#without any odd lighting or angles

[starshower1215]

JeanMarco Summer Solstice | Day 2 | June 16th

A post-time skip Jean and Marco traditional drawing for the JeanMarco event hosted by @jeanmarcosolstice.

No prompt was chosen for this.

Things were supposed to be way darker, but by the time I had this one layer of pencil in, the side of my hand was practically black from smearing over what was already on the paper, lol.

[the-booty-crusader]

SVSSS Bingyuan AU idea (if someone adopts this I will make art please please I wanna see this written out so bad and I do not have the time or spoons for it)

Shen Yuan is transmigrated into the body of an unnamed NPC in what he believes to be PIDW. The System wished him good luck and blipped out of existence almost immediately. Shen Yuan, of course, immediately wants to start preparing to go out and explore the world and maybe go see the protagonist from afar, only for the latter to appear about 4 minutes after Shen Yuan opened his eyes.

Without much rhyme or reason he is immediately swept off his feet by the (unfairly handsome and somewhat frazzled-looking) protagonist and deposited into a room deep within Luo Binghe’s palace without much fanfare with the promise that he will be back soon.

Shen Yuan, of course, is deeply confused. Why is he here, why did the protagonist abduct him, was he going to kill him (not that he should have any reason to, unless this body belonged to someone who wronged Luo Binghe in the past… but then why would be be brought to these lovely chambers?)?!

He starts investigating the room and finds a bestiary filled with the most interesting beasts he’d always wanted to know more of. The illustrations are beautiful, the bestiary lovingly crafted. Something about it niggles at Shen Yuan’s brain, but he can’t put his finger on it.

He’s interrupted by Luo Binghe showing up with a tray of absolutely delicious-smelling food… strangely, it’s all of Shen Yuan’s absolute favorite dishes (and everything he wasn’t familiar with on the tray ended up being a new favorite which… was that just a coincidence?) and he enjoys them immensely.

Luo Binghe watches Shen Yuan closely as he eats and smiles when he finishes. “I’m glad to see A-Yuan’s tastes haven’t changed.” he says, and Shen Yuan barely has time to wonder how Binghe knew his name before they’re interrupted and Binghe is called away by some “important business” (which, from the look on Binghe’s face, will not end well for whoever disturbed him).

Shen Yuan continues exploring the rooms and finds a nook with the exact type and amount of pillows he likes, with natural light coming in from a northern angle— his favorite light to read in. The room smells like jasmine and books— Shen Yuan’s favorite scent. It was like someone had taking every one of Shen Yuan’s preferences and put them into a room.

It wasn’t until he spotted the bestiary again that it clicks; it’s written in his own handwriting. Those drawings look like what his own art might look like if he got more practice.

How could he have written a bestiary he’d never seen before? How did Binghe already know him? What was going on?

So what’s going on is that for years now, Binghe kept encountering individuals that helped him unconditionally, assisting him in his darkest times and making his life more bearable. A fellow street kid after Binghe’s mother died who gave him scraps of food and shared blankets with him, a Shizun on Qing Jing that protected him and gave him a safe place to grow up, a demon in the Abyss that told him all the best places to rest and where to get food and water, a Huan Hua disciple that told him the best ways to gain a foothold within the sect, a demon that advised him in his efforts to take over the Demon Realm.

All of them died protecting him. Some of them made it a few months, others a few years. It wasn’t until meeting Shen Yuan in the Abyss that he realized he had the same quirks and traits as that odd little boy, A-Yuan, who had sheltered him on the streets, and his Shizun, Shen Qingqiu. How odd that his name should be a combination of the two who were dearest to him save his mother. How odd that he shared their interest in stories and shared a ranting style and doted on him and were weak to his tears and… Binghe had realized that it must be the same soul, coming back for him.

But Shen Yuan never remembered his previous lives or deaths. He always seemed excited to meet Binghe, but there was no familiarity in the recognition in his eyes.

And he just. Kept. Dying.

Binghe was on his 18th meeting with Shen Yuan; it had been so many times now that he knew exactly what to do and how to find him. He wasted no time in getting him somewhere safe (finding him that one time, an hour after his last death, only to watch him get killed almost immediately after their encounter had traumatized Binghe, so now he made sure to immediately use the soul-tracking amulet he had been using for the last 12 incarnations) and immediately went to cook his beloved dinner. He was working on a way to get his memories from his previous incarnations back, because… how else was he supposed to cope?

——

So. Do you think a new instance of Shen Yuan is plopped into the world every time one dies? Is it the same soul, given a quick reset and spit-spine and put into another body? Let’s discuss this idea please I am obsessed, it haunts me. Let’s brainstorm

[killishin]

— ♡ my pretty neighbour.

PART 01.

PAIRING: jason todd x witch! reader

CONTENT WARNING: afab reader, blood, violence, alcohol, mention of assaults, more to be added.

CATEGORY: shit ton of fluff and sfw, maybe angst?

SUMMARY: a witch trying her best to lay low and live her life, while being out of every gothams vigilante's radar. turns out red hood had been her neighbour all along. also they have cute little pets.

WC: 4k

A/N: another jason fic yep. i didn't really have a solid idea but i just really wanted to write something so.... enjoy!

fic masterlist. next.

dividers by @cursed-carmine

gotham is filled with all kinds of criminals, masterminds, lunatics, druglords— you name it. each has done such horrible deeds that it has scarred hearts and souls of every innocent, each has a certain level of craziness in them that requires insane amount of intellect to even catch them. and despite the vigilantes giving their utmost best, everyday having to push themselves to think better, be faster... criminals still hide in those dark alleys, unbound and free.

so you can't really blame the protectors of the city, as they like to call themselves, to be cautious of every activity that goes on in the city. they are understandably hostile to superheroes who try to help, a bit too hostile sometimes in your opinion, but maybe the massive workload makes them snippy.

being a witch and living in gotham is a bit tough therefore, you not only have to hide your powers from the normal people but also from the vigilantes. you do not want to be evicted out of the only city where you can afford the rent, that too without any dignity since witches are sort of still discriminated by the myths and fake stories. still, its understandable, mankind has always been afraid of what they can't control or understand.

you had been ridiculously meticulous in your choice of residence, not like you had much choice to begin with. but you had scouted out the area as best as you could to your needs, and upon confirming that there wasn't much vigilante sighting in the neighborhood, you had finally settled.

a barista's salary didn't really help much, but you didn't really have much needs. your only goal was to live a drama free, quiet life where you could experiment with your little spells (harmless ones.. of course) and, the most important, provide for your little gentleman, alfred, a cute little doberman (he's huge). that was your goal, the ideal life you chased— should chase. but often a heart's desire overwhelm the logic of mind.

you have a penchant for getting into trouble. having promised to never get involved in anything that might shed light upon your existence, you strayed from that promise more often than not. all for good deeds, mostly.

"this is the third time this month. i have got to practice some self control." you sigh as you nudge the body of the man on the ground, groaning and coughing up blood. your brows furrow in mild annoyance as you kick his thigh this time.

"i didn't even use a strong spell! come on you wuss!" you softly groaned to yourself before sighing as you looked away for a moment, scratching your brow with your nail. the blood wasn't a problem, to be honest you wouldn't give a crap if he died. he was assaulting a sweet old man, punching him to death— you just had to step in.

...maybe you stepped in too much. now his arm is twisting at an odd angle, you were supposed to teach him a simple lesson. just give him some scare that'll scar him for life. now he got a bonus broken arm.

you've left one too many mens like that lying and crying, and it'll only be a matter of time before they lead those pesky vigilantes to your doorstep.

you put on a spell that altered his memory of your face, in case he saw it, before turning around to be on your merry way. but cue gotham weather's shitty timing, it starts pouring hard.

"mother nature you're really teasing me today..." you murmured sarcastically to yourself, yet sauntering off unbothered, rain never bothered you much anyway. you just hate how the clothes get all damp and clingy, weighing down your body.

by the time you reach your place you're visibly drenched to the bone, humming some tune under your breath, totally not seeing the man walking ahead of you. and so consequently you bump into his back, eyes widening for a moment as you stepped back with an apology right on your tongue.

but they die on your lips when you see the most brilliant bluish green eyes glance back at you, bitter and hostile. but you've always had a weak spot for pretty things, and when the man turns fully, you note he is the most prettiest man you've ever laid your eyes on.

you're far too lost in admiring him that you fail to notice the slight shift in his demeanor. after all, jason was already in a wretched mood and the next second he turns around to see an absolutely drenched women staring back at him. he isn't that easily fazed, your skin glistens, the damp and dripping hair clinging to the side of your face, that makes you look gorgeous but he's seen gorgeous. your eyes though— they seem unreal. feel unreal. there's just something otherworldly about it— ethereal even. and he's not among those to be poetic.

you realise you've been staring for a second too long and the silence becomes awkward real quick, you blink and step back with a polite smile. "sorry. i uh— wasn't looking where i was going." his brow raised slightly at your politeness, seemingly even more sweet due to your low and honeyed voice.

"no problem." he murmured casually, his voice even more grumpy and rougher than usual, a tough night and patrol hasn't even started. he then turned around and ascended the stairs, and so did you, lagging behind by two steps. you couldn't make the pretty man uncomfortable after all.

but he noticed you following him floor after floor, stopping right when he did at his floor before your steps softly followed behind him again. when he reached his door he turned around, and found you looking back at him with the same confusion.

"...hi neighbour?" you jokingly whispered with a hesitant smile but he didn't.

"how long have you been living here?" that came out more as an interrogative question than a confused one and it made your brows raise in amusement. this one's got a feisty side.

"a few months. wasn't aware anyone lived there." you replied back coolly with a smile that bordered serene yet sultry. his eyes dropped down to it for a small second, narrowing slightly as if the smile irritated him. it indeed irritated him because of the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight of it.

"I've lived here for more than a year. never seen you before." he retorted like he's insinuating an accusation and your lips pull to a slow grin.

"you're awfully stingy for a pretty neighbour." you remark, your nose scrunching up in fake disappointment as you unlock your door.

stingy?

"pretty? " he didn't know what of those words baffled him more, yet that was the one that had to come out of his mouth.

"and interrogative. are you in the gcpd or something?" you asked as you leaned your weight against your door which was slightly ajar.

"no. you're the one interrogating now." he scoffed quietly as he turned around, fetching his key out his pocket.

"seems like you don't know the difference between making conversation and interrogation." you lightly chuckle and thats when he realised its your voice thats the root of the irritation being caused in his already irritated mind. its irritatingly sweet and honeyed— addictive may be the right word.

"that's your version of making conversation?" he scowls as he opened his door and stepped inside while your grin widened, he finds your amusement at his expense really insulting.

"only with pretty, grumpy neighbours."

"and is that your way of flirting? cus its not effective."

"slow down, pretty boy. if you think this is flirting then clearly you haven't been properly flirted with before. how sad." if he can't handle your teasing, he'd be a downright mess when you actually flirt then. and those reddened embarrassed cheeks simply intensify the want to flirt with him.

he gives you one last scathing glare before shutting the door on your face. a chuckle quietly escapes your lips as you call out a loud "goodnight!" which you're probably sure he heard and frowned even more.

you step in your apartment and close the door, flicking on the candles with a swish of your hand. you could just switch on the lights but you secretly love the theatrics. a quick spell could dry you but a warm shower would probably help you more.

and it does help you, you're more relaxed and less tense. your muscles feels like mush just like your head. and yet, as you lay on your bed, your eyes are open wide and awake. you're a bit of an insomniac. its a bother and inconvenience but just like ever other nuisance in your life, you've gotten used to it.

just like always you get up, grab a grimoire and your reading glasses, learning a spell or two. it usually takes you more than an hour to understand and practice and most nights it ends up with something getting on fire or your own self. you suppose that's the fun part.

and again, like always, you get bored and lay back on your bed. this time the pretty neighbour occupies your mind, beauty aside, it is a question that you met him just today when he claims to have been living for a year. why didn't you bump into him before?

you hoped for no trouble, yet something tells you he'll make you be neck deep in one.

"again? " jason frowned as he dropped to the ground with a muted thump of his boots, not a noise at his landing, its like second nature to him.

"third this month." oracle spoke through the comms and jason crouched infront of the little blood that was splattered across the gritty pavement, the rain had washed off most of it yet some stayed, seeped into the earth like a taint.

"some random person reported it almost an hour ago and he was taken to get treated." oracle continued and jason scoffed sarcastically, "you're telling me the cops beat me to it? that's a first."

she simply rolled her eyes at that, "i checked his background. a typical small time thief, arrested quiet a few times for mugging and burglary."

he grunted as a response and looked around but nothing else was amiss. with a sigh he got up, "someone's doing our work here. unfortunately for us they're pretty good at it."

"not for long." Jason's brows furrowed a bit on reflex as bruce's voice came in, "they're bound to slip."

"they haven't for the last two month. maybe they might never." course he agreed with bruce, but where's the fun in agreeing?

"they will. and we have to catch them. they're a threat to the city—"

"times like these, wish i was deaf."

"what was that?"

Jason's not that worried about the mysterious person on the loose beating up criminals, he's sure they were probably in the act of committing a crime to deserve this. but bruce's worry has a point, they need to know who it is. not everyone's a protector. they may be saving right now, but is that all they're doing?

jason knows first-hand how times change, how fast people change. how deceiving time could be, how deceiving humans can be.

his mind is immediately pulled to you at that thought, someone who looks pretty harmless, eyes that are both innocent yet alluring like a siren's. you looked even more helpless and naive in your drenched form. yet all it took was for you to smile and that image shattered.

that smile was a warning in itself, an omen as if. innocence might be something of a past to you, your eyes held no fear, no apprehension. your smile was steady and dangerous, he's a man who has fought back death, rendered men almost lifeless with just his fist— and still his gut told him you were not to be taken lightly. harmless you might be, for now, but not innocent.

he returned back at his place at dawn, grunting and groaning at the sore muscles that ached here and there.

"at this point im gonna age faster than alfred." he murmured to himself with an almost pout. a quick shower and some television were supposed to really tire him out, but sleep escaped him. insomnia the trouble of yet another person.

and he doesn't really leave his place much, but today he felt like it. maybe a walk might help him. its still early so he doubts the streets to be that busy.

he really should have thought this through.

"hey pretty neighbour." he gave a deadpanned stare to that same amusing smile of yours.

"ooh you don't seem like a morning person." you pretend to frown, still locking your door before turning around with a wink, "i know you for less than twelve hours and we already have something in common. is this destiny's sign for something more? " you said dramatically, taking huge delight at his annoyance.

"no, but my headache's a perfect sign for nothing ever." he quietly snapped as he slammed his door shut a little too hard tugging on his hood over a bit before walking away.

"so you do have sarcasm." came your voice not too far behind him, but he knows you're not following him. he saw your clothes when he stepped out, formal and perfectly ironed for work. maybe it really was the rain that gave him the innocent illusion last night.

he sighed as he started descending the stairs, shaking his head as he immediately regretted his decision for this walk.

"you talk a lot." he called out and heard your quiet chuckle in response, "you talk too less." his steps became hurried and your grin simply widened.

"would you tell me your name if i ask you?" you asked him, your smile barely contained and he rolled his eyes, "think you already know the answer."

soon both of you stepped out on the pavement and you turned to face him with a teasing smile, "guess I'll just call you pretty neighbour then."

you waved at him goodbye before he could turn the other way, and yelled "bye pretty neighbour!" as loud as you could, making sure it'll turn heads.

his eyes widened for a moment before he glared at you in disbelief, then swiftly turned around to walk away from imminent embarrassment. maybe it was better if he never knew he had a neighbour next door, no matter how beautiful you are. he sighed to himself as your smile flashed in his mind, unfortunately you really were beautiful. damn you.

you loved your barista job, after all it involved brewing and you were, not to brag, quite the master at it. you kept your conversations with the customers at a minimal, there's no need to involve in idle chatter with them. your coworkers though are a bunch of sweethearts, mostly, so its never a headache working there.

but sometimes some assholes walk in, harassing the workers, some be rude to you about the order even when its made just like they want— but you do what you gotta do to survive.

when you're returning on your way back home, your mood's sour than usual. you don't have it in you to even smile. all anyone would want after a shitty day at job, is the damn bed. even if you can't sleep.

but, the world always tests you on your worst days.

you stop dead in your tracks just a few steps away from your unit, whose door is wide open by the way. your senses heightened and every spell on the tip of your tongue. you didn't have to worry about all your witchy things being stolen or affected since they're all safely locked in a cupboard bound by a spell, unseen by anyone other than you. your important things are also spell bound to your home so no thief can take them out of your apartment.

no, what you're worried about is alfred.

you peaked inside in your own home, the lights were on. you slowly pushed the door without making a sound, a little proud at the creaky door to not give you away today.

suddenly your eyes caught the top of someone's head peaking from behind your dining table— alfred's there too! your eyes widened and your brows furrowed into an angry glare.

"step the fuck away from alfred!" you extended your hand, about to cripple the hell out of whoever that is— but then you see your pretty neighbour straighten up fast and alfred perk up before rushing to you, all smiles and happy.

"woah woah chill— wait who??? " his initial shock subsided to one of pure confusion as he stood there with his hands raised.

ignoring him you crouched down to alfred's height, checking him for any injury because heaven knows if there is one, then that pretty neighbour might not leave the world very pretty—

"he's fine." he said as he slowly rounded the table before stopping short at the sight of your glare. it was... a change, different. he had the impression of you being as much of a nuisance as dick is, if not more. but right now all your eyes hold is hostility and distrust.

"i'll be the judge of that." you snapped at him before plastering a helpless smile for alfred who, suddenly, very surprising of him, trotted back to your neighbour. and you just stayed rooted to your position as your mind errored because what the fuck????

alfred barely ever lets anyone touch him. he had a difficult time when he was just a puppy in an abusive household. he only trusted two people, one is you and your best friend.

you look up at the neighbour with the same dumbfounded expression and for the first time he found it in himself to smile, it was a bit cocky but a smile nonetheless.

"you... what.. what did you do to him? and why the hell did you break into my apartment?" you questioned as you rose to your full height, regarding him suspiciously.

he gave you an unimpressed look at your immediate assumptions before sighing, "i was in my apartment when i heard him growling. loudly. then he started barking. turns out someone was lurking outside of your apartment."

"what?"

"yeah. he had already picked the lock actually, acted like he was opening the door and claimed that he lived there. if i hadn't met you last night, i might have been given him the benefit of doubt. when i confronted he said he was dating you. but i knew that was bullshit." he shrugged like it was no trouble.

you were a bit stunned. yes you thought of him pretty, maybe a nice man but you never expected him to be nice, you never expect anyone to be nice. the world had taught you time and time again that humanity is scarce and kindness is a luxury.

