokes or comments at each other's wings. No longer would he see your joyous smile when leaping from the House of Wind, allowing the wind to carry you to where you wanted to go.

Your wings had been so beautiful. Something he had admired from a young age, just like you.

He couldn't imagine losing his own wings, what it would do to him.

So, he was absolutely terrified at what you would face when waking up.

But he would be there, he vowed. He would do anything you needed. Anything you wanted, and it would be yours, and he would do it with a smile on his face and love in his heart.

Taking a deep breath, Azriel wiped his tears and rose from his position. He removed the blanket from Autumn, disliking the scent of it clinging to you in his bedroom, and instead pulled his covers over your shoulders.

Your face seemed more relaxed than it did while laying on that table, and he hoped you were comfortable, that your dreams were allowing you some peace.

It took all of his willpower to leave your side. But he needed to collect some things to make sure you would heal okay. So, reluctantly, he left his bedroom, keeping the lights off, and made his way to the kitchen to find what Madja had left.

He filled a glass of water for when you woke and approached the numerous vials on the table.

Apply once daily for the wing removal, one jar filled with white cream read. Apply once daily for the whip marks, another that had a bluish tint said. Lastly, a taller vial with a tannish-colored liquid, looking almost like tea, that read Drink at night for sleep and pain.

Azriel gathered all of them in his arms and carried them to his room. He assumed Madja would check in soon enough to see how your healing was going, and he knew he could always get in contact with Rhys to call on the healer if need be.

He just wanted to make sure you weren't in pain. The tears streaking down your cheeks earlier still haunted his memories, forming a pit in his stomach. And he knew, with absolute certainty, that his nightmares would be filled with your screams and cries for years to come.

So he would make sure these creams and tonics were applied and taken. He would advocate for you if you needed more, and he would track down every healer in all of Prythian if need be.

Setting the supplies on his bedside, he went to his bathroom and collected extra gauze and tape for when he needed to change your bandages. Once all was prepared, he looked around the space, wondering how he could make it more comforting for you. Less like the space of a spy and more like a space worthy of you.

He fiddled with his scarred fingers while his brain raced, remembering what your bedroom looked like or what you did to the rooms you read in when you wanted a night in.

Azriel quickly made his way to your room, praying to the Mother you wouldn't be angry with him for entering without your permission.

Your bedroom had been exactly what Azriel expected it to be when he first entered it all those years ago. The walls were a dark blue, decorated with drawings and artwork bought in Velaris and drawn of the inner circle. Books littered the space, along with a music player, a chest filled with trinkets from other courts, and an entire shelf of your favorite teas. Your bed was unmade and messy, white sheets and white comforter bundled altogether. There, Azriel spied what he was searching for: a little stuffed bat you slept with.

He and Cassian both had teased you relentlessly when they had glimpsed the small thing on your floor one day. Your cheeks had gone bright red as you floundered trying to explain that you didn't get to have anything like that as a child and you wouldn't be shamed for finding comfort in it now.

Azriel found it endearing. Even during his teasing, an admirable smile had still tugged at his face, his eyes gleaming with care. Such a tough girl but still soft.

He picked it up in one large hand, turning to see if there was anything else in the room you might like to have with you. A book on your nightstand you were reading, your favorite candle -- Azriel grabbed it all before going to make his exit.

When he went to leave, however, he spied something on the desk next to your door.

It was a flower. Long dead, but preserved by being pressed into artwork, framed delicately and displayed on the wooden desk. Azriel recognized that flower. One from nearly a year ago. A daisy.

Azriel had been making his way to Elain's garden, infatuated with her at the time. Knowing how much she liked plants, he had bought some beautiful flowers for her under the guise of sprucing up Rhys' and Feyre's house. But he had seen you on his way over, and your eyes had lit up seeing the bouquet. He remembered the guilt that had swirled in his stomach, seeing how just the sight of the flowers had made you happy. So he had pulled the most perfect daisy out of the variety of flowers and held it out to you.

"For our Daisy," he had said. And you had smiled so sweetly, it had warmed the guilt in his chest away.

The daisy stared back at him now, and he felt like crying again.

Because you were such a sweet soul. He knew at the time the flower would make you happy, that's why he had given it to you. But for it to mean so much to save it?

One small flower had meant so much when he had been carrying an entire bouquet for someone else.

He suddenly felt like he needed to give you the entire world.

You were such a sweet girl, and he had almost lost you.

Azriel swallowed hard, readjusting the things in his arms and leaving your room.

He would give you your stuffed bat, set your book nearby, light your favorite candle, and then he was going to order some fucking daisies.

[harryspet]

bambi eyes (3) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 3.4k

In which you do your best to deal with your Daddy's mood swings.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

You felt like you were seeing Rafe less and less as the next two weeks went on. He was stressed about what was going on with work. He often paced back and forth in front of you, ranting, although he was never specific about the details of what was going on. 

