#how dare he make his little bird cry like that

[anawrites3]

I'm feeling a bit angsty today and I'm thinking about Dick doing something that made Damian furious (I'm not sure what exactly. Risking his life on a mission? Accidentally exposing a secret Damian shared with him?) and Damian is yelling at him, his face red with anger. Dick tries to apologize, maybe explain himself but then Damian hits at his chest to shove him away.

"I hate you!" he yells and Dick just... freezes.

Everything falls quiet in the cave, no one dares to make a sound. Dick isn't even breathing, just looking at Damian with wide eyes.

"C'mon, Damian, don't say that." Tim scolds him gently in a quiet voice, stepping closer to them. "You didn't mean that."

"I did mean it! I hate you, Grayson! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!"

Damian runs back to the manor and Alfred goes after him. Dick just looks after Damian, after his baby brother he would do everything for, the boy that he helped raise. He doesn’t hear Jason when he calls out to him and is barely aware that Jay steps up to him.

"Dickie..." Jason says again, softly, fingers squeezing Dick's shoulder.

It's grounding and Dick finally starts breathing again, even though it hurts.

"I-I'm okay." he forces out. His breath is shaking. He looks down at his hands and notices that they're shaking too. "I... I should go now."

"What? Dick, no-"

Both Tim and Jason try to stop him, try to reason with him that he should stay, that he really shouldn't go back on his own in this state. Dick ignores them. It's easy when he doesnt even hear what they're saying, when all he hears is 'I hate you, I hate you' playing over and over again in his head like a broken record.

He doesnt manage to go far. Some time later, he finds himself at one of Gotham's buildings, crying and trying to remember how to breathe.

He wants it to stop hurting, he wants to go back in time so he won't make that stupid mistake and Damian won't hate him for it, he wants to forget about this fucking day, he wants- he wants-

He fishes out his phone from his suit before he even manages to understand what he's doing and dials a number that he knows will always pick up, no matter how late it was, no matter how stupid the reason is.

"Yeah?" a hoarse voice answers and Dick finally breaks out sobbing, no longer able to keep it all in.

"Slade-" he sobs and faintly hears the rustling of the sheets on the other side of the line.

"Dick." Slade replies, immediately much more awake and alert. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Where are you?"

Dick would laugh if the situation was any different.

"Slade..." he cries again instead. His hands are trembling so much he's afraid he'll drop his phone so he sits down.

"Are you in danger?"

"N...no." his breath heaves, sobbing so hard now it’s difficult to do anything else. "N-no, Slade, I'm- I'm fine, I'm-"

"Alright, calm down, Dick. Take a deep breath for me, little bird." Slade orders, firm but in a soft voice and Dick does. "Good. Now again."

It doesnt help much, it doesnt change anything, Damian still hates him-

"Again."

It doesnt change anything but Slade's with him now, Slade's talking to him and Slade always makes Dick feel safe and loved, and so he follows every one of his instructions.

"What happened?" Slade asks gently, when Dick calms down enough to just cry silently, tears running down his cheeks without any sound.

"I... I d-don't want to think about it." he admits and Slade hums. He can hear him moving around his apartment. "Can you... can you just... talk to me?"

"About what?"

"About..." Dick swallows. "About the first time your children told you that they hate you."

There's a moment of silence. Dick has no doubts that Slade connected the dots immediately and already knows what it is about.

Still, he doesn’t say anything.

"Hm, let me think." he begins softly, with the kind of tone he only uses with Dick when they're alone and Slade doesnt feel like he has to hide his feelings for Dick from the rest of the world. Dick instantly feels more at ease and he reaches to wipe his cheeks with his sleeve. "If I remember correctly, Joey was the first one of them to ever say it."

"...Really?"

"Mm. He got really mad at me."

"W-what happened?"

"I was away on the contract. I was supposed to do the work quickly but it got extended and I wasn't able to get home for Christmas."

"Oh." Dick says sympathetically.

"Yeah. Boys got really upset." Slade sighs through his nose and Dick can just imagine the look on his face, the way his eyebrows furrow as he thinks back to the unpleasant memory. "I talked with them on the phone and tried to explain. Joey didn't like it."

"I'm sorry. It must've been hard to hear it over the phone like that."

Slade hums, "It was. I couldn't even try to do anything about it because I was in another damn country. But when I finally got back he’d already calmed down and apologized properly. He was really sorry and couldn't stop crying about it. I had to carry him everywhere with me."

"That sounds nice." Dick croaks.

"Maybe for you." Slade grumbles and Dick's lips twitch weakly in a smile. "You like to be carried around everywhere so you think it's so great. I was the one who had to actually carry him."

Slade keeps talking to him about the fights he had with his kids when they were still little and how much it hurt the first time, he talks about other things from his past and even about silly things that don’t really matter. Dick doesn’t know how much time has passed before Slade is on the rooftop with him.

"Hi." Dick whispers, looking up at him from his place on the ground.

"Hi, little bird." Slade kneels to get more on Dick's level and kisses him gently. "Let's go home."

When they're already in Slade's apartment, pressed tightly in bed, Dick finally tells him what happened. Slade listens and lets Dick cry into his chest, heavy arms around his waist bringing quiet comfort.

Then Slade spends the morning spoiling the shit out of Dick, doing his best to make him forget about what Damian said. Later that day he doesnt want to let the demon spawn in, when the boy finally comes to apologize and then he stands beside Dick like a guarding dog through the whole thing.

Anyway that was supposed to be just a quick thought and now I want to write it into a full fic :)) I simply want Slade comforting Dick, taking his mind off bad things 🥺 also I just want Slade talking about his kids hshsjhfjsh Hope you liked it!!

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Irresistible {7} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: After everything, you get a happy healthy ending. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, smut, fluff. WC: 4.5k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Your Playlist:

Big Girls Don’t Cry - Fergie

Pretend - Secondhand Serenade

No Right To Love You - Rhys Lewis

You Broke Me First - Tate McRae

Lose You To Love Me - Selena Gomez

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Wicked Game - Violet Orlandi 

Charles’ Playlist:

Your Call - Secondhand Serenade

The Loneliest - Mäneskin

Roses And Butterflies - Making April

Amnesia - 5sos

Miserable At Best - Mayday Parade

Love Is Gone - Slander

The Man Who Can’t Be Moved - The Script

Charles was spiralling with every mile that grew between where he was and where you were. The only updates he had from you were in the form of photos on Instagram and his concentration went into waiting for your next post instead of the preparation for the final free practice of the day. He had sent you enough unanswered messages to know you were ignoring him and it hurt more than he dared let on.

“She’s not home yet,” he said as he caught up to Max in the paddock. It was half a question and half a statement, but he needed some sort of confirmation.

“I know.” Of course Max knew. You kept in touch with him, sending him sporadic messages when you stopped to take in the beautiful countryside on the quiet roads. It should have been a four hour drive but you were content to make it last the day so you didn’t have to think about what you had left behind. 

Max looked like he was going to say something else but he closed his lips as an arm curled around Charles’ waist. Whatever information he was going to offer was replaced with a simple, “I’ll see you later.”

Charles turned to Charlotte and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I thought you left.”

“Because we had one little fight?”

“I would hardly call it little.”

“Whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, now that Y/N’s gone things will be so much easier between us. We can get back to how we used to be. We are good for each other, Charles.”

Charles briefly entertained the idea of pushing her away but then he remembered how lonely it was sleeping by himself. It was completely stupid to even think the relationship could go back to how it was but he was selfish, if he couldn’t have you then settling for her was going to be the next best thing. 

“How about we talk after practice?” His voice was full of defeat and Charlotte knew she had already won as she kissed his cheek and let him go.

“I’ll wait in your garage.”

He faked a smile and headed after Max.

The air was stale when you stepped into the apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as you dragged yourself down the hall and into your room. Charles’ bedroom door was still half open, the bed unmade and clothes spilling out of his drawers, sending a pang of hurt to your chest before you pulled it shut. You collapsed face first on your bed and just managed to send a message to Max letting him know you arrived safely before you let your emotional exhaustion take you under. You didn't bother to text Charles, he was probably busy anyway.

Dawn came with all the same enthusiasm that you woke with. The skyline was a watery grey and even the birds failed to raise any sort of trill with their woeful calls down on the mariner. Dew clung in the air and on your cheeks as you opened the balcony door and chased away the stale air from being closed up for weeks since the last visit. 

Your memory here before the lockdown began didn’t hold a lot of details but you did remember the aroma of coffee drifting up from the cafe below the building. Unfortunately there was only the tang of salt and storm on the air as you inhaled deeply before making the call that was long overdue. 

As expected your father answered straight away, the confusion clear in his voice as he realised that his little night owl was up at dawn. “Hey kiddo, is everything okay?”

“Can we have a donut day?”

You could already hear him moving around the house and he must have covered the microphone as he said a muffled goodbye to a sleepy Pascale. “On my way.”

Donut day was created the day you got your first period. As a panicking solo dad he had rushed to the supermarket for supplies, but he left with mostly donuts and other treats. Thankfully Betty was better prepared and soon arrived with everything you needed, along with calm instructions on how to use them. After that, any day that was absolutely terrible was called a donut day. You and your father would sit on the couch and scoff down a box of donuts until the comfort food worked its magic. 

You paced the living room until the doorbell rang and practically tore it off the hinges in your haste. You really hadn’t noticed just how lacklustre months of video calls were until you threw your arms around your dad and buried your face in his shirt. Video calls couldn’t capture the smell of his aftershave or the feel of his beard when he kissed your forehead like you were still a little kid. 

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He pulled back to look at your face and his brows pinched together. “Rough night?”

You snorted a laugh but it cracked in your chest and your head fell down. “The last time you asked me that was in Monaco too.”

“I remember. Is this about a boy?”

You nodded and took a seat on the couch while he pensively watched from where he stood. “Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

He huffed and went to the kitchen instead, grabbing a plate and emptying a bag of pastries onto it. “This is the closest to donuts I could find, sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not about the donuts.” You picked at a pain au chocolat while he took a seat and grabbed a pain au raisin. “I…”

You didn’t know where to begin or what to say, you just knew you had to get the truth off your chest so you could try to move on. Maybe by admitting the mistake you made, it might somehow ease the guilt you were carrying.

“A boy, right?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “The same one actually.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead.“From when we visited?”

“The very same.” You swallowed but the pastry seemed to coat your throat and you nearly choked before you abandoned it. “It was Charles.”

“Oh,” he said with a nod before it seemed to connect and his eyes widened. “Oh…well…shit..”

“I should have said something sooner but I didn’t want to make things awkward for you and Pascale but I…I really fucked up, dad.”

You could practically see his thoughts crossing his face as he remembered how you had called him the first day, asking to stay anywhere else. A heavy sigh fell and he seemed to deflate into the couch cushions. “I thought you were with Max?”

Your eyes narrowed but you didn’t deny it. “How do you know that?”

“Charlotte posted a picture of you and him the other night.”

“That bitch is a-”

“Uh-uh, no,” he tutted. “Correct me if I am wrong but I am going to assume you and Charles have been more than just friends…” 

Your silence was damning. 

“I don’t think you have the moral high ground to go around calling her a bitch then. I raised you better than that. Does Max know about Charles?”

“Max knows everything,” you admitted quietly, still feeling the sting of the reprimand. “He’s good for me.”

“Okay, so then what’s the problem?”

“I just really thought it was a chance - with Charles. We made plans, a future, I could see it.” Now all you saw was the note on the table and how he chased after Charlotte. “It was stupid and naive and I feel so embarrassed.”

“Love makes everyone stupid at some point.” Your father sighed again before wrapping his arm around you. “So Max huh? You know he’s got a bit of a reputation. Bit of a hot head.”

You wiped away the tears that had been building and scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see in the media. They portray Charles as this wholesome boy next door and Max as an angry man child. Both are wrong.”

You grabbed the pastry and ate it, this time able to stomach the idea of food, before grabbing another. It wasn’t as sweet as a donut but the sugar from the chocolate was starting to hit your blood and perk you up.

“I can’t live here anymore. Not Monaco,” you corrected when you saw his eyes widen. “Just here, with Charles. I need somewhere away from him.”

You didn’t know the exact reason why your mother left but you thought maybe she felt like this, maybe it was healthier to leave than to stay. 

“The house isn’t finished but the kitchen and your bathroom are done, so it’s livable. You’ll need some moving boxes. A lot by the looks,” your father said as he stood up and looked around the room to see your belongings strewn across the place. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re not going to give me a lecture?” you asked as he made his way to the door.

He scanned your features that reminded him so much of your mother. “You look like you’ve learned your lesson to me. Do you need one?”

You shook your head meekly and he nodded to himself. “I’ll be back with some boxes soon.”

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted Max as soon as the video connected. He had just returned to his hotel after qualifying and securing the 5th starting place on the grid. “I’ve found a new hobby, painting.”

His smile brightened at your mood that had dramatically lifted in the past 24 hours and you showed him around your new bedroom. Paint bottles lined a sheet-covered table and dirty brushes sat in a murky jar of water, but you panned across the wall to show him the artwork you had made.

“What is it?” he asked with a forehead crumpled in confusion. He tilted his head trying to see from a different angle but he still couldn’t process the splatterings - it reminded him of a Rorschach test, one he was doing badly at. 

“I didn’t say I was good,” you clarified with a laugh as you also tried to interpret the design that was no longer just on the walls. It was a good thing the carpet hadn’t been laid yet. You had tried to push the hair out of your face and smeared paint across your cheek and it had ended up everywhere by the time you were finished. “It is a mess just like me.”

“You're not a mess, schat,” Max said as he sat at the end of his bed and fell back to watch the tour of the rest of the house. “Are you okay there on your own?”

“It’s certainly quieter than the paddock, that will take a bit of getting used to, but I don’t mind it too much.” You did miss the other friends you had made at Ferrari, but felt it was best to give everyone in red a wide berth for a while. You had seen how poorly Charles qualified and knew he wasn’t at his best partly because of you. You still hadn’t been able to answer his calls or texts.

“Well, you could come back, if you want, you’ll always be welcome at Red Bull.”

“If you miss me, you can just say that,” you teased and he sat up.

He combed a hand through his damp hair and you bit your lip remembering how it felt to be the one doing that. “I do miss you,” he admitted seriously. “That’s why I’m coming back first thing Monday morning - I owe you breakfast.”

“You know there are no cafes open?”

Max smirked and the sight made your heart skip a beat. “Who said anything about a cafe?”

You wanted to know what his plans were but there was a knock at his door and Daniel’s voice reached you through the phone. Max was tempted to let Daniel continue pounding on the door but you both knew he wouldn’t leave quietly and Max groaned at that truth. “Go answer that, I’ll call you in the morning.” 

Max dragged his feet as he padded across the room. “I would rather talk to you.”

“Me too.”

“Finish the phone sex already, you pervs,” Daniel shouted through the door before Max ripped it open.

“Oh, oh, yes, Max, don’t stop,” you called out, turning Max’s ears pink as he rushed to turn the phone around and show Daniel the screen and just how fully clothed you were. “Sorry to disappoint you, Danny, no phone sex - this time.”