"oh." you murmured before lightly shaking your head, "oh that's— thank you. i- where's that man now?"

his lips slightly tugged up in amusement at your stunned look, feeling maybe a teensy bit of pride to wrong whatever misconception you had of him. "he lives two floors up actually. don't worry i made sure he will be kicked out."

"....thanks." you mumbled out before rubbing the side of your face, you hated being in the wrong, and awkward and embarrassing situations like this. how the hell did you miss an asshole like that? you thought you knew everyone from the apartment as a safety measure.

"i- um sorry i assumed and accused you." you took his words as final because alfred was literally sat near his feet. alfred's a great judge of character.

but this time he didn't scoff or smirk, instead there was a soft smile on his face. he understood your anger after all. "s alright. i understand i also have—"

you froze when you felt something brush by your feet, something very soft and— "meow."

you looked down and there it is, a very adorable, very extra soft siamese cat, who is now staring down alfred like he wronged all her ancestors.

you look up at him with raised brows and with a tired sigh he points at himself, confirming your assumption.

"sorry-"

"can i pet?" you asked softly, looking up at him with such hopeful eyes that all he could do was nod. you crouched down and approached the cat carefully, extending your hand. the cat inspected a little before rubbing against your hand.

"who's this beautiful little baby?" you mused, grinning wide as you scratched the cat.

"... miss pearl." he mumbled too quietly but you have good ears, and unlike how he expected you to laugh at that, you simply smiled in great approval.

upon remembering something his brows furrowed again, "um sorry what did you say his name was?" he pointed at alfred and you looked up at him with most proud smile. "alfred."

"huh." that's a really funny coincidence and a small laugh started spilling out his lips slowly. you looked up at him with furrowed brows, "what?"

"no. nothing. great name."

"are you making fun of him?"

"you really think i would?"

"...hm."

you got up finally and smiled at him, it didn't have that sultry undertone— just a smile.

"again, thank you." you said and he nodded suddenly finding his cat more interesting to look at, his ears reddening.

"uh your place. great aesthetic huh." he said, diverting the topic and you looked around. it didn't look that much like a typical witch's home, but there were too many candles everywhere that normally, normal people don't really have.

his eyes narrowed a bit as he smiled amusingly, he did find that... eccentric.

there was a beat of silence as you looked at candles at literally every flat surfaces.

"i just really like candles. they're scented." you said with the most convincing smile you could conjure up. he didn't buy it, but didn't question it either. gotham is filled with every sort of weird after all.

slave to your habit you still ran your eyes around your apartment, while he picked up miss pearl, but everything was at its place. you really gotta put a spell on the damn door now, the lock had already been weak.

he was almost in his unit before you called out behind him, "all this help and you still won't give me a proper introduction?" that teasing tone was back in your voice.

he sighed in exasperation as he turned around, but weirdly enough, to reasons unknown to him, his ears felt warm again.

"jason."

"jason.." you grinned wide and replied back with your name before winking at him. he simply gave a deadpanned stare before shutting his door.

he let pearl go from his arms, while staring off at a distance, his eyes a little hazy as his mind repeated the way you said his name. shaking his head he scoffed, you were nothing more than just a weird little neighbour.

come next morning he's about to head to bed when he heard a knock. his brows furrowed as he wondered who the hell is bothering him this early. but there was no one when he opened the door, nothing but a small little tin box on the floor with designs engraved on it.

he picked it up suspiciously before taking off the lid, in there were some... tea bags? there was also a note, in there was a little message written in neat words.

this helps with insomnia. its my personal favorite too. hope you do know how to brew some tea.

your pretty neighbour ;)

now he realises what exactly feels weird when he sees you, its his silly little heart.

reblogs are appreciated! :))

taglist: @deadbeatphobos @lettucel0ver @fixated29

[jaggedamethyst]

golden boy | jayce x female reader

1.7k words

content: fawk it, jayce making a damn vibrator with hextech…and suspending my disbelief that they even knew what that was and he legit created it idc!! walk with me girl!!!

18+ minors dni, angst, pathetic! jayce, kinda mean but closed off reader, pining (?), some fluff, smut duh, vibrator used on reader…also jayce is kinda a sarcastic mf here

notes: idk what came over me guys, but I feel like this could end up being longer than just a one shot bc the angst made its way in like usual. also jayce is a smartie pants, leave him alone guys.

update: part two is up now!

series masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He heard you before he saw you, your light saunter approaching him. Jayce had to immediately curse himself, because while he was rather smart, his reflexes were damn slow. He didn’t even think to cover his sketches before you were already close enough to crane your head over his shoulder.

A hand found his back, rubbing it encouragingly. “What ya workin on?”

Jayce was someone who loved to be affirmed. You both knew that. So before even registering the odd shapes you were looking at in his drawings, you wanted to let him know you were there and that any stress that lingered would soon dissipate. You were confused, then, when he rose quickly. He used his broad shoulders and back to block your view.

He smiled, clearly caught off guard. “Just some new stuff…you know…the mind never stops!” His cheeks soon blossomed with a rosy sheen across them. There was a sympathy in your gaze, but an even larger feeling of intrigue.

Jayce was easy to distract. As much as he loved to work on his creations and improving Hextech, he was also extremely needy. This often left him quite impressionable under your touch. Over the course of your relationship—which you would admit wasn’t actually a thing���you used this to your advantage.

You approached him slowly, an arm outstretched toward his face. He instinctively learned towards the palm of your hand. You intended to at least plant a kiss on his cheek, but he was a lost puppy these days. Just that action alone was enough for his body to relax into you. You had an opening. You slipped your hand behind him under the guise of stabilizing yourself on his workbench—grabbing a handful of the loose pages.

With a squeal you backed up, and spun around. “Wooooo what do we have here!”

“Wait-“ he turned between you and his work, “you tricked me?”

Holding the papers up toward the light to inspect them, you quirked a brow. “All in a days work, babe. Although…I don’t exactly know what I’m looking at here.”

Jayce was exasperated, how humiliating for you to have found these—even more that they weren’t even done. He was a scientist, after all. He needed time to finalize and test every possibility. He didn’t want to fight you for the papers—couldn’t really.

“Its just,” he sighed, “some stuff for you- or um, us?” He didn’t mean to sound like it was a question, a chance. It was definitive. He knew numbers and percentiles the same way he knew you. There was a desire there to be something more than just this. But he was entirely too passive to ever tell you. So he worked tirelessly at the only thing he knew you would show up and stay for. He didn’t mean for us to sound like a question, but it was.

You’d turned your back by then, the best angle of the sun shining towards your back and thus highlighting the drawings. Your intense gaze had faltered, your shoulders slumping. Like any other feeling you’d felt for Jayce in the last two years, you pushed it away—relying on humor as a shield. People are too fickle; you liked your independence and didn’t want to get hurt. Not again.

You ignored that feeling in your stomach that said to not be mean to him again, you knew he didn’t deserve it. You just couldn’t help it. Without acknowledging the weight of his statement, you continued, “what do they do?”

He senses your lack of focus, hastily snatching the pages from over your head. They quickly found their way back into a folder and cast aside.

“Well…its for,” his eyes purposely avoided yours. The ceiling was suddenly really amusing.

“Way to leave a girl hanging,” you scoffed, turning towards the door. “I just wanted to check in, but I will come back when I am wanted I guess.”

You didn’t take him seriously. That wasn’t new, but the feeling of wanting to do something about it was definitely a unique occurrence.

Before he could grasp what he wanted to say, the words flew from his lips. “Sit down.”

You stopped in your tracks, intrigued and slightly turned on by the firmness in his tone. “Scuse me?”

“You should sit…sit down. Over there.” He gestured towards a couch he’d made in his workshop. You complimented him on it once, knowing he’d made it just because he could. That was something you liked about him, undoubtedly. He had the capabilities to do so much more than he could even conceptualize and you wanted that for him. But the hopes for his future, rubs on his back, and longing gazes were too much for you.

Despite this, you were never one turn down a man like him finally standing up to you. You shrugged, “Sure, whatever…I’ll sit.”

“Good.”

The man turned quickly to retrieve one of the items he’d drawn in his sketches. This specific one was made with you in mind. It took so much dedication to perfect, but little effort to actually create, really. He’d think of your time together, the praise that would leave your lips each time he’d even breathe near your clit. The way your body would writhe against his. It was intoxicating. He figured something to make that even more special for you was due. But how could he just keep giving to someone who didn’t want to truly have him.

He wasn’t brainless. As much as he loved to hear it, being a good boy felt demeaning sometimes. He was a man, and he wanted you in a way you refused to see.

He’d show you.

“Take off your clothes.”

Jayce explained to you once that the body had red blood cells, that they carry oxygen. It confused you, now, because you were damn sure weren’t bleeding all over his chair and yet every single breath in your body was gone.

“What?”

“Clothes. Off.”

“In a I’m gonna experiment on you kind of way, or we’re gonna fuck kind of way because-“

“Both.”

You didn’t want to seem too eager, but damn you wished you had less pieces of clothing on right now. As you stripped, you were grateful then for the warmth of the forge. The sudden chill on your skin caused you to shiver. Jayce appeared suddenly, something in hand.

“I am actually not sure what to call this,” he showed you the object in the palm of his hand. It wasn’t very large, or maybe his hands made it seem smaller, you weren’t sure.

“Thats okay,” you leaned back on the couch, “show me.”

He was on you immediately, an eagerness on his lips you’d never felt from him before. You were usually the one in charge. So when he pushed you flat on your back, his clothes still on, you felt the difference. He’d swung his leg over you, now straddling you. You were too distracted by the kisses trailing over you to realize he’d reached between you two.

He made his way around your neck and toward your ear. “Let me know how this feels.”

You gasped, a vibration hitting your body unlike anything you’d felt before. Jayce was skilled in many ways but this was—wow. You met eyes with him, words struggling to form in your throat. Your brain seemed to have been empty, too.

He let the feeling pulse before slightly circling you, teasing you.

“So this, is what I have been working on.” He surveyed the way you gasped underneath him, looking into the distance. “Its not quite done yet, but I had to change some things here and there to make it better. Ya know, make it ergonomic, not too loud, stuff like that.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but all you managed was a frustrated groan. He was pissing you off. How could he be making you feel this good and talking like a fucking nerd right now.

“I also thought about sensation…what you like,” he smirked a bit. He was proud of himself. “Sometimes when you’ve had a particularly hard day, slow and deliberate does the trick, right?”

He continued to press into you, urging an answer from you. It was quite interesting how the tables seemed to turn but he didn’t complain. This is what he wanted—you helpless and confused under him while he ruined you for anyone else. He was tired of hearing how you couldn’t be tied down. Jayce Talis was no idiot, you were holding back.

“Isn’t that right sweet girl?” At the same time he questioned you, he’d raised the speed on you. A buck of your hips immediately after. “You don’t have to answer, I know.”

Sweet girl. He’d never said that before. The undertone of him trying to rile you up while simultaneously being his usual endearing self was too much. Your hands had found your face, a sudden embarrassment looming over you. That didn’t stop him.

“But, because I care about you feeling good, I added another feature.”

You felt the continuous sensation increase sporadically and then back down, chocking out a whine.

“Intuitive right?” He used a free hand to brush the hair from your collarbone, latching his lips there. He spoke into your skin, “Essentially, I used the Hextech to not only control the stimulation but to work at the users command with little effort.” He paused, wanting to see you. “So when I do this,” a surprised yelp from you, “or this, you really feel it.”

He’d never been more proud. You were often one to lead him, and he liked it. But now, with you here helpless, he couldn’t help but urge you on. He continued to ramble, speeding up to a pace he knew left you unraveling.

You couldn’t take it. It took everything in you to get the energy to yank his hair and finally speak, “Jayce-“

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“Can do,” and with that, he sucked down on your chest. He knew you’d loved that.

The entire ordeal felt like years when in fact, it had only been a few minutes since he started in on you.

“You go ahead and finish, I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t much longer before the heat in you exploded, a series of groans clawing its way from your vocal chords.

He’d continued to coax more from you, he felt he was owed as much.

Eventually sleep overtook you, the man recognizing the familiar lull that creeped up on you.

He spoke, mostly to himself, “we’ll talk later.”

You replied, to his surprise. “Sure thing, golden boy.”

part two

[cheriedivine]

𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 | chapter 2

previous | chapter 2 | next

꩜ Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem reader (no use of y/n)

꩜ CW: your usual swearing, mentions of smoking. (lmk if i missed any)

꩜ WC: 4.5K

꩜ A/N: I wanted to post chapter 2 before going back to school so here it is a little treat for y’all, and again tysm for the support on last chapter <3 I’m enjoying writing this so much and I’m building up the tension so bear with me…

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

The apartment was quiet, save for the distant hum of a city that never fully slept. Golden morning light seeped through the curtains, cutting soft lines across the couch where Ellie slowly blinked awake. Head foggy, mouth dry, and back a little stiff from the awkward angle she'd passed out in.

It took her a second to realize she wasn’t alone.

Your head was tucked against her shoulder, warm breath brushing lightly against her collarbone, your leg thrown halfway across hers like it had always belonged there. You were still asleep, face soft in the early light, hoodie slightly bunched at the shoulder. And Ellie, hungover and groggy as she was, couldn’t move. Wouldn’t dare to.

Something about the moment felt fragile, like shifting the wrong way might shatter whatever invisible thread tethered her to you right now. Her eyes wandered over your cheek, your lashes, the way your mouth parted slightly as you slept. She knew that mouth. Knew the way it twisted into grins when you teased her, the way it stretched wide when you laughed, the way it moved when you rambled about work or scolded her for bringing the camera right in your face.

But right now, it wasn’t moving. Right now, it was inches from her own, and that fact suddenly felt... louder than it should’ve.

She swallowed. Throat drier than ever.

You’d always been like this with her, touchy, close, the kind of best friends who shared beds, jackets, inside jokes laced with too much affection to be totally harmless. But this? Waking up to your weight tucked into her like you were something she could lose?

That was new, it scared her. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she was just too hungover.

Ellie exhaled slowly, shifting just enough to tilt her head back against the couch. Eyes to the ceiling. Trying not to think about the way her heart was beating a little faster than usual.

Trying not to think about how easy it would be to just… stay like this.

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to figure out how she could get up without waking you. Her mouth was dry, head pounding slightly. She needed water. And a cigarette. Badly.

But just as she was about to move, a pillow hit her square in the chest.

You stirred with a soft noise, blinking awake, clearly as confused as Ellie until your eyes landed on Jesse standing a few feet away, grinning like an idiot.

“Rise and shine!” he said way too cheerfully.

“I’m going to fucking kill you, dude,” Ellie groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she chucked the pillow back at him.

You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, your hair sticking up at odd angles from where you'd been slumped on Ellie’s shoulder all night.

“What time is it?” you mumbled through a yawn.

Ellie stumbled toward the coffee table and grabbed her phone. Dead. Of course.

“It’s past eleven,” Jesse answered before she could ask. “Dina went out to grab breakfast and told me to wake you two up. So… mission accomplished.”

You stretched out with a groan, the ache of the couch and last night’s twisted sleeping position settling in. Ellie made her way to the kitchen sink, filled a glass of water, and downed it in seconds. She filled it again, bringing it back to you without a word before digging around for her charger, and a cigarette.

Once her phone finally powered on, the screen lit up with a handful of missed calls from Joel.

“Shit,” she muttered, tapping to call him back. It barely rang before he picked up.

“The hell have you been? I got a weird ass call last night from some lady asking for ‘camera girl’? Care to explain?”

Ellie winced, blowing out the smoke. “Uh. Yeah. Okay. So… I may or may not have given a girl your number to blow her off because I didn’t know how to turn her down politely.”

“How about you stop being such a goddamn flirt? That’s a start,” Joel snapped. “Poor girl hung up the second she heard my voice.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, Joel. Won’t happen again,” she mumbled, hand scratching nervously at her neck.

You curled back up on the couch, watching her with a half lidded gaze and a smirk that said you’re never gonna let her live that down.

Ellie settled on the small chair beside you, still embarrassed of the small inconvenient with Cat, thank god she might never have to see her again. She tied up her converse, adjusting her pants, until she heard the doorbell ring.

“Open the door, my hands are full!” Dina yelled from the hallway.

Jesse scrambled to his feet like he was on fire. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, flinging the door open as Dina stepped in with two bags, one filled with takeout containers and the other with orange juice and what looked like three kinds of aspirin.

“God bless you,” Ellie said, sitting at the kitchen counter, hunched over like someone who’d just fought in a war.

“Did you seriously wake up and had a smoke?” Dina asked, eyeing her. “You look like a raccoon that got hit by a truck.”

Ellie flipped her off, too lazy to do it with any real heat.

You sat up slowly, hair a mess, still wrapped in one of Dina’s throw blankets like a burrito. “I feel like a raccoon that got hit by a truck,” you mumbled.

Dina laughed and dropped the food on the table. “Eat. Hydrate. Shut up.”

Everyone shuffled around the kitchen table, opening takeout containers and sorting through plastic forks. Jesse popped open a bottle of orange juice and poured out uneven glasses for everyone, passing them around like he was tending bar.

Ellie slid into the chair next to you, her thigh brushing yours under the table. Tangling her foot with yours, something she always did when sitting next to you. You didn’t move away.

“You okay?” she asked quietly, leaning in a little.

You turned to her, lips quirking. “You’re the one who had a pillow to the chest, I think you’re the victim here.”

She smiled. “True, but you looked like you were actually dead when I got up. Like, I was genuinely wondering if you stopped breathing on me.”

You chuckled. “And yet you didn’t check?”

“I was gonna. But then I remembered you snore when you’re alive, so I waited it out.”

You narrowed your eyes at her, biting into a piece of toast. “I don’t snore.”

“Oh you do. It’s kind of adorable, though.”

Before you could come up with a smartass reply, Dina dropped a small bottle of ibuprofen in front of each of you.

“No one’s allowed to move until they eat, hydrate, and take two of these,” she ordered. “Hangover brunch is sacred.”

You leaned your shoulder into Ellie’s for a second, subtle, but she noticed. And she didn’t lean away.

After brunch wound down and everyone (Jesse) had gone home, Ellie offered to drive you back. You agreed, like she had any other choice anyway, but the plan shifted before you even made it out of the parking lot.