You noticed that he grabbed you tighter, pushed you harder into the mattress, and talked less during sex whenever something outside was affecting him. You were starting to accept it; it never hurt too much, and you’d be more scared if he weren’t interested in you in that way. If he didn’t want to be intimate with you, then there was a chance he wouldn’t want you anymore. 

As much as Rafe promised you this was permanent, you couldn’t fully believe him. He had done all of this just for you, so you had to be able to offer him something special in return. 

Like Rafe wanted, you established a routine. Every morning the birds would wake you up exactly at eight, and you’d make your bed which kept you from napping all day. Staying in your room was causing your imagination to stretch.  You found new ways to entertain yourself, including trying on all the clothes in your wardrobe and throwing elaborate tea parties with all your stuffed animals and dolls. 

One night that you thought would be like the last twelve nights, Rafe came to you after Lana had already brought you dinner. He wasn’t dressed in his usual khakis and dress shirt but in sweatpants and a pullover. You were curled up on the window seat, drawing flowers in a notebook, when Rafe came over to join you. 

“Hi,” You spoke softly. He placed a warm hand on your knee, and you slowly closed your notebook. 

“Hi, baby,” There was an ease and calmness to his voice that made you believe he’d actually had a good day, “What are you working on? Show me.”

You sat up, leaning closer, as you handed him the notebook. You hid slightly behind your knees as Rafe began to flip through the pages. At this point, you’d covered half of the pages in your doodles, “Oh wow, these are really pretty, Bambi,” He smiled with his entire face, including his bright eyes, “We should hang some of these on the fridge.”

You felt a bit of relief, hearing that he liked him, “I have more. Way more. I’ve colored a lot of the coloring books.”

“Go get them, I’ll pick my favorites,” Excitedly, you got up from the window seat. When you set several full coloring books in his lap, Rafe’s lips parted in shock, “Okay, wow, I don’t think I realized how much coloring you’d been doing.”

“I think it’s fun,” You said. 

“Good, I want you to have fun,” Rafe nodded, “But have you worn down all your color pencils? How come you haven’t asked for more?”

You shrugged when Rafe gave you an inquisitive look, “I try to take care of the ones I have.”

“Would you even ask Daddy for more coloring books if you ran out of pages to color?”

“Maybe,” You spoke honestly. 

The idea of asking for more than what Rafe had already given you did make your heart race. Rafe shook his head at something, “Daddy will get you lots more art supplies. Maybe you could try painting?”

“We could paint together?” You perked up. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Rafe assured you, “I’m really, really sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to. Needed to, really. It’s just … I’m working on a lot of things right now, you know?”

“I’ve been okay,” You said, “Lana has been kind to me.”

“Good, good, I want you to be happy here, you know? That’s why I want you comfortable asking for things,” You watched Rafe’s eyes wander towards the bookshelf, “Like your books. I never see you reading them. Do you not like them?”

“I do,” You said quickly.

Rafe started to stare deeply at you, “What-what is it?”

“I . . . “

“I can pick some different ones for you? What do you like?”

“I like it when you read to me, Daddy,” Rafe tilted his head and the mentioning of his nickname didn’t light up his features like usual, “It’s hard for me. I never needed to … do that.”

He paused, which made you think you’d done something wrong, “You’ve never needed to read?”

“I can do it,” You said, “It’s hard when they’re all together, and there’s so many… the words. I’m sorry you think I don’t like the books you picked. I really do. I will try harder–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe rushed to put the coloring books aside and grab ahold of your face, “I just didn’t know, that’s it. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”

It wasn’t something you’d ever felt embarrassed about, but now you couldn’t help but feel stupid. Deep down, you felt a guy like Rafe deserved someone better. He deserved someone smarter than you. 

You closed your eyes, wanting to hang your head, but Rafe said, “Look at me, hey,” Weakly, you did, “I’ve been thinking that you should spend more time with Lana instead of being cooped up in here. At least until I can take care of this … one problem I have. She’d be happy to have some company. And, if you want to learn, she could help you with your reading.”

“You don’t care?”

“Not at all, look, don’t worry. I’ve got you, sweet girl,” He said. Rafe leaned in to peck your nose before he brought your lips together. You melted into him, realizing then how much you missed him when he was gone, “You know what I was thinking?”

You stared back at Rafe, who had a mischievous look in his eye. 

“We should take the boat out.”

“Now? Where?” 

“Just on a short ride to get you some fresh air. It’ll be cold, so let’s find you some warmer clothes, yeah?”

It was a rhetorical question; Rafe was already making his way over to your wardrobe. You looked down at the small silk pajama set you were wearing. You’d seen all the boats out by the dock but hadn’t imagined that Rafe would take you out on one. “Lift your arms,” You did exactly as he said, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over your head. He also chose long pajama bottoms, helping you get into those, too, “You want to bring one of your stuffies?”