It was only when Daniel bent over laughing that you saw he wasn’t alone. Charles was out in the hallway with Carlos and Lando, his eyes falling to the carpet when you noticed him.

“We’re getting dinner, you wanna come?” Daniel asked, and thankfully the phone rotated back to Max who looked a little torn at the offer.

“He does,” you answered for him before he could decline just to talk with you a little while longer.

“I’ll call you in the morning, schat.”

“Okay, have fun.”

Charles found nothing to celebrate when the race ended so he made his way home before the rest of the crew even realised it. He thought his weekend couldn’t get any worse after he DNF’d. The only silver lining was that despite his better qualifying, Max had also failed to finish the race. But he still won where it really mattered when it came to you.

Charles pulled into the apartment complex and saw a new sleek black Mercedes AMG parked in one of his many reserved spaces and hope fluttered in his chest. He grabbed his suitcase and darted up the stairwell to his apartment, nearly snapping the key in his haste to unlock the door. That hope turned to ash when he found it eerily silent and every inch of the place perfectly tidy. It was unlived. 

The artwork you had purchased still hung on the walls and the shaggy rug he had made love to you on still covered the floor, but the spirit of it all was gone. The colours of the paintings were drained and the temperature controlled air was no longer comfortable. He didn’t even need to go to your room and check, he knew you were gone.

He knew you were gone the moment he saw you on the video call to Max. He had gone with his mother to her new house enough times to know what it looked like, even if it appeared that a rainbow vomited all over the walls. The truth just hadn’t really settled in until he stepped across the threshold and into the house that was once a home.

You had tidied the place as if you were cleaning a crime scene and needed to scrub away all evidence of being there except you couldn’t get it all. You still remained in the pantry cupboards where everything was labelled in your handwriting. You still remained in the linen closet where you folded the sheets and the towels into perfect rectangles. You still remained in the scented candles that sat on the centrepiece of the table.

Charles’ eyes stung as they lingered on the table where the keys to the apartment and the Mercedes sat, right next to his credit card and the picture you kept in your wallet.

Kicking the door closed, he abandoned his suitcase and rushed down the hall. His heart hammered knowing what he would find but he had to check as he pushed open your bedroom door. No, it wasn’t your bedroom anymore, it was a guest room. 

The feminine floral duvet his mother had chosen was gone, replaced with a plain white coverlet, and the windows were latched slightly open so whatever scent of yours he may have been able to save had already been cast away to the breeze. 

“Fuck!” he screamed as he punched his fist into the mattress. “Fuuuuucckk!!!”

Max must have left before Pierre had finished partying after his shock win. It wasn’t even morning really as the sun was still cresting over the hills, and it was far earlier than you were expecting him. You thought perhaps you were dreaming when you woke to a knock and opened the door to find Max on your front steps. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you asked as you pulled him inside and inspected the bags under his eyes. 

“I’m better now,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your hair. “I told you I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you murmured into his chest before pulling away so you could look into his eyes. “You need to sleep.”

“I’ll be fine, I have plans first.”

“Your plans can wait.” You took his hand and led him through the house to your room that overlooked the mariner. Your blankets were still warm as you nestled under the covers and patted the empty space beside you. “You’re not going to be comfortable in jeans.”

“Five minutes and you’re already trying to get me naked,” he teased as he pulled his shirt over his head before he unbuttoned his jeans.

“I never said naked,” you pointed out. The air froze in your lungs as he pushed them down his muscular thighs and you swallowed at the sight before.

“I’m not wearing boxers.”

“No, you certainly are not.” Your tongue rolled across your lips as you drank in every inch of him, the idea of sleep quickly departing your mind. Almost everything departed your mind, except want. “I think I am overdressed.”

“You make a habit of that.”

“I do, don’t I. Maybe you should come help me fix that.”

Max didn’t need to be told twice, he had been waiting for this moment since he had the memory of how your body felt against his. He pulled the covers back and knelt between your legs, his hands roaming up your body and under the baggy shirt of a band he didn’t know. The morning air was cool on your skin as you lifted your arms and he discarded the shirt over the side of the bed. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he traced his lips over your racing pulse. A fiery trail of goosebumps remained where his kiss had been and he made his way to your lips before stealing the very breath from your lungs.

Your own hands went roaming, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch until you reached his proud erection. He shuddered above you and moaned into your mouth before he pulled back. “I need you,” you begged, unabashedly. “Please, Max.”

His hands reached for your panties and the lace tickled as he dragged them down your legs. Even with your begging, he didn’t immediately bury himself in you. He took his time, settling back between your legs. He gently massaged your inner thighs with his strong hands, his thumbs dancing teasingly close to your core until a strangled whine escaped you.

“Relax, schat,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

He shifted onto his stomach and dipped his head to your core. You lost the ability to think as he gripped your hips and tugged you right onto his open mouth. A wordless cry filled the room and it took a second to understand it was coming from you as you lost yourself in the pleasure Max was giving you. You knew Max had an internal drive to succeed at everything he did and this was no different. He was determined to taste you completely and drive you into oblivion with his tongue and his fingers before he thoroughly fucked you. 

Max looked wild and untamed as you came undone around his fingers and he savoured the taste of you on his tongue as he rose above you. His eyes were dark and his lips swollen, his chin was damp and his smile satisfied. 

“Hi,” he chuckled with amusement. “Feeling alright?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, because correlating a conscious thought into words seemed impossible as your body still trembled with aftershocks.

“Would you like a break?”

You reached between your bodies and wrapped your hand around his cock, guiding him closer to your entrance. “No, I want you, Max.”

“Completely sober, right?” he confirmed as the head pressed to your wet core.

“Not quite,” you teased, his brows pinching together at the words, “I’m drunk on you.”

The relief in his eyes was palpable and you cradled his face in your palm as you wrapped your legs around his hips. Your bodies united torturously slowly and your eyes fluttered at the fullness when every delicious inch was seated inside, your lips parting with a heady sigh.

“Open your eyes, schat.”

You obeyed in an instant, watching him watch you before his eyes drifted down your bodies. His lip was pinched between his teeth and he groaned at the sight of your pussy taking him so well, something he made sure to tell you.

“Fuck,” you choked as his words made your cunt clench in response, each thrust burying him deep in your cunt until stars dotted your vision and you were tipped over the edge into another orgasm. “Fuuuckk…”

Six months later. “Babe, have you seen my shoes?” Your voice carried throughout the large penthouse apartment you had moved into with Max when the season ended. 

“Here, with your dress,” he called out from the living room. 

You followed his voice and found the luggage being neatly stacked by the door. He pointed to the two garment bags hanging from the coat rack and at the bottom of the longer one were your heels, next to his polished dress shoes.

“I packed your coat too,” Max said, kissing your temple as he passed to get the car keys.

With the COVID restrictions being lifted Pascale hadn’t wanted to wait a minute longer for the wedding, so winter nuptials in February was the go. At least they were taking place in Sicily so it would be a little warmer, but of course Max would think to pack a coat for when the temperatures dropped at night. He was always thoughtful like that.

“Did you want a coffee?” you asked as you turned on the machine and put your travel mug under it. It was only a three hour flight on Max’s private jet, but you hadn’t slept well with the knowledge you would see Charles for the first time since Christmas. 

Cordial is how you would describe that relationship. The familiarity and intimacy was gone, replaced with standoffish politeness. You were both trying to find where the line could be drawn on a platonic friendship that had the history of more and it was slow going. You didn’t want anything you said or did around him to be misconstrued. 

Max made you happy, and just as importantly, Max was healthy for you. You did sometimes wonder if he tried harder to be better because he had witnessed toxic relationships growing up. He knew how that toxicity could poison and break someone so there was a conscious effort in the way he spoke and acted to everyone around him. Even Charles. 

That was why he had offered his plane for everyone to use, including Charles and Charlotte. For better or for worse, Charles was going to be a part of your family in less than 24 hours and Max respected that. Like he said, he didn’t care about your past and your future was one with him.

“Schatje,” Max called, one hand on your waist, the other reaching past you to the overflowing mug in the coffee machine. “Everything alright?”

You came back to the present with a few blinks and turned in his arms, surprising him with a deep kiss as you fisted his shirt and pulled him closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulled back to see your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shake of your head but he saw right through it. “Everything you’ve done for me…a simple ‘I love you’ just doesn’t seem enough. I can never say it enough.”

Max’s hands cradled your jaw and he dipped his head to indulge in a slow but thorough kiss that had your stomach clenching with a fresh wave of desire. When he pulled back this time he smiled as he found the clear want and need for him written on your face. “It’s enough for me.”

He turned the machine off and poured the ruined coffee down the sink. “I’ll get you a proper coffee on the way to the airport. We should get going, can’t have the best woman be late for the rehearsal.”

“I think dad settled on the term groomsmaid,” you corrected with a laugh. You had nearly cried when he asked you to be his best man, before accepting the honour. It was fitting considering the bridesmaids were Pascale’s sons. “It’s not too late if you want to be a flower girl?”

He grinned and his eyes flicked to the door where the dress you had paraded for him last night hung. “I’m quite happy to sit back and watch.”

“If I recall, you didn’t sit still for long. I hope you have more self restraint for the ceremony.”

 “For the ceremony, yes. But as soon as we hit the hotel room you’re mine and that dress will be on the floor, I promise you.”

You bit your lip at the promise, knowing he would keep it just like every other one he had made. 

“We should probably go before I do something that makes us very late,” Max groaned, stepping away from your tempting body. 

“Ugh, fine.”

The ceremony was more than just a wedding and it represented the joining of the Leclerc’s and the Y/LN’s, something that had surprised you and also made you grateful for having waterproof mascara. You didn’t dare look at Charles when the celebrant spoke about the union of the two families, but Arthur grinned and Enzo winked, your father narrowed his eyes and you laughed.

The celebrant, thankfully, didn’t understand.

The cashmere coat Max had packed hung over the bag of your chair as night fell and you danced with him under the open stars. The only light came from the fairy lights strung around the stone pillars that had survived centuries on the island. His arms kept you warm as you swayed to the music and you spoke quietly to each other in a world of your own.

“Hey, can I, uh, can I cut in?” Charles asked hesitantly.

You took a deep breath as you debated the question, your eyes glancing around and quickly finding Charlotte at a table with Arthur and his girlfriend. You looked at Max to see if it was okay. He just smiled and kissed your cheek, whispering, “I’ll get us a drink.”

Charles waited until Max had made it off the dance floor before offering his hand, the other coming to rest on your waist. The first step was tentative, like he wasn’t sure you were actually going to follow his lead. “You look happy,” he said after a few more steps.

“I am.”

He nodded to himself, looking at Charlotte. “Good. That’s good.”

He looked miserable. “I hope you find real happiness one day.” You were being honest.

“I had it.” And he was being honest too. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever really apologised, not properly.”

“It’s fine, if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have met Max.”

“It was meant to be us, though, right?” His eyes were begging you to agree with him but you had spent sleepless nights poring over the very same question.

“I think our paths crossed to make sure our parents met,” you admitted, smiling at the newlyweds as they danced too. You had never seen your dad happier.

“You really believe that?”

The song came to an end and you found Max returning from the bar with two drinks in his hand. “I have to,” you said as you slipped out of Charles’ arms. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step away from him.

“Why?” He took a step closer, only stopping when you took another step back and held up your hand. “Why?”

You took a calming breath and steadied your voice. “Because the alternative would only break my heart again.”

[mrsnancywheeler]

the lakes (1) // finnick odair x f. reader

summary: it's supposed to be over, you and Finnick are supposed to spend the rest of your lives helping each other heal. living as peacefully as possible, but the the third quarter quell throws a wrench in your domestic bliss.

next chapter

prequel

warnings: ANGST, allusions to death/mental problems as a result of the games/trafficking, arguments, finnick had a savior complex, but reader also low-key has one, unedited, maybe ooc!finnick it's how I interpret him but maybe you don't, mentions of past breakups, may be more I didn't catch, no use of y/n, terms of endearment like my love, angel, sweet boy

1.6k words

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Snuggled up to his side on the couch is where you felt safest, even with the pit in your stomach as you waited for whatever cruel twist Snow would announce for the Third Quarter Quell. You could tell Finnick had been anxious too, even if he would never want to verbalize it. He'd spent the day finding an activity to keep his mind busy at every second, little home renovations he'd never spoken of before, catching more fish then you could possibly eat, bossing you around as he did each thing all of which was so him, but there wasn't a moment of peace. He didn't stop to just hold you or stare out at the waters, there was no time when he knew that this year being a mentor would be much more difficult.

You knew that too, you'd been doing it for less time then he had, but it was eating you up inside. Even though the day was nearly barren of sweet nothings or the usual honey of his voice, him holding you as you stared at the screen made all the difference. But then your world stopped.

“As a reminder that even the strongest cannot overcome the power of the Capitol, on this Third Quarter Quell Games, the male and female tributes are to be reaped from the existing pool of victors in each District.” Snow’s voice was exactly that, cold and icy. You felt nauseous and dizzy the moment the words left his cocky, freezing lips. Then the warmth from Finnick was gone, leaving you just as frozen.

“Finnick-" You began almost robotically as he stood, exiting the room. He said something incoherently and you knew better than to follow him. Both of you dealt with things differently. It was a thought true and tested that he would pull away to handle and you would cling closer. You hoped that being with him for so long would remind him of the happy medium.

Feeling consumed by sadness, anger, and a tinge of selfishness for even wanting Finnick’s comfort when he had so much to process you rose from your position on the couch as you mechanically walked towards the bedroom. Hearing the front door slam shut you knew Finnick was long gone, off to seek the refuge of the oceans currents. The warmth of a singular tear straying from your eyelids brought a stark contrast to how you felt.

They say everyone deals with grief differently, so maybe that explained why you’d just continued with your might as normal. Nearly burning your skin off with the warmth of the shower, stiffly moving through your nightly skincare routine, doing the dishes Finnick usually insisted upon working on, and finally when you'd sat down at your vanity for the final steps of your bedtime routine Finnick had reappeared. 

“You can't go back." Was all he said and you stared at him somberly in the mirror.

“That's not your decision to make." It wasn't angry or malicious, it was just a sad truth. There was no control over any of it and quietly you cursed Katniss Everdeen, the Girl on Fire for ever daring to defy the Capitol's rules. Even if you knew it wasn't her fault that Snow was harsh and cruel, maybe if she'd played safely like everyone else had you and Finnick could be still curled up on the couch chatting mindlessly.

“It can be, I can ask people to volunteer, you need to be safe.” He was like a flighty bird as he knelt down besides where you sat. You could tell he'd been crying by the bloodshot look of his eyes.

"My life isn't more valuable then anyone else's Finnick. That's not fair and you know it.”

"I don't care."

“Mags is too old, she deserves to be in peace when she goes, Annie wouldn't be able to handle that, and Ondine would say no and I wouldn't blame her.”

"You can't volunteer. You have to promise me that, I need you to promise me that.” His eyes were so desperate, so pleading and his hands clung to your knees. You felt your eyes brimming with tears as you shook your head.

"You know I can't do that.” It was true you wouldn't put poor, unstable Annie through that, Mags wouldn't survive, and Ondine probably could, but you'd be eaten by guilt if you let her. You doubted that you could be the victor once again, but it would be better than making any of them face it. 