“Mind if we make a quick stop at the studio?” she asked, one hand on the wheel, the other lazily draped out the window. “Need to download the shots from yesterday’s shoot before I forget.”

You glanced at her, the curve of her jaw catching the light. “You mean the shoot where that one bridesmaid almost cried because the wind ruined her updo?”

Ellie snorted. “Yeah. That one.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, kicking your feet up on the dashboard like you always did in her truck. “Only if you let me judge your editing process.”

“Oh, I will lock you out of the studio.”

“Rude.”

The car ride was quiet, in that easy, comfortable way you’d both settled since you met. The streets were mostly empty, Saturday afternoon lull in full effect. You watched the buildings blur past, music humming low through the speakers, some soft indie song from a playlist Ellie always had running but never let you see.

“So…” you started, moving a piece of her away from your face. “You sleep okay?”

She glanced over at you, raising a brow. “With you practically cutting off circulation in my arm? Like a baby.”

Ellie smirked, eyes still on the road. “You drooled on me.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did. I was gonna get up for water but I thought you might go feral if I moved.”

“Wow. What a gentleman.”

“Right? I deserve a medal.”

You chuckled, biting back a smile. There was something about being in her truck like this that always made the world feel smaller. Calmer. Safer.

Eventually, she pulled into the tiny parking lot behind her studio, a little second floor space tucked between a florist and an out of business vape shop. She hopped out, locking the doors with a chirp, and tossed you the keys.

“In case some creep tries to break in, you can beat them with my keychain,” she joked.

You followed her upstairs, the steps creaking beneath your feet.

The studio smelled like citrus and dried eucalyptus. Ellie’s signature, apparently. It was scattered with gear, lighting rigs, camera lenses, and one stubborn plant that refused to die.

She had a small thrifted green couch where you often took naps after work, when she would come and pick you up. Her guitar was displayed on the wall in a hardwood frame Joel made for her, and her workspace was filled with film rolls, camera lenses, and her laptop. The walls were decorated with a bunch of her favorite pictures, a picture of Joel, the farm where she grew up with him, her horse shimmer, and a picture of you, that she had taken when you went to the museum with her.

She moved through the place like second nature, flicking on lights, booting up her laptop, connecting her camera to transfer the files. You perched on the arm of the couch, watching her with a soft kind of curiosity.

“So,” you said, “this was all just an excuse to hang out more, wasn’t it?”

Ellie looked up from her screen, caught. She tried to play it cool, that lazy smirk tugging at her lips. “What gave me away?”

You shrugged. “You never download photos the same day.”

“Touché.”

You swung your legs up onto the couch, leaning back into the cushions like you owned the place.

“I mean,” you said, “I don’t mind. Your studio has better lighting than my soul.”

Ellie snorted. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She let the silence settle again as she worked, but every now and then, she glanced up, just to look at you. Even if she didn’t know what it meant yet, she felt it. That pull.

That something.

You snuck a glance at the screen while Ellie scrolled through the photos. Her hands moved with practiced ease, eyes focused, posture relaxed but precise. It hit you again how talented she really was. She didn’t just take photos, she captured moments so beautifully throughout her lense, froze them in time, and made everything look so magical, straight out of a renaissance painting.

Then you saw her.

A girl in one of the shots—black hair styled in a sharp bob, delicate features, almond eyes that seemed to hold secrets. Effortless beauty. You nearly choked on your own spit.

“Who’s that?” you asked, pointing at the screen before you could stop yourself.

“Oh,” Ellie said casually, not even glancing up. “That’s Cat. The one who almost got me disowned by Joel.”

You blinked. “That’s her?”

“Mmhm.”

“She’s… beautiful.” You meant it, but the words felt sour in your mouth. Something twisted in your stomach. An odd, sour pang. Like the idea of Ellie flirting with someone like that made you queasy. Which was ridiculous. She was your best friend.

“Yeah,” Ellie said, scrolling past the photo. “Not my type though.”

You turned your head toward her, brow raised. “Since when do you have a type?”

She looked at you with a smirk, one eyebrow cocked. “Since when do you care, huh?”

You huffed and smacked her with the nearest throw pillow.

“Jesus—what is it with you people and violence today?” she laughed, shielding herself with both arms.

You grinned, flopping back into the couch beside her, sitting cross legged. Your knee pressed lightly against her thigh, grounding you both in that familiar proximity that had always been so easy.

Ellie leaned back into her laptop, brows furrowed again in that intense little way she got when she was editing. Tongue poking out the side of her mouth. You’d seen her make that same face a thousand times over the last year and a half, but now, for some reason, it made your heart beat a little faster.

And you hated how much you noticed it.

You let the silence settle for a moment, the glow of her laptop casting soft light over her features. Green eyes glowing. You were trying very hard not to keep sneaking glances.

“Do you ever get tired of weddings?” you said, breaking the quiet,

Ellie snorted, eyes still on the screen. “Absolutely. I mean, I like the photos, yeah, but it’s always the same. Crying moms, drunk uncles, forced dancing.”

You smirked. “Sounds like a Tuesday at Dina’s.”

“Exactly. At least I don’t have to wear a dress to Dina’s,” she muttered, grimacing.

You laughed. “I’d pay money to see that.”

She turned to look at you then, finally tearing her gaze from the laptop. “That right?”

“Yup. I’d print it out. Frame it. Maybe even make a shrine.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Remind me to never let you near my old Halloween photos.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, leaning in. “You’ve worn one before?!”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Ellie.”

She grinned, leaning back on her hands. “Let’s just say… middle school was a weird time.”

You looked at her like you were staring at a ghost. “You absolutely have to show me now.”

“Fuck no.”

“I’ll find them.”

“You won’t.”

“I’ll text Joel”

“I’’ll tell him to block you, say you got hacked, his old ass would buy it”

But she was laughing, and that tight coil in your chest eased a little. But yet, something still buzzed beneath it all—unspoken, unnamed, just waiting for the moment one of you accidentally said too much.

An hour passed by, maybe more. Two half finished mugs of peppermint tea sat lukewarm on the small coffee table in front of the couch, the steam ong gone. Ellie had wrapped up editing the pictures a little while ago, but neither of you had moved. Conversation came easy and meandering like it always was when it was just the two of you. Your legs were lazily stretched across hers, while you rambled about something she couldn’t really keep up with. Not because she didn’t care, but because she was too distracted by you. The way your face looked soft in the tiny rays of sun that bleed through her window, your eyes relaxed, hair still undone and messy, lips moving freely. The calm way you existed beside her.

Then your phone buzzed across the table.

“Ugh,” you groaned, reaching for it without moving your legs. Ellie helped nudge it closer to you with her foot.

It was your roommate, Sally. A quick phone call to remind you it was your turn to buy groceries. She was off to see her boyfriend for the rest of the weekend, and had conveniently left the fridge empty.

“God, I hate grocery shopping,” you muttered, thinking about the long lines to the cashier, the blinding fluorescent lights, and carrying the bags back to your apartment. It wasn’t a task for the weak that’s for sure.

Ellie chuckled. “I can come with you, if you want.”

You blinked, “Wait really? I don’t wanna bother you.”

“Yeah I’ll drive.. Besides I could use some cereal and actual food for me” she shrugged, like it was no big deal “We can suffer in the cashier line together.”

You smiled, a soft kind of grateful. “Els you are an actual angel. You sure you’ve got nothing better to do than listen to me complain about the price of eggs?”

“Sounds like the perfect saturday plan” She said, standing up and stretching her arms above her head, her shirt riding up slightly. Your eyes drifting a second too long at the exposed skin.

You shook your head, snapping out of it, standing too “Alright then, grab your keys. But can we stop at my place first? I need to get more cash, change my shirt, and definitely brush my teeth. I feel disgusting.”

Ellie grinned. “Yeah, wouldn’t want you showing up to the grocery store smelling like peppermint tea and moral decay”

“Oh shut up,” you laughed, tossing a cushion at her chest. She caught it with ease and added, “Okay okay let’s go stinky.”

When you arrived, Ellie parked out front like she’d done a hundred times before.

“Be right back,” you said, hopping out and unlocking the front door, luckily for you your apartment was on the first floor. “Wanna come in?”

Ellie hesitated for half a second before killing the engine and stepping out. “Sure. I’ll make sure you don’t get distracted by your phone again.”

You laughed as she followed you inside. Your apartment was cozy, very clean and tidy, with the exception of your little cluttered corner with books, cd’s and vinyls. You headed towards your room, while Ellie drifted to the small kitchen counter, settling herself on the wooden stool. Eyes wandering toward the shelves that contained some framed pictures of you and your roommate and half-burnt candles, she fidgeted with the hem of her jacket. Eyes anywhere but your bedroom door.

Her mind started divagating to yesterday’s incident. Suddenly a wave of shame crashing into her, how could she possibly look at you that way? But the way you’d been tucked against her side like it was the most natural thing in the world, it was natural. It was how you were with her, always close, always touchy. That was the problem. You’d always touch her like that, leaning on her, throwing your legs over hers, calling her your best friend while curling into her like she was the safest fucking place you’d ever known. ‘Fuck. Nope, I can’t do this.’ She thought to herself.

And now here she was, sitting stiffly like an idiot while you were changing your shirt in the other room. She could hear the faint sound of drawers opening, a closet creaking, and her mind was absolutely betraying her.

She reached for a glass and filled it with water, just to give her hands something to do. Stupid. She felt stupid.

In your room, you peeled off your hoodie and tossed it in the laundry basket, grabbing a freshly washed tank top that paired perfectly with the light grey sweatpants you were wearing. You ran to the bathroom to brush your teeth quickly, spitting out the foam with a groan.

“Ellie?” you called from the hallway, “you still there?”

“Yeah! just having a glass of water” she replied, trying to keep her tone casual.

You stepped out of the bathroom finally, fresh shirt on, hair quickly finger combed back into place. You looked at her and smiled, oblivious to the mess in her head.

“Alright, ready to go?”

Ellie slid off the kitchen counter, grabbing her keys from her little carabiner. “Yup”.

She made a beeline towards the door, holding it open for you, and for a second you felt that same warmth settle between you. Charged in a way you’d spent a long time ignoring.

The grocery store wasn’t as crowded as you’d imagined, but the cold air made you grumble under your breath the moment you walked in, suddenly regretting your shirt choice. Ellie grabbed a cart without you asking, which made you grin, and you tossed your bag inside before taking the front, lazily pushing it while she trailed beside you.

You moved slowly through the aisles, grabbing the things from your shopping list, fruit, snacks, your favorite cereal, and bitching about prices.

“Three dollars for a fucking cucumber,?” you muttered, tossing it into the produce bag. “What’s it made of? Gold?”

Ellie smirked. “Maybe it comes with a motivational speech.”

You turned to her with a deadpan stare. “Remind me why you’re here?”

“Because you begged me to come.” she said leaning onto the cart with a lazy grin.

“Oh is that right?” you teased, tossing a box of granola bars into the cart “You basically threw yourself at me.”

She hummed, clearly entertained, not bothering to hide how much she liked poking at you.

There was something about the two of you in this mundane setting. like everything slowed down. Her jacket sleeves pushed up slightly, peeking at the moth tattoo on her forearm. Rings catching under the aisle lights as she tapped them gently against the cart handle. The way her eyes followed you when you weren’t looking, like she couldn’t help herself.

At one point, you reached for something on a high shelf, standing in your tiptoes, fingers brushing the edge of a box of instant coffee, and just when you were about to call Ellie for help, she was already grabbing the coffee box, your faces inches away from the other, you could feel your cheeks heat up, hoping Ellie couldn’t notice it.

“Tragic how much you need me, she teased, you could feel her breath on your cheek, but you wouldn’t let her get away with it.

“Tragic how your ego fits in this aisle.”

The bickering faded into easy silence after a bit, your bodies moving in rhythm around each other. You picked out yogurt while Ellie grabbed frozen berries. She waited while you scanned your list twice, walking slowly behind you, close enough to graze your shoulder every now and then.

Eventually, with a full cart and your stomachs starting to rumble, you headed to the checkout line.

“Dinner at your place?” she asked casually.

You paused, glancing at her. “You staying the whole day or what?”

She shrugged, lips pulling up. “You want me to?”

You didn’t answer right away. Just turned to face forward in line, hiding the heat on your cheeks with a small smirk.

“You already know the answer.”

Ellie smiled to herself, the kind that never quite reached her mouth but burned in her eyes.

She was in deep shit.

Back at your place, the groceries were dumped on the kitchen counter, brown paper bags scattered messily. Ellie kicked off her shoes near the door, already familiar with the routine. You tied up your hair, a few pieces falling out, framing your face naturally, relaxed. Ellie turned on the tiny speaker in the corner, playing some mellow playlist in the background.

She lingered near the stove, watching you unload the bags like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Leaning lazily there, arms crossed, eye following you every move. She’d blame it on the hangover if you asked.

“You making that thing with the mushrooms?” she spoke up, nodding toward the bag of veggies.

You grinned. “You say that like it’s not your favorite.”

She tilted her head, looking pleased. “It is. That’s why I asked.”

You got to work, chopping up some onions and garlic, slicing the mushrooms and chicken breast, working at the diner for the past two years had actually rubbed on you, you were a great cook. Ellie pulled herself together enough to start the pasta water. You worked on sync without thinking—passing spices back and forth, bumping elbows, making dumb comments whether the sauce needed more salt.

It felt… easy. Like something you’d done a hundred times before. And maybe you haf.

Dinner was ready before either of you noticed, You plated it quickly, Ellie’s favorite creamy chicken mushroom pasta, handing her a bowl without even asking how much she wanted, because you already knew.

You both sat on the couch, the coffee table your makeshift dining space. Her knees brushed yours. You put on a show, one that you and Ellie had already watched a hundred times, but it eventually became background noise. Neither of you really paying attention to it.

Midway through dinner, you glanced over and caught her already looking at you.

“What?” you asked, blinking at her. “Do I have something on my face?”

Ellie tilted her head, pretending to examine you. “It’s just—” She leaned in, reaching up with her hand, and gently wiped something from the corner of your mouth with her thumb. “—There,” she said softly, not breaking eye contact for even a second.

Then she pulled her hand away and before you could react—licked the sauce off her finger.

Your brain short circuited.

She returned to her plate like nothing had happened, completely oblivious to the way you stared at her, stunned into stillness. She was chewing quietly, legs folded beneath her on the couch, her hair falling slightly over her eyes as she focused on her food.

Ellie’s heart, however, was going ballistic. What the fuck was that? she thought, eyes glued to her food to avoid looking at you again. She’d just licked sauce off her finger like this was some rom-com dinner date instead of a casual best friends hangout. Her face was burning, but thankfully the soft flicker of the TV and warm glow of the candles you’d lit disguised the flush on her cheeks.

You turned your attention back to the screen in silence, bowl resting in your lap, the warmth of it grounding you just enough to pretend nothing happened. You hit play on the next episode, leaned back into the couch, your knees still lightly brushing hers. You didn’t pull away.

Neither did she.

Your heart was pounding. Loud. Distracting. What is wrong with me? you whispered, only to yourself.

Minutes passed. Comfortable silence again, with occasional comments on the show and the soft clink of utensils against ceramic bowls. But something had shifted, something small, but very real, lingering between you both like static.

Eventually, Ellie glanced at her phone, then at the window. It was dark, and late.

“I should probably head out,” she said, voice a little softer than before.

You looked over at her, nodding slowly. “Shit. I didn’t even realize the time.”

Neither of you moved for a second.

She stood first, gathering your empty plates without being asked and taking them into the kitchen. You followed behind, hands in the pockets of your sweatpants, watching as she rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the sink.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, drying her hands on a dish towel. You smiled, a little shy now.

“Thanks for coming grocery shopping with me.”

Ellie laughed under her breath, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Text me when you get home?” you asked, more gently.

She looked at you, her eyes soft. “Always.”

You walked her to the door, shoulder brushing hers, both of you pretending not to notice. She stepped out into the hallway, turned to face you again for a brief second, like she might say something more.

But then she just gave you a small, lopsided smile.

“Night, stinky.”

“Night, Els.”

You closed the door behind her and leaned your forehead against it for a moment, exhaling.

God, you were so screwed.

୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧─── ⋆୨୧⋆ ───୨୧

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[asaarii]

ft: mohawk!mark (invincible) reader: fem wc: 1486 summary: in which mark is down bad for a punk!reader requested by: @qxuanii

i hope you enjoy reading this bc i enjoyed writing it!! hopefully the characters aren't too out of character lol...(praying bc I will start chewing rocks if nobody reads this)

also for some reason i can't spell mohawk for the life of me (I keep spelling mowhawk)

He was a goner from the moment he laid eyes on you.

The first time Mark lays eyes on you, he’s just started junior year and is already in detention for allowing his temper to get the best of him despite being only two weeks into the school year. In all honesty, the loser had it coming with how much he kept bugging Mark. About what exactly…eh, the details don’t really matter in the grand scheme of things, y’know? Though, he supposes he could’ve held his punch a little better.

You know, developing powers and all that dumb shit his mom keeps yapping about.

Your eyes flicker from your phone onto him with a cocked, pierced brow, and Mark hates the way his heart skips a beat as your curious gaze bores into him. He holds your stare with narrowed eyes, taking in the odd style of your hair and relaxed posture, your legs kicked up haphazardly onto the back of the desk in front of yours. Despite your less-than-conventional appearance, you smile at him. It’s small and half-hearted, but it’s a smile nonetheless.

He clicks his tongue, breaking your gaze and taking the desk furthest from you in the far corner of the classroom before slouching in the uncomfortable plastic seat. The dim light of his phone illuminates his face as he sends a quick text to his mom after her thirteenth message asking where he was. It shuts off with a click, leaving him staring at his cracked reflection in his screen protector.

A moment passes and Mark ultimately decides to take a nap, his back bending awkwardly to accommodate the low angle of the desk while the edge of it presses against his sternum.

Then, he hears it, the faint notes of a Green Day song reverberating through his sensitive ears, unheard by the snoring teacher slumped at the front desk. The source? None other than you, who continues to scroll on your phone, oblivious to the ire you’ve evoked from the half-blooded Viltrumite.

Rummaging through his bag, he pulls out a syllabus he didn’t care enough to get signed, crumpling it before throwing it at the back of your head. You make a strangled sound upon contact, confusion evident in your gaze as you whip your head to him fast enough that Mark’s sure you’ve given yourself whiplash.

“What the hell, man?” You struggle to keep your voice low as your eyes narrow at him and you finally pause your music.

