#i mean i did spread it out throughout the week

[crescentmoonrider]

to anyone who wanted to ask for a valentines event kiss drawing but didnt

im closing up shop now

better luck next year. or whenever i decide to do this again

[ozzgin]

I just finished playing Firewatch and the cozy, lonely vibes gave me another monster idea! You got a summer job as a fire watch for the closest National Park. All you have to do is to sit in your tower, and...watch. For fires. Sounds boring? Worry not, your supervisor is there to keep you company over the radio. Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, obsessive behavior, suggestive ending

"And? What are you running away from?"

"Excuse me?"

You raise your eyebrows at the unexpected question coming from the radio. The deep voice belongs to your supervisor, the man who'll guide you throughout your stay at the National Park.

"No one picks up an isolated job in the mountains out of sheer desire. Especially someone as young as you." He chuckles briefly, then resumes in a more professional tone: "My apologies. You don't have to answer that."

What a strange way to begin the conversation, you think to yourself. Yet this nonchalance and casualty is all you have for the following months. The other watchtowers don't talk much, if at all. You're entirely alone in the wilderness, save for the mysterious man on the radio.

Slowly, you begin to warm up to his chatty nature. He likes to ask a lot of questions. A terribly curious individual, though you can understand his reasoning: he's been working for the Park for over a decade. How does one survive without another human being?

He never leaves his tower, and thus you've never seen his face. He's content, you're indifferent. Occasionally, he'll mention sketching you to pass the time.

"How would you describe your eyes, (Y/N)?" he'll ask between his pencil scribbles. "I see. I'm sure they're beautiful. Why are you suddenly quiet? Have you forgotten how to take a compliment? I'm just messing with you, kiddo."

You haven't witnessed a single fire since coming here, despite the torrid summer heat. Your days are spent hiking without aim and talking to your supervisor.

One morning, you wake up to the grating beep of the radio instead of your alarm. You pick up the small device with an irritated grunt.

"Would you like to meet?"

You need a moment to process the words. Are you finally going to greet the one man who's kept you distant company for weeks? Intriguing. You mumble your agreement, still half-asleep.

As you make your way down the hill, you notice a supply station covered in moss and overgrown vegetation. You check your map, just to be sure. There shouldn't be anything here. What a peculiar thing to stumble upon. You approach the old wooden box and lift the lid carefully.

The musty inside is filled with rows of newspapers and some scattered notes. You pluck one newspaper out, and rest your eyes on the first headline.

"National Park is saying goodbye to its employees. The area will be permanently closed after the devastating fire."

You gawk at the title, then at the photographed location.

It's your watchtower.

You scramble to read the rest of the paragraphs, words slipping behind in your frantic search. This forest has been sealed off for years. You recognize the name of your supervisor in the report: a father of three, loved by everyone, died tragically before a rescue team could reach him.

"Found anything interesting, kiddo?"

You turn around with mild hesitation. Whoever this impersonating maniac is, or what he wants, is rather irrelevant at this point. You're trapped alone with him.

Across from you stands a creature, resembling a chimera more than a human being. Long, grotesque limbs ending in black claws, hollow eyes, and mangled rows of razor-sharp teeth put together in a grin. Monstrous.

You're out of breath.

"That looks great", the creature remarks cheerfully.

"Don't use my voice to talk. It's embarrassing to hear myself like that", you lecture it as you spread out the food onto the picnic blanket.

It switches back to the supervisor's soft, masculine tone.

"Sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

The monster extends one bony hand over your head, fanning out the fingers and dragging them across your hair in gentle strokes. What a precious little human you are.

You did not run away. A terrifying thought: losing you after all the time spent together. It didn't want to chase you down and make it even worse for you. But you stayed, you truly did.

"By the way", you say as you bite into your sandwich, stretching out your legs. "Is it you who prevents the fires? Usually it's a common occurrence here, especially in summer."

You recall the scorching flames from the newspaper.

"Yes. To keep you safe, you understand."

"Not only did you lie to me about the job, but you kept me out of work, too", you whine. "I got bored to death! Days on end!"

You're suddenly pushed down into the blanket, and you stare into the spiraling, empty sockets, confused.

"I can entertain you to your heart's desire, (Y/N)."

Its snout widens in a flirty smile, releasing a bizarre succession of clicks. Is it laughing in its natural voice?

You blush.

"I suppose there are some ways..." you suggest cheekily, unbuttoning your shirt.

[More Monsters] | [More Original Works]

[jude5bellingham]

post to story ౨ৎ jude bellingham

pairing: jude bellingham x f!reader

summary: when attempting to document a trip to madrid becomes a soft launch.

warnings & notes : reader has something already established with jude, is good friends with jobe, and other people in jude's circle. in my head i imagine that the set of stories are spread out throughout the day or week!! also sorry the plot is so loose 😔

yourusername added to their story!

💌 judebellingham has replied to your story:

when did you get here

why didn't you say anything

are you still out?

yourusername

yeah

see you in 10

you know where i am bellingham

judebellingham

you're the worst

i'll be there in 5

💌 gioareyna has replied to your story:

ain't no way

yourusername

no hello? hi ??

a waving emoji would've been enough too tbh

gioareyna

yeah you don't deserve that rn

don't do anything i wouldn't do

yourusername

not exactly sure what that means but

thanks dad

gioreyna reacted 👎🏻 to a message

💌 jobebellingham has replied to your story:

the dots...

yourusername

there are no dots

jobebellingham

if you say so..

yourusername added to their story!

💌 jobebellingham has replied to your story:

looks an awful lot like my brother

yourusername

blehhhhh

jobebellingham

you're the worst

yourusername

and you sound just like your brother

jobebellingham

oh! you're definitely the worst!

💌 camavinga has replied to your story:

no need to tease us

we know who

yourusername

teasing is my specialty

camavinga

keep that between you and jude

yourusername

who said it was jude 🤨.

camavinga

yeah ok 😂😂😂😂

yourusername reacted 👎🏻 to a message

💌 judebellingham has replied to your story:

your song choice is making it seem like i'm some whore

yourusername

...

judebellingham

wow

i see how it is mate

yourusername

no need to mate me now

judebellingham

?

pretty sure you'd like that

yourusername

i think that's more than enough out of you jude

judebellingham reacted 🤐 to a message

yourusername added to their story!

💌 trentarnold66 has replied to your story:

tell me the lad put on a good show at least

yourusername

not better than you

trentarnold66

obviously not better than me

yourusername reacted 😂 to a message

but still

💌 jobebellingham has replied to your story:

HELLO??? THEYVE CONNECTED??

yourusername

what are you talking about

jobebellingham

THE DOTS

yourusername

STOP.

jobebellingham

i knew it...

yourusername

my turn now

you're the worst

jobebellingham

🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️🤷‍♂️

yourusername reacted 👎🏻 to a message

💌 judebellingham has replied to your story:

didn't know you were in the stands

why didn't you tell me you wanted to watch

yourusername

didn't want you offering me the same seats you give every other girl

or the goal dedication

judebellingham

bit presumptuous of you

who says i would've offered you seats

or dedicated my goal to you

yourusername

oh?

you wouldn't have?

judebellingham

of course i would've

would've written your name on my undershirt

blown a kiss and everything

yourusername

same treatment every other girl gets?

judebellingham has reacted 👎🏻 to a message

judebellingham

there aren't any other girls

yourusername

that's not what a certain someone said 🤐

judebellingham

i'm killing jobe

yourusername

just kidding

your mother got me that seat

judebellingham

i told her to do it

yourusername

yeah sure

good job today brum boy

judebellingham

me when they say good boy 😝

yourusername

I DID NOT SAY GOOD BOY

judebellingham

you did now 🤤🤤🤤

yourusername

you are SICK.

judebellingham

sooo... see you at 5?

yourusername

can i say no?

judebellingham

no

yourusername

🙄🙄🙄 see you at 5 then i guess

judebellingham reacted 😁 to a message

yourusername added to their story!

💌 camavinga has replied to your story:

kiss already

yourusername

EDUARDO.

camavinga reacted 😂 to a message

💌 jobebellingham has replied to your story:

your plausible deniability is running out btw...

yourusername

no it's not

innocent until proven guilty actually

jobebellingham

mum said you stayed over

yourusername

ON THE COUCH

jobebellingham

WITH JUDE

yourusername

you know what

i'm not arguing with you jobe

jobebellingham

cause you would lose

yourusername

no

jobebellingham reacted 👎🏻 to a message

jobebellingham

why can't you guys just give it up

it's not like you have to tell the world

but you don't have to lie to me

yourusername

...

it's cause me and your brother aren't anything jobe

jobebellingham

GIVE IT UP ALREADY

yourusername

i'm serious jobe

we haven't talked about it

jobebellingham

so you went all the way to madrid to see a guy who won't ask you out officially

yourusername

not just any guy 🙄

he's your brother

ALSO I DID NOT GOT TO MADRID JUST FOR THAT

jobebellingham

he's just another guy if he won't ask you out officially yn

he is my brother but stand up ☝🏻😀

yourusername reacted 👎🏻 to a message

yourusername

...

can you stop being real with me jobe what the flip

FINE

i will start the conversation

jobebellingham reacted 🙏 to a message

1:27 AM

jude

yn

uhhhhh

??

grrrrrrrrrr

you alright?

AHHHHHHHH

AHHHHH

why are we screaming

jude you know i like you right

i like you too yn

what is happening

jude what are we

oh wow

yn you are ruining it

oh

NO

that came out so horrifically wrong

i'm so sorry

what i meant to say is

i have dinner reservations for 2 at 6pm

and you just spoiled your own surprise

ohh

nice save jude

🙄🙄.

fine

yn you make me really happy

and i hate that i haven't brought this up earlier

would you let me be your boyfriend

weeeeeee

okay now you're ruining it

i'll see you at 6 mate

wow...

yourusername added to their story!

♫ The Daughters of Eve ⠂Hey Lover

💌 camavinga has replied to your story:

so can you finally admit it was jude

yourusername

🙄🙄.

camavinga

have fun tonight 😉😏😏

yourusername

EDUARDO CAMVINGA.

camavinga reacted 😂 to a message

camavinga

i didn't say anything 🤔🤔

yourusername reacted 😒 to a message

💌 jobebellingham has replied to your story:

did he ask you out

yourusername

yes...

jobebellingham

are you guys together now

yourusername

yes...

jobebellingham

so the dots connected

yourusername

yeah...

jobebellingham

go ahead

yourusername

you're the best jobe

jobebellingham reacted 😼 to a message

💌 gioareyna has replied to your story:

did you never see that clip dortmund posted

yourusername

which one

gioareyna

who wouldn't you let date your sister

yourusername

... i saw it

gioareyna

congrats though

he's yours to deal with now

yourusername

i'm sure you could steal him back anytime

gioareyna

let me know if he's too much for you to handle

i'll take him off your hands

yourusername 😳 reacted to a message

💌 judebellingham has replied to your story:

really?

the last story was unnecessary i think

yourusername

yeah he's a little odd looking

but he's my boyfriend

judebellingham

...

yourusername

speechless?

judebellingham

i have a bad feeling this is just the beginning

yourusername

of our relationship 💔💔?

judebellingham

no

good feeling about that

bad feeling about

your future story posts...

yourusername

yeah you're probably right

don't get caught lacking now mate

judebellingham

again with the mate...

can you go back to calling me your odd looking boyfriend

yourusername

alright

if that's what you prefer mr. odd looking boyfriend

judebellingham reacted 🙃 to a message

yourusername added to their story!

💌 jobebellingham has replied to your story:

wow this is brutal

💌 gioareyna has replied to your story:

oh he is not living this down

💌 camavinga has replied to your story:

poor jude

💌 trentarnold66 has replied to your story:

give the lad a break

💌 judebellingham has replied to your story:

this is just cruel

and evil

and mean

and

:(

yourusername

isn't my boyfriend just the cutest lil guy ever?

judebellingham

well if you put it that way...

yeah

yourusername

great! so it's staying up

i'm gonna add it to my highlights too

judebellingham

you evil woman...

yourusername

tagged judebellingham

liked by judebellingham, jobebellingham, and 201 others

yourusername silly strange odd boyfriend making silly strange odd faces on our silly one year anniversary 🤍

view all 60 comments

camavinga he never learns does he 🤦‍♂️

yourusername nope!

jobebellingham he's finally moved up to feed post 🥳

yourusername yep! 🥳

judebellingham WHY DID YOU POST THEM IN THAT ORDER

yourusername wdym

judebellingham why didn't you post the normal one first

yourusername cause that is least representative of my boyfriend duh..

judebellingham ...

judebellingham one day i will get you back for this...

yourusername never🥸

judebellingham one of many years to come 🫶🏽

yourusername almost makes me feel bad for the order of the pictures

yourusername jk

yourusername 🤍🤍

judebellingham yeah 🙄 love you too🤍🤍

yourusername thanks mate 🤍🤍

judebellingham ...

[heartysworld]

The Deal // Lando Norris

A/N: I'm literary writing this as the England-Spain final is happening so I've got absolutely no idea whether I'm going to jinx it or guess the winner but I guess we're about to find out!

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST

W.C. 2k

The week between the Silverstone and the Hungarian Grand Prix was a much needed break in the intense Formula 1 schedule. Half the racing season was over, and you and Lando both needed a distraction from the relentless grind of the sport. It was the perfect opportunity to do something fun, to escape the pressure, and enjoy a few days just for yourselves.

“Alright baby, I have a proposition,” Lando said one evening as you both relaxed on the couch in your shared apartment, the remnants of a takeout dinner spread out before you. His fingers were gently running through your hair, and you could feel the tension of the season easing away.

“Oh? Do tell,” you replied, looking up at him with a smirk, already intrigued by whatever he was about to suggest.

“You know how you’ve been dying to go see a  Taylor Swift concert?” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye. You could already tell where thus was going.

“Obviously,” you replied, excitement bubbling up at the mere mention of it.

“Well, I’ve been thinking… What if we make a deal? We go to the Taylor Swift concert in Milan, but the next day, we head to Germany for the Euro Cup final. I'm sure we can figure something out regarding the concert tickets. Deal?” he proposed, his smile widening as he extended his hand towards to as a form of an agreement.

Your heart did a little flip. The idea of seeing Taylor Swift live had been a dream for you, and combining that with Lando’s passion for football seemed like the perfect plan for the remaining time before the next race in Hungary.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Norris,” you agreed, shaking his hand in a mock-serious manner.

The days leading up to the trip were filled with excitement and anticipation. You both packed your bags, making sure to include all the essentials – your Taylor Swift outfit and Lando’s favorite football jerseys. For a bit of fun, you had even gotten Lando a shirt that said, “So many Sainz, so little time,” a playful nod to his friendship with Carlos.

Finally, the day arrived. You and Lando boarded the flight to Milan, the city buzzing with the same energy that coursed through your veins. After checking into the hotel you'd be staying at, you quickly changed into your concert outfits. You wore a beautiful flowy dress that sparkled in pink and blue hues and twirled as you walked, while Lando sported his new shirt with pride.

As you arrived at the concert venue, the atmosphere was electric. Fans were everywhere, their excitement palpable. You grabbed Lando’s hand, your eyes sparkling with joy.

“This is it, Lando! I can’t believe we’re really here,” you exclaimed, squeezing his hand.

“I know, love. Let’s make the most of it,” he replied, pulling you closer as you navigated through the crowd to find your VIP seats.

The concert was everything you’d dreamed of and more. Taylor Swift’s voice filled the arena, her energy was infectious. You sang along to every song, your voice mingling with thousands of others. Despite not knowing all the lyrics, Lando joined in with your enthusiasm, dancing and cheering with you.

During “Love Story,” Lando placed his hands on your waist and twirled you around, his eyes never leaving yours. You laughed, your heart feeling light and free. The moment was perfect, a memory you’d treasure forever.

“Thank you for this, Lando. This means the world to me,” you said, your voice barely audible over the music.

“Anything for you, Y/N,” he replied, leaning in to kiss you softly.

Throughout the concert, fans recognized Lando and started handing him friendship bracelets. By the end of the night, both his hands were covered with colorful, handmade bracelets given to him by enthusiastic Swifties. The sight of Lando, a Formula 1 driver, adorned with friendship bracelets made you smile.

When “Shake It Off” started playing, you couldn’t contain your excitement. You jumped up and down, hugging Lando tightly, and he joined in, laughing and dancing along with you. Unbeknownst to you both, several people in the audience captured photos and videos of you two, sharing your unfiltered joy.

The next day, you were up early, the excitement of the previous night still lingering. After a quick breakfast, you and Lando hopped on a flight to Germany. Unfortunately, time wasn't on your side and you had no chance to explore the beautiful city of Milan with the love of your life. However, this led to Lando's idea for a vacation in Milan during his summer break.

The Euro Cup final was an event Lando had been looking forward to for months, and you were determined to make it just as special for him as the concert had been for you.

As you arrived at the stadium, the sheer scale of it took your breath away. Fans from all over the world were gathered, their team colors proudly displayed. You wore a jersey in support of Lando’s home country, earning an appreciative smile from him.

“Ready for this?” you asked, taking his hand as you made your way to your seats.