Finnick hit the top of your table as he stood, “Goddammit, don't be stubborn about this, angel. I need you to stay here, you can't go back!" He was trying to hold back his own storm of tears which he was gulping down.

“Finnick, could you promise me the same thing? Could you swear to me that you wouldn't volunteer either?" He was silent and simply stared back at you. So you nodded and rose to your feet as well.

“That's different and you know it! There's been whispers amongst different Victors about rebellion and with this happening there has to be more imminent plans. I can be on top of them, angel, I can help end this." Your sweet, sweet boy who so vehemently needed to rid the world of the system that had hurt him so badly and so many others like him before it could do more damage.

“If you do that, if any of that happens. I need to be with you, Finnick. We can do that together, you don't get to just cut me out because you want to protect me. We're a team!” You made sure to keep your voice even, although all the built up emotions made you want to yell it all, to cry it out, and scream so gutturally that everyone would know what was happening.

"That's not fair." He repeated back at you, blinking away his oncoming tears. “I need you to be safe, to know you're gonna be okay. If I'm thinking about the future of the Rebellion then I can't be worrying about keeping you alive too.” His voice was harsher and louder, then suddenly you couldn't stop yourself from raising your voice to the same tone as his.

"I've won these before, Finnick, I'm not helpless! You have left me stranded before and I have dealt with it, and I won. I'm not some damsel you need to save.” The rational side of you knew that you were being unreasonable, but so was he. You did need him, you needed him so desperately that thinking of him is what had kept you fighting the first time around. You loved the fact that he didn't make you pretend to be all the things you were spouting out, you didn't have to act strong when you weren't feeling it and he would take care of you. But now, when it would be life or death, you didn't need that used against you.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. I know you can take care of yourself, but that won't stop the fear of you getting hurt from eating me up inside.” Suddenly his forehead was pressed to you're, it was so intimate and so soothing it was already balancing you out. You forced your voice back to the soft tone it had once held.

"Finnick if I'm here and the Rebellion you're planning happens, they'll come for me. Snow will make sure that I'm not safe, he could have me killed for being with Finnick the rebel. I would be safer with you then in the palms of the Capitol.” His hands caressed your face with heat that relaxed your tense muscles simply on impact. 

“I just want to come home to you." His muscular arms were wrapped around you as he whispered his confession and let himself fully break down with you. Sobbing down your back and suddenly you didn't feel your own tears. All of you just wanted to help him, to absorb with warmth and give it back to his tortured soul. Your sweet boy.

“I know." You said it so lightly it could have been lost in the breeze, but Finnick was tucked into you so tightly that he heard. “Can we just go to bed, please? I just want to be with you."

Finnick reluctantly pulled himself away from you only because he knew he could envelop you in the further safety of your blankets. “Of course, my love." He muttered as he pressed his salty lips to your forehead. The dilemma would be left here for now, but he would convince you. His brain and heart were still scrambling for any loophole to keep you out of the arena, as distanced from the rebel plans as possible, and as protected as need be from any and all who could pose harm. 

Even if you were strong, charming, and smart, the Capitol's Princess. He knew you were all he needed, you accepted him and his flaws so fully, so blatantly shared each crevice of your soul with him that none of that mattered because it was the domestic bliss that you were really built for, that you deserved. The life with the house on the beach, where kids could run around and you would garden that he would fight to give you, but couldn't allow any chance that could prevent you from getting there.

But it broke you knowing that he wanted to protect you so bad he didn't open up, that there was a lack of trust in what he said simply in omission. You wanted to protect him just as badly in a way he couldn't understand, you wanted to be consumed by his every moment. To be two halves of one whole in any way you could and you feared your own instability would show if he was gone. You'd hidden it so well when he was there to calm you, but as you held each other so tightly both of your thoughts were silly consumed with the threats of what was to come. 

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

more of this series to come because I have a lot of thoughts even though this part was shorter. thank you for reading and so many of you for the support! if you enjoyed them let me know by liking, reblogging, commenting, or any type of feedback. feel free to fill my asks with thoughts lmao because it's consuming my thoughts. love you guys 💋

taglist: @imaegonstargaryenswife0 @avoxrising @artsyaquarium @jennaaaaaaaaaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore

[groversimp]

need “hits different”!😭😭😭

Hits Different

part one (Nothing Has Ever Felt So Wrong)

part two (Hits Different)

part three (The Way I Loved You) || not out yet!

part four (Foolish One) || not out yet!

decided to be a good author and answer these requests for Hits Different because it’s been FOREVER 😿

warnings: ANGST, bruh reader needs to stop mourning, also we’re bringing in an oc dude, I love love love Shiloh 😽

You hated Clarisse La Rue.

You hated her stupid her, her deep-brown eyes. You hated the scarred hands you once held in yours, the ones you used to cherish. You’d kiss her palms and tell her she’s not a monster. Not to you.

Yet, you were the one left burned. Scarred and blistering from the scalding touch of her soul.

Her and Silena sit on the benches only a few, short feet from you. Weaving bracelets together at their arts n’ crafts lesson, the initials of the other carved into the beads.

You mope with your siblings, firmly avoiding Silena’s pointed and snarky looks. She wasn’t a bad person, you knew that. She was just in love.

You were just in love.

It was sickening. You had tried and tried to wash yourself clean of her- to allow the flowing rain to make yourself new, but it only left you rugged and dripping, a walking storm cloud. The midnight rain you sat in did little to heal the gaping wound in your heart, beating like a war-cry of Clarisse’s.

“Hey, Y/N.” You hear a voice, smooth and soft like the cooling tide of the lake.

You’ve never really noticed Shiloh, the boy who had just approached you and taken the liberty to sit next to you. A son of the minor god, Dinlas.

Most would think he’d be rough and hateful, but he was honestly very sweet. Carrying himself with nothing but loyalty and understanding- though, the Greek-fire burned beneath his green eyes to not challenge him.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “Hey.” Your voice is just as soft, but quieter. You don’t take up any space, just uselessly flowing like a spring shower.

You two continued to talk, the fierce glare sent his way from Clarisse went unnoticed by him. And the butterflies you got from her two-second attention were too addicting to not give into. Spurring the conversation on and on, it almost felt natural.

He walked you back to your cabin, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek and a sinking feeling in your stomach. The cabin door quietly shut behind you- how dare you? He shouldn’t have been that close to begin with, now this?

You can almost feeling the punches Clarisse would throw at him, wincing at the idea of faux injuries.

Would she still do that for you, would she care?

You cared, you thought as you climb into your bed. Not bothering to clean up for campfire or looking up as your siblings file into the cabin.

The only thing that felt right was to sob into the stuffed bear Clarisse gave you for your 5-month anniversary. The weak punches your fist throws to the bed are pitiful; they’d make a puppy laugh. But, how can you bring yourself to be strong when you feel so deeply?

The bed dips and you don’t need to look up to know who it is- your sister, Astilbe, shushes you softly and places a hand on the small of your back. It reminds you of Clarisse, caring and possessive. You only cry more.

“Y/N,” she says- voice chipper as the morning birds, though the pity is evident. “Love is a lie, you’ll be alright.”

A sob wrecks through you again, almost like a quiet scream.

“She was good, Bee.” You tell her. “There was good in her.”

You pay no mind to her disagreements, only sitting up to place your face in the small of her neck and crying harder.

This wasn’t normal, this wasn’t right. You’ve aways been one to move on quickly, staining your exes with a maroon, star-painted sky. You leave with only the memories and their dignity.

That was who you are. Over-confident, ‘manic pixie dream girl’, draining Y/N.

But that’s why she loved you. Ever-burning, violent, dangerous Clarisse.

That’s why she chose you. Why you chose her.

You’d go insane if you kept thinking like this, but for her- you’d do it all.

[stormyjisung]

"So when did you know it was love?"

Members. Skz hyung line (+hyunjin)

Synopsis. Asking them about the time when they'd fallen for you entirely

A/n. I woke up missing ji and decided to write something for skiz, it's been a long time since I've written for them anyway. I was watching a movie yesterday (more like analysing the poster) and the tagline said, 'so when do you know it's love?' And my writer brain went wee woo 🚨.

Bang chan

"so when did you know it was love?"

The question caught chan off guard, eyes shifting from his phone to your face, eyebrows quirked up in amusement, "where's this coming from?"

Rolling onto your stomach you groaned, "I don't know, chan, it just randomly popped up"

A bubble of laughter left his lips, "well to answer your question, I think it was our last semester at uni? I don't really remember the setting love, but I do remember that I was having a bad day. That paired with a raging downpour pushed me over the edge and I called you, crying, definitely not one of my best moments" chan paused to shake his head, "you helped calm me down and said, 'I'll be right there' and before I could ask what you meant you hung up"

"And before I knew it, you turned up at the library soaked to the bone. You handed me my umbrella and gave me the biggest, warmest hug someone had ever given me, despite the fact that you were freezing,

We'd already been dating for a few months, and you'd stolen my heart countless amount of times but it was at that moment I knew you'd stolen my heart from me forever"

Your cheeks felt hot, chan had always been a man of many words but to hear him voice out the moment he fell in love with you word by word felt nothing short of ethereal.

"But I do wonder, why did you turn up looking like a wet dog when you had an umbrella with you?"

Shrieks of embarrassment and laughter filled the atmosphere, love seeping into your bones even deeper.

Minho

"when did you know it was love?"

You saw minho's hand pause midway while petting dori, "is this one of those tiktok thingies where go around asking your partner if they'd love you if you were a worm?"

"What- no! I was genuinely curious" you whined as minho let dori down, placing a finger on his chin he pondered.

"Honestly?"

"Yeah!" You leaned forward excitedly.

"It was that time when you messed up a party's dress code and showed up wearing a chicken onesie."

"Fuck off" you replied, kicking a pillow at his face as he cackled, "No but how does one mess up that bad?"

Faux disappointment seeped into your features causing minho to break, "okay fine. But you dare not make fun of me or I'll set birds loose on you"

"You wouldn't dare" you gasped, "try me" Came his reply.

"It was late September, when we'd just been dating for a few months and when my self confidence was at an all time low. I remember you'd been begging me to show you one of my choreos until I finally agreed."

"Oh! I do remember it, and when the day arrived you made every excuse under the sun to not show me the choreography!"

"Yeah, because I've always been a little bit of a workaholic and a perfectionist and all the girls I've dated before would ask me to stop working or 'take a break',

nothing wrong with their concern but it just got tiring since I geninunely loved dancing, but then that day when I showed you my choreography, you sat there starry eyed; watching my moves like a hawk and your mouth left partially open as if me dancing was the single most enchanting thing you'd ever seen."

"It was!" you replied in a heartbeat, not missing the way his ears turned red instantaneously, "-anyway, then I told you I wanted to work some more on the choreography before I could come home and you said 'well, let's work together!' And started giving me all these ideas even when you had two left feet yourself"

You would've retorted with a 'hey!' Had it not been the soft gaze in his eyes. You knew minho loved you, it showed in the way he'd tone down his teasing once in a while and remind you that he still loved you.

But after this, you doubt any insecurity would ever cross your mind.

Changbin

"when did you know it was love, bin?"

Changbin almost dropped the plate he was holding, caught utterly off guard by a question he most certainly had the answer to yet didn't trust his words enough, "what do you mean, babe?"

"When did you realize that you were in love with me?"

"I fall for you every day." He deadpanned

"Yeah- but, like, when was the first time?" you asked flustered by his prompt reply.

"You're cute" He giggled, ruffling your hair as his eyes shone with admiration, "I think it was when we had our first serious disagreement? The first time the rose colored glasses shattered and we could see ourselves for who we truly were"

"You said something along the lines of, 'I'd understand if you left right now' and it was the first time in my twenty one years of life that I'd experienced true heartbreak. And it was also the moment when I realized no matter how many fights we had or will inevitably have in the future, I'd never want to walk out on you or us"

He ended his little monologue by peppering sweet butterfly kisses on your forehead, "I'll always love you" He whispered between the kisses.

The orange hues of the setting sun illuminated the two soul mates in that room who failed to realize that their souls were always meant to love each other, maybe the setting sun knew their story for it smiled as it set across the horizon.

Hyunjin

"when did you know it was love?" You asked hyunjin as he raked his fingers through your hair gently, a low hum escaping him

"When did I know I'd fallen for you entirely?" He confirmed to which you gently nodded your head, the serene atmosphere felt unreal with you laying on his chest and him alternating between patting your head and softly brushing your hair

"That's a question that doesn't really have a definite answer, love"

You allowed a beat of silence to pass by before you spoke up, "what do you mean?"

"Falling in love with you wasn't a spur of the moment... it was rather an entire journey.

From the moment we met to right now, it's been one hell of a ride. We've seen seasons, weather and people change. We've seen each other change for the better, I've see you through your good, your bad and your ugly" He paused to let his eyes roam all over your face as if memorizing every miniscule detail

"But despite all of that, I wanted you. I wanted you every waking moment of my life, I wanted you on the days you were too sad to even get up, I wanted you on the days you were cranky and moody, I wanted you on the days you'd blow up on me, I wanted you, I want you.

And when you want someone like that, above their flaws, imperfections and blemishes I think it's fair enough to declare it as love"

Hyunjin was always a romantic, never failing to make you feel loved and cherished and even after years of dating him, he still managed to take your breath away. He talked about loving you as if it was the most natural thing for him to do, as if loving you was easy.

And that terrified you because hyunjin was just as easy to fall for, if not more.

Reblog to show your appreciation !

I love how I post once a week but am chronically online, tee hee.

[fastlikealambo]

Connubium.|| Coriolanus Snow x Black Fem Reader Chapter Seven

table of contents.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

Chapter Four.

Chapter Five.

Chapter Six.

Summary: Stealing from The Capitol is a deadly offense, yet you’ve done it more times than you can count but when you do something you should not have done, Volumnia Gaul decides a fate for you that might just be worse than death.

Notes: This takes place post The Ballad of Songbirds And Snakes and Coryo is in his last year at The University, studying under Dr. Gaul. This will not follow canon, I’m not an expert on all the lore so I apologize if I get things wrong.

Disclaimer: You know Coriolanus is a POS, I know Coriolanus is a POS, please don’t yell at me because this is just a fun little story, something for thee hotties, and  if you feel that strongly against President Snow, please let me know if you’d like me to sign you up for tessarae.

18+ only

Thanks for the love and messages on chapter six! If you want to see chapter eight, comment or reblog, feedback makes me want to continue!

Coriolanus looked far too good for a funeral.

A black suit that had once belonged to his father had been completely reimagined in the span of twenty-four hours by Tigris, who sewed in between sobs. Normally he would have dipped into the fund of Strabo Plinth but for this occasion, he needed to evoke something other than Capitol high society.

Power.

As he turned to look at his own reflection once more,  a tapping at his window caused Coriolanus to pause.   Silently daring the waiting jabberjay to defecate anywhere in his room, Coryo opened the window and let the creepy bird in, watching it perch on his bedpost. 

  “Do you think you could let me borrow the girl for a night or two before Snow marries her? I like them.. spirited.”  President Ravinstill’s voice came through the jabberjay as clear as a bell, repeating over and over.