He gestures vaguely to your headphones, but before you can respond a loud snore interrupts whatever you’d planned to say. You turn to the teacher, observing the steady rise and fall of his shoulders before glancing back to Mark. Without another word, you gather your bag and simply walk out of the classroom.

He doesn’t know what compels him, but Mark follows you out of the classroom, bag thrown lazily over his shoulder as he trails behind you. The school is quiet with no clubs or sports teams active this early on in the year, making his loud steps all the more apparent as he falls in step beside you.

You spare him a glance from the corner of your eye, blinking at him from beneath your heavy liner and thick lashes. “There a reason you’re following me, weirdo?”

You’re one to talk, he thinks to himself cynically, but he only responds with a shrug, the simple action making his toned shoulders all the more apparent beneath his baggy shirt. You turn away with a small click of your tongue, unwanting to entertain the admittedly handsome stranger any longer.

“What did you get detention for,” he suddenly asks and you stop in your tracks, turning to him for what feels like the eightieth time in the last twenty minutes. He’s smirking curiously at you and you catch a glimpse of a frog eye piercing when he darts his tongue out to lick his dried lips.

Your lip lifts slightly as you breathe out a small laugh through your nose. “Just some vandalism. You?”

Mark whistles lowly, his wolfish smirk widening as he invades your personal bubble. “Have you heard what happened to good ol’ Jerry?”

Recognition flickers across your face before your eyes widen. “Dude, no way. You’re Grayson?”

“One and fuckin’ only, baby.”

You’re quick to grow as one of Mark’s favorite sights, with him finding a rather odd sense of comfort when his gaze finds your leather-clad shoulders, spiked cuffs often glinting in the sunlight. He would have you, he was sure of it. Because Mark was nothing if not dedicated, as you would soon come to learn.

“I heard Grayson’s been keeping tabs on you,” one of your friends snorts, jutting her chin in the direction of none other than Mark himself, who looks rather disinterested in the conversation he’s currently having with Samantha Eve Wilkins, the school’s resident golden girl.

You spare them a glance, momentarily taking your eyes off your compact mirror. As if sensing your gaze, Mark turns to you, a familiar grin pulling at his lips, raising his hand in a lazy wave. You scoff, rolling your eyes before returning your focus to fixing your eyeliner.

“Come on,” she goads, nudging your shoulder, “I bet he’d be pretty cute with a mohawk.” She takes note of the way your expression seems to glaze over; your eyes inadvertently traveling to the dark-haired boy who’s now laughing as he kicks some random kid into a locker, much to the dismay of Samantha, who watches on with a frown.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re totally into that.” Her voice lilts teasingly and you scoff again.

You turn to her with a piercing glare, your lip pulled into a snarl as you push her away from you. “Fuck off. I couldn’t care less what Mark does with his stupid ass hair.” Taking her by the arm, you proceed to drag her down the hall, mumbling something about practicing for a concert that your friend only laughs off.

In your haste to leave, you don’t see Mark turn in your direction knowingly, only for his expression to fall when someone continues to drone on in his ear about his duties as a budding hero or some other stupid shit.

“Mark, I’m being serious—”

“Oh my god, do you ever just shut the fuck up? Of course, I know you’re being serious, dipshit,” he laughs sardonically, shoving his way past the seething redhead as he bats his lashes sarcastically and pretends to cry. “Wahh! The Guardians can’t have me around for their wittwe tea pawties—well, tough shit, because I’ve got my own things to deal with.”

The second he’s outside of the school, he takes off flying, ignoring the angered yells thrown his way by Samantha with a roll of his eyes. He’s got plans, and a team meeting with the Guardians sure as hell isn’t as important as impressing you, that’s for sure.

When he lands, he’s immediately reprimanded by his mother for being so rash with his powers, but he doesn’t even acknowledge her. Instead, he merely rolls his neck before locking himself in the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for him to find Nolan’s electric razor. Around thirty minutes and three YouTube tutorials later, he’s admiring his handiwork in the extensive mirror. He does admit, his head feels a little cold, but the more he strokes the sides, the more assurance he builds.

Yeah, he looks hot as hell.

He cleans up the mess of fallen hair because as much as he likes to bitch and moan, he’s not a complete monster. The only thing on his mind as he sweeps is the cute look he’s sure you’ll have on your face that contrasts the rest of your look.

The rest of his night goes by in a blur, his emotions high despite the horrified gasp of his mother when he sauntered into the dining room for dinner. She held her tongue, much to his relief.

Come morning he was practically grinning like an idiot by the time he caught sight of you lingering just outside of the school. He calls out your name as he approaches, taking the time to admire how well your leather pants clung to your form, the attached chains clinking as you turn to face him. Your makeup is different—of course, he notices, what do you take him for, an idiot? Your liner is still bold, swirled with a design only a practiced hand could procure, but what draws him in is the dark shade of lipstick you’ve decided on today.

“What is it, Mark—”

His gaze is almost predatory with how intensely he watches your lips part at the sight of him, ears catching the slight hitch in your breath and the rapid increase in your heart rate.

Now he’s got you right where he wants you.

Hook.

Line.

And sinker.

©asarii 2025 — do not copy, steal, repost, or translate any of my works on tumblr or any other site or run my works through ai

[abysful]

Tread carefully

Contains: Plot, Friends to Fuck buddies, Mentions of Masturbation, Smut (not-so-dry humping, blow job, p in v)

Summary: You love summer more than most, yet swimming has never been your strong suit beyond a survival doggy paddle. But one quiet summer night, your friend Chris teaches you a few tricks, in and out of the water.

Word count: 5k

There was nothing that riled you up more than when your three best friends claimed to “hate” summer. You reminded them time and time again how amazing it was to be surrounded by bright green grass and beautiful flowers, and how all it takes when you feel the heat bundle you up a bit too tight, is a carefree dip in a cooling chlorine filled pool. The complaints of how sticky and humid the air gets during summer seem to quiet down to silence when summer finally arrives and everyone’s skin is sun kissed and warm, when music and laughter accompanies a bonfire, and when all of your friends are happier and lighter.

“T’s sweaty and fucking gross” Nick starts, reminded of his hatred for the season when a headline of summers first day being a week away, pops up on his Instagram feed.

You look at Matt and Chris waiting for either of them to swoop in and defend your favourite time of year but you quickly realize you’re on your own.

“Let’s not get disrespectful” you play around, trying to stop yourself from getting in a unserious but low-key serious debate with Nick.

Nick looks at you unamused “I literally don’t fucking believe you when you say summers your favourite season… you aren’t even from LA. There’s mosquitoes and allergies and fucking sunburn.” he exclaims.

The friendly banter goes on through the night, regardless of the activity, only stopping when you’re all asleep on their couches after an evening filled with jokes, games, and stupid stories.

At some odd hour in the night, the dry cotton-mouth that left the walls of your mouth feeling like sandpaper, had rudely yanked you from your disorganized and frankly confusing dreams.

There was no possibility that you were going to ignore the now hydrophobic texture taking place within your jaws, the only option was to get up as silently as possible and find something to remedy your dehydration.

In hopes you wouldn’t disturb your peacefully sleeping friends, you sink into the couch as you lay straight, slowly rolling off of the cushion to the floor, using all of your arm strength to softly lower yourself without making a sound.

As you stand, you look over the dormant bodies of the people you care most about, wondering what they’re seeing in their dreams, some on the couch, others on air-mattresses that were in place of the coffee table.

Though the sweet admiration quickly turns into a headcount, you see Madi, Nick, Matt, Madison, but no Chris.

Your mind can barely process your consciousness, so Chris’ whereabouts slip out from your thoughts almost immediately when you regain awareness of the dryness coursing your throat and tongue.

Pivoting on your heels, you B-line for the kitchen, so eager to drink just one glass of water, the ability to stay quiet threatens to disappear. Once the glass is in your grasp, and the slippery condensation cools your clammy palms, you begin to guzzle the liquid in your cup, letting out loud breaths between each gulp.

Feet standing a foot and a half from the sink, you bend over to rest your elbows on the countertop, your body at a near 90 degree angle.

You don’t even hear the sound of a toilet flushing or a door opening, nor did you hear any footsteps approaching, the feeling of the water reviving every vein and artery was clouding your thinking.

Chris walked into the kitchen from the bathroom, heading for the sink to get a drink. His eyes had just been exposed to the bright florescent lights of the washroom just a moment ago so when he flicked the switch off, his eyes were able to see virtually nothing.

Touching and feeling around him, once he understood where the table and cabinets were located in relation to him, he no longer felt the need to extend his arms for guidance.

That was until he was a few steps from the sink. Chris’ walking is abruptly interrupted when his clothed groin slams against your ass as you’re leaning on your forearms, hovering over the basin.

“Shit” he whisper yelled, completely oblivious to who it was he rammed into.

Instinctively he reached out again to feel who was in front of him, it all happened so fast, his hands finding your hips in search of anything identifiable in the blinding darkness.

“Woah” you yelped, now turning as fast as your body physically allowed you to.

Your familiar voice telling Chris all he needed to know, he pulled his grip back as if he’d just touched a scalding hot stovetop.

“Sorry sorry sorry” he slewed out rapidly, his voice now quiet but above a whisper.

“Ts fine, my fault for not paying attention” you apologized soon after, out of curtesy more than honesty.

A thought paralyzing silence blanketed the both of you, embarrassment being the only feeling in the kitchen that now felt 2 feet wide.

“Thirsty?” Chris whispers, very obviously trying to move on and not have that be the last thing that you two remember before going back to sleep.

Your body flinches slightly when you remember you aren’t completely alone in your thoughts.

“A little” You turn your head to meet Chris’ gaze, being in the solid dark long enough for your eyes to adjust, you can probably see Chris better than he can see you.

His shorts are hanging slightly too low, the fault of him trying to ‘keep his tired’ and haphazardly throwing on his bottoms before rushing out of the bathroom just a few moments ago.

Chris had a charm about him that made you find him more attractive than most of the men in your life but you didn’t spend any time figuring out what that even meant to you, so of course you assumed the pulse in your head, heart, and heat that came about whenever he was around, was nothing.

Yet in the dark, having a chance to take a good look at a barely clothed Chris without him being able to tell where your gaze fell, you used the opportunity as any person would, you checked him the fuck out.

Your eyes started at his V-line but his happy trail caught your attention not long after. You could tell by the way it was growing that he had been shaving around it to keep it shaped nice, not overgrown, but still visible. ‘Sort of like a landing strip’ your inner monologue narrated in your head, making you break into a smile that only you knew about.

With every breath inwards he took, all of him moved with it. The room was still too dark to be able to identify much else so you decided to cut your semi pervy staring session short, the places that your mind was going needed to be knocked unconscious.

“I need to hurry up and lay down before I fully wake up” you smiled at Chris, though he definitely couldn’t see well enough to tell. He let out a hum of agreement as you let your tired legs guide you to the large comfy couch.

Ever so quietly, you ascend back into the small indent your body left on the pillowy cushion. Comfort washed over you as your body felt as if it was melting and becoming one with the cloud of a sofa that was underneath you, you didn’t even get to the number four when counting yourself to sleep.

That night was weeks ago, between then and now, things were predominately business as usual except for two things, one slightly more concerning than the other.

On the brighter side, summer was here, your skin was glowier than ever, the skies had never been clearer, and every feeling seemed more intense.

But the time between the mishap and now— it seemed that every single night that you were unable to sleep, like a movie, you replayed the view of Chris that night, over and over in your head.

One night in particular you were engaging in sexual self care, and as much as you fought it with every neuron and vessel in your brain— the only image that got you to cum was that of Chris’ slender figure looming over you in the dark kitchen in the earlier hours before dawn.

Between their meetings and your job, none of you had the chance to spend a full day enjoying the heat of your beloved season quite yet.

“Y/n idc what you gotta do but we’re going swimming tomorrow” Nick texted you out of nowhere, it was 7pm and you were winding down from yet another busy day of working, going to the gym, and just the general tasks of everyday life.

“I’m there” you typed back with one hand while the other stirred your vodka pasta simmering on the stove.

That night your mind struggled to sleep once more, it seemed that only when you needed to rest the most, your bed morphed into a lumpy boulder keeping you from the level of comfort you needed for tomorrow to come quickly.

Thoughts about spending the day with the triplets, spending the day with Chris, more so, getting to see shirtless Chris in broad daylight this time, were wading through your mind. Over an hour of tossing and turning later, you drifted off to dreamland.

Your plans started later than discussed which was nothing but normal for your group of friends, everyone woke up late, got dressed late, and found their way to Madison’s LA home 3 hours late, by the grace of god you all showed up around the same time.

What was once a 1pm hang out, began at 4pm. First going to get ice cream, Madi and Matt got regular flavours while Nick and Chris purchased odd but reasonable mixes. You and Madison on the other hand, decided to get the most nonsensical and unappetizing combinations of ice creams.

“Get that fuckass cup out of my face” Nick retorted to you after you offered him a bite of your Frankenstein fro yo, to which you all belly laughed.

Then thrifting, it seemed Matt had the sharpest eye for that sort of thing, while the rest of you dicked around, mocking the freaky antiques you found, eventually leaving empty handed.

Finally, you were all in Madison’s pool an hour before sun down. There wasn’t much time for staring, Chris went from clothed to wearing nothing but swim trunks and submerged in water within half of a second.

The missed opportunity to bask in his sex appeal didn’t bother you too much, their was a level of guilt that was paired with each dirty thought you had of Chris which you weren’t opposed to not having to experience on your first proper hang out of the summer.

Last summer when you first met everyone, your choice of swimwear was one pieces and basketball shorts— a result of unjustified self critical thoughts, but the year in between was spent building up your self esteem and getting comfortable with letting yourself feel sexy. Now your choice of swimwear was more scantly clad, a black twisted bandeau top that’s half a size too small and tie-side bottoms.

The first 30 minutes in the pool, everyone played chicken fight, taking turns on shoulders— around 20 minutes til sundown, Nick and Madi volunteered to leave the pool to order food and chill in the hammocks. After their departure, lighthearted conversation flowed seamlessly between the four of you, that was until Matt poked fun at you about your swimming.

“Can you do literally anything other than a doggy paddle?” He teased, your face started to feel hot, remembering talks of the triplets laughing about their mom being an adult and not knowing how to swim.

“Matt shut up, she can swim” Chris chimes in, seemingly not to defend you but instead, actually in denial that you lacked the ability keep yourself afloat.

“No seriously, have you seen her leave the shallow end” he points out, his words phrased in a way to make you feel like he’s joking with you not at you, which made you a lot less embarrassed about the whole thing.

“She can swim a bit Matt” Madison inserts, her words prompt you to slowly glide through the water to the deep end.

The issue was never with getting somewhere in the water, it was staying above surface level. Once you reached the other side of her pool, you turned right back around and started swimming to your self assigned place in the shallow end.

“See? I swam” you snapped back playfully, jetting your gaze to Matt. A smile creeps onto your face before you mumble incoherently under your breath for comedic effect.

“What?” Chris prods with a smirk.

“I just can’t keep my head over the water if I’m not moving” you sheepishly confess.

“Y’mean tread water kid?” He asks, sounding unconvinced.

“Mhm” you nod, ironically standing in the kiddie end feeling like a 12 year old.

“D’you need me to teach you?” his words now laced with hints of genuine concern that you’ve gone this long without acquiring such an important skill.

You shrug “You couldn’t teach a dog to bark but I’ll let you try.” the idea of touching Chris’ slippery skin under the privacy of warped water is enough to twist your stomach.

Your mind was only just beginning to wander to unwarranted directions when Nick called out from his hammock.

“FOODS HERE”.

You expected Chris to do the ‘Chris thing’ by jumping out of the pool and running for the patio, but that wasn’t what happened. His eyes stayed planted on you, yours finding his quickly after noticing he didn’t seem to care much about his surroundings.

“Lemme teach you right now” he asserted, his voice was calm, all the while being more serious than it had been all day. The swift shift in mood threw you off to a panic.

“N-No it’s fine we can eat first”, if you had a gun to shoot yourself in the foot right now, you would. You knew yourself better than anyone, and one thing that was certain, was that you didn’t have much self control.

Everyone gathered around the dining room table, and by the time the food was finished, the sun had disappeared, lowering behind the sky high Hollywood hills.

The evening became night, and Chris was off in the washroom doing god knows what. Having read the oven clock, Madi stated she’d be calling it a night and walked over to the guest room with a blanket in one hand and her phone in the other, Matt suggested playing a movie up in Madison’s room, to which you declined from your spot on the couch, and watched as your three friends skipped up the stairs.

Less than ten minutes later, Chris finally joined you in the living room.

“Where’s everybody?” He asked.

“Madi went to bed and the rest are doing a movie night upstairs” you answered not looking up from your phone, mainly from the shame you felt.

The entire dinner, Chris’ eyes remained tethered to yours, it confused you at first but rather than wondering what he was thinking, you allowed your mind to go to places of its own.

Behind your eyes were made up images of Chris, you carried out scenarios of what it would be like to let him have you in any way he wanted, you imaged all while holding eye contact with him. Now you had spent time alone with thoughts and the feelings of satisfaction morphed into disgust with yourself.

“You gonna let me teach you now?” He inquires, you can see in your peripheral vision that his focus never faltered you once.

“What, like now now?” You question.

“Ion know what other now there is” he says.

You shrug, trying to give off the impression that none of this matters much to you, but internally, nearly every organ of yours is turning and tossing. Following his lead, you both find your way out of the sliding glass doors to the back of the house where your swimming attire is hanging to dry.

Chris pulls the corner to dress in a concealed area, on the other side of a picketed fence gate. You shamelessly but speedily put on your bikini and jumped into the pool with a loud splash, non verbally informing Chris you were finished dressing.

He appeared out from around the bend, swim shorts riding lower than they did when there was an extra 4 bodies in the pool with you earlier. Stepping back so he could have a longer running start, Chris cannonballed right over your head, landing in the deep end. A few seconds later he emerged from underwater.

“See how my arms ain’t movin” he nods down to his arms floating in one spot.

“Yeah” you engage.

“Go underwater an open your eyes” he instructs you in a suggesting tone.

Abiding by his wishes and taking a deep breath in, stretching the inner lining of your cheeks as you collect as much air as your mouth will allow, you had dived to watch the correct way to tread water, but you stayed to gawk at his abdomen flex and move with every kick each leg made.

You remained submerged, enjoying the show, until there was no air left in your lungs. Once you come back up for air, he questions you.

“Y’think you can do it?”.

You shrug to which he starts up again “cmere” he orders, less jokey as before. His assertiveness only fuels the fire of desire within you.