“Absolutely. This is going to be epic,” he replied, his excitement evident.

The match was intense, the atmosphere charged with energy. England was facing Spain, and the tension was palpable. You found yourself getting caught up in the excitement, cheering and shouting alongside Lando. When England scored the winning goal, the stadium erupted in celebration. Lando lifted you up in a jubilant hug, spinning you around.

“We did it!” he exclaimed, his eyes alight with joy.

“You did it,” you corrected, laughing as you hugged him tightly. “This was incredible, Lando. I’m so glad we came.”

“Me too, love. This has been the perfect weekend,” he replied, kissing you deeply.

Later, as you made your way back to the hotel, fans also captured moments of Lando jumping and cheering, celebrating England's victory. Videos of his infectious excitement quickly spread online, fans delighted by the sight of him in his element.

Back in your room, you cuddled up on the bed, exhausted but happy. Lando pulled you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“I love you too, Lando. Thank you for everything,” you replied, snuggling closer.

As you drifted off to sleep, you knew that this weekend would be one you’d both remember for the rest of your lives – a testament to your love, your shared passions, and the joy of making deals that brought you closer together.

The next morning, you woke up to a flurry of notifications on your phone. Curious, you opened social media to find that videos and photos of you and Lando from both the concert and the football match had gone viral. Fans couldn’t stop talking about how cute you both looked together, enjoying something you each loved.

There were clips of you dancing and twirling to “Love Story,” Lando’s hands on your waist, and another of you jumping up and down, hugging him tightly during “Shake It Off.” Then, there were the heartwarming videos of Lando cheering and jumping when England won, his pure joy infectious.

“Looks like we’re famous,” you said, showing Lando your phone. He chuckled, pulling you into another hug.

“I guess the world likes seeing us happy,” he said, kissing your forehead.

And as you lay there, wrapped up in each other, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for these perfect moments you had shared, knowing that you had created memories that would last a lifetime.

MASTERLIST

[norrizzandpia]

I JUST READ You Were Never What I Wanted AND NOW I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH MY LIFE

IT WAS SO GOOD

IM SO EXCITED FOR THE NEXT PART (if u decide to post it)

YOURE WRITING IS AMAZING <333

Yall ask and yall shall receive! Part 1 link if you need it <3

But I Need You Now (You Were Never What I Wanted, Part 2) (LN4)

Summary: In the aftermath of Lando and Y/n, Lando makes it his personal mission to show Y/n that it wasn’t fake. Their PR stunt might’ve started out as a lie, but it was love for him and he knows it was for her too.

Warnings: language, angsty, FLUFF AT THE END BITCHES AS AN APOLOGY FOR THE HELL I PUT YOU THROUGH WITH THESE TWO-PARTERS, sexual conversations

Note: see what I did with the title… 😏 You were never what I wanted, but I need you now 🤭 also i made this less angsty as an apology again 👹

Y/n goes home for a few days.

The news spreads throughout the paddock like a virus, being whispered in every person’s ear. When it gets back to Lando, he stands in the midst of the chaos in McLaren’s garage.

Jon leaves his hand on Lando’s shoulder in a comforting manner, knowing something happened between them, but not knowing the specific details.

“She left?” He says lowly, voice wavering as he tries to gain control of it.

Jon nods, “I’m afraid so.”

“What about the race?” He asks, hands clenching at his sides.

“She’s having the reserve driver take her place. You know that.” Jon gives him a confused look.

Lando shakes his head, “No, I get that, but how could she just give up on it?”

Jon sighs and Lando can tell his trainer doesn’t want to tell him the next bit of information. He does anyway, “I heard she was pretty distraught after that gala a week ago. Apparently, she was sobbing and the valet had to help her call a cab. She was a mess, I gather, no one knows why.”

I do, he thinks. I know why, Lando thinks.

Lando abandons the conversation, not wanting to hear anymore about the girl he loves.

She plagues his dreams, his nightmares, his delusions, his thoughts, he doesn’t need her to infiltrate his life anymore.

🏎️

“What’s the problem?” He asks an hour later when Jon treats him like he’s about to have a mental breakdown at any moment.

His trainer eyes him suspiciously, gently, “Nothing,”

Lando groans, arms flying out beside him before smacking down back at his sides, “Jon, cut the bullshit. You’ve been treating me like I’m a fucking baby all day. Why?”

Jon sighs, turning to look at him before grabbing his arm and pulling them out of the garage. Jon forces them into a random hallway always away from the commotion and publicity, looking at Lando softly, “What happened between you and Y/n?”

Suddenly, Lando’s defensive. The mention of her name makes his skin crawl and his heart clench, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You two were dating.”

Lando rolls his eyes, “We were not dating. We were a PR stunt. You know that, Jon.”

Jon stares him down, “You two were dating.”

The meaning of his words hits Lando, what Jon truly is trying to address. He’s drowning in the mistakes of his own actions and the love he developed for her, no way to explain his way out of the situation with Jon looking at him knowingly.

He folds his arms over his chest, “Maybe in the end.”

Jon’s face scrunches up in confusion, “In the end? Of course, you were. Did you sleep together?”

“Fuck, no!” Lando yelps, astonishment at Jon’s bluntness, a trait the man has never had when it came to his romantic relationships.

Jon shakes his head, confusion deepening, “Then how the fuck did you two end up where you are? How did you end up in this mess? Which you still have not told me about.”

He sighs, head falling to stare at his shoes, “I fell in love with her. She fell in love with me. Well, at least I think.”

Jon, the man so incredibly lost, looks blankly at Lando, “You fell in love. With Y/n. Y/l/n. The woman you used to absolutely detest. The woman who used to hate your guts. You two fell in love with each other?”

Lando nods, “I know how it sounds, but it happened.”

Jon’s head tilts to the side, “Okay, and what happened the night of the gala?”

Jon sees the shift of Lando’s demeanor, his entire body running cold with images of her walking out on him. The boy’s body running cold, he tries to get through the night that ruined it all, “Everything was fine in the beginning. We were just talking to a bunch of donors. You know, we got so many that night. Anyways, we were at the bar and being stupid as always, getting drunk, when Lu showed up.”

“Lu as is your ex?” Jon clarifies.

Lando nods, “Yeah, so she came up to us and we just got to talking. She mentioned the fact that we still talk.”

Jon’s mouth falls open, “You and Lu still talk?!”

“Not anymore, not after the gala. She basically cut off contact with me because she ‘hated the way it made her feel when she saw the look on Y/n’s face’. But, at that time, we had been. I should’ve told Y/n when we started getting serious, but I didn’t and that came back to bite me in the ass because she was so betrayed, Jon.”

“So, she walked out of the gala because she was angry about you and Lu?”

“Yeah, she basically told me I didn’t care about her in the way she thought I had, which wasn’t true. I told her I loved her and then shit just went completely downhill after that.”

Jon’s hand squeezes Lando’s arm, “You told her you loved her?”

There’s a flash of sadness in Lando’s eyes and Jon knows it’s because of the painful rejection. He’s learning that Y/n might’ve started out as one of the people Lando cared about the least, but she had quickly become the center of his entire world.

“Of course, I did. But, she didn’t believe me. I don’t blame her too! The start of our relationship was built specifically on hatred. We never wanted anything to do with each other and then, all of a sudden, we were kissing and it was feeling like something more.”

A silence passes before Lando whispers, “Sometimes I wish I never would’ve met her.”

Jon chuckles, “You’ve said that before.”

Lando scoffs, “Yeah, but that was because I hated her. This is because I can’t deal with the fact that she left me.”

“Have you tried to talk to her?” Jon inquires, eyes roaming Lando’s face in search of an answer.

“No,” Lando responds, grief and remorse soaking his tone.

“Well, maybe that’s where you need to start.” Jon smiles.

“In order to do what?” Lando’s lost on the insinuation.

“In order to get her back.”

It’s heartbreaking the way Lando stares up at Jon as if he’d just single-handedly restored all senses of hope and happiness into his body, “You think I can do that?”

“I think that you and her loved each other too much to let it go to waste this way.”

Maybe you’re right, he thinks. Maybe I need to find out for myself, he thinks.

—

Y/n, the girl he hated so much for the love she made him feel, was locked up in her room of her childhood home, information Lando gained from her mother who he had called quietly. It was the first time they had spoken, but it wasn’t the first time she had heard of him. Her daughter had shown up in the middle of the night, sobbing to her over a boy and berating herself for allowing a man to hurt her in the way he had.

However, with the undying kindness Y/n shared, she had patiently heard Lando out as he explained to her the feelings he harbored for her daughter. Strong words of love had persuaded her into giving Lando their address and giving him permission to come. After all, she saw the way her daughter’s Lock Screen lit up with a loving picture of them every time Y/n got a notification. She clocked the picture as the room where Y/n had been hospitalized after her crash, Lando laying on the bed beside her with his arm wrapped safely around her shoulders, a kiss to her cheek as she smiled at the camera.

Bags packed and in hand, Lando stands in front of her house, hood pulled over his head with sunglasses shoved over his eyes. He takes two steps at a time, bypassing multiple steps in the process as he reaches the front door in no time.

Knocking on the wood, Lando waits patiently before the lock is turning and her mother is appearing before him. Dressed in jeans and a sweater, she smiles softly at him, a smile resembling the one Y/n had adorned him with before he made her feel less than the most important person in his life.

“Hi, Ms. Y/l/n. Thank you for this.” He says quietly, not wanting Y/n to hear him and get scared.

She nods at him, opening the door and letting him step in, “As much as you hurt my daughter, I think this space is effecting her worse.”

He lingers in the doorway, nerves getting to him as he stares at the steps in front of him, steps he assumes would lead him to her.

Her mother notices his eyes, “She’s up there if you want to go.”

He takes a step toward them, but takes on back and looks at her with tension in his face, “Do you think she’ll want to see me?”

Her mother’s head moves side to side, “I think, at first, she’ll be mad, but she’ll warm up. I know she still loves you, that’s still there.”

He nods, “What should I say?”

His words relay quietly and her mother lays a hesitant hand on his arm, “Why are you here? Why are you fighting for her?”

His answer comes easily, “Because I love her. Because, after years of hating each other, I realize that I never truly, fully hated her. I hated that she was better than me and the fact that she was winning races more than I was, but I never hated her. I never gave her a chance to show me who she was and it took someone forcing us to be together for me to see how amazing she is. I’m remorseful for that, of course, but I’m happy it happened. If it hadn’t, I wouldn’t have realized the happiness that was standing in front of me all along.”

Her mother smiles brightly at him, “Tell her that.”

🏎️

The door creaks as Lando pushes it open, head poking in to see her laying with her back to him.

“Mom, can I just have some time alone right now?” Her broken voice whispers, curling further into herself as Lando steps in and closes the door.

He doesn’t say anything, opting to walk over to her bed and sit down. The mattress is larger, putting space between them so he’s not touching her.

“I can hear you breathing. Please leave.” She says again, this time pleading desperately.

Lando exhales before lifting his hand and laying it on her hip, his thumb rubbing soft circles lovingly. He feels her body tense, her head looking down to inspect the fingers wrapped around her skin.

She pulls away quickly, sitting up and whipping her head around to meet his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! You should be at the race!” She yells at him, shifting farther away from him.

He hates how tired she looks, how puffy her eye bags are from a mixture of exhaustion and tears. His body turns to completely face hers, his leg being pulled onto the bed, “Your mom gave me the address and I got the reserve driver to cover for me.”

Y/n scoffs, “Okay, why would my mother do that?”

“Because she knows I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes glaze over, iciness translating in her every move, “How would she know that?”

“I called her.” He states simply, watching her eyebrows stitch together.

Her head tilts, “How did you get her number?”

“From Nick.”

Y/n body rears back, “My trainer?! You coerced my trainer into giving you my mother’s phone number?! Are you fucking crazy?!”

“For you, yes.” He smiles softly. His comment earns an eye roll.

“Y/n, just listen to me.” He begins, but Y/n raises her hands in objection.

“No, Lando. Leave me alone. I appreciate the effort, but leave.” Her hands push his arms, doing nothing to move him.

He gently takes her hands in his and shifts closer to her, “No. I’m not leaving until you hear what I have to say.”

Knowing how stubborn he is, Y/n sits back and gestures for him to continue.

“When I first met you, I hated the success you had.” He starts.

Y/n laughs, “What a great start!”

“Let me finish.” He states, “I hated the success you had and I was dumb enough, young enough to think that meant I hated you too. So, I spent years resenting everything that had to do with you. I never gave myself one moment to reflect on the reasoning for my dislike of you. If I had, we wouldn’t be here right now. Part of me hates that, hates that I spent so much time treating you in a way you never deserved, but another part of me, the part that has fallen so hard for you, is happy it didn’t. If I had realized that I was just jealous of the race wins you were claiming, I would’ve been cordial with you, never getting close enough to get to know who you are out of the envy I held against you. If it had gone down that way, I would’ve never gotten to meet you. And I mean the person you really are, underneath all the PR trained, guarded skin. I would’ve never fallen in love with you, never experienced you and the happiness you have provided me with. It took us so long to get here, through hurtful insults and screaming matches, I can’t let you slip through my fingers, your love with it, because of my stupid mistakes. I won’t let that happen.”

Y/n stays quiet after he completes his last sentence, staring at him as she decides what she wants to do next.

Softly, she says, “Why didn’t you tell me about Lu?”

He sighs disappointedly, “I don’t know. Truthfully, I didn’t think it meant that much. In my head, I didn’t love her. I was just ending a relationship on good terms. I didn’t think far enough to get to you. I’m sorry for that. If I could go back and sit you down, explain to you what Lu and I were doing, the fact that it meant nothing compared to what I feel towards you, I would. You deserve that conversation. I don’t know if that means anything to you, but I hope it does. She was never going to mean the same thing to me as she had before after I first kissed you. Truthfully, she never did mean the same thing to me as you do. I’ve never felt this way for anyone before.”

Y/n nods slowly, gathering her thoughts, “When did you start loving me? When did it stop being hate? Because that night at the gala, at the end of our conversation, you hated me again.”

Lando shakes his head, “First of all, I didn’t hate you that night. I was just hurt and it translated to something ugly, which I can’t apologize enough for. Second of all, I don’t know when I genuinely started loving you, but I know I realized it when you crashed. When I was running throughout the paddock, I could not get away from the heavy pit in my stomach that only pointed toward one thing, I knew that. I tried to push it away, tried to forget about it, but when I saw you laying there, bandaged and alive, it just hit me. I loved that you were still there, I loved the relief that spread through me, I loved the happiness I felt when I saw you breathing, and, then, I just loved you. It built exactly like that. I was just listing the things, in my head, I adored about the moment in order to get away from the severity of it, and then it was just you. You, you, you, you.”

Y/n’s small smile graces his eyes and he moves closer to her, sitting with his legs folded on the bed and his hands over her thighs. The two of them breathe each other in before Y/n is shuffling closer to him. His arms immediately move from her legs to snake around her torso, folding open his legs and pulling her into him. She lays her shoulder against his chest, her head falling to the side to nuzzle in his neck as her legs spread in front of her, lying over his thigh. She plays with the hem of his hoodie as he kisses her temple, laying his head on top of hers.

“You know, I love you too.” She says into his neck. A warmth spreads through Lando, happiness buzzing all the way down to his toes at her confession.

It’s all he’s ever wanted to hear, “I had an inkling.”

She lightly smacks his stomach, giggling, “Don’t be a smart ass.”

Just as he’s about to rebuttal, his phone begins vibrating harshly in his back pocket. His arm reaches around to pull it out, Jon’s face illuminating the screen.

Y/n laughs, “Can I answer it?”

The idea makes him shine with pride, knowing Jon will be proud to hear Lando’s gotten his girl back. So, he plops the phone in her lap with a smile.

Clicking the green button, Y/n puts it on speaker.

“Lando? Did you get there okay? Have you spoken to her yet?” Jon’s rushed voice says quickly.

Y/n gives Lando a playful look before answering, “He got here okay.”

There’s a silence before Jon is cackling, “AHA! IS HE THERE?! LANDO, I TOLD YOU!”

The couple laughs at his antics, Lando moving closer to the speaker to say, “I’m here and I’m starting to think I should listen to you more.”

There’s shuffling on the other end of the phone before they hear Jon screaming to, what they assume is, the entire McLaren garage, “LANDO AND Y/N, GUYS!”

Again, silence, murmuring even, before the entire room erupts in cheers. Lando can hear it’s just his crew, the group of men knowing how much it stressed Lando out to have her mad at him, the reason she was, they didn’t know.

Y/n and Lando break into tears over their laughter at the men on the other end of the phone. It’s therapeutic to see her laughing in his arms again, a sight Lando didn’t think he would see again.

She’s leaning into him as the men continue to cheer, holding him as her body racks with laughter and all he can do is hold her closer, tighter.

He holds her like she’ll leave him again if he lets go, a thought he knows is so preposterous. Because she’s got her eyes closed, blissed out in his presence and he can see the lines of tension wither away.

She’s safe with him, she shows that through the way she hugs him and softly kisses the side of his neck when he ends the call.

When the noise stops and quietness envelopes them, the couple is left with just each other. He lays them down, her body relaxing into him as she murmurs how much sleep she’s lost over their dispute.