You.

Ravinstill was speaking of you.

Clicking the remote once more, Coriolanus snapped his fingers and the jabberjay made its way back to the president’s mansion.

  “Coryo? They’re ready for you, Coriolanus.” Your soft voice came through the other side of the door and Coriolanus straightened up and adjusted the rose pinned to his lapel.

  “I’ll be right there.” Coriolanus said, listening to the sound of your heels retreating from the door, the slight discrepancy in your gait reminded Coriolanus that you had still not fully healed from the attack you would not speak of.

The one that took place in The Arena.

How could Coriolanus know this?

Because Coriolanus Snow didn’t just see everything.

He heard everything.

Mere hours after medics confirmed that Grandma’am was beyond saving, you had fallen asleep while comforting Coriolanus, your hand in his as you dozed off on his shoulder.  The jabberjay arrived and Coriolanus was treated to the sound of a gunshot, Ravinstill’s laugh, and to his surprise, a sound that was fresh in his mind.

  Your crying.

On his second playback, Coriolanus heard a muffled phrase in the background, one that to this day still sent him into a miniscule panic.

“Enjoy the show!”

The jabberjay had been a gift from  Dr. Gaul upon completing his first year at The University.  He couldn’t stand the thing, mostly used it for University gossip over the years and after he applied to work in the President's office, he had the jabberjay follow Ravinstill, picking up information he could use once his new position began.

But the jabberjay had picked up something more valuable to Coryo, confirming something that Coriolanus had known from the moment he met you.

You, his precious treasure, were a liar.

Yet he took your left hand with a kiss upon your knuckle and offered his other arm to Tigris, escorting you both to Grandma’am’s funeral.

With his perfect suit and you draped in one of Grandma’am’s furs, Coriolanus had only to wait a few seconds for the flashbulbs to reign down on you both outside, photographers giving up the pretense of not taking pictures of a funeral for a glimpse at something shiny and new.

You could set a camera  on fire.

As the funeral began and Grandma’am’s remaining friends who looked to be in various stages of decay themselves spoke of their dear friend, Coriolanus held Tigris, comforting his cousin and angling his body so the photographers had a better shot of you. 

When it was Tigris’ turn to deliver a few words after a choir sang the national anthem,  Coriolanus focused on the late arrival of President Ravinstill who stopped at his chair and shook his hand, a stately yet somber look on his face.

    “Condolences, my boy. You and your cousin are in our thoughts and if you need to postpone your work start date, you only need to ask.  I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr. Snow.”

From the corner of his eye, Coriolanus could see that you had started shaking the moment Ravinstill had walked up.

If the president was sorry now, Coriolanus could only imagine just how sorry he was going to be in a few short moments.

Coriolanus delivered the eulogy, speaking of how much Grandma’am loved her garden and her grandchildren but The Capitol most of all.  The more he spoke, the more his voice shook with remembrance of the loss of one of the two women who raised him. 

But all it took was one glance in your direction for the tremble in his voice to vanish, head held high to greet the applause that thundered in upon his conclusion.

So that was it then.

It was to be you.

Coriolanus had known you were lying for quite some time in fact, yet he did not care. He would caress those lies, suck them from your mouth like poison from a wound.

To touch those lies, oh, to touch you.

He would not care.

Did bowing before a lying goddess make his prayers any less heard?

As he sprinkled dirt into Grandma'am's grave some time later, a foot closer to death than he had been in awhile, Coriolanus Snow knew one thing.

He loved you.

He loved you, he loved you, he loved you.

  “Before we say our last goodbyes, I just have one final note. My grandmother believed in hope, she believed in Panem and all that it could be. It is in her honor that I formally announce my bid to run for President of our beloved Panem in the upcoming election, the youngest presidential candidate in our nation’s history.”  Coriolanus said, delighting in watching the blood drain from Ravinstill’s face as gasps filled the gravesite.

Coriolanus could see Lucky Flickerman vaulting over the cemetery gate and sprinting towards him, tripping over his mic every few seconds but there was one last thing he had to do.

Had this been Coriolanus of another time, he would have whispered in your ear of your treachery, exposing what you had done.

But something else happened.

Turning to you, Coriolanus got down on one knee and produced Grandma’am’s engagement ring, plucked from her finger before the medics could finish checking for a pulse.

“Will you marry me?”

This was no ordinary proposal.

This was a declaration of war.

That’s Chapter 7! As usual if you’d like to see Chapter 8, the penultimate chapter before the finale,  please comment or reblog! Thank you for reading.

[laughableillusions]

Random Jareth HCs

I talk so much abt him and I have some silly ideas :3c

If he stays in owl form too long he has some trouble changing back. He gets kind of stuck a bit between. He chitters like a barn owl in “human” form, can screech like one if mad. There’s feathers in his hair, and sometimes he still has bird-feet. The worst case was when his arms were still big useless wings. It goes away after a while but he’s impatient as hell and will sulk about it and punish anyone who dares laugh at him for his chicken feet.

Jareth actually runs cold. He can change his body temperature if needed, but it’s very surface level. Usually he’s around room temperature (like a corpse). Cuddling or any close physical contact will warm his body up.

His hands are strangely rough under his gloves, they’re rough and hard like stone. He almost never removes his gloves because his touch alone can cause serious magic shit to happen if he isn’t careful. The glamour he uses to keep his more human form doesn’t really extend to his hands for whatever reason (his truest form is made of stone), so he wears gloves to sort of hide it.

Music lover, I mean duh. He sings and dances ofc, but he actually knows very little about modern music. His knowledge of humanity is still stuck in the 18th century. While he would like the idea of things like CD players and MP3 players etc etc, he will always prefer live performances, be it himself or watching someone else. He would probably go to a lot of concerts just to see what the music vibe is these days.

Doesn’t do well in human crowds. A masquerade ball in his castle is one thing, it’s his realm, it’s other fae. But you put him in a shopping mall or grocery store??? He is not having a good time. Mostly because he sees most humans as beneath him (except for the few he decides are special little princesses/princes lol). Modern humans apparently have a stench to him, and he finds it disgusting when “in concentration.”

He can make any small child stop crying however. If Toby proved anything it showed how good with kids Jareth is. He can entertain any small child with ease. Though it starts to freak the parents out when he starts talking about how much he wants to steal them away from their mothers. The man loves kids, and hopes one day he can actually keep a human baby to raise as his own.

Unbearably physically clingy. Like…unbearably. He’d be attached to his lover like a parasite whenever they try to go anywhere without him. If he can’t touch you, he’s standing behind you with his hands behind his back to keep himself from touching you. Like Jesus Christ man back up you’re not gonna go anywhere‼️‼️

Has a jealousy problem as well. With his stuff and his lovers. You do not touch his stuff without asking him, or until he lends it to you. With romantic jealousy, it’s about the same. Nobody touches what he deems his. He has enough dignity not to cause a public scene, but will glare at anyone who dares flirt with his lover- or if he thinks your not paying attention to him enough, he will give you the cold shoulder until you shove him aside and ask him what the fuck is going on.

Enjoys playing mind games. Though he’s too much of a romantic to do things that would really hurt you, at least intentionally. But his fae nature gives him a bastard side that sometimes can’t help it. But really, he would hate to actually fight with you. The last thing he wants is for you to be genuinely upset, and so will bend over backwards to keep you happy.

Speaking of that, Jareth is 100% a doormat to the ones he loves. He’s been alone for centuries (if not more). And any hope of validation he will chase like a kicked puppy. But everything he does, he expects something in return. (ex: I am exhausted by your expectations of me, isn’t that generous?) Fae are deal makers after all, and so he will create a beautiful ideallic place for you to live…but in return he expects your devotion and loyalty. It seems like a small price, until it isn’t. Sometimes, in exchange for a favor he does for you, he will ask for something in return (be it a task, or an a object).

As hedonistic and mischievous as he is, Jareth is quite emotionally intelligent. His age gives him wisdom, and sometimes it’s like he knows exactly just what to say. Humans have such predictable emotions after all, and he can use his knowledge of them as a form of manipulation if he wants/needs to. But to someone he loves, he would bring perfect comfort to. He will try and make you laugh, then ask if you want him to stay with you or leave you be, anything you ask if it would make you less upset and more comfortable he will do (doormat). If you want him to read you a bedtime story? Do a handstand? He’d fucking do it.

[bopbobpbobpbobpbobpbobpb]

Sleepover gone wrong on noesss

Writing underneath

It had all started so well. Simple plan. Simple. Plan.

Step one: become unpossesed

Step two: sleepover

Step three: pie

Step four: wait for mom to go to sleep then get out the ouja board and play fun sleepover games!!!!! Thats how it works!!!! Kris would know!! They've had plenty of sleepovers with Azzy, Noelle and

Step five: have fun and go sleep. (Kris would NOT be sharing everyone else has to sleep somewhere else)

That was the plan!!

It had started of so well. Kris had entered the room and Susie and Berdly, well did what They always did. Argue. It was friendly though!! They always do that it was normal. Noelle suggested truth or dare (a classic) and it was going well!! Bonding!! With friends!!! Kris had missed this. They had missed having so many people in their life, shouting amd screaming, having fun until they were too loud and Toriel had come into their room and remind them to be a little quieter. They had missed laughing and being "sneaky", talking about the most random things and playing little games. They had missed the noise and the warmth of the ones close to you just simply being there. Kris had finally resolved everything with Noelle Berdly and Susie. Until they just made that shit go crashing down.

One thing had led to another. Berdly truthed susie to tell something. Susie got defensive. Things got heated. They both lashed out. Noelle tried to diffuse the situation. Berdly said something. Noelle got pissed. Berdly said something. It struck a nerve. Kris saw red.

The whole room had stared at Kris in shock. Kris's eyes widened. No. No. They didn't mean that they didn't mean tha- Berdly rushed out. Eyes suspiciously shiny. There were only three of them left. Kris, Noelle and Susie. All of them could only stare dumbly at eachother. Shit SHIT. Kris CAN'T go back to before they CAN'T they CAN'T. Panic rose. Kris had just made up with Berdly and they immediately ruined it. Kris went after Berdly, determined to make things right again.

Except ...

Kris stood at the doorway, frozen. How do they do this? Their breathing got funny. WWAD What would Asriel do? He was good at this sort of thing wasn't he? But.. Asriel wasn't there. Only an idiot human and a crying bird on the footsteps. Kris thought about what to say. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it .you're my friend. I love you. Kris flushed no they could NOT say that don't be an idiot. No they had to say what they were sorry about right? Like uh: Im sorry i-

"are you just gonna stand there"

Kris flinched. Berdly sighed and continued looking away form Kris.

"I'm sorry" Kris could only say.

Berdly ignored them. Kris sat down on the steps next to Berdly.

"I didn't mean it" Kris looked down, avoiding eye contact.

"It's not true"

There was a silence.

"But what if it is" Berdly's voice cracked. Kris looked up in shock.

"What if I am" Berdly burried his face in his wings

" I AM a forgettable little bluebird and when I die no one will care because I have done nothing in life and I'm not exceptional at all and I was so mean and I -"

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"Berdly I was being a dumb shit who got mad and took things too far you ARE NOT foegettable you ARE exceptional and if you died I would be really sad and track down your murderer and kill them and you're my friend and i love yo-" shit shit shit shit.

Berdly faced Kris.

"What"

"What"

"What did you just say"

"If you died I would be sad and kill your murderer"

"No after that"

"You're my friend??"

"No the one after that"

"That was it"

"KRIS STOP GASLIGHTING ME"

"I'm not??"

Berdly laughed. Kris could not help but grin a little at the sight. Suddenly they stiffened the birb hugged them tightly.

"I love you too kris"

Suddenly there were two idiots crying that night.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Soo, funny story, turns out celestial mountains can move? So JC finds BSSR and instead of receiving his brother's core and tragedy ensuing, he gets his core fixed, has an illuminating weekend with his brother's extended family, and maybe comes back with backup.

ao3

Untamed

"All right, you all know your parts," Wei Wuxian said, pacing back and forth in a tight circle. "We've got everything we need for the transfer. We're ready."

"We are exactly as ready as we were the last time you said that," Wen Qing said waspishly. Despite her harsh tone, due was clearly nervous, alternating between fiddling with her tools and fingering the veiled hat Wei Wuxian had given her to hide her true identity - the story Wei Wuxian had spun to throw Jiang Cheng off the scent of what was really going to happen would only work if he sincerely believed that she was the fabled Baoshan Sanren. "He won't know a thing. Stop fretting."

"I'm not fretting -"

"Why isn't he here yet?" Wen Ning wondered. "It's not that long a path up the mountain. Even if he was blindfolded, shouldn't he be here already?"

Wei Wuxian started, then exchanged worried glances with Wen Qing. They hurried to the overlook point of the cliff, but no matter how they looked, they couldn't see a single trace of Jiang Cheng, not even his shadow.

-

"Uuuuuh no you're not," the lady said when Jiang Cheng told her he was Wei Wuxian. "You don't - you don't have the right face for it, okay? Cangse Sanren was a bit more - her face - there was this indefinable sort of - listen, I'm not possessed with an overwhelming desire to smack you right now so you can’t be him."

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Jiang Cheng found himself having to swallow down a snort of agreement - Wei Wuxian really did have that indefinable sort of quality.

"I could take after my father?" he suggested, though he'd mostly given it up as hopeless already.

Sure enough, the lady let out a bark of laughter - it sounded oddly like a bird's call - and said, "No way. Not that much! Anyway, why does it matter who you are?"

At that point, because Jiang Cheng was exhausted and hurting and blindfolded and still managed to see all his barely-resurrected hopes dying in front of him regardless, he burst into tears.

"Oh no," Baoshan Sanren said, sounding distinctly alarmed in a way that - if Jiang Cheng wasn't currently in the middle of humiliating himself - would have made him laugh because of how similar it was to Wei Wuxian being confronted by an emotion. "No, no, no, don't- please - I hate crying - just tell me what the matter is - someone help he's still crying -"

Eventually Jiang Cheng managed to squeeze the whole stupid story out, aided by the kind hands and helpful (or not so helpful) translations being offered by Baoshan Sanren's disciples.

"You can help him, right?" the littlest one asked, tugging on Jiang Cheng's sleeve defensively. He was twelve or thirteen or something - the others called him Xiao-shidi, so that was either his surname or a nickname - but he was a sweetheart that reminded Jiang Cheng of his sister. "Shifu, you'll help him, won't you?"

"I'm talented but no one can make golden cores out of nothing," Baoshan Sanren protested, but the little Xiao started crying, too. "No! No tears! Stop that -"

"But it's just so sad," he wailed, and then one of the other disciples, a girl who had a manner of speaking that suggested Wei Wuxian only tougher by far, gave a loud and thoughtful sniff.

"Don't you dare," Baoshan Sanren hissed. "Don't give me that, you're not even upset! You don't cry over anything, you little beast. You're just trying to bully your shifu!"

"Is it working?" the girl asked, sounding amused. "I could squeeze out some for the cause."

"It's all right, you don't have to," Jiang Cheng said, hating how his voice was still all watery and breaking even though he was finding this pretty funny. "If there's nothing she can do, there's no point, just leave her alone -"

"That's worse," Baoshan Sanren wailed. "No! Not the self-sacrificing routine!”