You swim slowly to him, once you get close enough, he grabs your hands and places them straight out to the side like a ‘T’.

“M’not gonna let you go, just pedal” he softly guides you as his hands stay clinging to yours.

Both sets of your arms are spread out leaving very little room between your bodies and faces. Every word of encouragement muttered in gentle whispers, the distance between you, or lack there of, ensured that you never needed to exceed quiet breathy volumes.

“That’s good”

“Like this?”

“Yeah you’re doin so good keep goin”.

To an outsider, the exchange sounded erotic, and though neither of you would admit it in that moment, as insiders, it felt erotic.

He eased his fingers out of yours until you were staying up on your own. You felt like you were levitating.

“No shit, I’m actually doing it” you cheered, but the ten minutes of trial and error left your legs exhausted.

Your legs cramped and froze as your hands reach back for Chris, landing firmly on his shoulders.

“Tired?” He rhetorically asked, eyes searching for yours as you stayed looking at the water.

“Y’know you can do it with your arms too” he tried to motivate you.

“Yeah maybe you can but I think I’m good with just the legs” most of your pessimism coming from insecurity.

“No seriously, it’s lowkey easier too” he said in attempt to brighten your outlook.

“Let me just-” his words snuffed out, as his fingers snaked down to your sides.

“Can I hold you here?” his voice drops an octave. You look up at him, nodding, as you feel his touch glide down to the small of your back underneath the water. The nervousness weighing you down, as you lower your hold on his shoulders, trying to move your arms in a circular motion.

The sexual frustration within you intertwines with your actual frustration of not being able to get the hang of things, a look of agitation growing on your face. Your eyebrows furrowed and the near permanent smile that painted your lips, turned sour, now straight.

“You’re doin fine, just relax a bit” he begins, “I gotchu” his grip around the lower half of your torso tightens.

As your mind begins to realign its focus on the physical task you both came for, you feel something graze your lower stomach faintly, just underneath your belly button. Diverging your hyper-fixation to look down, you feel Chris’ arms slowly let you go, initiating a knee jerk response for your arms to fling up to link behind the nape of his neck to support you.

The change in grounding point, brought you closer to his body than before. The thing touched you again, this time much less subtly, and the lack of space between you and Chris, gave you a near certain answer to what that thing was.

Every night you spent unrested you imagined a moment like this, and every orgasm you brought yourself to with the faint thought of Chris in that kitchen, you imagined a moment like this, you knew exactly what you wanted to happen, it was just about how.

“Sorry” Chris lamely excused, he didn’t attempt to string together what other reasons there could possibly have been for his dick to be in the state that it was. But you didn’t comfort his embarrassment, nor did you back away from where you were, instead you chose to seize the moment.

Your legs started off straight, but close to his, then, you began to bend your knees while parting a gap between your thighs. One of your arms stayed around his neck while the other travelled up the back of his head to interlock with his deep brown strands, now black from being soaked in water.

Only seconds later did your lower half complete its journey to be fully draped around his waist. Your faces, once inches apart, now only centimetres away from one another. His eyes broke free from their shackled gaze with yours, as your body language gave him the go-ahead to finally look at your frame the way you had peered at his once before.

The long string of weeks where you could only think of how he would feel on you and in you, was enough foreplay in itself, so you made no haste to bridge your hips up against his pulsing cock under the still water. The warmth that was rushing to every part of your bodies, made the water feel that much colder.

When he had finished eating you with his eyes, his hand jerked up from your back, to clasp your cheek. As he guided your mouth to his, his tongue waited from no invitation. The kiss was wet and messy from the beginning, only picking up heat as you explode each other’s bodies with no hesitation. His hand slipped down from your back to cup your ass before squeezing it and rubbing it repeatedly, the other hand slithering down from your jaw to find hold on your neck.

With the gap between your bodies non existent, his solid cock tented in his shorts was now pressed up against your aching core. Using the strength of your knees around his waist, you began to wine your hips in a circular motion, utilizing the part of his shaft that was against your cunt as friction.

The both of you moaned at the action, him bucking his hips in response. The coolness of the pool sent waves of shock as the cold ripples acted against your throbbing heat, the kisses became sloppy as you and Chris lost the capacity to think, thinness of your swimwear allowing every point of contact between you to feel as if neither of you had clothes on.

After barely 5 minutes of breathlessly making out and grinding over his hungry dick, you pull away from Chris.

“The pool house” was all you could slew out as you tried to catch your breath, you look deep into his eyes, the blue irises now near impossible to see beyond his black dilated pupils. He gulped in excitement, mind numb, all he could do was nod.

Both of you wasted not a second climbing out of the water, and creaking the door open. The pool house didn’t have much inside, but catching a fairly large couch in the corner, you both stumbled over towards it.

Chris immediately sat down, presuming you would assume the same position of straddling him as you did in the pool, but instead you lowered onto your knees. The sight of you so eager to make him feel good prompted Chris to whip his head back and let out a sigh of built up sexual frustration.

As your fingers hooked underneath the hem of his shorts and tugged, his length sprung out, slapping into his stomach. You knew your time in the pool was torture from his irritated tip, the colour of his teased dick making you want to do nothing more than relieve the pressure.

Once his gaze fell back onto you, your hands spread out on his thighs, sliding up to his cock, once you grab hold of it, you look into his eyes before collecting your saliva and slowly letting it run down his pulsing dick. Once his length was wet enough, you used one of your hangs to circle his tip with your palm while the other assisted your mouth in taking all of him from the side, running your lips along his dick. “Fuuuuckkkk don’t stop” he groaned as his fingers trailed through your hair.

Eventually you remove your hand from his now much redder tip, and slide his cock down your throat until your nose hits his skin. You keep him in your throat for a second or two as you look up at him, his eyes getting teary just as yours were. You continued to ram his dick in and out of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you did so, his moans never stopping once, kept you going.

When you knew he was close, you used both of your hands to stroke him while your tongue lapped around the head of his throbbing cock. It took less than a second for him to cum, you popped his dick out of your mouth and steered his dick to shoot his thick white ropes of cum onto your chest. When he caught his breath he looked into your eyes.

“Didn’t wanna swallow?” He joked.

“You drink Pepsi like its water and eat like a 7 year old with a bank account and free will, I would rather drink bleach than your cum Chris” you shot back.

“Fair” he responded before pausing, then finishing his thought, “I bet your pussy’d soak up my cum with no complaints”.

Rather than a verbal response to the annoying but honest truth, you gave him a physical one. You stood up and pulled the strings of your bikini bottoms in one motion before crawling onto his lap. He looked at you as a cocky smile crept onto his face. You were on your knees hovering over his eager dick, your pussy pumping since the pool.

Waiting for him to enter your needy hole, you look down at his hand finding his length as he guided it to your entrance but rather than placing his dick where you wanted it, he tried teasing you, sliding his tip over your over-aroused clit. You moan, furrowing your eyebrows, eyes still planted on what he was doing.

“Chris… don’t… fuck around” you stammered between your heavy breaths and groans. He sneered and let out a huffy breath of amusement before finally letting his dick find your sopping wet hole, bottoming out immediately, not allowing you to adjust to his impressive size.

“Fuck” you screamed, leaning forward to embrace him, resting your chin over his shoulders and wrapping your arms around him.

“Easyyy easyyy” he hushed. His hands found your ass, softly grabbing hold of it as he lifted you up and down.

“Too much?” he asks, turning his head so his mouth pressed up against your ear as he whispers.

“Mm, keep going” you respond, almost forgetting how to communicate out of pure bliss, your eyes begin to roll to the back of your head and your eyelashes flutter. Chris plants kisses on your shoulder, as your moans get louder you can feel him smile into the kisses.

His slender fingers find your clit, using your slippery wetness to make his digits slide faster in circles. Every one of your limbs begin to numb, your mind soon following. As a blur grows around your vision, your moans turn to screams, the distance from the house your friends were in was large enough for you to let all that you were feeling be heard.

“Chris” you start to which he interrupts.

“I got you, cum for me baby” his thrusts rapid like bullet fire, sending your body into ecstasy. One second the knot is building in your gut, the next, it snaps.

“Fuck fuck fuck” you scream out.

“Mhm I got you” he assures you, as you ride out the feeling of his dick slamming against your g-spot and his fingers caressing your overstimulated clit.

As you come down from your high, you lean back, the sweet sweat that collected between your chests made it all feel so intimate. Chris slips out of you and runs his finger between your folds one last time, raising his hand to show you the white liquid dripping out of you.

He smiled and egotistically smiles “told you”, you grab his fingers and lick the cum off, more for the purpose of shutting him up.

After dressing into your indoor clothes and limping back to the house, you walk upstairs to Madison’s room with Chris by your side. “D’you get the hang of it?” Matt asked, not looking away from the rom-com playing on the TV in front of him. “Yeah, fast as fuck too, had time to teach her other shit too” Chris answered for you.

Authors note: I suck at smut but I feel like this one’s a bit better than the last one, TBHHHH this was basically a self insert cause I can’t swim for shit but I hope y’all liked it, happy Wednesday!!!

I forgot who wanted to be tagged ngl

Taglist: @hjvi @theyluvivi @sturniolosrtewsexy

[nadvs]

cam girl (part five)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

» masterlist

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

You were too tired to wake up to your alarm. You snoozed for an extra hour under a mountain of blankets, drifting in and out of consciousness.

When you finally feel ready to start your Sunday, it’s almost 10, and your mind slowly pieces together everything that happened last night.

Rafe has become your sugar daddy. There’s no doubt about it, no other word for it. At this point, you’re sure he’s given you almost ten grand.

You remain lying in bed and pick up your phone to see he texted you five minutes ago. After the $3000 transfer last night, you had quickly saved his number.

Rafe: sore?

You reply: as fuck.

Rafe: you loved it

You roll your eyes. Of course you loved it.

You think of the way he spoke to you, mumbling that you’re beautiful and praising the sounds you made. The way he thrusted into you and called your pussy so fucking perfect. The way his skin slapped against yours with his rough jolts. Remembering it makes your stomach twist with arousal.

You reply: so did you

Your phone buzzes again.

Rafe: send an ass pic

You: are you always horny?

Rafe: pretty much. woke up hard

You: and i’m the needy one… lmao

Rafe: are u sending it or not

You smile to yourself at how bad he wants you. You push the blankets off your body. You had fallen asleep in a cold room, your radiator refusing to come back to life no matter how hard you tried, so you’re covered head to toe under fleece pajamas.

The way Rafe reacted to your heat being broken replays in your mind. He seemed so dumbfounded by the idea that you couldn’t just fix something without worrying about the cost.

Then he sent you the exact amount you need to fix it. The fact that you can ask for however much you want and he’ll probably send it without hesitation still throws you for a loop. It’s an odd feeling not having to worry about money.

Thankfully, the morning sun has warmed up your bedroom. You pull your pants and underwear down in one smooth movement, turn onto your front and angle your phone camera.

You can smell Rafe on your pillow. The aroma of his cologne is so unbelievably nice, memories already connected to it.

You lie on your back again, pulling the blanket over you, and send him the photo, a low angle image of your naked asscheeks. You gaze at your screen, anticipating what he’ll say.

But he doesn’t send any words. Just a picture. Your eyes travel over the bulge making a tent in his black boxer briefs. You can see the trail of soft, light hair that leads down to his cock.

Your body tightens at the image. He felt so damn good last night. You can’t wait until the next time he’s inside you.

You text: wish u were here?

Rafe: i’d fuck u even harder than i did last night

You: you wouldn’t make me wait hours for it? wow…

Rafe: you’re so wet right now aren’t you

You can imagine the way he’d say that. He’s so smug. And so right. You dip a hand below the blanket between your legs, your soft folds drenched.

maybe, you reply.

Rafe: you took my cock so good

You bite your lip reading his words. The photo of his covered erection isn’t enough. You need more.

You: show me it

Rafe: you’d like that huh

You: i can just find some porn if you won’t do it

Rafe: don’t even fucking joke about getting off to some other guy’s dick

You smirk. You got to him like you hoped you would.

You: what? i can’t tease you too?

Rafe: no

You: send me a pic then. u know i deserve it

Rafe: only good girls deserve it

You: idk if good girls play with their pussies on camera… maybe i should stop doing that

Rafe: shut up. ur doing it for me every night

He’s so damn worked up that it’s funny. You shrug to yourself, opening another app, letting him sweat.

Your phone buzzes moments later, a notification from him dropping from the top of your screen.

Rafe: ???

You reply: you told me to shut up. i’m listening

He only texts your name.

You: rafe :)

A picture finally comes in. You take in the image of his dick, glad you finally have a chance to appreciate him in brighter lighting. The other photos that he sent over the cam chat were so dark, but now you can see the veins that run down his shaft, the swell of the tip, his large hand gripping the base.

You don’t think you could ever get tired of it.

You: am i allowed to touch myself?

Even through the power struggle between you two, you love giving him the control of when you can orgasm.

Rafe: if you promise me something

You: what?

Rafe: i can watch you play with your asshole tonight

Jesus. He’s unhinged. When he sent that message telling you that you’ll be doing a lot of new things with him, he wasn’t kidding.

The thought of doing this for him is stirring. None of the other guys on cam ever asked for anything like that.

You: i can do that

Rafe: get the toy i bought you. text when ur ready

You drop your phone and rush to find the vibrator, feeling like you’re throbbing now. When you’re all adjusted, you text him: ready.

Your breath hitches as the toy starts to buzz at a brutalizing intensity. You cross your legs, squeeze your chest, and groan as you think about him.

You orgasm within a minute. It feels good, but not as good as when Rafe is actually with you. With him, it’s a new level of ecstasy. Fuck. He may have ruined masturbation for you.

You pick up your phone.

You: might have to go back to sleep after that…

Your phone flashes a notification of $100 being transferred into your digital wallet.

Rafe: order breakfast for yourself

The amount he sent is ridiculous. What kind of place does he get breakfast from?

You doze off again, waking up half an hour later. After ordering food, you send Rafe a screenshot of the confirmation receipt and text: thanks baby <3

Rafe: did u call about the heat yet

You reply: i will

Rafe: do it now

You: bossy

Rafe: now

God, does he love to be in control. You follow his instructions and find the repair place you called last time and make an appointment to get your radiator replaced tomorrow afternoon.

It’s an unreal feeling - your problem being solved in the snap of a finger. This is a little taste of wealth.

You know not to read into it. Rafe’s not doing any of this of the kindness of his heart. Spoiling you is obviously one of the many things he gets off on. But you’re happy to go along with it. Especially considering $3000 is pocket change to this man.

When breakfast is dropped off, you notice a box addressed to you sitting in front of your door. You open it to find a new webcam. Rafe mentioned he’d buy it yesterday. He moves fast.

The day feels long and at 10 pm, you finally log on with the hope that Rafe will do what he did last night and come over instead of making you crave him throughout your session, leaving you to fuck yourself while fantasizing about him.

You’re wearing the ‘princess’ top you bought with his money, matching with pink underwear.

He joins the session and lust fires through you already.

“Hey,” you purr. “How’s the new camera look?”

figure8: much better

figure8 tipped you $100.

“What’s that for?” you giggle.

figure8: for looking so pretty

“Thanks, baby,” you say. “Is this pretty, too?”

You immediately turn onto your knees, looking back at the camera at the sight of your lace panties stretched over your ass.

figure8: goddamn

You smile.

figure8: you get me hard in a fucking second

“Yeah?” you coo. “Did you like my ass pic today?”

figure8: fuck yes. you ever done anal?

You laugh at how direct he is. You never have to wonder what Rafe’s thinking.

You hadn’t gone into that territory, but something about Rafe made you feel adventurous. “No, but maybe I’d try it with you.”

figure8: maybe?

“Depends on your mood,” you say.

figure8: the fuck does that mean

“I had to cum three times for you the other day. But yesterday, you wouldn’t let me do it for fucking hours.” You shrug. “If you make me wait that long again, you’re not getting anything.”

figure8: its honestly really fucking cute how you think you make the rules lol

“Shut up.”

figure8: im not getting anything… sure. i didnt let u cum all day but you were still begging me to fuck you last night

“I hate you,” you laugh.

figure8: you love me and this dick

figure 8: let me see you squeeze your ass

You’re so turned on already, resting your hands on your ass and kneading the flesh. You roam over your skin, fondling and grabbing, then move your fingers to the back of your thighs and bounce your asscheeks for him with your hands.

figure8: fuckkk just like that

“You like these panties?” you ask. The lace leaves nothing to the imagination.

figure8: i wanna see them ripped off

“These were expensive,” you pout.

figure8 tipped you $500.

figure8: there, you can buy more

“God, how much do you think they cost?” you laugh.

figure8: rip them off right now

You dip your fingers beneath the frilly border of the underwear and try to pull them apart. The lace digs into your skin and you finally hear a tear, the fabric giving way.

You watch your image in the screen, the pink lace pulling apart over your asscheeks.

figure8: shake ur ass

You oblige, arching your back, imagining him sitting behind you, big hands on your waist while you writhe and bounce for him.

figure8: let me see ur asshole

The request is probably the most obscene thing he’s ever asked of you. But you like that he does this, that he pushes you into new experiences.

You’re shaking with arousal as you watch yourself obey his orders, spreading open for him.

figure8: holy fucking shit

figure8: i know you’d loooove it up the ass

figure8: get close so i can see you suck on your finger

You’re puzzled at the request, but you obey anyways, turning to face the screen. You shift closer to your laptop and seductively stick your forefinger into your hot mouth, sucking it with quiet moans.

You’re reminded of how he shoved his finger in your mouth last night. Shit, last night was perfect.

figure8: is it nice and wet?

“Mhm.”

figure8: wanna put that finger in your ass for me?

You bite your lip, apprehension inching up your skin. He seems to notice your nervousness.

figure8: nice and slow, baby. you can do it

You nod, turning to spread your ass for him again, then slowly push your digit into your tight hole. You breathe through the pressure, dipping each inch of your finger in with caution, finding pleasure in the new sensation.

figure8: hows it feel?

“Good,” you breathe. You sit up to grab the lube in your nightstand that you bought when you started camming and sit in front of the camera, opening the bottle.

“You want me to try two fingers?” you ask.

figure8: fuck yes

You squeeze the slippery liquid onto your forefinger and middle finger and get onto all fours, angling your ass towards the camera.

When you slip both fingers inside, you arch your back and breathe shakily. Your eyes squeeze shut as you enter your body in a new way for him.