He whispers back, “Go to sleep, then, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

He watches her eyes flutter close, her head falling further into the crook of his neck when she crosses the line between consciousness and unconsciousness.

Lando’s not tired, however, only laying down with her because he’s not ready to let her go yet. His eyes wander around her childhood room, pictures of a toddler Y/n winning karting races and different championships. Her toothy grin is a charming sight, a look she hasn’t lost in the years of her growth since then.

After inspecting and finding nothing, but more things to love about her, Lando’s eyes avert back to her sleeping form. He brushes the hair out of her face lightly, pressing a kiss to her forehead before whispering against it, “At first, you weren’t what I wanted, but I absolutely need you now.”

Tags (i forgot to put these lol): @toasttt11 @megumilovesme @the-untamed-soul @evieepepi08 @igotnorrrizz @im-an-overthinker @cxrlha @ssrcsm @landoslover @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @louvpdf @weasleyreidstyles @ushygushybaby @theycallmeahugger @sainzluvrr @itsjustaninchident @gavisuntiedboot @gracielukey @formula1mount @cjjydes282clo @ssararuffoni @aexitizen

[risuola]

IV — EPIPHANY // Sukuna thought nothing can break him. He's powerful, he has influence and means to always come on top – or at least that's what he thought, because now he realized that he's nohing but weak.

contents: angst, blood, usage of weapon, reader discretion is advised — 2,6k words

a/n: in this part i wanted to give you a little insight into Sukuna's persona. show the menace in him, show the threat and how he is when he's not influenced by weakness that is our precious y/n (aka when he's not confused as hell by what's happening in his heart). i rewrote this part four times before i was finally somewhat satisfied with it.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

You are safe with me.

Sukuna thought about the words with hilarity. The sentence so simple and kind, it felt foreign to realize that his own mouth allowed it out of his system. An odd sort of disdain washed over himself and he found it laughable that throughout his entire career of blood and murder, what made his blood pressure raise up was a lie he told you. A strangely comic amalgamation of letters and syllables that each time he thought of them made him more angry and more amused.

You were safe, technically, or maybe that’s what he wished to believe when he replayed the events of one very unlucky Sunday evening in his memory. It began lovely, too lovely in fact, but he chose to actively ignore the oddity of it – he came to terms with how easily you were able to render his senses useless whenever you came into the field of his view wearing something as pretty as the dress you picked for the date that day. It was in a shade of pink that you deemed similar to the color of his hair, a dusty rose, you called it, and Sukuna wasn’t sure exactly how much truth was that, but he couldn’t care less about it when you looked so drop dead gorgeous. When he watched you walking next to him through the crowded alleys in the park nearby your apartment building, he couldn’t help but notice only you in the mass of people around him. He felt like a teenager in a way, with his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage with pace similar of this after sprinting for long time. You were capable of triggering reactions in his body that he thought were long gone with the days of his youth but he was fine with it. As long as he could witness your beauty, he was fine with everything.

Sukuna laughed gravelly as the sequence of memories played in his mind – the dark sound of his voice causing two police officers outside the bars of his cell to tremble. Oh, how much he hated you and your stupidly breathtaking face for whatever the hell you did to him. If he could, he would tell you what he thinks of it right now and if not careful enough, he might tell you a little too much. Confess maybe. Yeah, he might do that someday. And maybe move out somewhere where you’d truly be safe. Where he wouldn’t feel like a fucking idiot for saying words that are so damn obviously a lie.

Moving out felt like a good idea. In couple of years, when he’s done ruling the criminal forces, he could take you out of Japan, somewhere far away and protect you from any harm. He’d take you somewhere warm, where he could shamelessly admire the way your skin tone looks under the golden rays of sun and the way your eyes shine and glisten like the most expensive and rare gemstones. The thought of you brought a wide smile to his face, as the picture spread in front of his closed eyelids. In the cold of his cell, he could almost feel the burning touch of your fingers tracing the shapes of his body.

* * *

Sixteen days.

It’s been over two weeks since you last saw Sukuna and it was getting harder and harder to go about your days. You missed him. You missed his face, his strong arms that manhandled you around despite your playful taps and tugs. You missed the huskiness of his voice, the low purrs he made in the morning whenever he’d nuzzle his nose against your temple inhaling the scent of your skin that he swore he was addicted to. And above all, you were worried and restless, and scared.

Whenever you closed your eyes, your mind was flooded with memories of the Sunday date you went on with Ryomen. He picked you up and handed you a little bag filled with your favorite mochi – the ones stuffed with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, a delicacy made in only one place in Tokyo and you remember how your heart swelled with warmth and love when you realized he had driven to that shop on the other side of the city just to get you few pieces of sweets. He was wearing his usual, black dress pants and a leather belt, perfectly polished boots and a dark grey sweater that made him look both casual and dangerous, with the tattoos around his wrists exposed under the rolled-up sleeves and his sharp features, that somehow whenever were turned towards you seemed a little bit softer.

You felt like a princess next to him, you felt loved and protected with his large hand enveloping your smaller one in his warm embrace. It was perfect. It was perfect until–

You didn’t exactly pick up what happened and how it happened. Even now as you think of it, you can’t truly recall how that tale-like evening turned into a mess that led you to lose your sleep every night that followed. It was a flash. One second you were leaning into Sukuna’s palm, greedy to steal his warmth and love and next one you were pushed tightly against his chest behind a bench. His hand, that was embracing you with as much delicacy as one would use to touch a doll made of porcelain was suddenly pressed harshly to the side of your head, covering your ear. Someone was shooting, Ryomen was shooting. You felt the impact of each bullet being extracted from his weapon. Each one of the subtle shakes of his muscular body reverberated throughout your smaller frame. You heard guns, despite his effort to protect your eardrums, but the loud explosive sound mixed with screams of people around was loud and clear in your head. An echo of danger and violence that you witnessed firsthand even though the man that held you did everything he could to protect you from the event.

You remember vividly the moment Sukuna groaned and cussed lowly. It followed a soft tremble of his large body and at first you didn’t realize what happened, but then you felt the unexpected wet warmth on one of your hands. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he was telling you over and over again as your eyes began to water at the realization that one of your palms was covered in blood. His blood.

“It’s just a scratch,” he was lying to you, but you didn’t know it was a lie until you saw him later. The magazine in his gun was empty sooner than you thought it will be and the foreign shooting continued. It seemed like there were few attackers, but you couldn’t tell where all of it was coming from. All you remember was that you stayed hidden in the large body of your lover for the entire time until the police sirens broke the scene.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, doing everything in your power to hold back sobs, as he kept you close to himself. You knew that police couldn’t be good for him and if not for you, he would most likely run away somehow, but he stayed there, behind the bench, holding you tightly and making sure not a single bullet could land on your fragile body.

He didn’t look mad, not even annoyed, when he was telling you what to do next and how to act in the face of what was to come, and even though you had the hardest time registering it through the immense fear you felt regarding his future, you were nodding. He was calm, and you thought that he stayed calm for you because the scene of shooting was enough of a distress for you already. And then, you saw him in handcuffs, with his hands shackled behind his back, guided towards the police car. Cops that were responsible for escorting him looked almost funny next to his towering frame and if he only wanted, he would quite easily throw those officers away. But he didn’t. And he didn’t do it to save you.

You remember the last time you saw him he sent you a smile, more so a smirk, when one of those cops harshly pushed his head down, making sure he got into the car. Few moments later, he was gone and you were left with the mess of the crime scene and the burden of a witness.

Later, you were informed by one of his pawns that it’s not gonna take long, but you knew that things were serious because few days slowly turned into a week and then two weeks and he still was in jail. And you couldn’t go visit him because he said so. You stayed in his house, safe and sound in the bed you always shared with him, except now you were alone and cold. You missed him. And you were worried.

It killed you inside to think Sukuna might face charges. A life sentence, most likely. There was only so much that you knew about his criminal past and you were sure that he kept many secrets from you, that he wanted to save you from the heavy burden of his misdeeds and cruelty. You knew how dangerous his lifestyle was, how dark was the path he chose to fallow and you knew that even someone as strong as him couldn’t escape the jurisdiction forever. But why now?

You couldn’t shake off the devastating feeling of emptiness whenever you wandered between the luxurious interiors of his mansion. It felt like you couldn’t stop worrying, day in and day out you were thinking if he was alright. Was he properly fed? He told you that he won’t contact you while in jail to protect you, but all you wished for was just to hear his voice. You were worried about the way authorities treat criminals of his sort. What will they do to him? The mere thought of torture or interrogation filled you with dread and anxiety. You never felt so alone and helpless.

* * *

It took too long.

In fact, detention took much longer than Sukuna anticipated but time behind the bars was nothing but an entertainment for him. It was amusing, it allowed him to let loose. Surrounded by an air of sadistic satisfaction he didn’t get to experience in years, he played game of pushing and pulling, a game of power. Despite being enclosed and surrounded by dozens of officers and guards, Sukuna had a sense of control over his situation, and it amused him. He was enjoying the misery that he caused others, relished in the fact that he was feared and hated. It made him almost giddy. There was a twinkle in his eye and a playful grin on his lips, he relished the experience.

“I’ve got few questions to you.”

He smirked, sitting smug and relaxed. For the nth time he was questioned; a futile attempt of getting information out of him, yet another display of the illusionary power that authorities thought they had but lacked severely. It made Ryomen laugh out loud each time he sat against a new face, it pleased him, he loved the feeling of having the interrogator’s full attention. Detectives that tried to enforce the law onto him looked tough, each one of them, until they dropped their weight onto the metal chair in the interrogation room. The heaviness of the sinister aura was unnerving to anyone who dared to approach and the criminal enjoyed breaking them one by one.

“Do you?” Sukuna spoke, his voice low and menacing, but bearing a thrill of amusement and excitement. The heavy chains that grounded his frame clinked as he moved just slightly and the shiver that went down the spine of the man in front of him did not escape his watchful eye. “Afraid?”

“Hardly,” a tone of false confidence responded to the question and Ryomen chuckled. To him, this was a game, and he was winning. He found joy in annoying the interrogator, knowing that he couldn’t get anything out of him. It was stimulating, it was fun. It was a game of cat and mouse. It felt euphoric to answer the questions, knowing that his words were confusing, that he was able to mess with the man’s head, make him question his own judgement.

Years and years of being on the top of mafia managed to clear his memory of being vulnerable and the caricature of it that he was now experiencing served for a nice refresher. He felt excitement to play with the law and as he sat there, restrained by metal bounds, he realized why he became a criminal in the first place. The constant chase of thrill and power was what made him who he was.

As the detective sat there, intimidated more and more with each passing second, Sukuna watched the disaster unraveling with a dark glint in his eyes. He enjoyed every moment of the tension and knew that chills were running down the spine of his current opponent. He was imposing, savoring the fear and the exquisite feeling of danger that surrounded him. It was intoxicating, it made him feel alive. He played with the interrogator as if the predator would play with its pray, he stared at him with a small grin of pure evil.

“You’ve been stubborn this whole time,” the officer said, clearing his throat and straightening his spine to make himself appear bigger but to Ryomen, he was merely a source of amusement. The criminal stayed relaxed and leaned forward, slowly closing the distance between his own face of death and the eyes of the person in front of him.

“Was I stubborn?” He questioned, his tone low and menacing and his lips stretched slowly, baring the teeth. “You’ve got me all chained up and still, you can’t get your job done?”

“You’re chained up because of the potential threat you might pose.”

Sukuna laughed. A raspy and low chuckle came from his throat; a dark omen that hung heavy in the air as if signifying the upcoming danger. It was cold and malicious, an ominous showcase of his real persona, of someone who has no compassion and knows no mercy. He felt a twisted sense of satisfaction at the sight of sweat running down the face of the man in front of him. He exuded an aura of fear, leaving everyone in the room unsettled.

“If I only wanted to, I could rip out your throat with my bare teeth.” Ryomen’s voice was low, it was quiet and nearly whisper like but the message it carried was more than enough to freeze the blood inside the veins of the interrogator.

“I assume you’re familiar with the idea of good cop bad cop method,” the man spoke again after a moment of dread. He cleared his throat once more, squared up his jaw.

“And which one are you?”

“Oh, I’m neither, but allow me to show you something,” interrogator reached to the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a phone with his sweaty palms and pressing down few buttons.

The moment Sukuna looked down on the screen, his expression changed. A ghost of anger washed over his features as he took in the picture. Suddenly, he felt a wave of burning hot filling his veins and reaching his face; a dizzying sensation of dread and rage and then he realized that the power he wielded was nothing. With his eyes fixed on the little phone and his jaw clenched, shaken by the rush of adrenaline and with his knuckles white, Sukuna Ryomen experienced acknowledgement. An epiphany of sorts. The illusion of might and influence burst like a bubble made of soap and slowly he realized that he’s nothing but–

“Seeing something familiar?”

–weak.

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[dipperscavern]

idk if you would write but i would love to see in ur style a tyrell!reader x robb. imagine being the winter rose? omg living the biggest dream by being a beauty of the seven realms, having tales of ur beauty passed on, and then being betrothed to robb as a mean of house tyrell to guarantee their safety, but still, theres no northern or southern who can resist the tyrell beauty and robb is one of them

nana.. this ask did things to me. i love this idea smsmsm & thank u for sending it in !!

tyrell beauty was never anything that could be denied — by friend or by foe.

you & your twin sister, margaery, were the greatest testimonies to that. while margaery was no doubt beautiful, tales of your beauty had spread throughout the seven kingdoms. singers, poets, servants & kings alike had all heard and contributed to the spread of the tale of the tyrell rose — not only beautiful in physical aspects, but a gorgeous personality to match.

you & margaerys older brother, loras, was also rumored for his looks. safe to say, you three were widely known.. the beauties of house tyrell.

even the north, cold and harsh as it was, was not exempt from hearing the tales of you & your siblings beauty. jokes and speculations had long passed around winterfell, only increasing tenfold when hearing about house tyrell’s rumored interest in forming an allegiance with the north. when bran, rickon, & arya stepped into the castle, covered in dirt & almost soaking wet from that days ministrations, jory only sighed seeing them, ushering them to baths with a mutter of-

“the beauties of winterfell…”

robb only laughed at the teases he heard about you & your siblings, but sometimes found his thoughts wandering to you. his mind often drifting to think about the tyrell rose, absurd childlike questions, that he should’ve pushed away as quickly as they entered his mind. do the tales do your beauty justice? what are you like in person? are you warm? would you like him? what would you think of the north?

he focused on training, doing as he was told & preparing to become lord of winterfell one day, although he couldn’t stop the fleeting thoughts about you that arose every once in a while. a child’s dream, he thought.

so you can imagine his surprise when his father & mother sat him down, telling him of the alliance house tyrell wanted to make with house stark..

through marriage.

robb felt like he was dreaming. the beauty of the seven kingdoms, betrothed to him? he could barely keep the smile off his face, wanting to not only improve stature to his house, but do his duty as a husband. excitement pooled in his gut, as theon clasped his hands on robb’s shoulders at dinner, congratulating him. theon’s hands waved in the air, saying something about-

“the beauty and the beast..”

any other night he would’ve gotten a shove to the ground, but robb only threw him a playful smile. even theon’s relentless teasing couldn’t ruin this for him. if he was to be lord of winterfell one day, he’d need a strong woman by his side — he dreamed of a relationship like his mother and fathers, and he prayed in the godswood to the old gods that night, that they would guide your union as man and wife.

in the days leading up to your arrival at winterfell, countless preparations were made. the tyrell host was large, and all of the starks had done their parts to prepare to receive it. you were to stay in winterfell for a week before the wedding, and your family would leave shortly after. you had handmaidens and a few select soldiers to stay with you at winterfell, and you could visit high garden anytime you wanted in the near future. you asked your grandmother if she would visit you in winterfell again after the wedding, but she only put a hand over your own & said it would take the Father himself to drag her back to that “frozen wasteland”.

the day you arrive, robb thinks he’s might jump out of his skin, he’s so nervous. still, he puts on a brave face for his & his families sake, wanting to be everything you need and more.

you, margaery, and the queen of thornes are riding in the wheelhouse, while ser loras is in front of it, mounted on a white mare. his armor glints in the sunlight, doing wonders to illuminate his face. he’s handsome, robb can admit, and that only makes his curiosity increase about you & your sister. & once you both step out of the wheelhouse, robb feels his heart skip as many beats as it can without killing him.

a few of your cousins step out first, giggly as they curtsy to the starks and stand respectively to the side. margaery is next, gorgeous auburn hair & a button nose, a flattering dress with the tyrell colors proudly on display, and a sweet smile to accompany it all. she curtsy’s as well, standing more in front of the wheelhouse, as loras dismounts and moves to stand next to her.

when you step out of the wheelhouse, robb’s breath hitches. his body forgets every single instinct he’s ever had, & he has to remind himself to breathe, as to not kill himself. you’re beautiful. stunning. a sight for sore eyes. he doesn’t think there’s any word in the common tongue that can be used to describe your beauty without downplaying it. it seems like nobody can tear their eyes off of you, your aura doing wonders to brighten the damp atmosphere.

you curtsy to them all, along with a smile he wishes would never leave your face. robb can’t tear his eyes from you, even when you move to offer your hand to the queen of thornes as she steps out. you meet robb’s gaze in the moment everyones attention is not on you. the corner of his mouth tilts up in a smirk as he winks at you. you only tilt your head, brows lightly furrowing as you smile at him. your gaze falls to the floor as blush rises to your cheeks, retracting your hand from your grandmothers and smoothing out your gown.

pleasantries are exchanged, you and robb stealing glances to each other every so often. lady olenna & a few of your cousins go with ned stark & lady catelyn, moving to discuss the wedding, among other things. you take robb’s arm as he escorts you, margaery, and loras to where you’ll be staying at. robb drinks in every moment with you.

you’re gorgeous, soft, & warm. you have a kind heart, a love for the arts and children, and you’re very kind. your shy nature bubbles away as you grow more comfortable in each others presence.

that night, a great feast is held. everyone of the starklings is made to be in attendance, and robb prays that arya can keep her withering resolve just a little bit longer. you’re sat beside him, softly laughing at a remark ned had made. robb’s heart warms at the sight of you & his father getting along, but is quickly forgotten when he sees arya dash away & out of the hall. guards are sent after her, and robb bites back a smile at her daring antics.

he’s snapped out of his thoughts as your hand clasps his bicep, his head turns towards you as you lean into speak in his ear.