Your excitement mixed with your anxiety as you put on your slippers. It was a hard decision to make about which stuffed animal you wanted to bring, but you settled on Fin, your silvery-blue dolphin, “Excellent choice.”

Rafe grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs, “Do you think we’ll see a real dolphin?”

“Well, they tend to be more active during the day, and it’ll be dark soon … but maybe if you wish really, really hard.”

The air was much cooler outside than you expected, and you certainly didn’t expect it to feel so strange being in the fresh air. You turned in a circle just so you could take in the sky, the trees, the house, and everything around you. 

You followed a determined Rafe across the yard and towards the deck. He chose one of the smaller boats, although there was room for at least four more people. You yelped when Rafe grabbed you by your waist suddenly and lifted you inside. Another yelp escaped your lips as the boat rocked under the pressure of your weight, “You’re okay, don’t worry,” He didn’t have to tell you to take a seat or be still; you decided you wouldn’t move at all, “One . . . moment.”

You watched through the corner of your eyes as Rafe untied the roaps keeping the boat tethered to the dock. The boat rocked again as Rafe hopped inside, causing you to grip Fin in one hand and grip the side of the boat in the other. 

You sat in the seat right across from Rafe as the boat slowly pulled off towards deeper water. As the boat became more steady, you turned your head and watched Tannyhill get smaller and smaller. The orange and blue sky reflected off the water, creating an insanely beautiful view. You sailed towards the horizon, the son looking half submerged in the water, “How do you feel?” Rafe yelled over the sound of the motor, “Wanna go faster?”

You nodded, a smile growing on your face, “My little daredevil, huh?” You sat up on your knees, wanting to see more. You get a better look at Figure 8, seeing lots of huge houses along the beach, although none of them compare to Tannyhill. Rafe pointed out different landmarks for you, including the country club and a huge lighthouse out in the water. In your eyes, this night made every other night where you worried about your place with Rafe worth it. 

“Go ahead, you can give it a taste test,” Lana conceded, allowing you to dip your finger into the chocolate cake batter. A few days after your night out with Rafe, Lana was showing you how to make the perfect chocolate cake. You thought she might be exaggerating about how perfect it was until you were licking your finger. An excited moan left your mouth and you bounced on the balls of your feet, “It’s great, isn’t it? Espresso powder is the key.”

“It really is,” You agreed. 

“Now, wash your hands. It’s time to pour our batter.” 

The entire day Lana had told you exactly what to do and how to do it. You didn’t mind listening or following her directions as she usually spoke to you warmly. Besides that, you wanted to learn exactly how to take care of things around the house, knowing that Rafe would appreciate your help when Lana couldn’t be here. The two of you cleaned the entire downstairs, did several loads of laundry, washed the windows in the glass patio, and even had time for a reading lesson in the early morning. She informed you that she homeschooled her youngest son and that she would try to teach you in a similar way. 

As you washed your hands, you glanced out the side window towards the dock. You could see Rafe far out on the dock, standing with the same business associate who came to the house a few weeks ago. They weren’t alone like you were expecting; someone was on their knees a few feet ahead of them, their head slumped over. You squinted your eyes, trying to see more of them, although Rafe and his business associate shouting at each other blocked your view, “What are they doing out there? Who’s that?” Lana came over to where you were standing, peeking out just like you were. 

Whatever business Rafe was involved in, Lana didn’t seem to care for it, “Mr. Cameron and Barry, they’re always at each other’s throats,” She shook her head, “Come, dry your hands. The oven is heated.”

You did as she said, turning your head away. There were going to be several layers to your cake, meaning you had three pans to fill, and after that, you and Lana would make the icing. Just as your mind wandered back to Rafe, you heard him coming through the kitchen door. 

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pacing for a moment before his dark eyes landed on you, “Bambi, let’s … uhm, go upstairs,” His voice was shaky and deeper than normal, “Come here.”

“We’re-We’re just about to put the cake in the oven. It’s for tonight, and we’re going to make homemade icing too–”

“Now …please,” He said the last word like it was painful, “It’s time for you to go back to your room.”

No, no, no, a voice repeated in your head. 

“But Lana was going to teach me how to ice the cake, too and she —”

“Fine,” Rafe snapped, his hand slamming against the counter before he rolled his eyes, “Just stay here.” 

As Rafe stomped away, you knew you had something horribly wrong. You’d seen him in a similar mood before but he never directed any of his vitriol towards you before. Whatever had happened on the dock had clearly upset him. You really wanted to finish working with Lana. More than anything, you didn’t want to be locked in your room for another long period of time. 