As hot as it is to be doing this for him, now that you’ve had a taste of what it’s like having his body melt into yours, you need him. This just isn’t satisfying enough anymore.

figure8: u like that?

“Mhm,” you moan. “Maybe it’d be better if I try with the dildo?”

You get the reaction you were hoping for.

figure8: the first dick in that ass isn’t gonna be some toy. it’ll be mine, you understand?

“Okay,” you say, brows furrowed, a tone of disappointment in your voice.

figure8: you want it tonight, don’t you?

“Yeah, baby,” you whimper, writhing in anticipation. “I want it tonight.”

figure8 tipped you $1000.

figure8 has left the session.

You smirk to yourself. It seems like this’ll be your and Rafe’s special version of foreplay. Maybe you’ll always begin with a cam show he pays you for, the same way you two started this wild affair, and then he’ll race over and have his way with you.

You decide to pull off your shirt so you can greet him fully naked.

When you hear his knock at the door, your skin prickles with anticipation. Rafe comes in frenzied, slamming the door behind him, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you back into your bedroom.

“Already naked for me,” he rasps, standing in the middle of your bedroom, holding you, towering over you. “My needy girl.”

“Don’t make me wait any longer, then,” you whisper.

Rafe guides you onto your bed, hovering over top of you, his lips hungrily kissing and sucking on your mouth over and over.

With your back against your sheets, you roll your body beneath his, the sensation of his jeans and t-shirt rubbing on your bare skin wildly sexy.

You swear you can feel his cock jerk under his jeans and you breathe out a contented sigh.

“What?” he asks, pulling back with his forehead still pressed against yours.

“Your cock is twitching,” you tease, slipping your hand under his shirt to feel his hot skin. You pull his shirt off and toss it onto the floor.

Rafe lifts his body slightly and dips his hand between your legs, making you sharply inhale as he spreads your lips apart.

“And you’re so fucking wet,” he replies, like he’s trying to one-up you. You shudder as his fingers run up and down your slit.

He brings his hand up to suck on the tips of his fingers, hard eyes on you, and you feel like you might lose your mind over how hot the shared moment is.

“You taste so good,” he says, voice rough. He comes back down to kiss you hard, then shifts to put his mouth on your tits.

You jerk when he grazes a nipple with his teeth, a moan spilling out of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, feeling him pinch and grip you.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk,” Rafe says against your cleavage. “You want that?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“My good girl,” he praises. You hear him fumbling with his jeans, the zipper slipping down quickly, and he plunges into you with no warning, with such a rough blow that you whimper.

You feel your body swallow his thickness, stretching to adjust to his size. He curves into you so perfectly.

Rafe pulls back and rocks into you again, your body jolting with his pressure. His chest is pressed against yours and he shifts to the side to put his hand at your throat, long fingers around your neck.

He squeezes gently, still pounding into you.

“Tighter,” you whisper.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says with a breathy laugh, like he can’t believe that you exist, that you’re taking him like this.

His fingers tighten on the sides of your neck as the sound of smacking flesh fills your bedroom. You grunt with every heavenly pump he gives you, his balls swinging against your ass.

“You take it so good,” he breathes. You tilt your head back, letting his big hand grip your neck better. You’re so grateful he didn’t torment you by making you wait this time.

“Get on top,” Rafe groans into your ear, drawing out of you. “I wanna watch you ride me.”

His hands find your hips as he helps pull you over him. With your palms against his firm pecs, you sink onto him, his cock hitting a new angle.

“Fuck,” you choke out. “Oh, my God, Rafe.”

“You like that, huh, baby?” he says, dimples framing his cocky smile.

You start to bounce with your legs bent and framing his torso, leaning forward so your clit rubs around the base of his cock. The feeling of him filling you and the friction against your sensitive spot makes your eyes roll back in your head.

Your heart starts to pound harder as you massage yourself with his dick, grinding at the perfect pace. You look down at him, meeting his blue eyes, as you roll your hips so you can feel him in every possible way.

You dip your head, panting and moaning as he grips your hips. You’ve never wanted to scream from pleasure so badly.

“I know, princess,” he drawls. “I know it feels good.”

The waves of pleasure are so damn nice that you moan and cover your mouth with your hand so your neighbors don’t hear how loud you’re being.

Rafe roughly grabs your wrist and pulls your hand down.

“Don’t do that,” he instructs.

“My neighbors-“

“Let ‘em hear how much you love this dick,” he says. You feel like you could cum from his words alone.

“F-fuck,” you stammer, grinding faster and harder. “Oh, fuck.”

“You gonna cum?” he teases. A part of you is afraid he’ll push himself out of you, delay your orgasm.

“Please let me,” you whine, “please, baby.”

“I’ll let you,” Rafe says with an amused chuckle. “God, you’re my fucking dream girl.”

The pleasure spikes in you so damn high that you feel your limbs go numb. You cry out as you dissolve into pleasure in its purest form, continuing to ride him as the orgasm hits you, tightening around him in pulses.

“There you go,” he says soothingly, encouragingly.

You bend over on top of him, resting your cheek on his chest, hearing his heart. Rafe’s warm hand strokes up and down your back as you spasm on top of him.

As your gasps slow down, his hands find your ass. He jiggles your cheeks in his hands and you giggle breathily.

“You gonna let me cum in that ass?” he asks you.

“You can cum anywhere you want,” you breathe, feeling cockdrunk. Rafe’s chest rumbles with his laugh.

You sit up and slowly pull yourself off of him, his hard cock bobbing once it’s out of you.

Even though you’re sure you already made his cock wet enough, you hand him the bottle of lube before getting on all fours on your bed. You look back at him to see him slathering his cock with lube.

“I’ll go slow, princess,” he promises. “I’ll stretch you out first.”

You squeeze your pillow and place it so that you can sink your face into it as he fucks you. With your head dug into the soft cotton, you feel Rafe’s big hands grope your ass.

He spreads your cheeks apart and groans.

“Every part of you is so pretty,” he huffs. “You gonna take my cock in any hole I want, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan, muscles still weak from your orgasm.

You feel a finger slowly enter you and you arch your back, eyes squeezing shut. It’s so new but so fucking nice. The pressure is higher than when you did it on camera for him, his finger bigger than yours.

“There you go,” he coaches as he pushes deeper inside of you. “Shit, it’s so fucking tight. I’m gonna cum in a second, baby, I know it.”

“Fuck, Rafe,” you mumble. “It feels amazing.”

He adds a second finger, working in and out to stretch you out some more. You push back against his fingers to encourage him to go deeper.

“I want to fuck your ass so hard right now,” he groans on the verge of a whine.

“Do it,” you say. “I’m ready. Do it.”

His fingers pull out of you and you feel him spit on you, warm saliva dribbling over your opening. Finally, you feel the tip of his cock start to push into your ass.

The pressure stings as he buries into you and you try not to slump, you try to stay firm for him.

“Oh, my God,” he moans as he fills you. “Fucking… Oh, my fuck…”

His raw, untamed rambling gives you a sense of willpower to stay still and ignore your body’s impulse to pull away from the unfamiliar pain.

Rafe finally presses his base against your ass, filling your hole up completely.

He retreats, giving you some relief, then pounds into you again. The feeling is a good pain as he starts to thrash in and out, his fingers so tight on your hips that you know he’ll bruise you.

He pulls away a hand and you suddenly feel a hard smack on your ass that makes you gasp. He keeps fucking you hard, plunging in and out with a frenzied pace.

“You like it, princess?” he says between breaths. “You like it up the ass? I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” you groan, the feeling pleasurable now that you’re getting used to it. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“It’s not just your pussy that’s mine, is it?” he taunts. “It’s your ass. Your mouth. Your tits. All of you. Fucking all of you.”

His claim of ownership on you is so fucking intoxicating that you almost forget all this is supposed to be is hot, casual sex.

You push away the thought, refusing to let it ruin things. This is just fun. This is all this is.

“Goddamn, and you were just…” he groans as he keeps fucking you. “You were just… fuck, just always around and looking so fucking hot. I never thought I’d get to fuck you.”

You bite your lip at his words, lost in the feeling of a man wanting you this bad. Of Rafe wanting you this bad. You knew he loved to tease you, but shit, he was yearning for you this much whenever you came to clean his house?

“Oh, fuck…” Rafe’s deep voice gives out as you feel him pulse his hot cum into you, his body jerking against you.

He eventually slowly pulls out and you feel his hand slowly rub over the curve of your ass.

“Stay like this,” he says. “I wanna watch my cum drip out of you.” Just when you think he can’t get any filthier, Rafe surprises you. Every damn time.

Once he’s satisfied, you feel him plant a kiss on your ass before he shifts away to put on his underwear.

Your smile is slack as you drop onto your side, hand resting on your forehead. You feel utterly fucked out. He didn’t lie. You won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You watch his chest rise and fall when he lies down next to you.

Again, Rafe surprises you that he’s staying, even if it’s just a little while. He seems like such a fuck and chuck kind of guy. It’s what you expected. Kind of what you welcomed.

He looks at you, amused by how hard you’re gasping for breath.

“Damn, you won’t even need your heat on tonight, huh?” Rafe says. “Gave you a whole fucking workout.”

“If it’ll be like this every night, I’ll cancel,” you joke lazily.

“Cancel?”

“Mhm,” you say tiredly, eyes closing.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?” you whisper.

He says your name stern enough that you pop open your eyes.

“I’ll cancel the appointment,” you clarify.

“They didn’t already fix it?”

“Tomorrow was the soonest they could do.” His brows furrow in what looks like anger. You can’t help but chuckle a little. “What’s the big deal?”

“So, you spend another night cold?”

“It’s not that bad,” you say. “I have lots of blankets… and…” You yawn. “A space heater… and… my pajamas…”

You realize you’re lying on top of a thin sheet completely naked but you’re too exhausted to care that you’ll wake up cold. It’s like Rafe fucked the energy out of you.

“I have to lock the door behind you,” you remember. You sit up, rubbing your eyes so you stay alert. “I don’t know if you realized but this isn’t a gated community.”

“Should I… uh, do you want a hotel room or something?” Rafe asks.

You look at him, his head on your pillow, his hair a mess, and offer him a confused smile.

“Hotel?” you repeat.

“If it’s gonna be cold in here.”

“Oh, that radiator has broken a million times,” you say. “I’ve survived a lot of cold nights. I don’t need a penthouse suite.”

Rafe gazes at you with an indistinguishable look.

You feel a bit awkward now. You know he’ll leave eventually, but if he doesn’t do it now, you’ll pass out and he’ll leave the door unlocked.

You stand to keep yourself awake, finding a clean pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt.

“Same time tomorrow?” you try to joke.

“I can stay and…” he says. He sits up, his hair falling over his forehead, his stomach flexing. “Uh, I can… hold you. If you want. So you’re not cold.”

You stand in the middle of your small room, looking down at Rafe, and can’t help but notice how out of place he looks. His large, half-naked frame on your small double bed, his expensive clothes drawn out on your squeaky, scratched up floor, offering to cuddle you to sleep.

This is supposed to be purely sexual. You’ve been having fun and adding to your bank account, while letting him live out his fantasies to sexually and financially dominate the help. That’s all you are to him: a depraved cam girl who cleans his house. Right?

But now, he’s acting… well, nice. Like he’s not just a fuck buddy who gets turned on by giving you money and buying you things. And it’s unexpected.

You’re not sure what to do.

{ read part six here }

[earthsparked]

Pareidolia

Your skin is too small for how big you feel inside. The world is too loud. Every horn honk from the traffic going by your workplace, every shuffle of paper from your coworker is like sandpaper against your senses. The phone rings. Your email inbox dings. The caffeine isn't helping. You berate yourself for even drinking it today, when you knew you were already overwhelmed. You've been trying so hard not to snap at anyone. They don't deserve your short temper because you're fitting at odd angles to the rest of the world, again.

It gets like this sometimes. You feel as if you could walk out of the door and into the nearest ocean, and never come back. Grow gills. Make some remora friends up close and personal. It would be quiet, or at least quieter. The soft blue wobbles of ever-changing filtered light would embrace you the way LEDs never will, in their everlasting and un-relatable constancy.

Maybe the slamming of a drawer is the last straw, or maybe you have had a Gävle goat's worth of last straws and are ready to light a match. I'm going for a walk, you say in desperation, grabbing your bag and hurrying out the door before anyone can stop you.

Setting foot outside helps a little. Having a broad, cloudy sky above you and fresh air in your lungs helps, too. It unravels a few of the thready stitches that feel like they're holding shut some vital part of you that yearns to spring into the sky.

You walk and walk until you reach the park. It's only a little one, with rundown swing sets without any seats and the kind of hot metal slides that scream "tetanus jab." There's never anyone here, and that's why it's the perfect place for you to have a little breakdown. So when you round the corner and see a car parked by the hoopless basketball court, you light the damn match. Tears of frustration well up. You furiously wipe them away and stride angrily past the car, which doesn't have any tags and no driver in sight. In the moment you hate that car like it owes you money, like it ruined your nonexistent wedding photos and called your cat ugly. You want to be alone. You are going to go, you don't know, punch a tree or something - !

Are you all right? Your aura looks dreadful.

You curse and trip on an uneven bit of sidewalk, stumbling right onto the hood of the fancy white and red sports car (which you despise). Up close it's almost too fancy, as if it wasn't ever meant to be touched by human hands. It's too crisp, too clean, like it just rolled off a factory floor on Coruscant or something. You feel like you're sullying it just by your already very wrong, cattycorner presence. This is not helping literally anything. There's also the small matter of it having just spoken to you.

You push yourself off in a hurry and stumble backwards, only to cry out when you trip over the same damn chunk of busted concrete in reverse this time. Your ankle gives way in a flare of pain. You wobble and flail around like a wacky waving inflatable tube man, and resign yourself to eating playground dirt. But you never hit the ground. There's a sound like a blender pretending to be an old dialup modem, and something impossibly strong, impossibly fast, just - impossible all around, catches you.

You look up into the face of a giant metal being, surrounded by a halo of grey clouds that make its white coloration look even more unnaturally perfect. Pareidolia, your mind ever-so-helpfully suggests. Humans have a way of seeing faces where faces aren't, a side effect of having survived as a species only through empathizing with the Other. Seeing the Other as One Of Us. Making you apologize to the coat rack you accidentally bumped into. Or something like that.

This ain't a damn coat rack, and it's not some trick of psychology or the light or even your over-caffeinated nerves. That's a person writ in metal, their face a novel of concern, their hand bigger than your body with room to spare. Cupping you, not closing around you. Supporting, not grasping.

The strength of it is like nothing you've ever experienced. It's not like another human lifting you with effort, with the strain of tendons and muscle. It's a little like floating in an ocean, but steadier and warmer. You're a feather drifting on the waves at best.

I frightened you, they say, sounding genuinely remorseful. They shift around a little to kneel. It's like being in an MRI scanner: powerful pieces of machinery twisting and moving around you, brought to life by a mysterious power that you can name but can't explain. You flinch as their noticeably five-fingered hand reaches down toward you. Is there a word for seeing human hands in things that aren't human hands?

Their blue eyes go a bit wider. Their hand stops, and they open the palm as if that makes them any less dangerous or threatening. The hand you're lying on does not move an inch. Easy, human. I only want to help. Please, let me make up for causing you more pain? You were suffering enough as it was.

You don't know what to make of any of this. Who are you? What are you?

You're lying nearly flat on your back with his fingers curled protectively around you, after he caught you like some fainting romance novel heroine. He could crush you and drop you to the ground like one of the countless cigarette butts that litter the park. But his earnest plea tells you he would never. You meet his eyes, searching for truth, and the moment becomes unbearably vulnerable. You get the feeling he sees a lot more of you, than you do of him. Considering how god damned over-sensitive and anxious you are about literally every aspect of life, that's quite a feat.

You look away first.

My designation is Drift. What I am is not important. May I help you up?

You nod, but still hold your breath as he gently tilts you upright and back onto your feet. You grit your teeth and gingerly test your ankle, only to hiss a breath and grab onto Drift's fingers for balance.

Drift, I'm getting your finish dirty. You're as white as an albino polar bear in a blizzard, and I'm - You hiccup a choked sob. Have you noticed you're a, a giant robot?

He smiles, showing sharp teeth. What does a robot need teeth for?

You're the color of a storm over a turbulent sea, he concludes for you. A bruised spark. Lightning looking for a cloud. I could feel you from a block away. That's unusual for an organic. But I can't say if it's unusual for humans in general. I've only been on your planet for a few - weeks, I believe you call them. I've never been so close to one of you. You're quite an experience, little one.

You take that in. You're an alien. And I'm a storm over a turbulent sea.

He nods seriously. I am a mech, yes, from another planet far away and very much unlike yours. I've never seen a place so full of life.

He tilts his head, that intense but gentle look returning. With your out-of-sorts-ness still on full overdrive, you can feel his attention like a pressure, but it doesn't hurt. Doesn't push.

Your aura is ...I could tell you were deeply distressed. And then I brought fear and pain into the mix. I ask your forgiveness. He actually bows his head before you.

This guy talks like - like freaking Aragorn or something. A knight of the round table. You'd ask if he's about to try and sell you essential oils from his Facebook page, but you don't want to hurt his feelings.

You're forgiven, Drift. And I was just having a bad day. Don't worry about me. You try and brush it off, put the wrong shape back into the right hole in the world that's supposed to be you. Could you help me over to the bench? I don't think my ankle's broken, just twinged. It happens. If I can rest it a while, it should be fine.

He does, letting you lean on him rather than trying to lift you. When you sit on the bench, he turns and sits beside you. He has to draw his knees up to squeeze under the tree branches, but he's sitting with you, looking out on the same world as you are, if from a different angle. You get the feeling he's done this on purpose.

Thank you. For allowing me to help, and for the gift of your presence. As I said, I haven't had much opportunity to speak to any of your kind. I've been watching, learning.

He does what seems for all the world like a deep, cleansing breath, looking out over the terribly unimpressive park. I understand I am a being far beyond your experience. But know that we are both equal in the ways that matter. You humans must have sparks as much as we Cybertronians do, or you wouldn't burn so brightly. Or be such a vast storm, he adds, glancing down at you.

I was thinking the same thing about you, you confess. You explain your thoughts about pareidolia, hold out your hands and compare them to his. He extends one in the same way you hold yours outstretched, and for a long, quiet moment, you both just exist together in a universe where two beings could be so different and so similar. You look up at the same time he looks down, and your smiles meet like the edges of the ocean and the sky.

So auras are a real thing, huh? You don't have any evidence of this, but he's a giant alien mech. If anyone's going to know about something like auras, it would be Drift.