“forgive me, i must be excused. i’ll return shortly.” you say, a reassuring smile making its way onto your face as you get up. robb only nods, sighing in an attempt to soothe his frayed nerves.

it’s a few minutes later when the queen of thornes sits next to him, striking up light conversation. judging his character, no doubt. at the end of it she nods her head in approval, asking him to please find her granddaughter — wherever she’s run off to. robb stands up with an-

“of course, my lady.”

moving to follow the direction you went in. it takes him outside, and he looks around, before his gaze settles on you & a small form behind you, a guard approaching in front of you. robb was lucky to be in earshot of you.

“pardon, my lady, we’re looking for arya underfoot, ned starks daughter. ‘bout yay high, brown of hair. have you seen ‘er ‘round?”

you were stood beside a pillar, one arm behind your back as you discreetly pressed arya further behind you. one shift of your form & arya would be revealed, dragged back to the festivities she had just escaped from. robb watched you from afar, careful not to give away your position — but close enough to hear & see your response. curiosity spread through him as he and the guard both awaited your answer.

your brows furrowed in faux confusion, looking at the guard with a soft expression.

“i must confess, i haven’t seen her. brown of hair, you said?”

the guard swallowed, nodding as he eyed you up & down. you smiled sweetly at him.

“i will be sure to keep an eye out, ser…?”

you slightly raised your brows, and the guard quickly gave you his name. you repeated it to him, and the guard nodded, smiling.

“would you be so kind to escort me back to the festivities? a castle like this.. it’s so easy to get lost.”

the guard quickly agreed, not being able to resist you, & robb is enamored, having witnessed the tyrell charm firsthand. what happens next seals the deal for robb.

as you move to take the guards arm, you spot loras patrolling, his path sending him to pass on the other side of the pillar that you’re at. the eye contact between you both is minimal, and robb almost misses your eyes slightly widen & the small nod of his head. with one swift move, you’re grasping the guards bicep & using your other hand to gently push arya to your older brother, as he outstretches his hand just enough for arya to get the hint. as you walk off, loras has one hand on aryas shoulder, ushering her off with a wink — & robb watches the smile grow on aryas face as she slips away.

yeah, he thinks. you’re perfect.

his winter rose.

sorry if this was too long or not what you were envisioning, but i had sm fun writing this !! tyrell supremacy

[dragonsholygrail]

Hello!

God, I love the idea of werebirds/the bird colony!

What if the dance instructor did end up making a nest with all the nesting material they gave them (however/where ever they’d do that)? What would the colony think?

What if the colony got together and used their dance knowledge to create some sort of mating dance for the instructor? Teasing the instructor with their ruffling, colorful feathers in a mesmerizing display.

I need more of them lmao

Hope you have a great day/night💜💜

When word got around the all male Bird Hybrid Colony that you had made a nest in your office out of the materials they had gotten for you, loud fierce chirps rang throughout the studio. The bird hybrids wings flapping erratically at your acceptance of them.

Your building a nest they provided you in such a private place had to mean that you were finally agreeing to their mating offers. Their feathers ruffled and they all preened at the thought of claiming you as a mate should by fucking into you with abandon and filling you to the brim with cum till you’re growing their eggs inside of you.

But they knew they had to do something special, something really over the top in order to make sure you were ready for them to breed you till you were so fucked out you couldn’t see straight. What better way to do that than a mating dance?

They’d all show you just how much they had learned under your seductive and arousing teachings. Together they created the most powerful mating dance for you that anyone had ever seen.

It was an offer that was impossible to refuse and their minds couldn’t help but imagine the way your thick thighs would spread for them. Your pussy glistening with arousal. They can practically taste how good your fat cunt will be when they finally get their wings and hands on you.

Their eagerness to please you both in dance and by filling all your holes till you can’t take it anymore is clear in their burning gaze. The next week at dance class is filled with a crackling tension. Their feathers successfully hiding their hard cocks, tips red, angry, and dribbling pre cum with their mate so close.

When you heard your class had a surprise for you, you were immediately intrigued. The fact that they’re wanted to dance for you already turning you on as your panties flood with arousal. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by the bird hybrids as your scent perfumed the air.

It only spurned them on and made them more desperate to dance for you and sink themselves inside your wet heat. Their feathers ruffled out, showcasing them all so that you can see just how lovely of mates they’ll be as the dance starts.

The colony begins dancing as one large machine, their colorful feathers spinning and mixing to create a truly brilliant show. You’re in awe as you watch it, a mix of moves you’ve taught them combined of more traditional mating dances. Their biology combining with what they’ve learned. Almost like you’re a part of them now. You squirm in place, thighs rubbing together, needy for some type of friction.

By now as you watch them you’re sure you’ve soaked through your panties, your skin unbearably hot with need. It’s not even the dance itself that’s getting you so hot and bothered but the fact that even with their attraction to you they still pay attention to the actual work. Their passion for you mingling with their passion for dance. And it has you wanting to take them all here and now.

As if being able to read your thoughts, the bird hybrids descend onto you. A part of the routine as they pull you into the middle of them. Hands touching every part of your body. You gasp as claws tease at your skin while others rip your clothes to shreds, leaving you naked before them.

A moment later they bring you down in the nest you lovingly made for them that they got from your office. Beautiful cocks of all shapes and sizes nudge at the openings of each of your holes. With your mind hazy with lust you let yourself give in, opening wide for them to push inside you. You moan lowly at the delicious stretch of your mouth, hands, cunt, and bottom. Every inch of you filled with them.

The music from their dance stops at one point but your bird hybrids are nowhere near done with you. Furiously fucking into you as if they’ve gone completely savage. Only knowing for certain that you need their cum.

Your moans and their chirps of pleasure echo against the walls as they slam themselves inside of you. Your body on fire as every inch of you is being stimulated with more pleasure than you’ve ever known.

They pass you around from hybrid to hybrid and you quickly lose track. Their forms becoming a blur of color and ecstasy as they fill with you cock after cock, the colony seemingly endless. You’re feeling so much of everything all at once and it’s overwhelming but in the past way possible as you try and meet all of their thrusts at once.

You cum countless times, your body shaking with the sensations overtaking you. You swear you black out for a moment only to wake up coming again, a strangled cry falling past your lips as a fresh wave of pleasure washes over you.

Your bird hybrids eventually get their fill of you, knowing their plump human needs a break. They slip out of you only once you’re fucked full of cum and limp on the floor, too tired to move let alone lift a limb.

So they take care of your every need, cleaning you up, whispering words of love and affection for you their mate, and cuddling up to you after. You nuzzle into their furry bodies, finding so much comfort in their embrace that you fall asleep in a matter of seconds.

[burr-ell]

Something I just noticed and really enjoy about Campaign 1 is how often their story involves becoming incredibly powerful and accomplishing so much and yet still not being able to do what's truly important to them. It's not only the gutpunch of the final episode, it's a thematic underpinning throughout the campaign.

Way back in their prestream adventures, the party was strong enough to defeat the Dread Emperor and save all the kidnapped children from Tal'Dorei—except one, a child Keyleth killed by accident, an act which haunts her through at least much of the early campaign. The party defeats the Briarwoods and reclaims Whitestone, but Ripley still escapes and 19 still misses, and the Chroma Conclave raze half the continent. Percy has great intellect and access to a powerful magical amplifier and forced out a demon through sheer force of will, but his carelessness still killed Vex and he only rolls a 6 to try to save her. The party has slain a dragon and is armed with four Vestiges of Divergence, but they couldn't save Tiberius and can't even give him the proper burial they want to. They brutally slaughter Ripley, but not before she gets the revenge she wants; she kills Percy, sending him to Orthax, and spreads guns throughout Exandria. The Conclave is slain, the whole party made it out alive, but Scanlan is forever scarred by the experience and leaves, tearing the party down as he goes. Even Vilya, prior to the campaign's beginning, was at the very end of her Aramente, likely a level 16-17 druid like Keyleth was, and still failed the trial of the Water Plane and was gone for almost 40 years.

And of course, Vox Machina became some of the most powerful people in the world, slayers of a god, legends to be immortalized for centuries...and none of their power could save their brother.

Percy points out to Bell's Hells, thirty years later, that fate isn't always kind and not everyone gets a second chance, and to me that's underscored by what we don't see. Elaina is still dead. Juniper is still dead. Percy's parents and five siblings are all still dead.

I mean, if any or all of their bodies are intact, it wouldn't even require True Resurrection to bring them back—not that Keyleth or Percy are averse to a little heresy, but hey, conserve your resources. If there are bodies, all they'd need is 7th-level Resurrection; none of those people have been dead for over a century, and if they need to find the bodies, well, Vex has Locate Object and Pike gets a Divine Intervention freebie once a week, right? Even if they did need True Resurrection, it's a heftier cost but probably not something too difficult to pay over time for one of the wealthiest families in the world.

But none of them have ever done that, nor do we get an indication that they've pursued it. Vox Machina is, probably more than any other CR party, defined by grief—how individual PCs respond to their own profound losses; how they succeed and fail to shoulder each others' burdens; and at the end of their story, how they deal with one of the most painful losses imaginable, and how they move forward and find peace in spite of it. Campaign 1 is just as much about how to deal with what you couldn't do as it is about what you now can do.

[iisasxia]

would you ever think about writing for shigaraki? Or one of the villains? I love the heroes but there's just something about this skinny man when he's half naked that makes me FERAL.

Yes I do !! Ironically my favorite mha villain IS Shigaraki, he is soooooo fine. Especially in the episode where they break him out of the glass tube and he was in that black suit. I had to rewind 🤭

So so happy to write for this man, thank you bby for the ask 💗

- author

Tomura never wears a shirt. It’s so common and normal to see him walking around in sweats, a pair of headphones wrapped around his neck, and those stupid fuzzy sandals Dabi got him one year for Christmas. (He burned his other shoes so he has to wear them)

It was an unusual hot day and everyone was melting, you were sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand while groaning at the thought of even moving a finger. You were wearing small jean shorts, a tank top and your hair was up out of your face. You were scrolling on tik tok before getting a notification..

[Tomu]: hey

[Tomu]: bring me a water

[Tomu]: please.

You groaned before getting up off the couch to bring him a drink from the fridge, he had been in his room for hours on end. I mean to be fair it did have the best air conditioning but nothing to as stopping him from getting it himself. You opened the fridge and grabbed the water, it was freezing. You looked around before opening it and taking a small sip, it’s not like he’d notice anyways, and plus you’re doing him the favor of bringing it to him.

You close it tight before exhaling in sudden relief at the cold sensation spreading throughout your body. You stretched your arms above your head, now revealing your pelvic bone before reaching for the drink and heading to his room.

You knock on the door.

“Im coming in.” It was good to give warnings , one time you walked in on him changing and weren’t able to look him in the eye for about a week. He didn’t mind whether you knocked or not, it’s not like he had anything to hide.

You open the door and to no surprise he’s sitting and rotting away in his gaming chair. The room was cold though, it was so nice.

You take in his messy figure, his toned arms flexing as he pressed the buttons on the controller, his jawline and side profile looked amazing from this angle, and his-

“Thanks.”

The response broke you out of your daze as you let go of the water bottle after having placed it on his desk.

“Yeah no problem” and you look at a poster on the wall that you could have sworn to of recognized when you went out to the mall last week.

What you didn’t notice was him taking in your figure. Since it was hit you wore a tank top with nothing to cover underneath.. and since his room was cold, it prominently revealed your nipples to his field of his vision. Now he was fully looking at you. Your little shorts, the slight sweat between your thighs, how your shirt is slightly rising up, the sweat dripping from your jawline and how your hair is a bit messy but cute.

You look back at him and he’s just playing the game.

“Did you need anything else ?” you place your hand on your hip as you talk to him.

He shook his head.

“Okay well I’ll be out there if you need me.” And with that your turn away and head to the door, until a sudden tug against your belt loop on your shorts pulls you back.

“Tomura ??” You turn to look at him with furrowed eyebrows only for them to sprint up when you realize what he was going to say.

“Did you take a sip of the water ?”

his voice was low, it didn’t indicate that he was mad, just curious.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding your head..

But before you could explain his tall figure was now hovering over you. Your back pressed against his desk and his hands on both sides. On any other day he would’ve let you walk away with it but he was in a bad mood, especially with this heat.

“Tomura-?“

his hand on your hip tugging you close to him was enough to make your knees weak, this was a different side of him, and the dirty smirk on his face was only making the heat between your legs grow.

—

“Since you wanna take a sip of my drink I might as well give you a real reason to be hot.”

[illyrianbitch]

Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths — Part Three

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: depictions of physical injuries, alcohol use, mention of drugs, Rhysand being a condescending prick, reader being shady

Word Count: 5.5k

← Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Your nose was broken.

This you were sure of. So was your right leg. And your arm.

Your father was a thorough, thorough man.

There was a nauseating metallic taste in your mouth, a darkening in your vision. You couldn't see much. Eyes too fat, too swollen. Your mouth wasn't any better. Busted, bruised. You couldn't make out the silhouette in front of you--- but you smelled her.

"You shouldn't be here," Evadne said. "Why did you come back?"

You felt her hands on you, tender and soft, examining you, assessing the best way to help. Her hands were warm against your cold skin.

“For you,” you whispered. Your voice is ragged, broken. You weren't sure how you managed to speak. You continued. “I couldn't leave you.”

A heavy sigh. Her arms wrapped around you. A flickering sense of pain spreading throughout your body. You slumped against her.

"That heart of yours will get you killed," she murmured softly.

A cough. Liquid trickled from your lips. The taste of iron flooded your mouth. Blood. You leaned against her, heartbeat in your ears.

“Then I’m already dead.”

“Gods, you look like hell.”

You groaned, slowly lifting yourself up from your sprawled-out position on the worn leather couch. As you blinked away the remnants of sleep, your eyes struggled to adjust to the harsh glow of the day, slowly leaking in through the opened windows— Evadne’s work, you assumed. They were closed last you remembered.

Lifting your hand to shield your eyes, your gaze settled on your best friend who stood over you with her arms crossed over her chest, brows furrowed as she stared down at you.

“Did you sleep on your couch all night?”

Your eyes shuttered as you let your hand fall back down, a deep sense of exhaustion settling heavily upon you. “Maybe,” you said, your voice hoarse. “Yes.”

With a gentle shuffle, Evadne made her way around the piece of furniture, her footsteps muffled against the worn carpet. She tapped lightly at your legs, silently urging you to make room as she settled herself beside you. You complied, maneuvering yourself into an upright position as she took her place at your side.

Her brows furrowed, gaze sweeping over your disheveled appearance. She leaned in, soon pulling away with her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Did you drink a whole damn bar?”

It had only been a few days since Rhysand and Azriel visited you, a few days since you’d practically sold them out to your father. You couldn’t sleep, your mind plagued by visions of your family — of Azriel. At first, you welcomed them, embracing them as a refuge from your normal nightmares. But soon, those new images became worse, more volatile, more painful. You let out a sigh, slowly turning your head to look at Evadne.

“I had no mirthroot left.”

“Y/n.” She widened her eyes. “I just gave you that. It’s supposed to last you weeks.”

“Well, I’ve been under a lot of stress recently,” you retorted. Your tone was sharper than you intended, the stress of your situation festering into a reactionary annoyance. She let out a small sigh and a sense of guilt chewed at you for your flippant response. You deflated.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I’m just on edge. I don’t mean to snap at you.”

Evadne shook her head gently. There was a moment of silence as she looked you over.

"How do we live in a city of decay and you're still the most depressing thing I've seen today?"

There was a glint of amusement in her dark brown eyes.

“Bite me,” you shot back, managing a weak smile in spite of yourself. The corners of your lips twitched upwards as you looked at her. A second passed. You both let out a small laugh.