After taking a breath, or attempting to take one, you turned to Lana, “I didn’t mean… I-I should go say sorry.”

“You might want to let him calm down a little bit, sweetheart,” You’d already made up your mind. You reached behind your neck to undo the top of your apron, “Turn around, let me help you. He’s not mad at you.”

“How do you know?”

“I know who he is,” She spoke simply, “Don’t take anything too personally with Mr. Cameron.”

“You can finish without me; I’m sorry, but thank you for today,” You said as you started to walk away. After you saw her nod, a sad smile on her face, you turned away and sped for the stairs. 

You approached Rafe’s bedroom moments later, hesitantly turning the knob, “Daddy?” You called, peeking inside. You called him again. He wasn’t in the main room but the shower was running in the bathroom, “Rafe?”

You jumped when he suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorframe, shirtless and his belt undone. This time, you notice his bruised hands and bloody knuckles. 

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, Daddy.”

“Get down on your knees,” He stared you down. When you tried to come closer, he said, “No, drop to your knees right there.”

You felt your knees brush against the bedroom rug, “Crawl to me.” 

If Rafe wanted you to feel even smaller, then his plan was successful. You did as he said, seeing no other option, and crawled towards him. You watched as he palmed himself over his briefs, and you could already feel him stretching you, pulling your hair, and leaving marks on your bottom. This wouldn’t last, you told yourself; he would be gentle with you another time. 

Your sage dress had ridden up your body, exposing your floral patterned white panties. 

“You’re gonna suck my cock and swallow all my cum. And then you’re gonna thank Daddy for letting you.”

You’d do exactly as your Daddy wanted, hoping he’d take your sore throat and tears as a sufficient apology. 

Once you were soundly asleep in his bed, Rafe slipped out. He had a huge, bloody problem waiting for him in the cabin of his boat. Luckily, JJ Maybank was still the degenerate he used to be, and no one except his Pogue girlfriend would come looking for him anytime, “Son of a bitch isn’t talking,” Barry grunted out, meeting Rafe at the beginning of the dock, “Knocked two of his bottom teeth out and he’s still not motivated.”

Rafe had done everything possible to limit any competition he might face in Kildare. All small-time dealers would be working for someone who worked for Rafe. This was meant to be Rafe’s island yet somehow, Maybank was getting supplies from the mainland and was stealing his customers. 

“We could take his girl.”

Rafe contemplated Barry’s question before shaking his head, “If she comes around trying to find him, we might have no choice. I’m sure that will motivate him.”

Rafe could see Barry’s eyes wandering to Kie. Part of him would love to see JJ squirm if they got their hands on her. You were the reason he didn’t think too long about that. Barry, on the other hand, Rafe would let him do whatever he wanted with Kie. In the end, Rafe wanted JJ to talk, to give up his sources, but he’d be just fine killing him. 

“I hope,” Barry crossed his arms, “Not exactly looking forward to dealing with the body.”

“We don’t have to deal with that shit anymore; I know who to pay to handle it,” Rafe said, “Speaking of, I think I-uh need some more security here. I want guards all around the perimeter. Because of the amount of merchandise and if we’re going to be taking captives, you know. I want this place to be a fortress.”

“Your merchandise, huh?” Barry flashed Rafe a knowing look, “You got any liquor in that big house?”

Rafe gestured his head toward the house, signaling to Barry to follow behind him. 

“If Kie doesn’t come for him and if he still has no information to offer us, we kill him. No more torture, no mess, one gunshot to the temple,” Rafe instructed, his mind racing with what their next moves should be. The more planning beforehand, the better, and the less likely it would come back to them, “That’ll send a message to the rest of the Pogues too. They work for me, or they work for no one.”

“And after you’ve cornered the market?”

“That’s just the start of everything else,” Rafe led Barry through the first floor, towards his office. Ward always used to keep his office stocked with liquor as it came in handy for important meanings. Rafe learned people will often let down their barriers and concede to more under the influence of alcohol. He opened the door for him, allowing him to enter. 

“Whoa,” Barry said, walking inside just as Rafe heard a soft gasp from a familiar voice. Eyebrows raised, Rafe entered behind him to find what had shocked him, “Is this the new Mrs. Cameron?”

With wide eyes, Rafe took you in. You were in the same clothes Rafe left you in, one of his white button-ups and your knee-high socks, “What are you doing down here?” You slowly stepped behind Rafe’s desk, and he could tell you were trying to hide yourself.

“I-I couldn’t find you.”

Rafe’s jaw jutted forward, his arms crossed, as he said, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Your lips parted to say something, but Barry interrupted, “C’mon, man, it’s not even midnight! Introduce me to your girl. We can all have a drink,” He grabbed ahold of Rafe’s shoulder. You would think Barry had one the lottery based on the look in his eyes. By complete accident, Barry had stumbled on Rafe’s biggest treasure, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“She doesn’t drink.”