It wasn’t a routine!

“That’s the problem! I can handle everything but sincerity - ahhh, I hate this. All right, all right, you win, you brats. I'll fix him."

"But you said -" Jiang Cheng started to say.

"I know what I said," she cut him off, grumbling. "And I can't grow one from nothing. But – and I’m going to tell you in advance, this will be unpleasant – I can go get yours from the moment before you lost it and give it back to you."

"What? How does that work? I don't understand..."

"Time doesn't work right on the mountain. It's always the same time, even when it's not; that's why no one can come back after they've left," the girl said, sounding arrogant and carefree in a most familiar way, and Jiang Cheng's grief-fuzzed brain made a connection there that was so appalling that it couldn't possibly be true. "You up for some pain and agony if it gets you your core back, my friend?"

"Y-yeah? I mean, yes. Anything."

"All right," Baoshan Sanren said. Her raspy voice had turned into even more of a croak: it was like listening to a crow try to speak. Also, Jiang Cheng couldn't see, having not removed the useless blindfold, but he had the strangest feeling that she was smaller than before - he'd already assumed she was a wizened old thing, but for a moment she seemed no larger than a especially plump chicken. "Hold on tight, boy - here we go!"

-

"I greatly appreciate all your efforts on behalf of the Sunshot Campaign," Nie Mingjue said, and Wei Wuxian wondered if his greatest strength as the grand commander of the unified forces of the cultivation world wasn’t his saber or his command but his ability to sound completely sincere. "Murdering Wen-dogs by the score, going after critical targets, providing intelligence, even getting Mistress Wen and her brother to defect...but have you considered giving it a rest?"

Wei Wuxian choked.

It wasn't that he was surprised by the request - he'd heard it whispered for a while that he was doing too much, too fast, too viciously. He'd hunted down Wen Chao and Wen Zhuliu and harried them into the Burial Mounds, using the power there to tear them to pieces despite their army - if it hadn't been for Wen Qing helping him, he might have torn himself apart in the process. It wasn't healthy for someone with a golden core to use resentful energy the way he did, she had explained. She at one point told him that she was essentially using a bucket to scoop it out of his meridians like a boat that had taken on water.

Yet he kept using it - hunting squads, battalions of Wen, supporting the other sects from the shadows, months of effort - and never mind the worried expressions on Wen Qing's face, on Wen Ning's face, even Lan Wangji, who had just turned up at their camp one day and refused to leave...no, Wei Wuxian wasn't surprised by the request.

He just hadn't expected it to be phrased like that.

"I can't," he said, recovering a moment later. "As long as there are Wen-dogs out there - from the other side, I mean - the Jiang sect hasn't been avenged."

"I know that," Nie Mingjue said with...admirable restraint, actually. Wei Wuxian cringed a little as he remembered that Nie Mingjue was involved in this war for the purpose of avenging his father's death at Wen Ruohan’s hands. "But that's not your job. It's time to stop playing lone wolf and return to the sect that raised you. If nothing else, Jiang Wanyin could use a right hand man."

Wei Wuxian stared. He'd searched furiously for Jiang Cheng without success, days and nights stretching out endlessly only for hope to fade and be replaced by a frantic need for revenge; it had been that desperation, mixed with guilt over losing her prospective patient, that had convinced Wen Qing to officially defect. And now Nie Mingjue was saying - what? That he, Wei Wuxian, was the one missing in action? 

That he knew where Jiang Cheng was?

"...he's been recruiting to resurrect the Jiang sect for the last month down by Qingjiao. Did you not know?"

Wei Wuxian hadn't. Jiang Cheng was - fine? All right? How could he have gotten to Qingjiao in the state he'd been in?

And...recruiting? How could someone without a golden core recruit? Nie Mingjue didn't seem to know about the loss, or he would have mentioned it, surely - everyone would be talking about it - had Jiang Cheng found some other way? But how? And why hadn't he come to find Wei Wuxian?

Well, in fairness, Wei Wuxian wasn't making himself easy to find, traveling in secret with only his few companions. But still...

"He really does need support," Nie Mingjue said. "He has Mistress Jiang, but she's not the martial type, and that little sworn brother he picked up from who-knows-where might be a brilliant talent and a hero for the ages in the making, but Baoshan Sanren's disciple or not, the kid is still only half-grown -"

"Baoshan Sanren's what?!"

"Jiang Wanyin's little sworn brother. His name is Xiao Xingchen, and he's twelve. Maybe fourteen. Far too young, in my opinion -"

"I'm sorry," Wei Wuxian interrupted. "I have to go now. Right now."

-

"About time you showed up," Jiang Cheng said, though his snide words were belied by the wide grin on his face and the way he pulled Wei Wuxian into a fierce hug. "I heard you've been doing wonders in the three months and a day I was gone, and in the month since I’ve been back...you got those Wen to defect, invented a new type of cultivation...what's this I hear about you and Lan Wangji sharing a camp, huh? I thought he hated you."

"Uh, no, turns out that was a misunderstanding," Wei Wuxian - who was currently sharing a lot more than a camp with Lan Wangji once that misunderstanding had been cleared up after Wen Qing had lost patience with what she termed their 'ridiculous mutual pining' - said blankly. It was probably just his imagination, but he fancied that he could feel the golden core under Jiang Cheng's skin, shining bright, as familiar as his own. If he hadn't known what he knew, he would never have thought... "What happened? How did you...?"

"Baoshan Sanren fixed it! Just like you said...though you went to such lengths, with the blindfold and pretending to be you and all that. Apparently it wasn’t necessary at all!"

"Uh, right. My…mistake."

Jiang Cheng pulled him into another hug, nice and tight, and whispered into his ear, "You had better not have been planning to transfer me yours, you bastard."

Wei Wuxian blanched. How had he figured it out..?

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Jiang Cheng said, releasing him and rolling his eyes. "You're a lot like your mother, you know?"

"My mother? What are you talking about?"

Jiang Cheng's crooked grin was the most wonderful thing Wei Wuxian had ever seen. 

"It's a long story," he said. "Probably as long as yours, for explaining everything you've been up to for the past few months...but we'll have time to talk it over. Baoshan Sanren is big fan of talking things over, almost to the point of ridiculousness, but I think she has a point, even if none of her disciples agree. It's made me feel better these past few months, anyway, talking about what happened, whether with the Wen sect or even just frustrations I had growing up..."

He laughed at Wei Wuxian's dumbfounded expression.

"Like I said," he said. "Long story. Come meet little Xiao, will you? We're going to need to work together and put in all our efforts to keep him out of trouble -"

"He's a brat, then?"

"No, worse: he's an idealist. You'll understand when you meet him."

Wei Wuxian let himself be dragged along by Jiang Cheng's eagerness, and he was about halfway across the new Jiang sect camp before it suddenly struck him that this was really happening. That Jiang Cheng was back, alive and healthy beyond Wei Wuxian's wildest dreams, whole once more in both mind and body - that they were side by side once more, finally back on track to fulfill his childish promise of them being the Twin Heroes to match the Twin Jades - that his lies had somehow transmuted to truth, and it was all resolved without sacrifice...

The first smile in what felt like months stole across Wei Wuxian's face. 

"All right," he said, laughing and slapping Jiang Cheng on the back as hard as he could. "Show me this new little brother of yours - I can't wait to spoil him rotten!"

"Tease him to death, you mean!"

"No, no, I can be good! Wen Qing has this little cousin, an orphan, I've been helping out with him - I have child-rearing skills -"

"I don't believe a word of it. Is it Mistress Wen or Second Master Lan that does all the work?"

"...Wen Ning, mostly, but that's not the point..."

Life, Wei Wuxian thought to himself, was good once more.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi can I request helion x reader mating ceremony

Hope you're doing well

I'm trying to be gentle with myself. Thank you for asking. 🤍

Mating ceremony

Oh, it would be so pretty. Like absolutely happening in one of the biggest gardens in the day court. The main arc will be placed in a position where you can kind of see the sky when it gets painted in orange and pinks and red and these fluffy clouds are floating around. I mean we don't have to talk about Cassian flying on a Pegasus throwing petals , but like we kinda have to talk about that. Tell me you haven't thought about it because I have.

But on a serious note, I think the real mating ceremony would be very small and very private. As much as a Helion is an open book, and as much as he loves to put himself out there and be very expressive. I think after losing his initial lover this would be such an emotional and special moment for him. Something that he never thought he would get to experience again. In my humble belief, his character is laced with a lot of sadness regarding how everything went with lady Autumn so in the initial ceremony it's just you him, Cassian, and the closest friends.

I feel like he would even want to make this super-private and for it to be just you and him. But if you were able to build a relationship with Lucien, I kind of see you wanting to have Lucien there and so alongside him would come Eris and then Rhys because it's Rhys and we all love Rhys and Helion loves Rhys, so like we have to have him there. But I don't think there will be any other high lords, or ladies because the celebration or the event that would follow up eventually would involve everyone, but this is just for the people closest to you both.

Do picture girls like Feyre, and Mor helping you get ready. Braiding your hair and helping you get into a dress. I feel like there would be quite a lot of happy crying even in the private rooms because everyone wants to see you both happy and this is just kind of one step closer to that.

I also think that Helion would write you a letter that he won't let you read right before the ceremony because you might cry too much and ruin your make-up and that's his own words. But I feel like he would do these little things like a little gift for each other of some sort. I do also think that besides the twin tattoo that would cover your body in some way, he would world do something like rings, or a piece of jewelry that would be significant in that manner, would show that you two are mated.

I kind of picture him making little sketches of the ring he wants to give to you and depending on what kind of court you're from or what's kind of background you have, I see him going for something like half circle of the sun and then if you're from a night court maybe on the bottom there would be a moon or there's something to represent you so like twin bands that kind of show your union.

The whole ceremony would just be surreal. Imagine walking through the lush greenery to get to your mate, and there's a light chirping of the birds that create the symphony of nature around you. I also think that Lucien would be walking you down the aisle. And now we all are going to take a moment to cry because I'm literally about to sob. After all, I think that Lucien would be so excited, especially if you two have a close bond. And he's there to reassure you, telling you "oh you better believe that Helion is out there crapping his pants just from how nervous he is", and you just giggle right before you walk down the aisle.

And of course, Helion would be crying. Let's all be very honest here I feel like he's not the one to show these kinds of emotions, so this even more explains why he wanted a private celebration because this is such a personal side of him. he hides a lot of his real emotions behind this almost clown-like exterior this very cocky, daring male, while the reality is completely different. He's a very soft soul, and all he ever wanted was to be loved and find someone with whom he could share his whole life, and now that he has found you it feels like an absolute dream.

You would leave him speechless. The way you just shine while walking down the aisle, smiling at him. Hands shaking as he reaches to take your hand into his. And he's shaking his head slightly in disbelief as he watches you, admiring the way you look because you are the best thing that ever happened to him. And he would have written the longest vow ever, declaring his love in all the ways possible. It would be a very beautiful moment that everyone would remember forever. Just watching two people in love, smiling fondly at each other. Both ready to enter the next chapter of your story.

[stonertora]

Hawks with a dragon hybrid s/o

minors dni! NSFW

warnings: creampies, anal, pp in v, bloodkink (ig?), squirting, choking, spit

Fluff:

i feel like his favorite bodypart would be your wings, simply because they are way bigger than his own, at least twice his size

your wings would be made of skin, he loves touching them, they're so soft and warm

he also loves stroking your horns, they’re so colorful and match your tail

speaking of your tail, he loves it when you two cuddle and you wrap your strong tail around his waist or leg, it makes his feel safe, he’s used to make others feel safe, so it was new to him to be the one feeling safe

he just thinks you look so cute but majestic at the same time, he’d treat you like the goddess you are

would definitely show you off to everyone

your eyes have the key to his heart fr, man was totally flabbergasted when he first looked at them, feeling completely lost and devoured to you

he loves watching you eat or laugh, tbh everything you do that shows your fangs, which have a weird influence on him, but in a good way,man’s totally obsessed with them

NSFW:

usually you’re the dominant, at least in your past realationships, he’d be the only one to dom you, for sure

the first times having sex with him were weird to you, being the submissive one was completely new and unknown to you, you definitely needed some time to get used to that

but you learned to completely trust him after some time, but that didn’t mean that you would make it easy for him tho 😏

jokes on him, he absolutely loves it when you ride him and choke him tho. it drives him insane, letting you have control of his breathing, his life at the very moment

he’s also so in love with your lil plump ass, you can’t get away without 2 spankings a day, at least. he mostly likes it covered in his cum

he’s always down to fuck your tight lil asshole tho. Man’s not horny rn? jus turn around and shake your cute lil ass for him, and he’s ready to to

don’t you dare tease this bird man though, he will 100% pin you down the same moment and will happily put a dildo in you pussy, a butt plug in your lil hole and a vibrator on your clit. he won’t fuck you tho. he’ll tie you up to your shared bed and leave you there for hours, and prolly watch tv while he eats sum nuggets he got from kfc later that evening

being a dragon hybrid you also have something similar to his mating season, but it’s more about fucking than love , at least it’s also about spring time. when this time comes, you two always take at least two to three weeks off work

he’s a whore for your wet cunt, he’d always tell you about how ,,it’s just made for me” or how it’s like ,,your cunt is shaped for my cock”, he’s also cumming in you a lot, cause it feels like you’re closer to each other, or maybe just because you look just so pretty, face all red from crying, his big cock fully inside your throbbing pussy, clit all swollen from the circles he rubbed in 10 mins earlier, his cum dripping out of your stretched out hole, ruining the sheets

you’re a whore for his neck kiss sessions, soft lips caressing the flesh of your soft skin, short little moans leaving your throat, just so desperate for him, hoping for him to cover your soft flesh in purple love bites for everyone else to see ❤️

once he bit down you neck a little too hard, making you bleed, he felt so bad and kept apologizing for hurting his princess, but at the same time it made his blood flush to his cock, he was ashamed about it at first, who would like seeing his s/o hurt or even bleed? jokes on you, it’s him, he does. it drives him crazy seeing how the thick red liquid matches with your pale skin, he can’t explain it

let’s not forget about that he has to work a lot, due being the number 2 pro hero of Japan, so when you get home all stressed about work and he’s not able to just fuck you, he’s always more than happy to help you realax. just sit on his face, and don't you worry about your weight, he would die a happy death, if he would suffocate between your thic thighs. he just wants to please his princess

one time he wouldn't stop fingering you, even tho you told him that you actually had to pee. long story short, you couldn't handle another orgasm and started squirting. the sheets getting covered in hot liquid, you were so embarrassed, Keigo on the other side, just unlocked a new kink.

he loves to spit in your mouth, your pussy or on your tits or stomach, but mainly in your mouth or pussy, it’s something that shows how intimate you allow him to be with you, how much you trust him

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter One - Wistful Thinking

Pairing: Bully!Dabi x Fem!Reader, (3rd Person)

Summary: If a boy is picking on you, it means he likes you. She could almost laugh. By that logic, Dabi must’ve been fucking in love with her. That thought was what finally made the tears start to spill. Not because of how ridiculous it was or how isolating it felt. But because it was exactly what she wanted.