Evadne had this effect on you, the ability to make you feel like you were in your body again, like your anger wasn’t consuming you the way you always felt it was. Headstrong, funny, kind… she was all the things you wanted to be – all the things your sister was, once upon a time.

Her smile softened into a smaller, more gentle expression. "Do you wanna talk about it?" she asked, her voice filled with a genuine care that made you want to cry— out of desperation, if anything. Out of a longing to be freed of the worries that now plagued you.

You shook your head. You didn’t have to look in a mirror to see what Evadne was worried about, to know why her eyes kept carefully scanning your face. The impact of everything, the lack of sleep, the stress, the alcohol, the mirthroot, it was all no doubt evident in every line etched into your face, in your sluggish movements.

“It’s all falling apart.”

“No,” she replied. “We planned for some complications.”

You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and empty in the quiet of the room. “Yeah, complications, not my nosy cousin and an even nosier spymaster,” you grumbled bitterly.

Evadne fixed you with a pointed look. “So we’re refusing to even say names now?”

You shot her a glare, annoyance boiling up inside you. The feeling quickly simmered when you met her gaze, patient and unwavering. It had gotten worse recently, your ability to keep your emotions in check. It was all the stress, all of this faith being put in you. It was smothering you. But you couldn’t admit it– after all, you’d brought it on yourself. Eventually, you let out a weary sigh, feeling the fight drain out of you as you slumped against the worn cushions of the couch.

"Fine," you muttered, the resignation evident in your voice. "We didn’t plan for Rhysand and Azriel."

Evadne mirrored you, falling back further into the couch. “Maybe it's time,” she said with a simple shrug.

You frowned, looking at her with knitted brows. “Time for what?”

“To confront that past of yours.”

Your reaction was instant, your body shooting upright, pointed and stiff. You rose from the couch, taking a moment to gather your thoughts.

“No,” you said sternly, turning around to look down at her. There was a deep sense of anger churning in your stomach, a sense of betrayal that had been unearthed from the depths of your being—you didn’t want to dwell on it, didn’t want to go deep diving into the black hole that was your family history.

Evadne didn’t back down, though, blinking slowly. She met your gaze with a calm resolve, eyebrows lifted ever so slightly as if she had anticipated your reaction, as if she viewed it as nothing more than a momentary outburst– a child throwing a tantrum. “Y/n,” she began.

“No,” You said again, your voice firm and resolute. “There's nothing I need to confront," you threw the word back at her emphasizing it with a shake of your head. "Don't treat me like I'm some child."

Evadne let out a heavy sigh, a sense of frustration rolling through her body as her shoulders sagged. She shook her head slightly. "Y/n," she began, "I'm not treating you like some child."

With a fluid motion, she rose from her seat, her movements graceful, purposeful. Meeting your gaze, she continued, "I've never seen you so rattled." She paused for a moment. "And you've dealt with a lot worse than two pretty boys."

You stood there, unmoving, lips pressed together into a thin line, your eyes fixed on the worn floorboards beneath your feet. With a subtle tilt of her head, Evadne attempted to catch your lowered gaze, her own expression still soft, still determined.

"This anger," she began, as you lifted your eyes to meet hers. She furrowed her brows, a flicker of sadness passing through her eyes, she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "Your anger, it is killing you."

With a small exhale, you shook your head, a tightness in your jaw evident as you clenched your teeth. "No," you asserted, the word resonating with a sense of defiance. "It's fueling me." Your eyes bore into hers.

Evadne didn’t move, didn’t look away. Instead, she simply tilted her head, reaching forward to grab your hands in hers. The crease in her eyebrows deepened. “It is still killing you all the same.”

You stilled, your face falling at her words. She was right. She usually was. You’d spent so long harboring your grudges, holding onto them at night like they were warm bodies, like they were things that could comfort you, fill the holes of the people they used to be. But the grudges only made you bitter, made you angry— and you were the only person that felt that anger. Not them. Never them.

You looked down, your gaze falling to where her hands gently held yours. It was then you caught a glimpse of her arms under the long sleeves of her dress, wrists decorated with a plethora of gold bangles. You tilted your head, taking in the glimmering sheen of the metals. Evadne loved her jewelry— loved her gold. It made her feel like a queen, she had told you once, reminded her of her worth. But she was always very careful about parading such shiny things around. Shiny things were noticed in a city of gloom. Shiny things got you hurt.

You pulled her hands up to eye level, a fast and swift motion that had her letting out a small gasp, your name falling from her lips in protest. You ignored it, fingers pulling up her sleeve, pushing the bangles up her arm.

A surge of icy rage flooded through you, coursing through your veins like a bitter chill. The feeling mingled with a fiery anger that simmered in your stomach, a volatile concoction that left you breathless, left you seeing red. Clenching your jaw tightly, you lifted your gaze to meet Evadne's.

“I’ll kill him.”

She looked at you for a moment, holding your intense gaze. Her eyes then flickered down and she gently pulled her hands away from you. She observed them for a moment, the dark bruises that marred her delicate wrists, stark against the golden hue of her skin. Then, she carefully slid her bracelets to their original position, pulling down her sleeves to cover any evidence of her hurt.

“No,” she said calmly, “But I will, one day. Like we’ve planned.”

"Evadne..."

You looked at her, taking in the beauty of her features, illuminated by the soft glow filtering through the windows. She was beautiful, so beautiful. And she was trapped here, in this city of filth, of ruin. You imagined a different future for her, a future where she lived in a place full of life— a place in the Day Court, perhaps, filled with sunshine and fresh air. A life where she could wear jewelry for the sake of their beauty, where she could be treated like a queen. A life that she deserved. Another wave of rage hit you. Evadne noticed, instantly leaning in to catch your eyesight.

"Y/n, It’s okay," Her voice was calm, collected. She reached out, her hand resting gently on your arm. "You keep your family busy. I’ll stick with the plan."

You nodded your head slowly, taking a deep breath as the fiery storm of rage slowly subsided within you. "Okay, I can do that," you said, "Are you sure?"

You searched Evadne's eyes for any sign of doubt. But all you found was an unwavering resolve, a fierce determination mirrored in her gaze. She smiled, a small laugh escaping her lips. “Yes, I’m sure. We just need to buy time.”

Your fingers trembled slightly as you anxiously ran a hand through your hair, your head still nodding at her words. You made your way across the room to where your liquor collection sat, the bottles gleaming in the light.

“How many do you think we have for tonight?” You asked, throwing the question over your shoulder. You heard her let out a small breath, footsteps following as she walked towards you.

"Not a lot,” she admitted. “Less than half.”

You let out a sigh, the tension in your muscles releasing slightly as you poured yourself a drink. The amber liquid flowed smoothly into the glass.

“They’re scared. Rhysand visiting is enough to unnerve them, but visiting you?”

“I know.” You felt a sense of guilt nag at you, tightening your stomach. You grabbed the crystal class in your hands turning to face Evadne. She glanced at you, then at your glass, and frowned.

“Are you sure you’re okay for tonight?” you asked her, your gaze momentarily falling down to where she held her hands together.

She met your eyes with a flat look. "Of course I am,” she responded. “I always am.”

You wanted to press further, to ask what else her golden dress was concealing, what else he had done to her, but you held your tongue, storing away your anger for when it would be useful, for when it could be power.

There was a thickness in your throat that wouldn’t move. Instead of replying, you lifted your brows at her, pulling your cup to your lips. Evadne moved before you could blink, grabbing the cup from your hands.

“What the hell?” You asked with a pinched expression. She merely stared at you, head tilted, eyes narrowed.

“They need a leader tonight, not a drunk," she asserted, her gaze steady upon you.

You met her eyes with a tightening of your jaw, a subtle crease forming between your brows. "Fine," you muttered, begrudgingly.

Without hesitation, Evadne downed the cup’s contents before placing it back in your hands. "Pull yourself together," she said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. You kept her gaze for a moment, and then her eyes were softening, her lips curving upwards, corners of her mouth lifting in a tender yet somber expression.

“They are not worth you falling apart."

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was dark when you returned home, your cloak hanging heavily on your shoulders. Your limbs protested with every step, heavy and achy, beads of sweat along your brow. Tonight had given you a release, a time to channel all your energy into something useful. But even then, there were too many things to think about, too many new factors to take into account. It exhausted you— your mind had never been so active, so anxious. You let out a defeated sigh as you opened the door.

You paused in the doorway, your heart stiffening at the sight of him, all fatigue momentarily forgotten. You were too caught up in your thoughts, too distracted to notice the other presence in your home, the other scent that filled it.

Rhysand’s gaze fixed expectantly on you, sitting in a chair that faced the entrance of your home. There was an eerily calm sense to him, an unnerving comfort in his body language. If you didn’t know him, if you weren’t aware of your relationship, you could've mistaken him for a man in the comfort of his own home, sitting at his own table.

You looked at him for a moment, taking in his appearance— a picture of regal confidence, a relaxed posture that was still commanding, still poised. He was alone tonight, no figures hidden in darkness, no smooth slithering of shadows. Azriel wasn’t with him. There was a squeeze in your stomach.

"Do you ever knock?" you spat, your voice sharp with irritation as you closed the door behind you with a forceful thud.

He remained unphased by your display of frustration, watching as you moved across the room, settling to lean against the backside of your couch. You crossed your arms, glaring at him.

"I did," he replied, his voice smooth and unruffled. "You weren't home."

With a sharp exhale, you scoffed, the sound laced with annoyance. Every second spent facing him filled you with an itching irritation, an anger that seeped through your skin. Deep in the back of your mind, an aching appeared– a tiny part of you that longed for his company, that craved for some resolution. You shoved it away, breaking it apart into pieces.

"So what? You just let yourself in?"

"Yes," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "I didn't want to wait outside. It's dangerous. You should really find a new place to live."

The condensation in his tone flowed out smoothly, a habit that almost appeared like second nature. His casual demeanor only fueled your irritation, each word he spoke like a taunt– pompous, arrogant, asshole. You tightened your arms together.

"Did you have a reason for coming here, Rhysand?" you snarled, the words punctuated by a simmering rage. There was a clear disdain in your voice, pointed and sharp. "Or do you just find pleasure in being an arrogant prick?"

Rhysand's facade of confidence faltered for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he composed himself once more. His shoulders sagged slightly, a movement so small you almost missed it. The air of authority around him diminished— as if he was transitioning from High Lord to something else, something smaller. He blinked, and then he let out a sigh.

"You're right. I'm so-" he began, but then stopped abruptly. You felt a prickling sensation crawl up your spine. There was a brief pause as Rhysand scanned you, his eyes falling from your head to your toes as he took in your appearance– sweat-dampened leathers, a cloak draped haphazardly over your shoulders. Your heart thudded anxiously in your chest. Rhys met your gaze once more, his brows furrowed now– in confusion, curiosity, or suspicion, you couldn’t tell. It unnerved you.

"Where were you?" he asked.

You felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you.

"I wasn't aware I needed to report my extracurricular activities to High Lords who break into homes," you shot back, the words dripping with sarcasm. You took a moment to break away from your outer layer, quickly throwing the cloth on the couch behind you.

Rhysand remained rooted in his seat, his posture stiffening before he eased back into the chair with a sigh. His movements were deliberate, calculated, betraying a sense of resignation beneath his surface. As he spoke, his hand gestured towards you.

"Is this really how it's going to be, Y/n?" he questioned, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation. "We don’t have to be uncivilized."

Your initial shock dissolved into a burst of incredulous laughter, your mouth falling open in disbelief. "You storm into my home uninvited– twice may I add," you emphasized, your voice rising slightly, "and then call me uncivil when I refuse to drop everything for you?"

Rhysand's tone shifted, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, please, Y/n," he said, "I didn't ask you to drop everything. I asked you to hear me out and you wouldn’t even do that."

His audacity cut into you like sharp knives. You almost winced at his tone; so condescending, so arrogant. It was hard to look at him, to attempt to find the boy that you used to know. Rhysand, your cousin Rhysand, would have hated the prick standing in front of you– would have despised his superiority complex. The thought made you sad— but only for a moment. It quickly faded.

"Has being a High Lord truly given you such a lack of class?" you challenged, your voice rising with indignation. You didn’t bother to hide your contempt, didn’t bother to collect yourself. "How dare you think I owe you anything, even the time of day?"

Rhysand met your gaze, violet eyes burning into yours. They were darker now than they were years ago, more fury in them. More broken.

"We are family, Y/n. I would think it's the least you owe me."

You recoiled at his words, a bitterness rising in your throat like bile. You’d spent so many of your days reminding yourself that your family didn’t care, spent so many nights wishing that they did. Here, sitting in front of you, was proof that the former was correct. You were only their 'family' when it was convenient for them— and you hadn't been convenient for centuries.

"There you go, using that word again like it should mean something.”

You were clenching your jaw so hard you could have sworn it was going to break, that a tooth would snap– that you would snap. Rhysand didn’t back down.

"It should," he insisted, his voice steady.

"It doesn't."

Your voice was cold and unyielding, to a point where Rhysand felt a wave of discomfort come over him. His jaw ticked and he let out a deep sigh, his chin falling slightly. There was a clear frustration in his body as he leaned forward, resting his elbow on the table and bringing a hand to his face. His fingers settled under his chin while the other hovered near his lips as he shook his head. A moment passed as you watched him, and then he turned to look at you again, his hand falling flat on the table.

"I don’t understand you, Y/n,” he said, “I just- I don’t understand.”

Because you’ve never made an effort to. The exhaustion on his face, the frustration that you could see– even smell, it made your stomach sink. The anger in your body felt like something else, like sadness, like grief. Maybe Evadne overestimated you, maybe you couldn’t handle being around your family. If being around Rhysand made you this emotional, you didn’t want to think about what it would be like to face all of them, to report to them.

"It shouldn't take you over 500 years to understand that people don't owe you anything," you stated, pushing yourself off the couch. You walked towards the front door of your home, reaching it as you spoke, "Get out of my home."

Rhysand's voice faltered, his expression softening with a touch of desperation. "Wait, Y/n, wait,” he said as he stood up.

There was a tinge of desperation in his voice, something you were sure he didn’t realize was showing. Maybe you recognized it because, once upon a time, you had known him– truly known him. Perhaps it was the lingering effects of that familial bond. Or, maybe, Rhysand was faltering in your presence because for the first time, he wasn’t being feared.

If Rhys was struggling to keep a calm facade, there was something deeply wrong going on — something with you, or something outside of this city. You thought back to his words from before, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. You furrowed your brows, eyes settling on him with a scrutinous gaze.

"Why do you need my help so bad?"

Rhysand hesitated for a moment before responding, his words measured. "I told you. There are rumors about an u—"

"An uprising. Yes, I remember," you interjected, cutting him off.

Rhysand's brows furrowed, his patience wearing thin as he searched your face for any hint of relenting. He found none. “Then why are you asking me?”

You met his gaze head-on. "Because there are always rumors here," you repeated, emphasizing each word with a pointed stare. "And every time, you, and now Feyre, swoop in to quash them with a well-timed visit, a show of power. So forgive me if I find it curious that this time, you're suddenly in need of my assistance."

A flicker of frustration crossed Rhysand's features, his jaw clenching briefly before he regained his composure. "Our methods may have been effective in the past," he conceded, "but this situation requires a more delicate touch."

There was no evidence of regret in his tone, no acknowledgement of the fear-mongering that he used with his people. You weren’t sure why you expected it, why you looked for it. Of course Rhysand wouldn’t show signs of guilt regarding his treatment of Hewn City. Why would he? He didn’t feel guilty, at all.

You raised an eyebrow skeptically. "And what exactly makes this situation so different?"

Rhysand's expression tightened at your insistence, his eyes darting away momentarily before meeting yours once more. "Nothing you have to concern yourself with," he hedged, his tone cautious.

There it was again, the sense of audacity he held, the superiority he wore like a cloak. There was something in his tone, in the way he spoke to you, that made you feel small, foolish. You hated it.

You narrowed your eyes, a sense of frustration bubbling within you. "If I'm going to stick my neck out for you, and potentially betray my people, I need to know why.”

Rhysand's discomfort flashed across his features. His lips parted, emitting a breathy laugh tinged with disbelief. "Your people," he repeated, a hint of mockery lacing his tone, as if the very idea amused him.

"Yes. My people.”

Rhysand's jaw tightened visibly. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he relented. "Koschei.”

You blinked.

Koschei, Koschei.

You recognized the name, memories of childhood tales flooding your mind. Koschei was a name thrown around, starring in stories whispered by mothers to keep their children in line, to warn them of the consequences of misbehaving. But you knew better– all adults did. Koschei wasn’t a real threat, he was somewhere far, somewhere unreachable.

However, the look on Rhysand's face told a different story—a story of genuine fear, of a threat far more tangible than mere folklore. The mighty High Lord of the Night Court was worried, on edge. It filled you with a sense of dread that momentarily wiped away any sadness, any anger. "Koschei?" you repeated, the name feeling heavy on your tongue

"He is taking steps to free himself," Rhysand said, "I'm working to ensure that doesn't happen."

You eyed him cautiously, scanning him for any sign of deceit. You found none. He took your silence as an invitation to keep talking, to explain further.

"That means I do not have time to sift around this city and find the origins of these rumors– to waste time discerning if they are legitimate.”