 Rafe was frustrated, mostly because he should’ve been keeping closer track of you. He’d given you that necklace for a reason. A new idea crossed his mind, one he wasn’t expecting, and some of his anxiety eased. He was far from embarrassed of you, he’d chosen you for a reason, but part of Rafe wanted Barry to envy him at that moment. 

Rafe sighed, waving you closer to the two of them, “Bambi, this is Barry. Barry, this is Bambi,” Smoothly, Rafe grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you into him. 

“Hi,” You said shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

 When Barry held his hands out to you, your eyes darted towards Rafe as if to ask permission. Agreement crossed his face, and Rafe watched you shake his hand. Barry was fully taking you in, of course, but Rafe knew a handshake would be the extent of his closeness with you. 

“The pleasure is all mine, beautiful.”

“Chill out, dude. Sit down,” Rafe instructed Barry, pulling you along. 

Barry made himself comfortable on the leather couch and Rafe motioned you to sit across in one of the leather chairs. 

“How you liking Kildare?” 

“It’s really nice,” Rafe heard you respond as he poured two glasses of whiskey for him and Barry, “There’s so many big houses, and … it’s just really pretty.”

“You ain’t seen much then, have you?” Rafe handed Barry his glass, flashing a warning with his eyes, “All the girls where you’re from, they as pretty as you?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” You laughed nervously. 

Rafe placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him,  “Why don’t you go get Barry a slice of that chocolate cake you made?” 

Rafe assumed it would ease your nervousness if you could share what you made. “Okay, Daddy,” You smiled at both men, and both men watched you closely as you walked out of the room, “I’ll be right back.”

“Pretty and obedient,” Barry whistled, “I need to travel more.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support on the first two chapters BUT psa you will not be added to my taglist if you're not reblogging the fic and letting me know your thoughts! It is crazy to me that people will ask me to tag them in the next chapter when they have neither liked nor reblogged the fic. Constructive feedback is more encouraging than just commenting "PART 4" or "tag me in part 4" :)

PART 4

[ghostickle]

I’m so excited for my friends birthday I’ve always wanted to throw a proper birthday party and this is the first time I’ve ever gotten to do it and I’ve already spent like $300 on decorations and activities and ingredients and presents and I really wanna start baking everything cause I’m filling the whole counter with Halloween themed snacks but the party isn’t for 11 days and I need to wait and basically I’m dying

[ellemj]

Wear That Again: 12 Days of Smut #7

Bucky Barnes x Reader One-Shot

This fic was inspired by two things:

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8Ha16Rj/ this Tiktok edit by @the.stark.internship ( @thestarkinternship on Tumblr)

@littlemiss-yeehaw's latest smutty drawing which can be found on her blog, I've stared at it since yesterday and I'm still not over it.

Summary: Bucky ruins your brief holiday romance with a SHIELD agent out of jealousy. You'd think storming in and yelling at the super soldier would've ended in an argument and some slamming doors, but that's not what happens at all.

Warnings: profanity, some objectifying thoughts, possessive!Bucky, jealous!Bucky, thigh riding, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I don't know how tf it's happening but y'all have me averaging 1.2k notes per day on my blog for the last couple of days and it feels surreal. Also I just want to say, I wrote Bucky out-of-character for this one-shot and this is not how I imagine he'd be at all, but it was fun to write hehe.

            “You little fucking shit.” You finally snap as the elevator doors are opening to let you out into the common living area of the tower. “Bucky, you are such an asshole.” You’re absolutely livid, and if your words hadn’t showed that then your actions sure would’ve. You’re slamming your hands down on the kitchen island before the elevator doors have even fully closed. Bucky sits on a barstool with a near straight face, completely unaffected by your rage and only briefly looking up at you as he chews through a bite of his Chinese takeout. “You’re the reason he stood me up, aren’t you? What the hell did you do this time?”

            “Wear that outfit again.”

            You’re silent for the longest moment yet, at least fifteen seconds, and Bucky thinks it might be a new record for you. He hasn’t paid attention to a damn thing you’ve said since you walked in, but he sure as hell paid attention to what you chose to wear tonight. You were supposed to be going on your third date with a SHIELD agent who crossed your path a number of times professionally before finally asking you out two weeks ago, and with it being just six days until Christmas, you were dressing for the occasion tonight. You’re wearing a tight black turtleneck sweater that’s tucked neatly into the tiniest holiday-themed miniskirt you could find. It's a sort of festively-colored tight plaid skirt that barely covers a thing, but you didn’t wear it for any reason other than to encourage your date to rip it off of you later. However, Bucky made sure the poor guy wouldn’t even get the chance to see the damn thing.