CW: Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), Dubious Consent, Unhealthy Relationships, Bullying, Manipulation, Humiliation, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Power Play, Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm. Future Tags: Drugs, Alcohol, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Attempted Sexual Assault, Rough Sex, Hate Sex, Smut, Porn With Plot, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst and Porn, Sadism

A/N: In celebration of Dabi's dance being animated, I'm posting the first chapter of a request for a Bully!Dabi fic that should've been a one-shot, but just went completely off the rails (where have we heard that one before? Lol). Currently, the fic will be completed at three chapters, but I actually really like the idea so it' not impossible that I might expand it further once Play Nice is completed. ^_^

Read Full Chapter on AO3

[excerpt]

If a boy is picking on you, it means he likes you.

That’s what her mother always used to say.

“I told you to get me orange juice.”

She flinched at the venom in Dabi’s tone as he glared up at her from his desk. She stood in front of him, ready for her reprimand like a dutiful employee. A good little slave.

His eyes narrowed when she didn’t answer, “Didn’t I?”

“Y-Yes!” she yelped.

“So what the fuck is this?” he demanded, grabbing the can she’d presented to him and waving it in her face.

She dropped her gaze to the ground, hands wringing anxiously. It wasn’t just the heat of Dabi’s glare or the bite of his words that was making it hard to stay standing. The sadistic amusement of his friends, Jin and Keigo, perched lazily on the desks around him were just as painful. Not to mention the rest of their class watching on with smug little smiles and whispers.

“T-They were out of orange juice,” she stammered, “So I got you orange-flavored tea…”

Dabi watched her, waiting for any more qualifications, any last excuses. But her eyes stayed down, lips stayed shut. The only change was in her now shuffling feet.

So he popped open the tab and took a drink.

“Hmm.”

Hope swelled in her chest. Maybe she’d done enough this time. She looked up tentatively. Bored, piercing blue awaited her. He held her there for a moment, letting her think, letting her settle into relief and security.

Catching her in a trap.

He smirked.

“It’s fucking disgusting.”

And threw the open can straight at her chest.

It hit her with an audible force, dousing her uniform and splashing all over the desk and floor.

Jin snorted out a laugh, “Oh shit.”

Keigo next to him was noticeably silent, just watching for her reaction.

“Seriously, how can you be this useless?” Dabi spat, pulling his legs off the desk before any of the tea could spread to his shoes.

Dripping, she tried desperately to fight the quiver from her lip. It was not a fight she was winning.

He stood with an annoyed sigh, “Now I’ve gotta go get it myself. Happy?

She didn’t dare respond, not with that familiar lump growing larger and larger in her throat. If she so much as breathed in that moment, she’d cry for sure. And crying in front of Dabi would only make things worse.

So much worse.

“Better clean up your mess before class starts if you don’t want to get in trouble,” he called back as he made his way to the door, Jin close behind him.

Keigo stayed for a moment, watching with furrowed brows as she knelt down on trembling legs into the spreading orange-tinted puddle. 

“Oi, Bird Brain. Let’s go!”

He quickly turned on his heel, following the call without a second thought.

She picked the can up, fruitlessly trying to stop the spill — it was practically empty at this point.

If a boy is picking on you, it means he likes you.

She could almost laugh. By that logic, Dabi must’ve been fucking in love with her. 

That thought was what finally made the tears start to spill. Not because of how ridiculous it was or how isolating it felt.

But because it was exactly what she wanted.

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[holylulusworld]

Caged Bird

Pairing: Michael!Dean x fem!Reader; Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Genre: angst

Written for @little-diable’s 15k celebration.

My sentence (#79): "There is no law that gods must be fair" from The Song of Achilles.  

Warnings: blood, angst, mentions of characters death, imprisonment, being locked in a cage, mentions of starving someone, implied torture, Michael Dean is the worst, a hint of hope and fluff

Words: 1k+

Your world lies in ruins. Only dust and burned ground are left. Blood is soaking the battleground. Feeding it with the red nectar from the fallen ones.

The leader stands over your broken body. Your hope and wings ripped from your dying body. He smiles down at you, his eyes still the same, but so much colder now.

“Why did you have to do this?” He cocks his head to watch you take your last breaths. “A mere human becoming an angel. This has to end badly.”

“He promised that I’ll be able to defeat you if I give up my human form,” you choke on your blood as your hand reaches out for the man who used to be the love of your life. He swats it away, sneering as a single tear runs down your cheek.

“Father lied,” he stares back at you. His eyes are blue and sparkling now. “God is a good player, isn’t he?”

“Why would he do such a thing? Why would he lie to me?” You whimper as the pain gets unbearable. Your insides feel like your body is on fire while you are shaking from the cold. “God is supposed to be the good guy.”

Michael crouches down next to you to run his hand over your hair. He almost acts like he regrets piercing your heart with his archangel blade. 

“There is no law that gods must be fair," he wraps his hand around the sword in your chest. “Your God is a worse monster than all the things you were hunting all your life.”

“A monster,” you choke on your blood. “Just like you.” Your eyes flutter shut. There is no fight left in you. It’s over, and you succumb to the darkness wanting to drag you away.

“I’m not a monster, but your God. A better one,” his fingertips stroke your cheek, and you feel a spark touch your skin. “I’ll make you my perfect little puppet on a string. Dean will be so happy having you around. Won’t he?”

You dare not open your eyes when he removes the sword from your chest. The pain is excruciating. Images of your family, friends, and lastly Dean and you fill your mind. 

“So many memories, little human,” he coos and touches your chest. Another spark runs through your body, making you cry out in pain. “I’ll keep you to torture Dean with every single kiss you remember. Maybe I’ll put you in a cage only to let him watch you wither away like a flower.”

You wake up in pain, like most days. Your body is not used to being locked in a small cage. On the other hand, no human being is used to being caged like some animal.

“Look at my favorite pet, Dean,” the monster wearing Dean’s body for prom waltzes into the room, his eyes trained on you in the cage. 

You’re too weak to even give him a snarky comment. He didn’t give you food for a few days. Michael likes to test how long you’ll survive without food.

“Sweetheart,” he uses the pet name on purpose, “don’t you want to greet the man you love? Hmm…he has missed you. Right now, he tries to claw his way to the front, but he won’t succeed.”

Michael crouches down in front of the cage. He wants to watch you flinch away, but you won’t give him the satisfaction today. Whatever he has in mind today, you’re too tired and weak to feel the pain.

“Aw, did I finally break you?” Michael unlocks the cage. He reaches out for you to stroke your cheek. The monster smiles as a single tear rolls down your cheek. “I promise, this is not the end.”

You wish his words weren’t true. Every beat of your heart tells you he’s not lying.

“Dean dreams of holding you in his arms again,” Michael easily gets you out of the cage and lifts you into his arms. Your head lolls back, and you hope you’ll lose consciousness before he starts with whatever he planned for you. “I’ll fulfill his wish tonight.”

“Please just kill me,” you breathe against his shoulder. “Please. I can’t…please.” Michael broke the strong woman in you. He won but refuses to show mercy and redeem you.

“I won’t let you go, little bird. It’s so much fun feeling Dean despair every day more…”

Michael smiles widely as you lie on the soft sheets, looking like an angel covered in red.

Your body is littered with cuts from his archangel blade. You can’t whimper or move. He made sure of it.

His hand slides over your torn body to heal the damage he did to you tonight.

“Beautiful yet so broken. Do you want to feel her, Dean?” Michael leans over your body to brush his lips over yours. “I could break her neck or rip her heart out and you cannot stop me. Give in, and I’ll end her life painless and fast.”

“Do it! Kill me,” your eyes snap open, and you grab Michael’s hand on your cheek. “Stop toying with me.”

“There she is,” Michael coos and brushes his thumb over your cheek. “I knew there was still fight left in you. Dean would be so proud of you, sweetheart.”

“You’re a fucking creep,” you spit in his face. “Dean would rip your ass open, you sonofabitch!”

You can’t see it, but Dean stopped fighting Michael’s grip on him for a moment to chuckle at your response. “I’ll get out of here, sweetheart,” he says before fighting Michael again.

“You’re nothing but insects!” You can hear Michael yell outside your prison. There’s a commotion, and then the door flies open. You can see a young woman pierce Michael’s upper arm, and then blinding light fills the room.

“Y/N,” the last thing you recognize is Sam’s voice and the worry in his eyes as he steps toward the cage. “Fuck, Cas, Rowena I need your help.”

Waking up feels different this time. You’re not in pain, and someone gently runs his hand over your hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

“Dean—” you croak as you struggle to open your eyes. “What a pleasant dream. Please don’t leave me. Stay with me.”

“I’ll stay with you,” he moves closer to press his lips to your temple, “until the very end. I promise to make him suffer for what he’s done to you…” 

Tags in reblog.

[the-force-awakens]

Two Birds, One Stone

Pairing: poe dameron/f!reader (no pronouns) Rating: explicit Word Count: 4.3k Warnings: smut (18+ only): fingering, oral (m receiving) unprotected piv, alcohol consumption (both parties are sober tho), friends to lovers, one night stand (or is it?) A/N: I have no idea why this concept burrowed into my head the way it did or how I ended up almost writing 5k of it but??? here we are.

You glance around the rec room - Snap and Karé making eyes at each other in the corner, Tallie and Paige already making out at another table - then back at Poe who is staring studiously ahead following his unintentional slip up that he's frustrated in a very particular kind of way, and wraps his lips around the bottle of coruscant cooler he bribed Yolo for. 

And it's gotta be the sip you've taken of your drink that makes you blurt, out of the blue, "There's me.”

His entire frame goes carefully rigid, enough so that you almost want to take the words back — almost but not quite. Poe lowers his drink slowly, casting you a skeptical look. "What?”

You shift slightly, giving him a casual shrug. "I said there's me. I'm not under your command, no reason for you to feel guilty. And -” despite the brazen nature of your suggestion, you feel warmth climb up your neck to your face - "it's been a while for me too. Two birds, one stone. Well - one dick, I guess.”

His eyebrows had nearly shot up to his hairline, but they lower now, something shifting in his expression as he studies yours. "You're serious?”

At this, you can't help but feel a little offended and you don't bother disguising that as you reply, "No, I just decided to screw with you about screwing you - yes, I'm being serious.”

He snorts at that, pushes away his bottle and turns in his seat, looking around the room before his gaze lands back on yours, a gentle heat building in his eyes that makes you falter and wonder if you've made a terrible mistake in suggesting this. "You know how many people we're going to hear an 'I told you so' from if they find out?”

You grin, leaning forward and daring to place your hand high on his thigh, enough that Poe's breath audibly hitches. “Do you really care what they have to say if it means getting off tonight?”

"I - uh - nope," he lands on empathically, popping the 'p' as he slides off his bar stool, offering you his hand to help you down off yours. It's sweet and he's done it a million times - but now it makes your heart trip over itself. "You sure about this?”

You are, in the sense that you know you want this. But what you're not so sure about is if it's a good idea, when his sheepish smile and crinkled eyes alone give you butterflies. Knowing his body intimately like you've suggested seems like playing with fire. 

"Yeah. You?” Because he hasn't actually said yet, though you know he wouldn't have budged if he hadn't made his mind up already - if it wasn't a yes, he'd still be at the bar.

"Surer than I've ever been," Poe replies with a crooked grin, squeezing your hand slightly and - yeah. This was a really fucking bad idea.

But you also really don't care.

You wonder if Poe can feel you watching him the entire walk back to his quarters. Nothing about the trek back seems significant yet at the same time incredibly surreal: you know where he keeps his flimsiplast blueprints of classic starfighter models hidden away for safe keeping, the name of that really naughty erotic romance novel he secretly loves even though the ending made him cry, you've curled up in his bed watching horror movies while he used you as a human shield and peering at the screen from behind your shoulder (which you found particularly endearing, considering how daring he is in every other facet of life, and also because it warms you from the inside out that he trusts you to protect him). 

And now you're going to know what it's like to have him spread out against his mattress, flushed and panting underneath you. The thought sends desire zipping down your back so intense that for the first time since leaving the rec room, you drop your eyes away from Poe - something like guilt surfacing over the thick wave of arousal at the fantasy you've conjured. Is it really wrong to think about it when it's about to be a reality?

You're yanked out of your thoughts by the soft beeps of Poe punching in the code to his room - Leia's birthday - and the pneumatic hiss of the door sliding open. His smile is genuine and earnest as he motions you to go in first.

It's surprisingly clean, cleaner than it'd been the night before last when you'd unceremoniously dropped onto his bed complaining about Laszlo being a dick during your shift (though there was never a time when he wasn't a dick) — so you assume Poe must've found the time and energy to tidy this morning before his patrol, or BB-8 did. Speaking of which -

“Where's Bee?” You ask as Poe steps in after you, the door sliding close behind him. Though you don't turn around, you sense him moving closer - slowly, like he's either trying to work out his next move or if he's not sure when you're supposed to begin. 

"He wanted to spend some time with the astromech pool,” Poe answers, giving in and lightly dragging his knuckles down the length of your bare arm, leaving gooseflesh in his wake. "Probably won't be back until later.”

"Lucky,” you breathe, heart rate picking up already because he's never touched you like this before. You were used to being touched by him because Poe was incredibly tactile and affectionate, but those had all been fleeting because despite his touchy nature, Poe didn't linger. 

He's lingering now, though, stepping close enough you can nearly feel his chest against your back. He flexes his hand out, lets his palm slide back up as he replies, "Yeah, luck seems to be going around tonight.”

Ordinarily you'd have rolled your eyes - hell, the temptation to do it is so instinct you nearly do, but it's overpowered by how the sincerity of his voice makes you melt. 

And melting is really not ideal. Neither is the way your traitorous knees already want to buckle just from this, from his close proximity that's still nowhere near close enough to sate you — either of you, really. 

You turn slowly around, breath catching low in your chest as you finally get a glimpse of Poe's face, of the unmasked want darkening his features and his eyes, which unabashedly rake over your frame like he's been waiting for permission to do so for a while. 

The thought that maybe he wants you almost as bad as you want him makes you clench your thighs together, and soothes some of the sting of the thought simmering in the back of your head which is that you want more than one night of this. 

No, that's not quite it either. 

You want this, you want - need - to know what it's like to have him inside you, to hear him moan your name, watch him unravel; you wouldn't take back your offer now and you're sure as hell not going to regret it later, not when Poe is looking down promisingly at you like that.

You want him in every single way you can have a person and it terrifies you because you've never felt like that for anyone — because sex has always just been a bit of fun for you, a way to stop thinking, to feel good. 

But it already feels like so much more than that right now. You feel like by inviting yourself into his bed, you've cracked open your ribcage so that all the love you've been hiding can spill out. 

"Can I kiss you?” Poe asks, deadly serious as he zeroes in on your mouth, before flicking up to meet your eyes - searching for any sign of hesitance. 

"Please.” It comes out breathier and a little more desperate than you meant for, but you don't think you can wait any longer. And it seems like Poe's patience has run out as well, because he surges forward, pulling you flush against him as he cups your face, kisses you hard.