Yes. Though I understand it's about as rare for your people to be able to see them, as it is for mine.

But you can see them.

I learned, he says, simply. He waits for your question. He already knows you're going to ask him. But it says something about him that he gives you space to say it. And it's that more than anything that gives you the courage to speak.

Could you teach me? If you're going to be on Earth a while?

He looks, in a word, delighted. Like he hadn't actually dared to hope...

You deeply regret ever hating him, even briefly, when he was just a car. You kind of love him right then and there. The Other, as One Of Us. Or maybe just Ours.

I would be honored to have you as my student. I believe you would be the first not of my own species I have ever known to learn the lessons of spectralism.

Something else occurs to you then and you sit up with a frown of concern of your own. Drift, do you have a place to go?

He's a little cagey at first. I have many places to go. ...But if you mean, do I have a base of operations, no. I'm somewhat stranded here. At the moment, my ship is out of communication range. I thought discretion the better part of valor, given I'm an uninvited visitor to your planet, so I've been moving around.

Drifting? you suggest, with a quirk of your mouth, a raised eyebrow. He chuckles. Now you're getting it. You're a fast learner.

You feel a need to offer something else in return for his kindness. I could, um. Give you a..car...wash? You probably don't need to treat him like an amphibian who will desiccate from your skin oils, but you still feel wrong about greasing him up.

He smiles, as if he understands the things you're trying to say no matter how badly you're saying them.

There is…one thing. If I may ask it of you. But it is hard to explain in words. I have to ask another way.

And then something in him reaches out to something in you. It's new, different, but not frightening. You clumsily reach back with hands that aren't hands, but are very, very human. It's alien but instinctive: to look for faces where faces aren't. And you feel.

You feel held. Cherished. Lifted up and wrapped in light. The few clumsy stitches cut loose, the lightning reaching for the cloud. You want to be closer, and so does he. His friends are so far away, and this planet is strange.

You open your arms in invitation. He scoops you up and holds you close to his chest. Two feathers on the waves of a universe that's so much bigger than either of you.

What color am I now? you murmur to him. You'd bet in the moment that he's a golden glow. You can't see it, yet, but you can feel it. He strokes down your back with the tip of a massive finger, contemplatively.

You're a storm over a turbulent sea, he says. With light coming through the clouds.

[glamorousfantasyfic]

Grumpy Mornings - Azriel

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary : You wake up in a grumpy mood but being with Azriel makes it's better.

Word count : 1.4k

Warnings : none

a/n : hey !! I am back, my exams got over and I needed to be back with my fictional boyfriend again . I am so sorry for leaving without telling but , here is a cute one.

《》《》《》《》《》《》

Y/N’s P.O.V

My eyes flutter slowly, my hand going to my face to hide from the harsh rays of sunlight entering the room.

Oh god, I forgot to close the blinds again.

That's such a pain in the ass. Why can't they just stay close automatically? I groaned at the sunlight, silently cursing it. I get more aware of the position I am sleeping in. My back pressed to something hard, and the weight of literal dumbbells on my waist. This morning is not going well, really. I groan again. The sound is like I am being tortured as I try to stir, but the weight on my waist tugs me back to my earlier position.

Turning my head around slightly, I look at the black, soft curls of hair spread on the blue pillow.

It's just Az, my mate. Sometimes, I forget he is always around me. I mumble his name in a half-sleepy state still. My head bent at an odd angle from his hand around my waist.

" Az ..."

No reaction, typical of him really. The oh so sharp, spymaster he is, but I have discovered, he is always too carefree with me, walls all down, all emotions visible for me to see. And when he sleeps with me, he is like a dead log.

I sigh, trying to shift again, but no vain my effort is.

Strong shadowsinger indeed.

I tug on the silver Thread that binds us together, that's the only last resort I have left.

He stirs, thank god, finally. But doesn't wake up.

Ugh such a pain in the ass Sometimes really.

I shake him lightly. Tugging on the bond with much force , he spirals awake. Eyes snapping open as the spymaster returns to full glory . Looking around for any threat. His hand, already under my pillow , grasping a Blade.

Ready to strike.

I roll my eyes.

" It's just me, idiot, I need to get up, lift your giant arms off me," I say, looking at his face. My neck was still turned around at an awkward angle.

He sighs and grumbles in his sleepy voice.

" You scared the shit out of me baby ." He says, his one hand lifting from my torso, gently coming up to my hair, running his fingers in my roots gently.

“ Be a little gentle with me, I am fragile, “ he says, his joking demeanor back. His eyes glinted like I had just hung the stars and not snapped at him, like a grumpy toddler.

“ Azriel….please, this position is hurting my neck, “ I say, in almost a whiny tone.

He smiles, flipping me around effortlessly if I am just a puppy, rather than a 50 kg human being. I gasp lightly, my fingers gripping his shoulders to stabilize myself.

“ Can't have my darling's neck straining now, can we ?” He says, smirking, as his fingers move to the back of my head, fingers trailing down my hair slowly.

I mock glares at him.

“ That's a very rude way, you could have given me a warning.”

“ And miss those beautiful gasps you make? Never, honey.”

I huff, but my heart melts a little at his words.

“ What's got my sugar, all grumpy this morning, huh ?” he coos at me like I am a child. And damn it, I find it cute.

“ The blinds are open, I don't like waking up to sunshine in my face, “ I mumble, like a child, complaining.

“ Aww, my baby, come here, let me hide you.” He says, his hand moving from my hair to guide my head gently against his tattooed chest. Other hand, going around my waist, as if to protect me. His wings flared up and creating a canopy around us. The light was all blocked. Darkness surrounds us.

I sigh in contentment, nuzzling my face into his chest, the smell of woodsmoke and leather around me.

“ Thanks, baby, you make my mornings better, “ I say, my voice rumbling on to his chest.

I can hear the soft smile on his face, by the way the bond warms up.

“Anything for my favourite lady.”

My cheeks start to turn pink, thankful for the darkness around us.

“ You know, your side of the bond is wide open, and I can hear your every thought; even your pretty blush face that you are trying to hide from me, sugar.” He says, tilting my head up, with his index finger.

In the darkness of his wings, too, I could see his hazel eyes on my face.

I try to look away, but this is embarrassing.

He, on the other hand, was enjoying this thoroughly. He ‘tsked’ with his tongue.

“ My pretty lady, shouldn't hide from me….I deserve the show,” He rumbles on. His index finger and thumb stroked my chin gently.

And I think I melted there. His smile got bigger.

Goddammit, it's, stupid bond.

I think, closing the bond, feeling slightly guilty.

His hand on my chin moves to my cheek.

“ Honey, even though it's only been a little time with our mating bond, I have memorized each and every expression and reaction of yours to my words.” His hold on my cheek, finger tracing lightly.

I shiver slightly, trying to get the reasons straight in my head , that we should probably be up.

“ Az..” I say, my voice soft and slow.

His sleepy “mmhmm” does something to me.

The goosebumps on my arms are not going away. The thought of getting up,flying out of my head.

My face tilted upwards as I stared into his serene face. It's like a moonlit painting. And his expression, the longing mirrors mine. Face leaning down at my level.

“ I know you hate morning breath, but the look in your eyes is saying, you wouldn't mind this.” He whispers and brushes his lips over mine; reverent…soft and…oh so mesmerizing that it takes my breath away.

It's like all over the first time again. The way my heart thuds, my hands gripping onto his shoulder…hyperactive to every sound and touch.

Azriel's P.O.V.

I know she doesn't like physical touch from others much, but when she is with me, it's a whole different story…She loses herself in me and I am a smug bastard but, damn it! If I don't enjoy the effect I have on her. My hands are fully cupping her face now, nearly covering her whole face. Her big, siren eyes convert to the soft, innocent look she has when with me. Her lips pressed to mine, hesitant. I nod back at her, trying to reassure her, my quiet little mate. Strong for the world ..but oh so sweet for me.

“ Honey…respond please..” I mumble, my lips moving against us. I know she gets caught up in the moment..freezing up. Her eyes flutter shut as she presses her lips to mine, a little firmer.

The bond rejoices, warmth flooding between us. My eyes closed involuntarily, too.

It's just the press of lips..not even tongue, but…it feels so much more. No one other than her could make just a peck this special. Before her, physical intimacy was just a need to let go of stress for a while, but with her..it's like my body knows that I have found a home that I can come to. And even if we never do more than kiss, I can die like a happy, blissful man right here.

Her eyes snap open as she pulls back a little. Confused, my eyes look into hers, trying to search for what I did wrong.

Not knowing she has heard every one of my thoughts through the bond.

“ Y/N ….?” I whisper.

Y/N’s P.O.V .

Don't….think about dying, baby.” I whisper, my hand going to his face.

“ You…are my mate…don't ever think about dying. Ever, “ I mumble, soft but firm.

His eyes widened a little in surprise. But then he grins.

“ Care about me too much ?” he says, teasingly.

But I…the thought of him dying, under even my touch, tugs at my heartstrings.

“More than I care about anyone or anything,” I say, my gaze holding his. Determined, firm, and filled with softness, only reserved for special people in my life.

He smiles warmly at me, his wings lifting off the dark cocoon around us. As his forehead presses to mine.

“ You know how to make my heart somersault, with just words, sugar.” He whispers.

And that's how our mornings goes, filled with soft promises and reverent touches. The beautiful bond between us, rekindling to life. Two Guarded souls, trying to be there for each other and opening up the gates to let the other one in. To make the other one feel special, but the bond that binds, pulls them together, reaching both that the other one loves you just as much as you love them.

[rosecoloredsunshine]

honey, you're familiar — james patrick march

masterlist | character.ai bot | part two

PAIRINGS: james patrick march x female!reader

SUMMARY: you are the reincarnation of his greatest love, the woman who mysteriously vanished from his life in the 1920s. though you have no memory of your past life, you are an exact replica of the woman he adored.

REMINDERS: please be reminded that this is a work of fiction. meaning that all events and occurrences in this story are all fictional and all are part of my imagination. any resemblance to actual life events and people, living or dead, are all purely coincidence.

WARNINGS: no use of y/n, reincarnation, slight implication of reader being murdered (if you squint enough), the countess does not exist in this fic, and minor typographical errors.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! i've been rewatching ahs, and i wanted to give it a try writing for the ahs fandom. this will also be my first time writing for the ahs fandom. i also made a character.ai for this fic that is linked just above. i hope that you guys will enjoy this one! :)

2015

The night air was unseasonably cold for Los Angeles. You had stepped out of the cab with a soft huff, wrapping your coat tighter around your body as you glanced up at the building that stood before you. The Hotel Cortez. It loomed like a relic of another era, gothic and imposing, the dark stonework catching the dim city lights in odd angles. Truth be told, it wasn't your first choice, it was far from it, but after calling around every hotel in the city, it was the only place left with a vacancy. You had hesitated for a brief moment in the cab, chewing the insides of your cheeks, but what other option did you have?

Inside of the building, the lobby was a different world. Grand, in an old Hollywood kind of way, but there was something off. Maybe it was the silence, or the way the golden fixtures gleamed too brightly, as if they were watching you. You have your luggage in tow behind you, the sound of wheels clattering against marble floors echoing through the space.

From behind the front desk, a woman perked up at your approach. She was a much older woman, thin lips pulled tight over perfect teeth, hair styled in an immaculate bouffant that screamed another decade. Her name tag read Iris.

“Welcome to the Hotel Cortez,” she said brightly, but her eyes didn't seem to match the warmth in her voice. “Checking in?”

You nodded at her. “I need a room for the night…maybe two.”

Iris’ fingers clicked across the keyboard, an ancient looking machine that still required a punch of force on each key. “Well, lucky you,” she said, “we’ve got one left. Seems like the city’s just full up tonight.”

She then slid a paper across to you, pushing a fountain pen along with it. “Sign here, please.”

As you scrawled your signature across the page, you felt something in the air had shifted. It was subtle at first, like the faintest change in pressure before a storm. You did not notice it, but he did.

James Patrick March was standing on the mezzanine above, his hands resting on the brass railing as he stared down at you with eyes wide, unblinking. He had not known fear in his lifetime, he’s the kind of man who reveled in control, carnage, in bending fate to his will. His usual smirk was absent, replaced with something that is raw, something akin to disbelief.

His mind could not accept it at first. It had been nearly a century since he had last seen you. Since you had vanished without a trace, leaving him to scour the world for any whisper of your presence. But now, James watched as you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, just the way you always had. Your fingers were delicate, graceful, as if they belonged on piano keys. Your profile turned toward Iris was devastatingly familiar, the high curve of your cheekbone, the sharpness of your fox-like gaze, even as your eyes darted so casually across the lobby in a way that suggested this place unsettled you.

You are here. His lost love. His obsession. His salvation and his damnation.

James’ chest constricted. You were unchanged. Not merely similar, but the same. Perfect. Flawless. As if God himself had honored James’ desperate plea for your return, despite his profound aversion to the Christian values. He descended the stairs without realizing he had moved, the sharp click of his shoes announcing his approach. Iris noticed him first and immediately stiffened. You did not see him at first, too busy retrieving your wallet from your bag.

“Sir,” Iris said, voice lower, deferential.

James’ voice was honey-drenched steel. “I will handle this guest personally, Iris.”

You turned then, startled. For a brief moment, the world seemed to pause. He stood before you, immaculate in a three-piece suit from another age, posture unnaturally straight, predatory yet elegant. His mustache was neatly groomed, and his dark eyes were captivating. It was as if they burned into you with such intensity that you took a small step back without thinking.

“I—” you began, voice soft and uncertain. “I’m sorry, but do I know you?”

His smile was slow, it was like a knife slipping beneath flesh. But there was something else there. Reverence and awe. “You will,” James replied, voice low and velvety. “In time.”

There was an unsettling calm to him, like the eye of a hurricane. Iris handed you an old-fashioned key on a brass fob before scuttling away, leaving you alone with the man.

James gestured toward the elevators. “Permit me to escort you to your room. It is the least I can do for a guest of your…exquisite standing.”

You briefly hesitated, but politeness was second nature. It had been drilled into you at finishing school, and this man spoke with such an archaic elegance, like he had directly stepped out of a Fitzgerald novel.

You offered a wary smile. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”

As he walked beside you, pace measured, James studied every delicate angle of your face. They way you held yourself, graceful and poised, just as he remembered. Your perfume was different, more lighter, but your skin—he could almost swear, still smelled faintly of rose and sandalwood.

“I’m James,” he said as you reached the elevator. “James Patrick March, the owner of this hotel.”

You nodded. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

The elevator doors opened with a groan, and he ushered you in, following closely. As the doors slid shut, you glanced at him, feeling the weight of his stare.

“What is it?” you asked softly.

James tilted his head, smiling in a way that made your stomach twist, half-charm and half-sinister. “Forgive me. You remind me of someone…very dear to me.”

You flushed faint at his words, but nodded, really unsure of what to say. As the floors ticked upward, James kept his hands behind his back, concealing how they trembled with restraint. He wanted to touch you, just to confirm that you were real. That you were flesh, and not some cruel hallucinations that had been conjured by centuries of longing.

When the doors opened, he stepped aside and let you lead the way, gaze never straying from you for an instant. You walked to the door that Iris had assigned you—room 64. He took the key from your hand with a touch that sent a straight shiver up your spine and opened the door for you. You crossed the threshold, feeling the strange energy of the room settle over you like a veil. As you set your bag down, James remained in the doorway, just watching.

His eyes darkened as he spoke again. “If there is anything, anything, that you require, you need only ask.”

You turned to him with a gracious nod, still smiling politely, though something about his intensity gnawed at you. “I appreciate it, Mr. March. Goodnight.”

James took a breath, lips parting as if to say something more. But he did not. Instead, he gently grabbed your hand and kissed it softly, as though you were a queen and he was a loyal knight.

“Goodnight, my dear.”

The door shut softly, but he stood there for a long time, staring at the wood as though he could see through it. His mind reeled. You were here, at his hotel. Alive. Returned. Though you bore no memory of the life you once shared, of the nights he whispered secrets into your ear and how your voice had caressed his name like a prayer as you lay tangled in his arms, of the dreams he had for the empire he was building with your beauty at its heart—he would remind you.

James would awaken the love you held for him. Brick by brick, memory by memory, he would reconstruct you into the woman who once adored him with such fierce devotion, and this time, you would never leave the Hotel Cortez. One thing was certain—James Patrick March did not believe in coincidences. Fate had returned you to him, and he had no intention of letting you go a second time, so he wasted no time and descended the stairs to find Iris.

He turned to Iris. “Send her dinner, something divine. And Iris…”

“Yes, Mr. March?”

James’ gaze was gleaming. “Nobody disturbs her. She is not to leave. The lady of the house is home at last.”

Then slowly, he smiled.

© rosecoloredsunshine, 2025

[hesperisms]

hello! can i request zayne with reader who shows up at his doorstep really badly injured and just passes out against him when he opens the door?

i really love how you write zayne in your fics and i've been thinking about this idea for awhile..

// Safe Haven

"You're not fighting alone this time..."

// summary: your assignment was taking a turn for the worse and out of desperation and panic, you turned to the one person you know will always be there for you...

// content warnings: injuries, blood, angst, fluff. IT'S SOFT BOI HOURS, OKAY?

// a/n: hope I did your idea justice anon! something about the idea of seeing Zayne's all possessive and protective makes my chest ache!

likes, reblogs, comments are always appreciated!

Zayne couldn't place his finger on the feeling, but something had him full of restless energy despite the late hour. He'd decided the only course of action was to burn it off, so he put on his sweats and headed out into his quiet leafy suburb for a late night jog. He used it as an opportunity to clear his thoughts and mentally debrief himself about the surgery he had completed earlier, about his to-do lists and then his thoughts drifted as they always do, to you.

He hadn't heard from you for a few hours, which wasn't unusual for you two, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of longing that he hadn't seen a goodnight text or voice note from you, hoping that it meant maybe you had conked out on the couch and were getting some rest. As he walked the last block back towards his house, relaxing on his cooldown he takes a photo of the full moon in the sky and sends it over to you along with a "the moon looks beautiful tonight" note.

DING.

Zayne approaches his driveway and your notification sound rings out, echoing in the silent night. He shakes his head, a smile touching the corner of his lips as he realizes you're nearby but his brow knits in confusion when he doesn't see your ride parked nearby. She probably got dropped off by Tara or that partner Xavier, he thinks to himself with a shrug. The cool night air was trapping the sweat in against his compression shirt, making him shiver as he walked up the steps to his front door. Something was off, he realized suddenly; one of his ambient security lights that normally cast a soft glow up his front steps was dimmed and bent at an odd angle, like something had fallen on it.