            “What did you just say to me?” Your voice is shaking but not with fear, no. It’s shaking with the sheer amount of anger that’s currently eating you alive. Bucky lifts his gaze to meet yours as he sets his chopsticks down and picks up his half-empty beer bottle from the countertop. Letting his eyes roam over the entirety of your figure that isn’t obscured by the kitchen island, he boldly repeats himself.

            “Wear that again.”

            “If you like it, I’m burning it.” You say defiantly, crossing your arms over your chest as you glare at the man before you. Bucky lets out a low laugh now, the sound is melodious but his gaze hardens and narrows as he focuses in on your face.

            “If I like it?” All he can think about is pushing you up against a wall, lifting the back of that tiny little piece of fabric you call a skirt, and fucking you until Christmas morning. If he likes it? Hell, he fucking loves it.

            “That’s it, I’m burning it.” You’ve had enough. First, he ruins your short-lived holiday romance. Then, he has the audacity to act like your outfit is doing something for him. As you said before, he’s a little fucking shit. You shoot him one last passing glare as you move around the island and start heading toward the hallway, ready to lock yourself in your room and plot his demise for the rest of the night. But Bucky just can’t let you have the last word, and he sure as hell can’t let you walk away from him looking like something that belongs under the Christmas tree. Or more accurately, something that belongs under him.

            The two of you have done this dance so many times that you aren’t even surprised when you hear his barstool slide away from the island seconds before you feel a firm hand gripping your forearm and yanking you backward. You’re not surprised when suddenly, your front is pushed roughly against the wall of the hallway and his lips graze over the shell of your ear. Frustratingly, you’re not even a little bit surprised when you feel heat rushing through your body and settling between your legs.

            “You’ll wear that outfit again, when I tell you to.” Bucky’s tone is so much less indifferent than it was only a moment ago. It’s so full of lust that it leaves you trembling, awaiting whatever his next move may be. He knows no one else is in the tower tonight, which means if he wanted to, he could take you right here in the hallway and not feel an ounce of guilt over it. Who’s he kidding? He’s done that before even with everyone in the tower, and guilt sure wasn’t the feeling he felt afterward. But he wants you in his room tonight. You and that fucking skirt.

            Bucky takes your silence as obedience and steps away from you, letting you push yourself off of the wall and turn around to face him. If you’re being honest, you’re a little disappointed. That’s all he wants from you tonight?

            “How long has it been since the last time we had sex?” Bucky questions. He knows you remember, probably down to they very hour. He remembers, but he has to make sure you do too.

            “Two weeks.” You haven’t slept with Bucky since the SHIELD agent asked you out. Bucky mulls over the length of time in his mind. He wants to remedy that, he wants to fuck you tonight, but he won’t. You started seeing someone and threw Bucky to the side so easily that him waiting two weeks to ruin your dating life was the nicest possible thing he could’ve done in retaliation. He’s not going to give you what you need now, at least not everything you need.

            Bucky’s silent as he pushes open his bedroom door and waits for you to step inside before him. He’s still silent as he sits on the edge of the bed and beckons you to stand between his legs. He begins raking his hands up the outsides of your thighs, sliding them underneath your skirt until he feels the waistband of your sheer tights. He isn’t so silent when he begins sliding those down your legs, letting out a soft groan when his hands meet your bare skin underneath. It’s been too fucking long since he’s touched you and an unfamiliar peace settles in his soul when he feels your warmth. You’re expecting him to rip the tights off, followed by the skirt and everything else you’re wearing. However, Bucky’s plan involves keeping you nearly fully clothed, and only partially satisfied. Once he has your heels and tights on his bedroom floor, he kneads your ass underneath your skirt, letting his fingertips brush over the fabric of your thong. God, he’s really practicing his restraint tonight. His cock is already hard, threatening to rip the seam of his pants with even the slightest movement, but he isn’t planning on getting his own fix tonight.

            “Sit.” He commands, gripping your hips with both hands and pulling you down to straddle one of his thighs. As soon as your clothed core makes contact with the toned muscle of his thigh, you stiffen and try to shift your weight so you won’t be so stimulated. Bucky makes an annoyed face at you before slipping one hand back underneath your skirt and drawing your panties to the side, causing your wet clit to press against the fabric of his pants. “I’m not rewarding you for spending your time with some other guy for the last two weeks, I’m not having sex with you.”

            You’re about to protest, to tell Bucky that he’s being sensitive, that the two of you never had any rules about dating, but Bucky senses your opposition and begins dragging you back and forth over his thigh. He looks down between the two of you as a wet spot quickly begins forming where your pussy meets his clothed leg. Fuck. It feels too good for you to even consider stopping and telling him that he’s an asshole. So, you go along with his guiding movements, grinding against his leg and finding just the right amount of pressure and friction to start heading toward an orgasm.