You open your mouth to him, groan when he slides his tongue in, when his blazing hot hand meets bare skin as your shirt lifts up when you go to wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer, your other hand sliding up his stubbled jaw — it prickles against your palm and you moan again, thinking of what it'd feel like against your thighs.

Poe nudges you forward, keeping you steady as he walks you backwards to his bunk - like you don't already have the layout to his room memorized, you're in it more than your own - and you're struck with three simultaneous realizations at once:

Poe Dameron was as good at kissing as he was flying

You probably could have done this without kissing him at all, kept this impersonal, kept some line in the sand of your relationship with him

You were about to have sex with your best friend. 

And some-fucking-how the least terrifying on the list was the third one.

You break apart from each other slowly, exchanging a weighted look that's filled to the brim of unsaid things and emotions clawing their way to the surface like a drowning man desperate for air; Poe's cheeks are already flushed and when he shifts closer, you feel his hard length pressing against the seam of his trousers. 

Taking a step back from him, you toe off your boots, immediately knocking them aside and out of the way with your ankle as Poe kicks his off. As he shucks his jacket off, you peel your shirt up and over your head — and are immediately rewarded with the sound of Poe inhaling sharply because you didn't wear a bra tonight. 

You don't normally, the weight of the straps often giving you migraines, so you usually opt for tank tops underneath: you hadn't worn one tonight, hadn't made an effort to be remotely put together because your plans had involved having a drink with Poe and then crashing for the night after such a long day - which, technically speaking, nothing about that has changed.

You sit down on the edge of the mattress, which is a bad idea because it puts you at eye-level where his trousers are tented. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you're reaching for him, undoing his belt with nimble fingers. 

"What are you - oh fuck -” Poe sucks in a sharp breath as you yank down his trousers and underwear in one quick motion, revealing his thick cock. It's curved up, towards his tummy, and already leaking precum.

You pull him closer, fingernails digging probably too harshly into his thighs. You glance up at him under your eyelashes, find him staring at you with dark, frantic eyes as his chest heaves. He's already unraveling and you've barely begun. The thought does very little to help the gathering dampness in your underwear, but it sure motivates you into returning your focus to the task at hand. 

You don't immediately go for his dick though - instead you lean in, pressing your nose against the soft skin of his thigh, ghosting your lips across it and you're struck with the exigent need to mark him. Which shouldn't be on the table, it shouldn't. But the thought of leaving behind evidence of tonight on his body, one that he won't be able to ignore, that will remain for a day or two and that he'll have to look at in the shower or when he dresses or (hopefully) when he gets himself off — makes something thrash in self-satisfaction behind your ribcage. 

Something that's immediately replaced with a wave of disappointment: you don't have any claim on him, even if you know him better than anyone else in the galaxy. Even if you're a little bit hopelessly in love with him. 

So instead of pinching his skin between your teeth, you move further up to his neglected cock and lick a long, slow swipe up the underside of his shaft, which makes Poe gasp roughly, his head tipping back and exposing his throat.

Scratch that. You're completely and utterly gone for your best friend, no ‘little bit’ about it. Which, again, is not ideal so you shove the thought away angrily and take it out on Poe by swallowing him down.

What you can't take in your mouth, you wrap your fist around, jerking him off at the same time that you savor the weight and taste of him on your tongue, every groan and whimper that falls from his lips.

It doesn't feel like it's been long at all when his hips buck harshly into your mouth and you hear him swear, bitten off. He grabs your hair, pulling you off abruptly, his breathing erratic as he releases his grip on you, rubbing your skull apologetically with his thumb. "Not gonna last if you keep that up, maker fuck, you're good at that.” 

"Oh, did you underestimate how good I'd be?” You retort, scooting backwards on the bed when Poe gestures for you to, giving him room to crawl in after you. 

"No.” It's a surprisingly clipped answer, and there's a weight to it that gives you pause, trying to search his shadowed face for a deeper meaning because for once in his life, Poe isn't saying something. 

But before you can ask another question, he's ducking in to kiss you again, slowly as he settles over you, gently pushing until you're supine on your back, his body covering yours as he braces himself on his elbow so as to keep his full weight off you (not that you'd really mind), while letting his hand slide down to your neck, his thumb settling in at the dip of your throat and maker fuck that shouldn't feel so good. 

He wedges one thigh between your legs, grinding up and you nearly choke, whining his name against his lips - which has the delightful side effect of making Poe groan, bucking against you before having the audacity to pull his thigh back away from your core.

He tears his mouth away from yours, the hand that was around your throat sliding down your bare torso, stopping to thumb the underside of your nipple which has you arching up into his touch carelessly, eyelids fluttering shut so you miss his brief, pleased smile before he works his hand between your bodies. 

Poe pushes aside your underwear, dipping one finger inside you to the knuckle, making you both moan. "Gods, you're wet,” he sounds like he can't believe it, even though you can both hear the slickness as he drags his finger slowly around. "All this just from getting me off, baby?”

The endearment falls off his lips easily and without thought but it makes you clench down around him subconsciously as your mind grapples with the fact that this is actually happening, that his calloused finger is pressing up against your slick walls.

The realization thuds around your brain like an echoing drum, intensifying when he slides another finger in. The stretch is slow, stings a little because it's been a while since anyone's fingers but yours were down there, and Poe's are decidedly thicker. 

Longer too, evidently, because he's reaching a place that has sparks appearing behind your eyes, something sharp, full and hot building low in your stomach. You rock into his hand, nodding wordlessly as you try to chase your own high. "All for you," you hear yourself say, high-pitched and barely familiar to your own ears. 

“All for - gods,” his voice breaks down into something nonsensical as his fingers slide deeper inside, grinding against your walls and crooking back towards himself in a way that leaves the entire world muffled around you, your mouth dropping when he leans back on his knees, using his other hand to give attention to your neglected clit. "All for me," he murmurs again, incredulous while you whine and squirm, openly admiring your wrecked expression. "You gonna come for me, too?”

The combination of being stuffed full of his fingers, his clever ministrations against your clit and his makerdamned voice is enough to — you're not even sure what happens. You cum but it's nothing like anything that's happened before: instead of crashing over the edge and losing temporary awareness of your body, it's like you've surfaced from the deepest part of the ocean and are sucking in greedy lung-fulls of air, no longer crushed down by the unforgiving current pressure. 

Your whole body is trembling when Poe slowly removes his fingers, transfixed at the sight between your legs — before his eyes trail back to his fingers, which gleam in the low light with the thick evidence of your climax. He brings them up to his mouth, sucking away the residue: his eyes roll back like they do when his taste buds go alight with something you've baked together in the kitchens, an appreciative noise rumbling up his chest and going straight to your core as he drops his hand. 

He seems wrought with indecision for a moment - you can tell by the way his brow furrows, his tongue darting out to swipe along his bottom lip that he's thinking, considering his options while situated between your thighs.

You're too impatient for that: you breathe out his name, reaching for him and it breaks his reverie. He's back over you in an instant, kissing you again, parts long enough to murmur, "You taste so good.”

His praise makes you groan, and you drag him down to kiss him again, fingernails scraping his scalp - which he seems to like by the way he jerks into you with a gasp, reminding you of just how badly want him inside you.

"Poe, come on -”

"Anyone ever tell you you're impatient?” Poe asks around a grin, but he obeys anyway (which makes your brain light up with interest), and strokes himself roughly, going to line up with your entrance. 

You snarf at that. “Yeah, you have - repeatedly. Last I checked you weren't any better.”

He notches the head of his cock against you and your breath stalls, grip tightening in his hair as Poe slowly sinks in another few inches. 

"I'm patient about - hnngh - some things,” he says, face pinched as he unexpectedly stops. He's not even halfway in yet and already you feel unbearably full. You can't imagine what it'll be like when he's in all the way. "The important things - those I'm - fuck you're soft and -”

He makes another wordless noise of appreciation, hands gripping your thighs so tightly that you know there will be bruises there later - and, oh, how that makes your stomach corkscrew with desire. 

You exhale shakily, slacken your hold on his curls, try to summon the energy to speak, to help him breathe through it — he said it's been awhile since the last time he was with anyone, after all. “What are you patient about? Not the first cup of caf, I can tell you that.” 

He huffs a noise that might be a laugh, moving just that much deeper inside of you. Poe's eyes are squinched shut, eyelashes long and dark against the tips of cheekbones. “I - this - been waitin' for this - been -” his sentence fades in a shared synchronized moan between the two of you as he sinks in fully, his cock disappearing inside of you. 

If it's possible to be cock drunk instantly, you wonder if you aren't now, because everything feels heady and light as you adjust to the feel of him, his words bouncing around in your head but not quite sticking. You clench around him unintentionally and Poe swears, dropping his head to your shoulder. 

Belatedly, you realize he's still rambling — you open your mouth to start to interrupt, tell him he can move now, when he says, "This is so better than I imagined it'd be, you feel so good, you -”

He stops abruptly, going as carefully still as he had in the rec room, this time because he can feel you tense beneath him. Slowly, Poe lifts his head up from your shoulder, dark brown eyes flicking between yours panickedly, "It - I just - I meant -” 

You press your finger to his lips, stopping him from going on another spiel and - for good measure - you let your other hand slide around the curve of his back to keep him in place, in case he gets the idea of pulling out of you following his unintentional bombshell.

"It's better than I thought it'd be too,” you tell him softly, trailing your fingertip down his kiss-swollen lips as your heart pounds. You know Poe better than anyone, better than yourself, yet there's still a seed of anxiety sprouting in the back of your mind that you're misunderstanding him, that he did just mean it's better than he thought it would be back at the bar.

You ignore it, forging ahead to confess, "I just wish it was for more than one night.”

Poe pushes up on his elbow in surprise. The sudden movement tips the angle of your hips, so that he pushes in even deeper, the tip of him hitting some sweet spot that has your stomach flipping. 

It also means that his face is caught between pleasure and revelation, which is a funny mix but it just softens his countenance to the point that affection swells up your throat: you love him so much that it isn't fair. 

"Doesn't have to be if you don't want it to,” Poe says, shyness creeping into his voice. It's rare, hearing that from him - you're so used to his confidence that the absence of it is so stark and surreal you nearly forget how you ended up in this conversation. 

"I want every night with you, every morning. I want you. Not just like this - though, this is -” experimentally, you lift yourself up, grinding into him and making you both groan - "good, this is really fucking good. I want…want you. All of you.”

You don't realize you've closed your eyes until Poe taps you lightly on your sternum: when you blink them back open, he's smiling softer than you've ever seen him. “You have me, you've had me for a long time. Maker, I've wanted you so bad -” he laughs, rakes his free hand through his hair - "didn't expect to tell you like this though.”

And you can't help but laugh too, because everything is backwards and completely perfect too. You hitch your leg up around his hip, pressing the heel off your foot against the small of his back, opening yourself up to him. “Somehow I can't imagine it happening any other way…but do you think we could reconvene on laughing at how ridiculous we are later and get back to the fucking now?”

"Yeah, I can do that.” Poe leans back down, grinning broadly as his lips find yours, kissing you long and slow as he finally pulls out, thrusting back in with a lazy grind, letting you feel every vein and ridge of his cock drag against your walls. 

"Oh - just like that - more -” you break off as Poe tilts his head, licking into your mouth, tongue slick against yours as he snakes one hand between your bodies to thumb at your clit while he continues his devastating slow pace.

Slow but hard, snapping up into you just like you want, adding just enough force at the apex of each thrust that you see stars, electricity zipping up your spine as the throbbing between your legs crests —

Your thighs tense around Poe as you come, his name a jagged noise on your tongue as you cling to him through the haze, trying to catch your breath even as Poe continues to rut into you, desperate for his own release. 

He's well beyond words now, reduced to grunts and the occasional whimper, clutching your knee - rubbing the bump of bone absently with his thumb, even as he chases his own high. 

Eager to help him get there, you slide your hands back into his hair like he seemed to like earlier, tugging on his curls as you lean in and knock your mouths together in a messy kiss, trying to meet his thrusts with your own, clenching weakly around him. 

It's when you tug on his bottom lip that Poe finally comes, spilling inside of you for what feels simultaneously like lightyears and mere seconds, dropping his head against the curve of your neck as he lets go of your leg so you can straighten it out finally.

He doesn't pull out immediately and you're glad, gladder still when Poe wedges his arms around your back, drawing you closer - kisses your sweaty skin at your collarbone. The kind of sleepy, thoughtless affection you've been dreaming of for years. 

Eventually after a while of luxuriating in the honey-like bliss that's enveloped you both as you come down from your respective highs, Poe perches his chin in the valley of your breasts, which makes the juxtaposition of his serious face all the stranger as he studies you. "I love you - is that okay?”

There's a million and one ways you've imagined him saying those three words to you, and a million and one ways you've imagined responding to them.

In this one, you knock your knee against his ribs, grinning crookedly when you reply, “Only if it's okay that I love you too,” before tugging him up to kiss his smiling mouth again - because you can. 

And not just tonight. You'll get to kiss him in the morning when you wake up together, still entwined together, and again before his next patrol; you get to have him not for just one night, but for every night, as long as you both want.

You wrap your arms around him, hugging his warm body to your own as sleep begins to pull you both under, his weight a comfortable pressure against you, leaving you utterly content.

This, you decide sleepily, was single handedly the best idea you've ever had.

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

October is almost here!! Any idea what the mercs would dress up as to celebrate halloween?

Love your writing :D

TF2 Mercs Halloween Costumes!

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I'm gonna cry I love Halloween and I'm also really glad you like my writing 😭

Mutual appreciation comment: Thank you for such a fun request and thank you for being a mutual, ily 💖

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I tried super hard to come up with originals ones and not like opt out into easy costumes, I sorted through many a costumes and my god some were so bad.

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Demo dresses up as the Grim Reaper and doesn't hold back on making his costume as scary as he can. Like this man is going to make at least one kid piss themselves. His costume gives people (Scout) Nightmares. It's even scarier/funnier when he gets drunk and starts stumbling around and groaning, looks like he's about to actually harvest someone's soul. The other mercs end up having to carry him home, and apologizing to multiple angry parents, Demo is only allowed to wear less scary costumes or at least not get wasted while wearing a scary one.

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Engie and Pyro have to go together, I'd be so wrong not to put them down as having a duos costume. Kronk and Yzma, please it's such a funny concept to have Engie as an evil (semi) mastermind and Pyro as a well meaning but slightly dumb sidekick. I just love this idea so much. Their so silly going trick or treating together, people are a little freaked out by them but it's all in good fun I'm sure. If anyone dares say anything about them being "to old." there will be hell to pay from Engie.

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Heavy is Michaels Myers, I just think this fits so well? Like? I don't know how to elaborate on this one other than the fact that he'd play the part so well. Also, if we're talking about the fear factor like we did with Demo, and costume this man wears is terrifying everyone, it just so happens that dressing up as Michael Myers yielded the most terrifying reaction. Made kids cry, felt bad about it, probably went back to the base after that happened, or just took off the mask. Gets made fun of for this for at least a month afterwards.