You paused for a moment, your mind racing now. Perhaps this was a stroke of luck. Koschei's looming threat could align perfectly with what you needed. You needed Rhysand distracted, needed him vulnerable enough for your father— needed your father to be vulnerable enough for you. Surely, Koschei wouldn’t be a lingering threat. Rhysand was right, it wasn’t something you needed to concern yourself with. Keep them busy, Evadne had said.

"Isn't this Azriel's specialty?" you asked, "The feared Spymaster?"

A tick in Rhysand’s jaw.

"Azriel's reach is limited," he explained. "These rumors may be quiet, but they are there."

He needed someone who wouldn’t call attention. Someone who knew how to work this city. Someone like you.

”Where is your guard dog, anyway?”

The words slipped out of your mouth before you had a chance to catch them. Rhysand stiffened at the question. He bit down the anger that formed in his throat.

”I thought it would be best to come alone.” He shifted on his feet. "In truth, my intentions were to come and offer an apology," he confessed, his voice carrying a weight you hadn't anticipated. Meeting his gaze, you found a flicker of vulnerability in the violet of his eyes, a softening in his features.

You weren’t sure if you should feel angry or touched. It certainly seemed like Rhysand expected the latter, his brows slightly furrowed, awaiting your response. But, instead, your reaction was disbelief, almost scoffing at his attempt at reconciliation. His intrusion into your home, his condescending demeanor, all of it burned into your skin. "Certainly didn't feel like one," you remarked, a bitterness lacing your words.

"I know,” he admitted, pushing his hands into his pockets. “I shouldn’t have approached the situation in the manner that I did. I apologize.”

His voice was genuine, filled with remorse— its presence was fainter that you would have hoped for, but it was there. Noticeable. While you appreciated the gesture, and your heart held onto the regret he showed, you said nothing in response, not wanting to give him the clear forgiveness he was hoping for.

“So, I’m coming to you again, properly. We need your help.” A pause. “I need your help.”

You sighed, running your tongue along your teeth. "Fine,” you relented, “What do I have to do?"

Rhysand visibly relaxed, a wave of relief washing over him. Then, he straightened his posture, dusting off his shoulders before he began walking towards you, towards the door. "Azriel will come to you. You both can work from there.”

The name made your stomach drop, and your eyes widened in response, brows furrowing.

"Azriel?"

Rhysand paused mid-stride, his gaze locking with yours. "Yes," he said, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. "You said it yourself, this is his territory."

The crease between your brows deepened as you frowned.

"And you said he was unable to work with it. That's why you need me.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes, scanning over your face before letting out a small breath.

"We do need you,” he replied, “To work alongside Azriel."

Your stomach clenched further. To work alongside Azriel. Azriel, Azriel, Azriel.

“You didn’t say anything about working with Azriel.”

Rhysands eyebrows fell as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Will that be a problem?”

Anger simmered beneath your skin. Rhysand's insistence on involving Azriel was a direct affront to your capabilities, a direct showing of distrust. You knew, logically, that you weren’t allowed to be so angry– he shouldn’t trust you. But the reality of it, a clear reminder of how far you’d drifted, hurt in a way you couldn’t ignore.

“Yes,” you responded, your voice firm, “I don’t need someone watching over me.”

He let out a deep sigh, his face scrunching in with annoyance.

“That is not wha-”

“Oh, please,” you replied, “It’s definitely part of it. You don’t trust me.”

Rhysand didn’t reply, didn’t even acknowledge your words. Instead he simply shrugged. The nonchalance of his movement only added fuel to the fire, and you clenched your jaw to suppress the rising frustration.

"Azriel is our court’s Spymaster. He knows what needs to be done," he stated dismissively.

A surge of frustration rose within you. The room felt stifling, suffocating. You could keep them busy, could work with Rhysand distracted, with him worried about Koschei. But having Azriel around, a looming presence, someone overseeing you, would make things more complicated. And it was Azriel. Even the thought of it made you feel sick, nausea forming from the mix of emotions in your chest.

Silence enveloped the room like a heavy fog. You remained still– jaw clenched, eyes still on Rhysand as he walked past you, hand reaching for the door. He stopped, falling still in his place. Then, he looked at you. The expression on his face wasn’t one you were familiar with– it seemed like one he used to wear when you knew him, a softer version of himself. Kind.

"I'm sorry about Caladan.”

It hit you like a punch to the gut. You weren’t sure what hit you harder, the apology, laced with a deep sincerity you hadn’t expected, or Caladan’s name– on Rhys’ lips, of all people. You hadn’t heard his name in so long; Evadne was always so careful. It was a pain you thought you had grown accustomed to, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation. But it was resurfacing, rising with a raw intensity that left your chest tight.

For a fleeting moment, you felt the urge to lash out, to reject Rhysand’s words and the sympathy they carried. But beneath the anger and resentment, there was a small flicker of something else— of gratitude. With a heavy heart, you met Rhysand's gaze. You couldn't move, couldn't speak.

"I meant to give you my condolences when I first came." Rhysand’s voice was soft. “I know he was special to you. I should have reached out when I heard."

Green eyes. “This is good, Y/n,” he smiled at you, a dimpled, soft smile. “It’s all coming together.”

You blinked the image away. After a beat of silence, you nodded slowly. "Thank you," you murmured. The anger was still there, the bitterness towards Rhysand, towards your family. But you accepted his words, letting them ease some of the sizzling resentment.

Rhysand bowed his head in acknowledgment. With one final glance, he turned and left.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: guys i promise after this azzy will be in every chapter. now we begin the angsty forced proximity trope that i LOVEEE 🫶🏻🫶🏻

(i’m prewriting chapters rn so lemme know if there’s anything you’d love to see👀👀 always open to ideas)

taglist:

@kalulakunundrum  @janebirkln @thelov3lybookworm @secretlyhers @nightcourt-daydreaming @sidthedollface2 @gorlillaglue25 @abysshaven @historygeekqueen @acourtofbatboydreams @justdreamstars @darling006 @inloveallthetime @dr4g0ngirl @makeagoodnamethen @kht1998  @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @rhysandorian @llovelydove @minnieoo @cassianswh0reeee @anuttellaa @hnyclover @sfhsgrad-blog @carlandonorri-s @gingerblood @inesven @emptyporsche @itsswritten @tele86

[mythophosfox]

Blade x Abundance!reader

Word Count͟͟͞͞➳❥ 1.9k (One-Shot)

Reader is gender neutral // Not proofread

A/N͟͟͞͞➳❥English is not my first language so I apologize for any grammar errors. The reader follows the path of abundance, and their origins can be up to interpretation. Have fun imagining yourself a backstory ;). This is more or less a test for a concept I've boiled up in my brain.

Cw ➳❥ Possible OOC, Mild body Horror, abrupt ending, illness, mention of pain, Soft, wholesome, SFW, vague on purpose.

Summary ➳❥ Blade meets you, a follower of the abundance, during one of his Mara crises. You heal him and leave leaving only your name. Who are you, he ponders. Once he finds himself desperate, he whispers your name.

Blade sat on the floor,  hidden inside an abandoned merchant stall on the Loafu—his body tenses, the mara ever so threateningly consuming his mind. He hisses at the pain, holding back a groan from the intoxicating pain. Unable to move, run, or call Kafka for help. In these moments, even he couldn't help but to feel desperation. Maybe it’ll finally eat him alive this time, letting him meet his long-awaited end. His eyes closed. Corrupted memories and faded voices calling to him, a stabbing pain piercing the remains of his bruised lonely heart. Only the hope of death lay dryly on his tongue. Blade felt joy as his conscience faded into the dark, his body limping on the floor.

Blade could only hear the ringing in his ears until the thumping of footsteps appeared close to him. A light hand places itself on his shoulder. The unsupportable pain starts to vanish from his body, spreading from the singular light touch. The memories fade, freeing him from their strain. Blade lifts his head in a daze, vision foggy from his symptoms. He sees someone crouched next to him, their hand still placed on his shoulder. The person smiles at him softly. Throughout his body, gladioli buds start to sprout. The sprouts grow on his scars, lessening their pain. His mara calms, freeing his mind to think clearly again. The fog in his eyes dissipates, now able to see you fully. He suddenly winces out of your touch, backing away from you with sharp threatening eyes. You quickly bring your hand back to yourself. 

-’’ My apologies, I mean no harm.’’ You spurt out, attempting to calm him. 

Blade only stares at you with intensity, his face back to a neutral state.  A  deep groan escapes his lips. He considered knocking you out, unwilling to uselessly harm someone for an escape, but he quickly realized how dissipated his mara felt. His eyes widen, witnessing the bourgeons and flowers spread around his torn muscles. How did you-- Abundance? Even so- how was it so effective? His gaze wanders back to you as you innocently stare back.

-’’ You should be feeling better for a few.’’ You chirped softly, standing back up on your feet. ‘’ I need to move, Good day.’’ 

-’’ Wait!’’ 

As you turn your back, Blade mindlessly takes hold of your wrist. You turn back, surprised by the man’s sudden outburst. Blade didn’t know what he was doing, maybe he was losing his mind even more. His grip loosens, but you don’t pull your hand back.

-’’ How-’’ He shuddered. -’’ y/n’’ 

His mouth is agape as you cut him off. He quickly swallows his tongue. 

-’’ If you ever need me again, call my name.’’ You state as if it was a simple fact. 

You free yourself from his grip gently before walking away from the premises, disappearing within the simulated horizon of the Loafu. Blade watches your figure disappear, his normal expression back on his face. He didn’t know you, nor did he care about you. He was simply lucky, and you were foolish. Why would he ever remember your name?   

…

Weeks later, Blade lays in his bed at the stellaron hunter’s base. His mara is acting up, making him twist and turn on his futon. His covers are thrown off the futon as his body feels too hot to sustain it. He finally lays on his back, exhausted and restless. He breathes heavily, sweat sliding off his muscles, wetting his bandaged chest. It stings, leaving him breathless for only a moment every few seconds. His trousers are drenched, sticking uncomfortably on his legs. His eyes blur as he stares at the ceiling. Memories flood his weakened mind, making him clench his fists until his fingernails pierce through his skin. The pain is unbearable, consuming him once more like it always was. Groans escapes his lips every few minutes, unable to control the debilitating feeling throughout his ill body. As Blade feels his consciousness fade, something flashes in his mind. A recent memory, a word, a name. He fought the need to say it. His pride unwilling to do something so pathetic. A sudden sting causes him to groan loudly as he barred his teeth in thin air. Dammit, dammit it all.

-’’y/n…y/n…’’ 

Blade felt pitiful, gasping your name out of his burning throat. Nothing answered to him apart from the echo of his pleas. Of course, you won’t come. You were in the Loafu after all, and he was lightyears away from you. He so stupidly kept calling your name, desperate from the mara. Against his pride and his better judgment, he couldn’t help but call out your name silently. He frowns in frustration. 

-‘’y/n…y/n!’’ He barely screamed that last one, but nothing. Not you or the relief will ever arrive. He closes his eyes, exhausted and in pain. Maybe- just maybe, something could deliver him from this never-ending curse. 

The air suddenly feels fresher. Blade noticed that his futon seemed to have changed…texture? He quickly realizes that his pain is suddenly numbed. Although still present, it’s barrable. His eyes shot open, greeted by a light blue sky. His eyes widen, feeling a cool breeze all over his body. What in the? He sits up, touching his bandages and chest confused. Was this a dream? The afterlife? His body feels fuzzy as if ants were crawling beneath his skin. He looks around the plains surrounding him. 

A vast field of gladiolus bloomed before him, showing their diverse and saturated colours. The field seems to be endless, crossing the horizon. It sways in unison as a breeze traverses the blooming flowers.

Blade finds the force to stand up, holding his arm with his hand. Although he’s able to walk, the fuzzy feeling forces him to limp softly on the pillowy grass. Was this death? He looks down at the imprint of his body on the flattened flowers. Would a dream be this detailed? Without a thought and without a destination, Blade starts walking weakly in any direction. He leaves behind him a trail of red spider lilies, new flowers blooming at his every step. It feels like hours as he aimlessly wanders inside the never-ending plains. Finally, he sees what looks like a small cabin. He furrows his eyebrows, both happy and cautious of such a finding. As he approaches he smells something in the distance, sweets. The field opens up to a clearing. Between him and the house a few meters away, lays a picnic blanket with pastries arranged elegantly on its surface. On the edge of the blanket, there you are, sitting peacefully with a cup of tea in your hands. Blade’s eyes widen in disbelief. It’s you. He approaches you with more hurry than before.

You enjoy your favourite blend of tea, humming delightfully to yourself. You feel the presence you’ve been waiting for you. You turn your head towards the figure. You watch silently as Blade slowly approaches you. He stops in his tracks, leaving some distance between the two of you.

-’’ You–You’re here.’’ He exhales.

-’’ You called.’’ You answer simply.

The warrior studies you, desperately trying to find anything suspicious about any of this, but all he felt was confusion. You give him a soft smile, aware of the questions he might have. Unknown to him, you weren’t going to answer any of his questions.

-’’ Where–’’ He tries to ask, but you cut him off as easily as last time. 

-’’ Come, Join me. Have a seat.’’ You invite him. Your voice is soft and calming, which bothers Blade. 

Nonetheless, he closes his distance and sits next to you. He feels awkward, and not used to interacting with strangers. His walls are still up towards you. After all, you barely knew each other. You tap your lap softly, inviting him to rest his head on top of it. His eyes widen as he gives you a glare. You stare back, unbothered. 

-’’ You look pained, I can fix that…’’ You whisper you’re voice honeyed, inviting him further.

Blade scoffs at the absurdity of this entire situation. First, he wakes up in an unknown field, then he rests on your lap? He might as well go with it. Blade shifts the weight of his body, his back facing you before he reluctantly places his head on your thighs. You chuckle, gently putting a hand through his hair. The man closes his eyes at the touch, furrowing. The gazing of your fingers on his scalp suddenly felt like heaven. The feeling spread all over his face, causing a sharp exhale to escape his nostrils. As your right-hand plays softly with his hair, your left-hand descends carefully down his bandaged chest. The buzzing in his body ceases once your finger traces his skin. He feels calm and at peace. A feeling he never thought he could ever experience. His expression relaxes for the first time in years. For once, like the last time he saw you, his body feels empty, light, and devoid of ill. The tingle of your fingers tracing his scars through the bandages gives him goosebumps. Quick gaps escaped his lips. If he knew what it meant, he’d say it’d feel like euphoria. By now, his entire body felt weightless. He pressed his head on your stomach, enjoying this feeling with water in his eyes. You giggle softly, proud of your healing work.

-’’ We can stop now if you wish to.’’ You calmly propose, removing your hand from his hair. It’s interrupted by his hand grabbing yours. 

-’’ No…Please.’’ He whispers, pleading for your touch. 

-’’ Very well.’’ 

You continue your miracle, tracing the tips of your fingers all over his chest and face. Blade relaxes completely within your grasp. His skin shudders from time to time from the gentleness of your touches. You both spend your time like this for a while. Suddenly, a distant bell chimes across the sky. You look up, disappointment on your face. You look back at the now dozed-off warrior on your lap. You caress his cheek with the back of your hand, walking him up softly.

-’’ I’m afraid our time together is over.’’ You sigh sadly. You were enjoying your time with this stellaron hunter. His calm expression, the peace in his eyes as he flutters them open. The pain you meticulously make vanish. 

-’’ Will I–Ever see you again?’’ Blade asks weakly. He attempts to reach out for your cheek. You stop him, intertwining your hand with his instead. 

-’’ Oh, Blade…’’ You purr. Blade’s eyes widen at the mention of his name. He never told you his name. ‘’ You only have to call my name, remember?’’ 

As you finish your sentence, you lower your head closer. Your soft lips barely graze his before Blade wakes up in a cold sweat. 