            “You didn’t have to scare the guy off.” You mutter as you lean forward, letting your hands rest on Bucky’s shoulder as you place a gentle kiss against the side of his neck. He sighs and tilts his head to the side to give you better access, but his hands continue to guide the movement of your hips.

            “Three dates were enough. I couldn’t stand it anymore.” He admits. You feel an odd sense of pride surge through you at his words, though you have no idea if he’s being honest or not. “I couldn’t let him have you like this.” You suck on the skin just beneath Bucky’s left ear and pick up the pace with which you’re grinding on his thigh.

            “Fuck, James.”

            Bucky knows this isn’t the right time for the conversation, so as you grind out an orgasm on his thigh, letting out the most heavenly moans and whimpers just for him, he tells himself to hold it together until Christmas. That’s when he’ll tell you. That’s when he’ll tell you that he wants more than the angry, hateful late-night rendezvous in his room or yours. He wants more than sitting around waiting for you to come home from a date while he nearly goes insane with jealousy. He wants more of you. Fuck, he wants all of you.

            Just as you’re coming undone on his thigh while moaning his name and squeezing his shoulders, he lets his hands snake underneath your little plaid skirt. He grips your ass with both hands, digging his fingertips into the supple skin there as he leans into your neck. You feel him take a deep breath in as you’re coming down from your orgasm high.

            “Why do you always smell so fucking good?” He asks, licking a small stripe up the side of your neck before pressing his lips against it in a soft kiss. You only hum lightly in response, your brain not quite ready to formulate a full sentence. Bucky presses a second kiss to your neck, and then a third as his works his way up to your lips. His hands move to smooth over the fabric of that little skirt that he can’t seem to get over. “Stay away from the fireplace this week. I can’t have you burning this skirt.”

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[i-cant-sing]

Yandere batfam with a sick reader?

Yes but sick reader who is still defiant because hello, they kidnapped you?????

Reader is just glaring at them with tired eyes and a red nose as they once again tuck her under the covers, Dick is highly worried as he frets over you like a mama hen because he did have a heart attack when he caught you standing in front of your open window, where "harsh" gusts of cold air were "attacking your fragile form", so of course, he had to drag you in and wrap his arms around you, rub his cheek against you because he NEEDS to warm you immediately, lest you die of hypothermia.

Yes, Dick overreacts. And yes, Damian will accompany his brother in his delusions, or well, take any chance he gets to scold you.

"You should be in bed, Y/n." Damian said sternly, his eyes narrowed because how dare you worry his favourite brother like this. "Didn't Dick tell you to rest? Are you that incapable of following simple commands?"

You narrowed your eyes back at him, opening your mouth to say something mean but got cut off by your own coughing fit, making Dick rush to help you drink some water, rubbing your back along it. Your throat felt scractchy, and it hurt to speak, but you still wanted to convey your feelings so-

You flipped him off. For a nano second, because Dick immediately grabbed your hand and tucked it back under the covers while Damian's eyes widened at you disrespect, but before he could make any more gremlin noises, but Bruce walked in and Damian knew better than to complain to him about you when youre already sick, cause Bruce wouldve still favoured you.

"Y/n? How do you feel now?" Bruce asked, his voice gentle as he walked closer to where Dick was throwing away your mountain of tissues.

"Im fine. I wanna go out-" "No." "And why not?" "Because youre sick." "You may be Batman, but youre not a doctor!" "I am your father though."

No, youre not. You wanted to say, but knew that would only piss him off and you need to be on his good side if you want Dick and the others to be off your back so that you can escape.

"Whats her temperature?" Bruce asked Dick, who put a thermometer in your mouth quickly. Dick sighed as he told Bruce how you were out of bed and standing in your balcony in the cold just moments ago.

Bruce placed a palm over your forehead, and you tried to move away but there wasnt really any space or energy for you to do that. Bruce's eyes shifted the slightest bit at your burning forehead. "Why do you insist on getting out of bed and sleeping on the floor? Ive already had to pick you up 3 times in the past 2 days."

You pulled out the thermometer and glared at him. "Im fine. Its just sniffles." Bruce's lip quirked a little. You looked absolutely adorable in your delirious state, like an angry kitten.

"I dont think its just sniffles this time. And-" Bruce pulled the thermometer from your hands that you were hiding under the covers. "-dont hide the thermometer from me." His eyes scanned it and the twitch in his brow was enough for Dick to know that the number was too high.

Bruce then eyed the cough syrup next to your side table- its still full.

"Why havent you been taking your medicine?"

"Im not sick-"

"White paint has more color than you do right now. So why havent you been taking the medicine?" Bruce asked and even though he was a little annoyed, he had enough practice dealing with the other kid's rebellious phases to have the patience of a saint.