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I have rewrote this for Medic at least six times now. I want this man to dress up as a nurse so bad it's not even funny. I'm going feral over here guys, I'm using all my restraint to not go into graphic detail about Medic being a nurse for Halloween. But for this prompt I will attempt to be a normal and sane human being, and go with an almost cliché, I think he'd be a plague doctor for Halloween. He loves his job, what can I say, of course it'd transition over to his Halloween costume. I think he'd also just like the look of it, and it doesn't help that this man is a history nerd who was obsessed with the plague. Dresses up Archimedes as a tiny plague doctor so he can take him with, introduces Archimedes as his assistant. Also manages to get the bird head tilt thing on point and pull that move every so often to freak people out.

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Scout is going as Beetlejuice. I think he'd be able to act as gross and silly as Beetlejuice. ALSO kind of obscure but not really, in an episode of The Amazing World of Gumball, Gumball dresses up as Beetlejuice while scamming the entire city of candy and I honestly saw that and though, oh yeah scout would do that. Like my man manages to get as much candy as he possibly can, he is ruthless. Accidently uses semipermanent hair dye instead of the washout stuff and has green hair for about six months after Halloween.

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Sniper was planning to just go as he was, Scout begs him to dress up, it being traditional and all. Decides he's pretty much dressing like a cowboy at all times anyway, so why now just roll with it? Manages to beat the system with this one, and bearly puts on anything new for his costume. Makes a lasso buys a sheriff star and some boots and deems his outfit complete. Scout is mildly disappointed but still happy he could at least convince him to dress up.

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Is it to much if I say Spy would be a princess for Halloween? Is it too much if I say a specific Disney princess? I mean it's not my fault that Cinderella is so iconic, and that Spy would slay so hard in that dress, like come on, I can't stop putting him in dresses now. If that's not what people wanted they wouldn't have made the art of Spy in a dress. And you know this man has the glass heels, takes dressing up very seriously. Maybe even makes a couple of stuffed mice to keep on his dress to make it look more accurate to the movie, who knows.

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I think it would be so funny if Soldier dressed up like a revolutionary soldier, but I won't go for something so easy, I refuse. I'll say he'd dress up as a werewolf, but with a twist, he's a were-raccoon! He'd make the costume himself and be so proud. Shows it to his raccoon pals (I don't know if this was someone's headcanon or actual canon but either way, I agree he has pet raccoons), and they cheer.

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Sorry it's not super long! I don't know why my headcanons have gotten less detailed, maybe the brain rot is that severe, but I still loved doing this one. and I'm glad I could at least get this one done!

I promise one of these days I'll get back into being able to do longer posts!

Love you guys 💖

[skeletinmoss]

The curse of the Dark Phoenix

Chapter 2: under dark wings

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The bird was big. Easily the biggest bird Roman had ever seen in person.

If it stood at its full height, it probably would reach up to Roman’s hips… If Roman were standing next to it rather than being pinned underneath.

It’s cold, piercing gaze had him terrified, but he also couldn’t help but feel in awe of it’s beauty and power. As Roman met its gaze he got a strange sense that the creature was eyeing him not with aggression. Rather curiosity, caution…

Roman’s heart pounded in his chest. Given the way this creature appeared before them, it could only be one thing.

“A dark Phoenix,” he muttered in disbelieve. Even with the claws pressing into is chest it felt unreal.

“A real phoenix!!!” Patton whisper yelled, barely containing his excitement but not wanting to scare the creature away.

“Astonishing,” the prophetic mage breathed.

It had been a point of debate among them on whether phoenixes were ever real, rare or extinct. And now a real one was sitting on top of Roman.

“But why was it locked in a box?” Logan wondered as he carefully approached to get a better look.

Phoenixes, dark or otherwise, were considered good and pure creatures, with incredible magic and a strong sense of loyalty. There should be no true reason to keep one in a box.

“Maybe the mage was working on getting him out but got interrupted?” their shifting fighter suggested.

“Like maybe all that was left was the chains but something urgent came up and then he disappeared?”

Meanwhile, Roman was still locked in prolonged eye contact with the mythical bird.

“Guys!” Roman hissed finally losing his composure. “That’s a very good question and a valid theory. But can I get a little help? I’m getting a little freaked out here and… Huh?”

With a pensive tilt of its head, the bird jumped off Roman’s chest. Which was a lot better for his ability to breathe. He was still standing over Roman and inspecting him carefully, but now Roman felt he could move. If he dared.

“Can i…Can I get up or…?” he asked the creature feeling a little stupid, but he had moved when Roman said he was freaking out so…

And indeed the bird did a few steps back and let out a cry that Roman felt was meant to be a confirmation. Finally the phoenix looked away, taking in his surroundings.

Roman got up and looked at his friends. Logan’s eyes were sparkling with fascination. “It’s like he can understand us…” he whispered pensively.

“Aw, it’s a smart birdie,” Patton coed adoringly.

They all stood back and observed the bird inspecting the forest surrounding them and then the tower and the garden surrounding it. There was no doubt in their minds that the bird was actively assessing the situation.

“He’ll probably want to go home,” Patton sighed sadly. Roman nodded. That would be understandable. It was a devastating loss of opportunity to learn about him but they couldn’t force him to stay and they could not delay their mission to chase after the creature either.

Maybe if they kept in mind which direction it flew they could go on a search once they succeeded in this quest.

The bird turned back towards them and took each of them in. And then… Roman could almost swear he let out a tired sigh. The type his parents used to make whenever he’d gotten carried away and there was nothing they could do but clean up the mess left behind.

Then the phoenix eyed the tower once more and then, with breath taking force, launched himself in the air and took to the sky. Watching him fly off was a bittersweet delight.

“Aaand, he’s gone,” Patton said, a little saddened as they all were. Chances were they’d never fully understand the why and how of this creature and the box. But at least he was free now…

“Oh no wait!” Patton called out as they realized that the bird halted his ascend near the roof and flapped his wings, creating a gust of wind so strong they heard a window shatter and then he did a loop, flawlessly making his way inside the study.

“He’s going to hurt himself,” Roman gasped.

“Or destroy a clue,” Logan added while following the medic back inside and up the stairs. From the sounds they expected an even bigger mess upon arrival, and that was the case… But also not.

The phoenix had pulled out several scrolls, but none seemed torn. Not only that, but he’d opened several hidden compartments in the floor, the cupboards and the desk.

“Is he trying to be helpful?” Logan wondered as he gathered the selected scrolls and started reading them.

“Oh, such a good boy. Good birdie, smart birdie,” Patton coed.

“Wouldn’t do that Pat,” Roman warned, practically feeling the annoyance radiating off off the creature. “How would he know what we are looking for?” he pointed out inspecting the revealed space in the desk. “We didn’t even mention our mission here.” He found a box with what seemed to be random junk. Dried flowers, pieces of fabric, marbles…

Strange. Mementos of childhood maybe? The arch mage was rumored to be older than some towns… So maybe he kept this here for sentimentality sake? The space was rather big for just this small box… Roman was pretty sure the box the Phoenix had been held in could fit in there as well.

“I think you are right Patton. He must’ve left here in a hurry. I am almost certain I found where he usually stored the box,” Roman mused. If it hadn’t been an emergency, he would have put the box back where it would be safe rather than leaving it in the open.

“These scrolls are written in code or else using a jargon lost to time…” Logan mused, sounding frustrated. “It’ll take a while to decipher them in either case. But from what I can gather this was still a work in progress. The last thing he was working on before disappearing. Somehow the phoenix has selected the most recent scrolls out of boxes and boxes of them,” he pointed out, glancing at the bird in question in awe.

“We gotta figure out what to call him if he’s sticking around,” Roman noted.

The bird let out a cry that seemed to agree.

“Tiny?” Patton giggled, letting out a yelp when the Phoenix jumped in front of him and spread his wings in a very clear “fuck off” gesture.

“He doesn’t approve,” Roman translated, just in case.

“Oh, sorry birdie, didn’t mean to upset you,” Patton offered still kinda in that baby voice.

“I’m telling you Pat, I don’t think he appreciates the baby talk,” Roman insisted.

“Besides a pet name sounds… A bit beneath him?” he pondered.

The way the bird straightened himself made Roman feel like he was on the right track.

“Then maybe a human name. As he seems to have close to human intelligence, maybe Vincent?” Logan offered.

The phoenix cocked his head.

“Better but not quite… Maybe something cool… Like Reaper, or Midnight, or Storm… Oh,” Roman looked down at the phoenix who’s interest seemed piqued.

“You want us to call you Storm?” Roman asked.

The Phoenix, or rather Storm, let out a confirming cry.

“Well, okay then Storm. Thank you for helping us out. Not sure how you knew what we were doing here. But it probably would’ve taken us a lot longer to find all those compartments on our own,” Roman said.

“Do you think he used to belong to the mage and that’s why he knows his way around?” Patton suggested.

Roman didn’t even need to look at Storm to figure the answer to that. “I don’t think he’s the domesticated pet kind of Phoenix Patton,” he stated.

“You seem exceptionally good at interpreting Storm,” Logan pointed out. “From where I’m standing he looks mostly… Grumpy and annoyed. No offense,” he offered sincerely.

Roman didn’t immediately have an answer for that. He knew that it wasn’t just him interpreting body language. It was more like he could almost feel the emotions radiate off of Storm. Not constantly. Mostly when Storm was trying to make something clear… Was this an imprint thing? Like baby ducks thinking the first living thing they see is their mother? Had Storm chosen him as his ally just because he was the first he saw? That didn’t sound quite right. He hadn’t trusted him when he first appeared. He’d taken his time inspecting him before deciding Roman was safe to be around.

“Storm, no! Let Roman at least make sure these are safe to eat,” Patton scolded, pulling Roman’s attention from his musings and towards the present where Patton was keeping a box away from Storm.

“Ah yes. I’d imagine he would be hungry after being reborn,” Logan mused.

Roman approached Patton and Storm. “The tower has been abandoned for a while Storm. Whatever you found is probably long spoiled. I wouldn’t use any of these herbs even for the simplest of spells,” he offered as he took a look at the Box Patton had retrieved from one of the floor hiding spots.

There were already a few boxes with amulets of all kinds in them. One with old letters, those should probably be left alone unless Logan’s magic deemed them essential.

And the one Storm was so interested in that contained…

Roman paled. “What’s wrong Ro?” Patton wondered.

“These are all level 5 or higher,” the herbologist explained. Logan and Patton froze. You didn’t need to be especially well studied to know that only level 1 and 2 herbs were considered safe to use. Level 3 existed in a grey area. 4 ran a definite risk of lasting damage and form then on the risk only got more severe. Ashes were an 8 by example, the highest category. Protocol advised against even touching the stuff. And considering how easily Storm’s ashes had reacted to Roman’s magic without him even meaning to that was a wise decision.

Roman closed the box carefully and put it down. Nudging Storm away. He really wanted to get to that box. “Those are not going to be good for you Storm, trust me on this,” he pleaded.

Storm looked at him and again, Roman felt like if the creature could sigh he would. It was more an ‘I think this is stupid but if it makes you feel better fine’ sort of sigh.

“Thank you,” Roman said relieved.

“Ahm, Ro, I’m a little scared to open the last box now…” Patton admitted showing him another box that looked identical to the one with the extremely restricted herbs in.

Roman took the box and opened it, relaxing instantly. He’d been sort of ready to find a fossil or something intense like that.

“This seems to be ah… More recreational in nature,” he informed the others as he closed the box again.

“Oh,” Patton said, a little embarrassed that he made a big deal over nothing.

“Why are there still high level herbs in here?” Logan wondered concerned. “Surely the arch mage knew better than to keep them around.”

They all thought on that. “High level ingredients still hold a lot of power… He might have been holding on to them in case something big came up.

A last resort…” Roman suggested.

Storm screeched unimpressed by the gravity they put on the situation. Intelligent or not, Roman didn’t suppose he could expect a bird to really understand these kind of things. A plant was likely a plant to them. Or maybe a phoenix had nothing to fear from high level plants. Maybe to them it was just food… Speaking off.

“You know. I think Storm isn’t the only one who should eat. Let’s settled down for a minute, have dinner and then we can start on trying to see if we can find a lead today.

We are to touch base with the consulate at sunrise tomorrow and as cool as ‘we found a phoenix’ would be… I think we better focus on the mission we came here for,” Roman surmised.

His friends agreed and together they settled on the floor, all sharing a bit of their provisions with Storm who chirped in the most pleasant way he’d done all day. It would seem he appreciated the food.

Once they were done eating, they all went back to work. Storm had been a great help but they should double check to make sure nothing was missed. Roman was trying to get something shiny that was stuck under the desk when he noticed Storm was sticking by his side, observing him.

“You really have no were better to be huh? I’d think you’d want to get back to wherever you are from as soon as possible,” he mused as he finally got his hand on the cool round thing that had been evading him for an annoying amount of time.

He sat back up and looked at the phoenix. “You know… It’s kind of special to me to meet a phoenix. Not just because you are rare. I have… A connection with your kin, so to speak,” Roman tried to explain. And while he didn’t think he was doing a good job, he felt as though Storm understood him just the same.

Suddenly Storm perked up and looked at the destroyed window.

“The sun is setting,” Roman noticed, wondering why that had Storm’s attention. Maybe due to its coloring it was safer for him to fly at night… Was that what he’d been waiting for?

Roman felt a little disappointed. He still didn’t know for certain what this strange connection was he felt with Storm, and if the creature left, he might never know.

Still he wasn’t going to keep him here if he had other places to be.

Storm hopped himself over to the desk, flew up to the window, let out a cry -that strangely didn’t feel like ‘goodbye’ but ‘be right back’, and then flew out. Maybe he was going hunting? Roman supposed no one knew for sure what a Phoenix would eat and Storm was a very big bird so he might need something more filling than the nuts and fruits he’d accepted from them earlier.

“Aw, did Storm go home after all?” Patton said disappointedly.

“I think he might have gone hunting…” Roman offered.

“I would be more skeptical but you haven’t been proven wrong in your translations yet,” Logan allowed… Reluctantly?

“Logan, are you jealous?” Roman teased, laughing as his friend flushed.

“No!” the bookish mage insisted.

Roman just laughed and went back to studying the little round stone. There were inscriptions in it he wasn’t familiar with, but he had that feeling where a word was at the tip of your tongue. As his fingers caressed the stone he familiarized himself with the composition of the stone the way nature had beat against it. It had come from a beach somewhere, it had been taken from it’s home a long time ago, 80 years maybe? The engravings dated back to that time too.

There was magic in it, obviously. Old magic, it felt impatient, from disuse maybe…

Suddenly Roman was pulled out of his musings by a chocked gasp from Patton. It had gotten dark but outside something was glowing.

Roman got up and rushed to the window.

Storm was sitting in the grass, looking up at the rising moon. The silver light somehow reflecting on his feathers in shades of teal and purple.

Storm spread his wings and a mix of shadows and light swirled around him. It was mesmerizing yet terrifying.

Logan and Patton stared at the display along with Roman, unsure what to do.

The mass of shadows and light started to take some kind of shape and to the trio’s shock, turned towards them.

Before they could react in any way the half formed mass moved. It was at the top of the tower in an instance and rushed past them, leaving them all shaken by the feeling of so much uncontained magic moving past them.

As they stood there frozen in shock, a light shone from the room behind them and a deep, hoarse voice spoke.

“Hello there.”