     Blade frantically sits up. He’s back in his room. Was it really a dream? He pats around his body, realizing the pain is gone. What just happened. He feels a lingering pressure on his lips. A light blush flushes his cheeks. He hovers his fingers over his lips. When he looks down at his chest he notices gladioli flowers sprouting on his skin. His eyes widen at the sight. He looks around his room. Gladioli blossoms and sprouts are scattered around his floor…

Tags ➳❥ @swivy123

End note ➳❥ If you guys love the premise, I might make a more serious short-series about this. This has been a fun concept to work with. The mystery behind who the reader is. Idk, let me know! For now I've got more coming in the works :D

[preciouslandmermaid]

💐💐💐

imagine being a kindergarten teacher who meets reid

maybe its thru JJ, maybe you've got Henry in your class, and she kindly, warmly strikes a friendship with you after Henry moves into 1st grade. and its a little unorthodox but jj and her husband are always willing to help out (when their schedules can allow) with school events and so yeah, you become friends.

and when jj introduces you to her friends/colleagues - there is of course a little bit of an intimidation factor (because hello...they are fbi) but penelope makes you feel so welcome (because of course she does. and you tell her your students would love her. and she offers to teach a tech class and youre like ok they're five but yes let's do it) and morgan shamelessly flirting, and emily being hot and intimidating and then there's reid, quiet, awkward, wont-shake-your-hand reid.

but there's something to it - a mutual nerdiness, perhaps, or how reid doesn't make you feel "stupid" just because you're an elementary school teacher and not a professor at a college (despite the fact that in many places you need a least a master's to teach).

imagine weeks later when you run into reid at the coffee shop. completely random. the sky is gray, uninteresting, and promising rain. he surprises you by remembering your name before there's a shy yet earnest quip when he says he's got an "eidetic memory." and you laugh warmly and spencer thinks its one of the best sounds he's heard all morning.

and it goes slowly from there, but it moves naturally, like a caterpillar forming its chrysalis

(when you tell reid this, somewhere after the 4 month mark since you've long stopped counting individual dates, he says; "did you know the word comes from the greek word 'khrusos' - which means gold - because of the gold color or metallic sheen of some pupae".

and in that moment, that singular moment, you admire the honey-gold tint of his eyes in the late afternoon sun spilling luminescence across the sidewalks and across shiny car windshields and think that you could already see the shape and color of whatever butterfly that was going to burst from its cocoon).

one time you refused to come over his apartment because "the kids used glitter today" and you didn't want to get it all over his place. so he came over instead, and you watched the iridescent sparkles swirl down the bathtub drain together.

imagine spencer reid laying his head in your lap, something heavy and unspoken between you, shaped in the spread of his fingers across your hips, in the erratic pulse of his heart pressing into your shins

the school doesn't celebrate Halloween, but they have an annual "trunk or treat" where people CAN dress up and trick-or-treat out of the trunks of their cars and spencer starts helping you, decorating the trunk with fake cobwebs, and skulls, and eventually diving into convoluted themes that you're not convinced kids aged 5-10 are totally going to get.

"it's jaws." he says, holding a shark head made of paper mache, "you know, the 1975 film? you said we couldn't do slasher horror movies because they're too gory for the kids but i'd argue that this movie stands alone as a great horror film with how Spielberg creates consistent tension throughout the whole film considering we don't see the shark until an hour and twenty-one minutes into the run time."

(the kids don't really get it, it's true. "sharks aren't monsters." they would say, or "sharks aren't scary." or "is this from Baby Shark?" but you and spencer have fun, passing out candy, sharing small looks to each other--so that makes it all worth it).

imagine something soft, sweet, something quiet shared over coffee with spencer. something gentle amidst all the chaos, the heartache, and stress of his day-to-day job.

"I don't know how you do it," you tell him, "seeing the worst of what the world has to offer day in and day out."

his long fingers stroke the underside of your jaw, "i don't know how you manage a room full of fifteen 5 and 6-year-olds." he pulls a face. "especially with the germs."

imagine bringing spencer lunch at the office - earning the knowing, sly looks from his friends and team, knowing you can't hide against a room full of profilers and knowing it doesn't really matter anyways.

:) ok that's all i got. <3

[mmhcs]

Say It With Your Chest

Warnings: None, maybe an emotionally constipated Miguel if that's not your thing

"Why don't you just confess?"

Miguel O'Hara shakes his head for the umpteenth time in the past hour.

Ay coño, how did he get here? he silently wonders, looking at Peter B. alongside quite literally the entire Spider Society—save for you—squeezed into his office.

It all started at around noon when Peter B. had walked up into his office both unceremoniously and unannounced. Today, he was without his daughter Mayday, making his steps quieter than they had been in the past few months. Unlike most days when he would call out for his (self-proclaimed) best buddy, this time Peter B. simply waited to be acknowledged, seeing that Miguel was in the middle of a squabble with Lyla.

"...Miguel, why don't you just say something?" she asked rather concerned. "The worst that could happen is that you get shot down. But if that happens then it just means that you're one step closer to finding The One."

The One?

Peter's eyebrow quirked upwards in curiosity and interest.

For as long as he's known Miguel O'Hara, Peter had never heard Miguel discuss dating, marriage, or anything romotely related to the realm of romance for that matter.

But now—now Miguel possibly had a crush? Someone who he was interested in and, judging by Lyla's words, wanted to pursue?

Peter had to know more.

But just as he opened his mouth to chime in, Miguel spoke.

"Lyla, please," he said, waving his hand as if to shoo her away. "We don't need to discuss this."

"But we do!" Lyla exclaimed, throwing her arms up the air. "Miguel, this could be the start of something. Who knows? Maybe one day you two will get married, have some children—"

"Lyla!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Lyla said, this time truly apologetic.

Miguel sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please, Lyla, this—whatever this is—" he spread his arms, gesturing to something that wasn't there "—doesn't matter. It will go away in a few weeks, give or take and—"

"But it's been months! Almost a year!"

Almost a year?

Okay, now Peter really had know more about this little crush of Miguel’s.

"Lyla!" Miguel sighed again. "(Y/N)—how am I supposed to talk to someone who barely shows up at HQ? It's not like I have much wiggle room here,"

"But you do have a best friend who is friends with (Y/N) and as of today has a burning desire to see you two together!" Peter finally spoke up.

From there, Miguel’s day went downhill. At first, it was just Peter. Which, though not ideal, was fine. But then Jess came in and after her Ben Reilly, then Miles, Gwen, Hobie, and Pavitr...And then before Miguel knew it, quite literally the entire Spider Society was in his lab, talking over one another as they shouted useless love advice.

Except you.

It always irked Miguel that you preferred to limit your time at HQ as much as possible. But today—today he couldn't be more grateful for your choice.

"Hey, what's going on in here?"

He spoke too soon.

The entire room goes silent and every Spider including Miguel turns to face you.

"Uh...hi?" You give a sheepish wave of your hand.

"(Y/N)!" Peter exclaims. "So great to see you!"

Miguel winces at how overtly friendly Peter is being right now. If he's behaving like this then he can only imagine how the other Spiders will act.

"It's great to see you too, Peter," you say, glancing around. There are so many Spiders in here. Some of them you haven't even spoken to before. "And everybody. I'm sorry if I'm interrupting—or should have been here. I don't know. I just dropped by to ask about my schedule for this week."

"Oh, your schedule?" Peter's mouth shifts to one side of his face as he puts a hand on his chin. "Hmm, well, while I personally don't know anything about that, I think you should ask my pal Miguel."

"Okay..."

All the eyes in the room fell back to Miguel like dominoes. Hums of agreement with Peter's sentiments begin to echo throughout the room.

"So, about my schedule..." you say once you are face-to-face with Miguel.

You glance around between every sentence or two, seemingly painfully aware of how crowded the room is and how many people are eagerly watching your interaction. It causes something to stir within Miguel, seeing you so uncomfortable and nervous.

"...I will email you your schedule again," Miguels explains, trying to act as normal as possible. "I did before but it seems that something hasn't went through properly. For now, you have nothing scheduled, though. You can go home and relax."

Miguel swears that he hears a few awwws from the masses.

"As for the rest of you," he begins, now addressing the hoards of unwelcome visitors. He's let this go on for far longer than it should have. "I am certain that at least two quarters of you have some type of assignment to do. I suggest that you all stop dilly-dallying and get back to work because though you do not have paychecks, you will have to work late tonight if everything isn't finished at the appropriate time."

There is a collective groan amongst all the Spiders as the door opens and they begin to file out of Miguel’s office. You stifle a giggle at the pairs of sad yet uneven eyes you see.

Before Peter leaves, he turns to you two and gives Miguel two thumbs up that you imagine to be directed at Miguel. He is Peter's best buddy after all.

"Was there an impromptu meeting that I wasn't told about?" you ask, turning to face Miguel as soon as you two are alone.

Though this is technically not a job and you do prefer to be in your own universe rather than at HQ, you still wanted to fulfill your duties and be a committed member to the team.

"No, there was no meeting," Miguel reassures you as he turns away and begins walking to his platform. "There was a...matter that the others found particularly interesting. It was all Peter's idea, really."

Judging by the annoyance in his voice, you think that you should be glad that you missed whatever transpired earlier.

"Oh, okay then," You nod. "If I'm not needed then I'll be returning to my universe for the rest of the day. Goodbye, Miguel. Goodbye, Lyla."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day you and Peter B. are strolling through the cafeteria of the Spider Society, munching on empanadas.

You occasionally glance down at his once again empty baby carrier—Mayday was upstate, attending the birthday party of her maternal cousins, Peter explained earlier—finding it abnormal to see him without the young girl that the entire Spider Society has grown to love.

"So, what was so interesting that everyone had to gather in Miguel's office to discuss yesterday?" you ask.

You often felt like you came in to HQ at the wrong times. Always after something happens. You were rarely ever there to be apart of the moment and often had to resort to asking your friends to fill you in. And normally that sufficed. But this time—whatever it was that had happened yesterday obviously had HQ in a chokehold.

"Oh, what, yesterday?" Peter scoffed, waving a shaky hand. "Oh please, yesterday; who even talks about the past like that? Today is tomorrow's yesterday."

"Come on, Peter!" you whine, slightly nudging him. "I know it has something to do with Miguel. Everyone has been talking about how weird he was acting yesterday before I came in—What was it? Is he okay?"

"Okay? Miguel is more than okay," Peter laughs. "He's fine. Really fine actually, don't you think?"

"Uh-huh..." You nod, not knowing how to respond to that last comment. You've grown to learn that a part of Miguel and Peter's friendship also included not-so-subtle innuendos from Peter.

"Don't worry about him—he's great. Fantastic. Nothing wrong with him. Or nothing more than the usual at least."

You know Peter is lying. But what you don't know is why.

Normally, Peter B. Parker is an open book. He'll tell you about Mayday's gassiness, show you a picture he took of a thing that he thought was cool, tell you about all of his favorite sports teams, or how he and MJ finally got a night to themselves and how amazing it was. Nothing is a secret with this man.

Until now.

It makes your curiosity double.

"Peter..." you start, trying to put on your best set of puppy dog eyes. "Come on, just tell me. You said that Miguel is fine—is it something embarrassing? You don't have to tell me if it is but I just—everyone is talking about it. You can't even get through the coffee line without being asked about 'it'."

Peter's nervous expression softens into a frown for a second.

He feels bad. Really, really bad.

On the one hand, he wants to tell you. He really does. He doesn't like it when others feel left out. Especially you. You're not known to frequent HQ unlike so many other Spiders and he knows how much that affects your social status amongst the rest.

But on the other hand, he can't tell you. Because it's Miguel's secret. Probably one of the deepest, most darkest ones he's had in a long time. What kind of best friend would Peter be if he told you?

It's already bad enough that the rest of the Spider Society knows. They've been teasing the poor guy to no end about his crush on you.

Peter bites down on his lip. Oh, the woes of being so friendly and trusted.

"Hey guys, what’s going on?" Gwen Stacy waves at the two of you.

Behind her is Hobie, Miles, and Pavitr who give you and Peter their own forms of greeting as well.

"Gwen," you say almost desperately and Peter gets nervous. He looks at all four of the kids, silently begging them to keep quiet.

"Do you know what happened yesterday with Miguel? Everyone's been talking about it all day and I feel like if one more person says something about whatever it is, my brain is going to explode."

Now Gwen seems to have been bitten by the same nervous bug that Peter was when you asked him previously.

Her eyes widen and she begins looking at everything but you.

"Oh, that?" she laughs nervously. "That was nothing. You know how everyone likes to rag on Miguel. Right, guys?"

The only one who backs her up is Miles. And his response does more damage as he says, "Who's Miguel?"

You sigh, facepalming.

"Hobie, you'll tell me, right?" you half-ask, half-plea.

"Sorry, mate," Hobie shrugs, a smirk on his face. "Information's kind of classified."

Okay, now you really want to know what happened yesterday. Not even Hobie will tell you? Something monumental must have happened yesterday.

Still desperate, you turn your gaze to Pavitr who immediately tenses.

"Don't look at me!" he says, frantically waving his hands in front of his chest. "I don't know anything!"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day after next, you find yourself standing outside of Miguel’s office.

Though Miguel promised that he would resend you your schedule for the week, you have yet to receive it. And it's already Thursday. You don't even want to think about how many assignments you've missed. You'll probably have to stay late next week, so much so that you may even catch a glimpse of the mythical "zombie Miguel" that spends the night at HQ and only comes out of his office for coffee.

Or so you've heard from other Spiders.

You knock on the door once before entering.

"Miguel?" you say both in greeting and question. "I wanted to talk to you about my schedule; I've still yet to receive it and—"

"Leave."

You stop dead in your tracks. Once again, you've heard about the infamous "moody Miguel" but you've yet to encounter him.

"Did you hear what I said? Leave and I'll make sure that I get to it as soon as I can. I'm busy right now."

You look up and see Miguel focused on his screens, typing away.

A bit of relief flows through your body. Miguel isn't in a bad mood; he's focused. Probably doing something very tedious and imperative to the Multiverse's ensurance—

"(Y/N)?" Now Miguel has looked up from his screen and his eyes are on you, studying you intently. "You still didn't get your schedule yet? I've emailed that to you about a thousand times now."

"You have?" you frown, checking your watch. You haven’t gotten anything from him.

"Yes, is there something wrong with your watch?"

With a wave of Miguel's hand, the screens disappear.

"I don't know," you say, staring down at your wrist. "Maybe there's an update or two that I missed? Whatever it is, don't worry about it. If could please just tell me what I have assigned, I'll be out of your hair in two seconds."

"You can't leave," Miguel tells you with a sterness that makes your heart jump a little. He must see the fear in your eyes because he softens then explains, "I think that there's something wrong with your watch. You can't leave until I at least inspect it. Walking around with a damaged watch could have consequences that I think we would both like to not deal with. You can put on a day pass and chat with Lyla in the meantime."

"Are you sure?" you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm sure," Miguel says as Lyla silently flickers into existence, a day pass in her hand. "I know I told you to leave earlier but that was just because I thought that you were another Spider. I...I've been trying to avoid them all week."

"Is this about your..." you trail off, not wanting to breach the subject.

Miguel's eyes widen. He feels his heart rate pick up and his limbs freeze in place.

"It's okay, I don't know anything!" you quickly reassure him. "Not a single soul would tell me today! Not Peter, not Hobie—and believe you me, I tried to get them to."

A little smile creeps onto Miguel's face at that. Maybe some people can keep a secret.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter B. Parker is estatic. Proud. Elated. Overjoyed.

Over the past few weeks, you and Miguel have been spending more time together. And that could only mean one thing. That Miguel finally confessed his feelings for you and that you two were dating. Or at least seeing where things go.

And Peter couldn't be happier for the two of you.

Yes, he does miss having his best buddy (you, of course) to sit and devour cafeteria food with but he understands what it's like to be in that honeymoon phase with your partner where all you want to do is be around them.

He sees the way that Miguel smiles at you when you're not looking, how a look of absolute and utter softness overtakes his features each time he glances at you. Peter gets it. And he's happy to see his bestest pal in the whole Multiverse finally get the love that he deserves.

"Hey, Peter!" you call from down the hall.

"Well, well, well, look who it is," Peter crossed his arms and pops a hip to mimic a sassy pose. "You finally got a chance to come and visit me, eh?"

"Peter," you laugh, playfully swatting his shoulder. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you suddenly get a tall, handsome boyfriend and abandon me!" Peter huffs. "I haven't seen you in a week! I had to eat empanadas in the cafeteria by myself yesterday morning. Do you know how much of a sad, old lonely fool I looked like!?"

You can't help but giggle at Peter's dramatics.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Peter," you say. "How about we go and get lunch right now? Miguel and I are supposed to head out on a patrol later this afternoon and I need all the fuel that I can get; he goes so fast sometimes,"

"Ugh, you lovebirds sicken me."

You quirk an eyebrow at Peter. Does he actually think that you and Miguel are dating?

"Ha-ha Peter, very funny..." you deadpan. "Miguel and I aren't dating; we're just friends."

"You are!?!"

Why did he seem genuinely upset by that?

"Yes?" You give Peter a look of concern. Has he lost his marbles?

"Uh, (Y/N), you go to the cafeteria and grab us some food and seats. I'll be right back—I have to go do something."

Without further explanation, Peter rushes past you, giving you no time to question him further.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Lyla, what time is it?"Miguel asks.

Though he knows that the outing between you and him is not taking place until a couple of hours later, he knows that he has a tendency to get lost in his work and, before he knows it, the hours have slipped away like water.

It's why he normally prefers to go on patrols alone but you had insisted on coming, claiming that you wanted to explore other universes—especially the one that housed the Society—and, well, who was he to deny a Spider the opportunity to learn more? And you—his friend—no less?

Miguel takes in a deep breath, his chest growing tight and fuzzy as memories of you flood his mind.

He moves to go back to work when he hears the door of his laboratory slam open.

"Miguel!" Peter yells.

He sighs. This couldn't be good.

"You didn’t confess!?!"

Miguel freezes.

Mierda.

[reiderwriter]

This request is inspired by the season 1 finale when Elle and Morgan are on that tropical vacation:) could you do something where the team is somewhere like that for a case and after it’s closed they decide to stay another night and go to a club and the reader gets Spencer to dance with her and at first he’s really awkward but then they really get into it (can end however you want:))

A/N: I took this idea and RAN. When I tell you I was sitting furiously the entire way through this, I mean it 😭 thank you so much for requesting! 🥰

Warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, semi-public sex, Munch!Spencer, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex, cum play, alcohol consumption, slight masturbation (m).