You shrugged. "How do I know its just cough syrup and not a sedative?" "It is a sedative too. Its supposed to make you sleepy." "Well, I dont wanna sleep and let my guard down in a house full of 5 strange men." You obviously never counted Alfred- hes the only normal one here- except for the part that he wont call the cops for you, but oh well.

Bruce just casted a look to Dick and before you knew it, Dick was pinching your nostrils close and titling your head up while Bruce grabbed the syrup and poured some in your mouth before clamping his hand over it. You struggled to break free, but you were obviously no match to them. Still, tears of frustration pricked your eyes as you looked at them in betrayal and hatred.

"Drink this and dont argue with me, please." Bruce said- well, he genuinely requested at this point.

You didnt have much of a choice other than swallowing it.

With a defiant glare, you begin closing your eyes as your body gave into the effects of the drug, the last thing that you felt were Bruce kissing your forehead while Dick pecked your cheek.

Jason finally decides to drop by the Wayne manor, only to be greeted with the sight of reader lying on the kitchen floor. His heart stopped for a moment- you werent breathing-

"Y/n!" He rushed to your side, only to be smacked in the face by you.

"Shush. Dont be too loud." Your voice sounded like sandpaper against rocks.

Jason huffed. "Well, sorry for freaking out. I thought you were dead-"

"From a cough? Im not weak."

"Yeah? So, what exactly are you doing on the cold floor in the middle of the night?"

"..."

"Well?"

"What? So I cant even take a nap in this house? Jesus Christ, am I allowed to have any autonomy here?"

"Y/n." Jason called, clearly unamused by your sarcasm.

"Fine. I may have fallen and then didnt have the energy to get up, so im just catching my breath here."

"Why are you even out of bed?"

"I was hungry and Im not gonna drink another spoon of Alfred's bland soup again." Alfred made it bland on purpose so that your throat wouldnt be irritated.

"Please stop wasting whats left of your voice on complaints of the soup that you cant even taste." Jason chuckled as he picked you up, only for you to push at his chest weakly.

"I dont need your help. I can walk on my own."

Jason quirked a brow. "If you can make it to the front door without fainting or throwing up, I'll help you escape." You stared at the front door- it wasnt too far, but judging by the fact that its even hard for you to breathe properly and that youve fainted way too many times by just standing for more than a couple of minutes.

But youre stubborn. With great effort, you pushed yourself off Jason and used the kitchen island to pull yourself up. Jason decided to walk in front of you and stand near the kitchen exit because he really wanted to see your struggling face.

You took a trembling step, then another, one hand still using the support of the island until it ended and you were only a couple of feet away from Jason. At this point, you were already out of breath and when you took another step, your legs gave out and the room began spinning.

Luckily, Jason was quick to react. "Alright, just place your arm around mine- or just fall on me, that works too." He teased when you couldnt hold your body weight.

You slumped in his arms. "Just take me to my room." You huffed.

"Alright." Jason lifted your legs up and carried you back up the stairs. "You know you'd get better a lot faster if you just stayed in bed and took your medicine on time. Wouldnt that make your chances of escaping the manor better?"

You stared at him blankly. "Wow. The world must be ending for Jason Todd to be making logical suggestions."

Jason rolled his eyes as he tucked you in bed. "Im just saying, if you get better faster, you'll get to try running from us quicker too."

How do you explain to him that you just dont want to comply to them, even when they're helping you. How do you explain that you dont wanna listen to them because the soft pitiful, patronising look they get in their eyes when they look at you makes you wanna scream and carve your skin out. These are strangers, rich men who just kidnapped you to be a part of their family. No one is that kind. And nothing ever comes for free. Nothing.

"Do you need something? Food, perhaps?" Jason asked. You shook your head. "No, I think Im gonna throw up."

"Oh shit." Jason was hauling his ass out of the room t get you a bucket, only to return with a backpack.

You barely held your puke as you asked. "Wait- whose is this?"

"I dont know!? Damian's?!"

You grinned. "Oh, perfect." You proceeded to throw up into Damian's bag. That little shit just got on your nerves.

BONUS:

"I know you have attachment issues with your blanket but its been a couple of days now and you need to let me wash it." Dick said, trying to tug it out of your grip.

You sniffled and glared. "Im not a child who needs their blankie, Dick. Im just too cold without it and no other blanket can warm me up the same way it does."

"Give the blankie, Y/n." Dick said seriously.

"Its not a blankie." You retorted, but before you could react, Tim suddenly grabbed you while Dick ripped away the blanket. And even though he immediately replaces it with a clean blanket, you still let out a gut wrenching cry

"You'll have it back tomorrow-" Tim starts saying, only for you to sneeze directly in his face, making him freeze.

"And that's why we use tissues." Dick says, wiping both your nose and Tim's face with tissues, while you're not making any effort to suppress the grin that comes on your lips.