The sun was bright and hot in Jamaica. You'd landed a week ago for a case which had now wrapped and were enjoying the cool breeze from the sea and the hospitality of Derek Morgan’s hotel-resort-owning friend. 

Travelling internationally was always a little bit tougher than working on the domestic cases, but the international team was spread thin, and somehow, no case had landed on your desk until this one did. Graciously, the FBI had let you have another 24 hours before your return. 

You'd spent the day stretching out in the sun, an incredibly large beach umbrella set up beside you housing Spencer Reid who had let you know early into the trip that he burned easily. 

“All I'm saying is, I've read enough papers on skin cancer to know the sun is a deadly laser.” 

“A twenty minute game of beach volleyball isn't going to kill you, kid. Come on, these ladies are waiting, and I will leave your ass here.” 

“Stop bothering him, Derek,” you defended Spencer, partly because Derek was casting a shadow across you and cutting off your sun, and partly because you didn't want to acknowledge the pit of jealousy bubbling up in your body when the women threw themselves at Spencer. “Besides, do you really want Spencer on your team for a physical sport?” 

“Y/N has a point, listen to Y/N,” Spencer whined, nodding profusely at your words. 

Derek held his hands up in defeat and walked away, wondering how long it would take the two of you to sort whatever attachment issues you had out. 

When the sun had eventually retreated, and you'd pulled the beach dress you'd bought earlier that day back on, Spencer was still at your side. 

“You know, I think you caught some sun, Spencer,” you giggled, running a hand across his now permanently rosy cheeks and feeling their warmth. “Your cheeks are so red. It's like a grandma just pinched them and held on.” 

“I told you I could look at the sun and burn, and we've been out here all day,” he grumbled, pouting slightly. 

You beamed up at him, though. You hadn't forced Spencer out. In fact, you'd been fully prepared for him to stay inside all day reading. But when he asked you your plans at breakfast, he'd asked to join you, and you hadn't protested in the slightest. 

Walking slowly back to the main part of your resort, you softly hummed the music that travelled from the outdoor beach bar. The music had been constant throughout the day, and you swayed your hips in time to the music as you walked. 

“Y/N…” Spencer started, a few paces behind you. You turned to look at him. His usual wardrobe wasn't exactly the most beach friendly attire, so you'd hunted down a pair of board shorts and a short sleeve button down when you'd bought your dress that morning. You thought they'd hang awkwardly off him, but he filled them out surprisingly well. As he spoke, though, you found yourself unconsciously moving forward to straighten a wrinkle in his shirt.

 “I think Rossi, Hotch, and Prentiss mentioned they were going to get drinks in the bar this evening. Do you want to go, too?” 

Your hand stilled on his chest, and you looked up at him. It was golden hour, and the sun had halo'd him perfectly in its dying rays, showing off its beauty one last time. 

You had to recapture the breath you'd hiccuped out when he'd held your gaze, willing your heartbeat to stay somewhat normal. 

“Oh, great! That sounds like fun, I was just thinking about how I wanted to dance.”

“I know,” he whispered softly as you turned away cheerfully. You almost didn't hear it, and though you desperately wanted to turn around and ask him why, you continued ahead toward the twinkling lights of the bar. 

Three hours later, you were in your cups. You'd worked hard on your case throughout the week, and now it was time for distraction. 

Besides, you knew that sun and alcohol weren't always the best pairing, so you'd stayed hydrated on the beach. Now the sun had gracefully set, you were happy to enjoy a glass or two of your liquid joy. 

Pulling Spencer Reid onto the dance floor in front of all your coworkers was just another symptom of your piña colada buzz, and he followed you with a small hesitation and a small laugh of protest. 

“Y/N, I can't dance.” 

“Shhhhhh, you don't have to dance, you just have to sway. Just sway.” 

“By my definition, swaying is dancing.” 

You rolled your eyes at him but pulled his hands around your waist always. Your coordination faltered, though, and you landed awkwardly high on your body. Without a care in the world for the trail of fire you were igniting down your back, you slid his hands lower, until his hands were sat nearer to your ass than your hips, and you stepped in. 

With his arms in position, you threw your own around his neck, and absent mindedly began playing with the curls at the base of his neck. 

“Now sway, Spencer.” 

His eyes locked with yours, and he obliged. Your chest had pressed up against his after all, your bodies practically flush, and now that you were moving in time to the music, it was inevitable that he should, too. 

Time travelled quickly as you stood in the glow of each other, laughing and joking about each clumsy step, each bump from other dancers. Your coworkers had each come up to wave a quick goodbye through the night, but you were still there. Still swaying. 

You were sure that his hands had travelled the length of your body, the heat that burned you from inside out having filled your body a millenia ago. 

He'd spun you out a couple times, and you'd giggled in delight at the motion, letting your dress raise and spin in the breeze, and returning to a closer position than before, more intimate somehow each time. 

The two of you were so lost in each other that by the time the DJ was shutting his system down, you hadn't even realised the music had stopped. You were now simply swaying along to the sound of the waves crashing in and out. 

“Y/N,” he finally whispered into your ear as the sun again began to show its head. “Y/N, the sun is coming up.” 

“I know. I think…. I think I don't want to let you go just yet, though.” You kept moving together in that silence for a few more minutes, but now your eyes were locked. 

It wasn't a surprise when his lips touched your own. After all, you'd seen them coming. But the jolt of electricity it sent up your spine stole your breath anyway. 

You opened your mouth to take in some air, and he saw that as welcoming. His tongue tangled with yours as his hand lifted to tip your head back, his back already bent slightly to accommodate your height difference. 

His guiding hand wasn't enough, though, he was still not close enough. 

You subtly lifted your leg and his hand instantly dropped to your thighs, hauling you up into his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

“Our flight is in six hours,” you panted as his lips left yours, suddenly sober again. “We should get some rest.” 

He nodded in agreement, but he was already walking back to your rooms. You each had your own, but he hadn't relinquished his hold on you yet, and you knew he wasn't going to. 

Good, you thought, because logic be damned but you weren't planning on letting him. 

He carried you like that all the way to his door, as you pressed chaste kisses across his face, head, ears, hair, anywhere you could reach on his body. Places you appreciated because they were beautiful and lovely. 

You longed to kiss everywhere else, too. 

“Y/N, we're here.” He said, meeting your eyes once more. There was an unspoken question there. An invitation to leave if you didn't want this. 

Your answer was a hand in his hair and hips pressed back against his. It was all he needed as he blindly pushed into the room. 

You thought he'd throw you down on the bed, but he was much too gentle for that. 

Instead, he sat himself down, taking care to make sure you were comfortable even as his tongue twisted and writhed against your own. 

With this new position, you could try to relieve some of the tension that had been burning in your body since you'd first pulled his hands to you. Your hips moved in slow circles, pressing down into the now obvious bulge in his pants, picking up speed with each caress of his hand. 

He'd pushed under the hem of your dress, his hands on your bare thighs gripping you tightly as you used his body to get off. 

You both moaned and whined through each wet kiss, the gentleness of your earlier encounters chaste in comparison with the animalistic need pulsing through yourself. 

You nearly growled when he lifted your hips again, but you let him continue his motions as he lay back, guiding your hips higher and higher until you straddled his face. 

“Shit, Spencer-” You lost the words as his fingers pulled the two ties holding your bikini bottoms in place, effectively discarding them and leaving you bare. You gasped as you held yourself above him, but he was strong and insistent.

Wrapping one hand around each of your splayed thighs, he pulled your core to his mouth and began to pleasure you. Your hands jolted to the headboard so you could steady yourself. 

Your dress still remained, spread across the bed and obscuring his face from view as he flicked his tongue against your clit, like a flower decorating the Emerald green sheets of the bed. 

“Spencer, fuck,” his hold on your thighs loosened now that he knee you weren't going anywhere, one hand sliding down to his own neglected cock. 

The looser grip meant you could move, just slightly, and so you began to ride his face. 

You moved your hips back and forth as he flattened out his tongue, and you heard the music that had carried you into the night start up again. 

Your moans were melodic, a tribute to your lust for him, an offering made to show him how truly desired he was. 

You came with a shudder, the full weight of your body falling down onto his tongue, but he didn't stop. 

His tongue started moving again now your hips had twitched to a stop, prolonging your orgasm by an eternity. 

You finally rose up on your knees when you felt a second orgasm begin to build, craving something different this time. 

He didn't come out from under your dress so much as rip the thing off of both of you. 

You'd already rid yourself of your bikini top earlier in the dar, so you sat bare above him as he pulled you again into his lap, his cock now free from his pants. 

Your lips came together again as you hovered over him, his length running through your folds, readying himself for the sweet moment he'd finally be inside you. 

“You taste sweet,” he said before you sucked on his tongue, desperate to taste your joint lust. 

The music played once again as he pulled your hips lower down and sheathed himself inside you, but louder, a crescendo of perfectly resonant notes sounding one after the other. 

You were too lost in it to be any help to him, and he kissed away your fatigue as he lowered you to the bed, gently placing your head on the pillow and smoothing the hair out of your face before pulling out until only the tip of his cock was inside you and again pushing in. 

His rhythm was steady, pulsing through your entire body. You felt the pleasure of his body inside you everywhere as his lips returned to your ear. 

You thought he would talk and say something again, but his teeth found you instead, his to gue licking the spot where your neck met your lobe before he gently nipped the side of your ear. 

He couldn't talk, but he didn't hold back any moans. 

Your whimpers, his groans, the steady rhythm of your hips meeting and pulling apart, the sound of your arousal slick between your legs, all joined together in a symphony of love as your hearts sang to one another. 

“Y/N,” he finally moaned, and hearing your name on his lips like a prayer was enough to send you over the edge. 

“Spencer! I'm cumming again, Spencer. Please don't stop-” You begged even as your body tensed up beneath him. 

He continued that rhythm, not letting your music end until it was absolutely necessary. 

But as the sun shone through the curtains again, you knew you were reaching the end of this song. 

“Where should-” he couldn't form the full question, elbows holding his weight off of you as he held back the full force of his orgasm. 

“P-Pull out,’ you whispered, and he did. 

It took him only a few strokes to find completion on your stomach. He sat back on his knees, mindful not to press his weight back down upon you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and grabbed at him anyway, needing to feel his lips on yours one more time. 

You wondered if your entire life would now be the moments in between his kisses. 

“Y/N, our flight is in 5 hours.” 

“We can sleep on the jet. We can't do this on the jet,” you said pulling his head back down for a kiss as you heard the music start up once again. 

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 204 }

of painful auras and cute boys.

university au

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

there was an incredibly cute student who was in your class, and you could not seem to look away from him. each time you attended your morning classes, you would take note of how diligent he remained, always sitting near the front row while writing / typing out his notes on his slender laptop.

you assumed that he was a freshman like you, since his presence was not quite known by the upperclassman-

however, that didn't stop students across all classes from admiring him. from what little you gathered about him, you knew that his name was sung jinwoo, and he had plans of pursuing a degree in criminology after completing the required general education courses for the first few semesters. and despite how boring these classes were, each and every one of the professors were pleasantly surprised at how much he excelled in each and every one of them.

by the end of the fall semester, jinwoo had already reached the dean's list at the college, earning quite a few envious glares from his peers (which unfortunately, included you as well). it was odd, but, through the classes that you shared with him, you became aware of how his drive to succeed seemed to be taken up to the next level.

even if it was mildly infuriating to you, at the same time, you found a great source of motivation in him. throughout your high school years, you managed to scrape by with average grades (making plenties of c's and b's here and there, with true a's coming once in a blue moon)-

but seeing how devoted jinwoo was to his studies made you want to change your outlook on your university life. after classes, you would usually catch sight of jinwoo settled within the library with his textbooks spread across the tables as his hands diligently scribbled some notes within the confines of his notebook. he never seemed to carry that typical laziness seen within most freshman students after experiencing their first few weeks of college-

and you greatly admired him for it.

so... using your crush role model as your sole inspiration, you began to change your study habits and did your best to work just as hard as jinwoo. you would find a quiet corner in the middle of the library, (making sure you kept a safe distance from said role model and motivation), as you began your studies for the day. your eyes would glance up at him every so often, using his focused expression as a means to further motivate and inspire you to work harder.

your session starts out normal enough, with you comparing your written lecture notes to what the textbook chapter says. but the more you kept reading your textbook, the more you slowly began to feel a slight ache taking over the forefront of your brain. you shut your eyes for a few minutes, counting down the seconds that make up a minute by tens before reopening your eyes-

only to realize that your vision had gotten considerably worse.

for some reason, your eyes could only see weblike illusions, further marring your vision as you let out a soft moan in response. due to what you knew was an aura hindering your vision, you could feel the familiar pulse against your temple coupled along with the wave of nausea.

the lights used to brighten the library suddenly became too bright, making it painful for you as your breathing slowly became labored. the pain felt all across your head just kept mounting, becoming even more excruciating as you let out a soft moan, trying to relieve the ache by massaging at your temples, but to no avail. you were completely rendered helpless from the severity of your migraine, uncertain of what to do as hot tears were felt spilling from your eyes.

"hey, are you okay?" a gentle and calm voice calls out to you, but you could only manage a tiny whimper in response.

"no... i'm not okay... i think i'm having a bad migraine right now."

you hear someone, (a young man), click his tongue in response to your admission and try to meet his gaze, only to have that same aura place what looked like a static filter across your eyes, keeping the boy's identity hidden from you.

you listen as he lets out a hum before gathering your textbooks and notebooks together, placing them all neatly inside of your backpack along with your pencil case. "come with me, i'll help you."

clinging to his arms, you try to walk beside him, only to run the side of your hips against one of the tables as it made you wince in response. a rich chuckle was heard close to your ear when a smooth voice tells you, "hang on tight."

not even bothering to wait for your reply, you found yourself picked up by this mystery boy, gasping as you tried to fight against the powerful vertigo that courses through you. "w-whoa! d-did you just pick me up?"

"i had to... i couldn't have such a vulnerable girl continue hurting herself when she clearly can't see." amusement was heard within the richness of his voice, and had you not been feeling so nauseated and sick, you would have protested against his playful words.

with your vision still ruined by such a powerful aura, you could only put your trust within this perfect stranger as he carried you out of the library and back onto campus grounds. with your eyes clenched shut to avoid the intensity of the sunlight, you felt him walking to a more secluded area, hearing the grass crunching beneath him with each step that he takes before settling you down beneath what felt like an oak tree.

the shadows provided by such large branches was enough to help ease the ache on your eyes. your savior ends up joining you, kneeling down close to you as you felt the way he brushes back your hair before gently massaging at your forehead. at first, his touch makes you let out a soft hiss in response, but the more he kept caressing at your head, the less pain you felt-

like he was purposely soothing your migraine away with his gentle touches.

your eyes go wide, finally seeing the way the static clears away from your vision as you came face to face with sung jinwoo himself. you begin to tremble at the mere sight of him, tilting your head slightly at how his eyes seemed to glow a faint purple while he kept his hands against your head.

he sees your gaze and the way your lips remain parted for him, smiling down at you before removing his hand from your forehead. "do you feel better now?" jinwoo asks you with a gentle smile, and seeing such a beautiful sight up close was enough to make your heart pound.

you gingerly touch at your forehead and temple, the searing headache finally gone along with the sense of nausea. your expression was a bewildered one, yet it was filled with gratitude when you thanked him.

"t-thank you. i feel... so much better now... h-how did you do that?"

jinwoo simply gives you a tender smile and a wink, "sorry, that's going to be a secret for now. can't have you knowing everything about me too soon... because how else are you going to keep chasing after me?"

his teasing words make you lose all of your senses, for not even a single, coherent word could come from your parted lips. as you were left practically gaping at him, jinwoo hums before standing back to his full height, placing both hands within the pocket of his jeans while looking down at you.

you remain silent, seeing the way jinwoo's gaze seemed to flicker with an unknown emotion before becoming darker-

as if he wanted to look within the very depths of your soul.

the sheer intensity of his gaze was enough to make a sudden heat rush to your cheeks in response. yet as soon as that intense expression appears within jinwoo's stormy grey eyes, it disappears the next moment. a gentle smile paints his handsome features when he offers a hand to you, "would you like to join me for some coffee? i feel like you deserve a treat after suffering from such a bad migraine."

you were still unable to speak, simply nodding at him as you placed your hand within his, allowing jinwoo to help you up. he grabs both his and yours respective backpacks with little complaint, simply keeping his fingertips interlocked with yours as he walked with you to the nearest cafe.

as he walks with you, jinwoo could see shadowy wisps dancing around him excitedly, speaking to him:

"ah, it is such a great honor to be in the presence of our queen once more... congratulations on finding her, my liege."

and despite how you were unaware of jinwoo's beloved soldiers talking amongst themselves, he could hear them perfectly while letting out a secretive smile in response, giving your hands a gentle squeeze as proof of the happiness that he felt at being able to find you in this lifetime.

a.n. - i am so sorry; i still have the worst block for jinwoo,,, but i hope you readers will enjoy this little drabble 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.