He leans over, attempting to make out in the dark what landed on top of it to break it when he hears it again and sees the flash.

DING.

Blood turns to ice in his veins as your notification tone sounds from beside the broken garden lighting, the flash of your phone camera strobing in the darkness for a split second in tandem with the sound. Delicately picking up your phone in his left hand, his heart catches in his chest as he sees bloody fingerprints on the screen. Zayne's mind surges with all sorts of worst-case fears as his eyes desperately scan the yard for any sign of you, but you're nowhere to be found.

Wary now and knowing you're hurt, he carefully calls forth shards of ice to his fingertips of his right hand, holding them tensely, ready to jump to action if he needs to defend himself too. Punching in the code for his electronic front door lock, he lets the door swing open as he steps inside cautiously, but nothing seems to be out of the ordinary inside. Zayne moves room to room silently looking for anything out of place, any sign of you, without success.

He's just about to shut the front door and start making calls to your boss Jenna and emergency services when your hand slams against the closing door, jolting him as he stares at you. "Zayne..." you squeak out, using all your strength to prop yourself up on his doorframe.

"I'm so gla-" you don't even get a chance to finish before your body is in freefall towards him and his eyes widen in panic, the phone and the ice shards both clattering loudly on the entryway tiles as he scrambles to catch you before you hit the floor. "My hero..." you joke weakly, face pallid as you slip out of consciousness in his arms.

Cradling you gently, kneeling on the cold tiles beside you his combat medic instinct overtakes his fears and he begins to perform some cursory checks, noting how pale your lips are, how shallow your breathing is, and that's when he sees it; your right arm is dangling limply, seemingly dislocated from the socket and the sleeve has been ripped to shreds, your bicep showing a deep, angry wound. You've lost a lot of blood and you're in shock, so Zayne knows he needs to act swiftly.

"I'm so sorry, this is not going to be enjoyable for either of us." he murmurs to your unconscious body gently as he takes hold of your dislocated shoulder, feeling for the socket before firmly and skillfully setting it back into place. You cry out a whimper of pain as it temporarily wakes you and he brushes your hair away from your forehead with a bloody hand, stroking the backs of his fingers tenderly across your brow with a trembling touch. "Shhhh my love, I'm sorry, I know it hurt but I had no choice, it couldn't stay that way, you're okay, I've got you. You're okay."

Your eyes are glassy and unfocused, but you look up at him like he's an angel, the ceiling down light cascading around his dark hair above you like a halo; that handsome face stroking your brow lovingly with gentle sweeps, trying so hard to hide from you how scared he is as he smiles down at you trying to reassure you both with his soft whispers. As your eyes begin to flutter shut again and unconsciousness swallows you, you see him pulling his compression shirt off up over his head, his bare chest sucking in deep shuddering breaths that betray his smile and measured tone.

Zayne ties a sleeve of the compression shirt around your bicep wound like a tourniquet and loops the other sleeve around your neck, creating a very crude home made sling for your badly damaged arm. If he thought he had more time, he'd run to the bathroom for medical supplies but you were too pale and he was terrified to let you out of his sight so he made do as best he could. Swallowing down all sorts of insidious memories and fears from his time on the front lines, he works to stabilize you so that you'll be safe to move.

Grabbing the throw blanket off the couch and draping it over you, he scoops you up into his arms, pressing you tightly into his body as he carries you to his car, delicately lowering you into the passenger side and locking the seatbelt over you. You flit in and out of consciousness under the bright streetlights as he drives you to Akso Hospital, the steady weight of his large hand cradled behind your head, pressing and stroking tenderly on the nape of your neck the only constant feeling other than pain.

"Dr. Zayne, didn't you finish a couple of hours ago? Did you forget something in your office?" The tired but friendly voice of Dr. Greyson rings out over the car's Bluetooth speakers as Zayne's call to the nurses station connects. "Go cuddle with your Lady paperwork can wait!" Yvonne laughs in the background and Zayne realizes he's on speakerphone.

"I'm just about to hit the exit ramp. I'm 2 minutes away, prep a bay in Emergency Greyson...it's y/n." Zayne says with a harsher, colder tone than he intended, fear for your wellbeing getting the better of him.

Silence hangs on the line for a moment before someone sniffs awkwardly and a cacophony of chairs scraping and shuffling flares to life as the nurses scramble.

"How bad?" Comes the soft reply and Zayne can hear the concern in his colleague and friend's tone.

Zayne squeezes the nape of your neck reassuringly, but whether it's to reassure you or himself, he can't tell; "she's lost a lot of blood, it's hard to say. I have her stable but we don't have much time," he responds, his voice breaking slightly.

"We'll be waiting for you at the front doors." Greyson says confidently as he disconnects the call. Zayne's golden-green gaze flits across to your lips, checking on your shallow breathing as he pulls his car into the ambulance bay. Just as promised, Greyson, Yvonne and the other nurses pull up a stretcher to the passenger side of the car and open the door, looking across from you to Zayne and giving him a solemn nod.

Zayne gives your neck one last squeeze and lets them take you from the car, watching critically as they lift you gently onto the stretcher and rush you into the waiting Emergency bay. He shivers as the shock starts to wear off and the cold silence of the middle of the night settles in. Looking down at himself, realizing that he's half-naked and covered in smears of your blood, he grabs his coat out of the back of his car and jogs in after them.

He's about to follow them into the Emergency bay when Greyson puts a firm hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. "Are you trying to come in as her Doctor, because you don't trust us to work on her, or her lover because you need to know she's okay?" He asks pointedly.

Zayne snarls out a frustrated sigh, but Greyson continues.

"The code of conduct is there for her interests as the patient, you know that. I'll call you in as soon as we're done. You look like hell, go clean yourself up."

Zayne nods his resignation with a scowl, knowing Greyson was right. He wasn't happy to be called out on it, but Zayne couldn't maintain his objectiveness and professionalism, not when you were involved. The Akso Hospital board might turn a blind eye to him being your General Practitioner while dating you, but they would not stand for him being part of a surgical team.

He showered in the Doctor's suites and grabbed a spare shirt from his office before settling into the visitor's seating in the hallway outside Emergency. Zayne was lying back in the armchair, his head tilted back as he rubbed slow circles on his temples when Greyson finally come out to get him a couple of hours later.

"She's got a fractured humerus and she needed almost a litre of blood, but she's out of the woods now. Pulse is strong again, color has returned and we've stitched up the wound in her bicep. She's asking for you." Greyson said with a smile, giving Zayne a pat on the shoulder as he walked off towards the Doctor's suites.

"She's awake?"

He calls back over his shoulder with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Go to your woman, Zayne!"

Zayne slips in through the door to see the nurses packing up the crash cart and various other Emergency supplies and they give him a knowing smile as they make way for him. Yvonne hands him the pillow she was about to put behind your head and says with a smile "we should leave you two lovebirds alone, you've been through a lot tonight."

"You look..." Zayne begins, pushing the pillow in behind your head.

"Terrible?"

"A sight for sore eyes. For a minute there I was scared I was going to lose you."

You chuckled weakly, color rising in your cheeks. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily, Handsome." You reached for his hand, wincing as your stitches pulled and Zayne slipped his hand over yours, gently snuggling himself onto the bed beside you. "I don't know what would've happened if you weren't there..." you began, emotions spilling over and you choke back a sob. He presses you into his chest, hushing you and peppering kisses into your hair.

"Don't think about it Darling, don't upset yourself with what ifs and scenarios." He murmured. "I was there, you're safe now. I've got you and that's all that matters."

As he let you cry softly against his warm chest, he rubbed slow circles on your back, squeezing you tightly, pecking little soothing kisses onto your head. Zayne gently brushed your tears from your cheeks, gazing down at you lovingly, the pad of his thumb feeling so comforting as you stared up at him.

Zayne released you and reached over to read your chart, his brows knitting and his eyes narrowing as he scans through your status and treatment observations. Giving you a gentle peck on the cheek, he tells you he'll be right back and slips from the room.

He's gone for a few minutes and when the door to your room opens, he's carrying the powder blue baby blanket you bought him when he was struggling with nightmares and sitting on top of the bundle were a couple of his always on hand mint candies. Climbing back onto the bed beside you, pulling you onto his chest so he can support your wounded arm he spreads the blanket out over the two of you.

Zayne unwraps a mint candy and holds it out for you.

"Open." He commands gently and you part your lips to let him pop it into your mouth, before he takes the other one himself, tossing the wrappers into the little trashcan beside your bed. "They're keeping you in for observation overnight, so lets do our best to get a good night of sleep, my love." Zayne explains to you in a soft, whispered tone, pulling your head down to rest underneath his chin. As you both chew your candies and cuddle into each other's warmth, he strokes your hair until after a few minutes he feels your breathing settle and you relax, falling asleep against him.

The door opens with a soft click, Greyson poking his head in silently to check on you before he ends his shift, changed out of his scrubs and now in his casual wear. He gives Zayne a small nod and Zayne nods back at him solemnly in thanks, the two men exchanging a whole conversation unspoken in their gestures. The whole time Zayne is squeezing his arm tightly around you, cradling you to his chest as you sleep, his heartbeat lulling you into gentle dreams.

[xichilie]

Phainon x (fem) reader

Part1 part2 PART3

The group packed up quickly, with Tribbie cheerfully skipping ahead, Trailblazer casually snacking as always, and Dan Heng trailing behind with his usual quiet presence. Phainon lingered just slightly, trying to collect himself as his heart continued to race from Y/N’s earlier compliment.

He caught up as they began walking along a narrow path, the ancient stones of the city outskirts giving way to rough terrain. The air smelled faintly of moss and something metallic, and the ground was uneven beneath their feet.

Y/N walked ahead, her sword strapped securely to her back, her expression calm but focused. Phainon tried to focus on anything but how cool she looked.

“So, uh, Y/N,” he said, sidling up to her with a casual grin. “You were really amazing back there too, you know. The way you took down that big guy? Legendary.”

Y/N glanced at him, her face lighting up with a smile. “Thanks, Phainon. But it’s not really that impressive when you’ve had as much practice as I have.”

“Not impressive? Are you kidding?” Phainon said, his voice rising slightly. “You climbed a living boulder like it was a staircase! That’s… that’s beyond impressive! That’s—”

“Admirable?” Tribbie chimed in from ahead, turning to walk backward so she could grin at them. “Heroic? The stuff of legends? Keep going, Phainon, I’m enjoying this.”

Phainon stumbled over his words, shooting her a helpless look. “I mean, yeah, all of that! But I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to—”

Trailblazer snickered, patting Tribbie on the shoulder as they both turned back to the path. Dan Heng, walking quietly a few paces behind, sighed audibly but said nothing.

Y/N just laughed. “You’re sweet, Phainon. But I couldn’t have done it without you all holding the others off. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

Phainon flushed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, totally. Teamwork.”

They walked in companionable silence for a while, the crunch of their footsteps on gravel the only sound. The scenery began to shift, with jagged cliffs rising on either side and strange, glowing carvings etched into the stone walls.

Dan Heng finally broke the silence. “The traces we’re following—there’s a higher concentration up ahead.” He gestured toward a fork in the path, one side leading to a darker, more enclosed area while the other veered toward an open, rocky clearing.

“Splitting up might save us time,” Y/N suggested, already assessing the terrain. “Dan Heng, you and Trailblazer could take the path on the left, and the rest of us can check out the clearing.”

Dan Heng nodded in agreement. “It’s logical. But if either group encounters trouble, don’t engage until we regroup.”

Trailblazer gave a thumbs-up. “Got it. No heroics… unless they look really cool.”

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. “Sure, just don’t die trying to show off.”

As Dan Heng and Trailblazer disappeared down the left path, the remaining trio headed toward the clearing. The rocky terrain was uneven, with glowing crystals jutting out at odd angles.

“Alright,” Y/N said, scanning the area. “Let’s see if we can pick up any more traces.”

Tribbie wandered a little ahead, poking at the glowing crystals with her staff. “These things are so weird. I feel like if I touch the wrong one, the whole place might explode.”

“Maybe don’t touch them, then,” Y/N suggested, raising an eyebrow.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Tribbie grinned, but she stepped back cautiously anyway.

Phainon, meanwhile, was sticking close to Y/N, his usual energy tempered slightly by the eerie atmosphere. He couldn’t help but glance at her every so often, marveling at how calm and composed she seemed.

“Hey, Y/N?” he said suddenly.

She turned to him, her expression curious. “What’s up?”

“Do you ever, uh, get nervous? You know, before a fight or something?”

Y/N tilted her head, considering the question. “Sometimes,” she admitted. “But I’ve learned to channel it. Nervous energy can be useful if you use it right.”

“Huh,” Phainon said, looking thoughtful. “That’s… really smart. Makes sense, coming from you.”

Y/N smiled. “What about you? Do you ever get nervous?”

“Oh, me? Nah,” Phainon said quickly, puffing out his chest. “I’m as cool as they come.”

Tribbie snorted loudly from a few feet away. “Sure, Phainon. That’s why you nearly tripped over a rock trying to dodge one of those stone monsters earlier.”

“I was strategizing!” he said, his voice rising an octave.

Y/N laughed, and Phainon couldn’t even be mad about being called out because the sound of her laughter was worth it.

Before he could say anything else, Y/N crouched down, her sharp eyes catching something on the ground. She reached out and brushed away a layer of dust, revealing faint scorch marks and a few shards of glowing crystal.

“Looks like we’re on the right track,” she said, holding up one of the shards for Phainon and Tribbie to see.

“Good find,” Phainon said, leaning closer to examine it. “You’ve got an eye for this stuff, huh?”

“Comes with the territory,” she said with a shrug, slipping the shard into her bag. “Let’s keep moving. Whatever left these marks can’t be too far ahead.”

As they continued onward, Phainon couldn’t help but glance at Y/N every now and then, his golden-retriever smile never far from his face. Even in the middle of potentially dangerous territory, she had a way of making everything feel… lighter.

And if he tripped over a rock once or twice while sneaking glances at her, well, Tribbie was kind enough not to comment.

For now.

The group tread cautiously through the glowing clearing, the jagged terrain surrounding them like a maze of natural traps. The scorch marks and glowing shards scattered across the ground were undeniable signs that something was lurking nearby.

Y/N raised her sword slightly, the sharp metallic sound cutting through the tense silence. “Stay alert. We’re close.”

Phainon stepped closer to her, his signature golden-retriever grin still present, though his eyes were sharp with focus. “Don’t worry. If anything jumps out, I’ll handle it.”

“You’ll handle it?” Mydei snorted from behind, his rough voice carrying just enough mockery to make Phainon glance over his shoulder. “Didn’t you almost trip over your own sword five minutes ago?”

“Strategic repositioning,” Phainon shot back, puffing his chest out. “You wouldn’t understand, Mydei. It’s a finesse thing.”

“Right,” Mydei drawled, his blonde-red hair catching the glow of the crystals as he cracked his knuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind while I’m taking down twice as many as you.”

Tribbie, skipping a few paces ahead, waved her staff around like it was a baton. “Oh, boy. Here we go again. The Phainon versus Mydei Show, round 57.” She paused, smirking over her shoulder. “You know, if you two spent half as much time fighting monsters as you do fighting each other, we’d have wiped this place clean by now.”

Before anyone could respond, a deep, grinding sound echoed through the clearing. The ground seemed to vibrate beneath their feet, and from the shadows emerged hulking figures of stone and crystal.

The Titankin stood tall and menacing, their faceless, humanoid forms glowing faintly with runes etched into their surfaces. Some carried swords as broad as tree trunks, while others held bows strung with crystalline energy.

“Alright, guys,” Y/N said, her voice calm and commanding as she gripped her sword. “We’ve got company. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“Hard? Please,” Phainon said, flipping his blade with a flourish. “This’ll be easy.”

“Bet I take down more than you,” Mydei challenged, his fists glowing faintly as he prepared for battle.

Phainon rolled his eyes but grinned. “Oh, it’s on.”

Y/N sighed. “Can you two not—”

“Ready? GO!” Phainon yelled, charging toward the nearest Titankin with Mydei hot on his heels.

Y/N groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Of course.”

Tribbie giggled, hopping to the side as one of the archer-type Titankin fired a glowing arrow her way. “You gotta admit, it’s kind of fun watching them trip over themselves trying to one-up each other.”

“Fun isn’t the word I’d use,” Y/N muttered, dashing forward to engage one of the sword-wielding Titankin.

The battlefield erupted into chaos.

Phainon darted around the heavy strikes of a massive Titankin, his movements quick and graceful as he delivered a series of precise slashes to its legs. “That’s one down!” he called triumphantly as the creature crumbled into rubble.

“One?” Mydei scoffed, delivering a powerful uppercut to another Titankin, causing cracks to spiderweb across its torso. He followed up with a crushing blow that sent it collapsing in a heap of stone. “Two for me!”

“Oh, come on!” Phainon shouted, narrowly dodging a glowing arrow. “That one didn’t even put up a fight!”

“Don’t be mad just because I’m better,” Mydei retorted, smirking as he squared off against another enemy.

“Better at being annoying, maybe!”

Y/N, meanwhile, was weaving through the battlefield like a dancer, her sword flashing as she expertly dismantled the Titankin one by one. She didn’t have time to indulge in the boys’ antics, but she couldn’t help but smirk as she caught snippets of their bickering.

“Focus!” she called out, parrying a massive swing from one of the larger Titankin.

“I am focusing!” Phainon shouted back, leaping onto a boulder to get a better angle. He launched himself off it and delivered a devastating blow to one of the archers, splitting its crystalline bow in half. He turned to Mydei, grinning.

“Three down!” Phainon called out, his blade flashing as he leapt backward, dodging the heavy swing of a stone sword. He twisted midair, landed smoothly, and sliced through the Titankin’s glowing core. “Make that four!”

“Four?” Mydei snorted, dodging an arrow that narrowly grazed his shoulder. “I’m already at six. You better pick up the pace, golden boy.” He delivered a brutal punch to the chest of another Titankin, cracks spreading through its torso before it crumbled to the ground.

“You’re counting that one?” Phainon yelled, pointing accusingly at the pile of rubble. “It fell over because it tripped! You didn’t even hit it that hard!”

“Still counts,” Mydei said smugly, flexing his fists.

Tribbie laughed as she hopped onto a rock for a better view, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’m just gonna say it—you two are hilarious. You’re like those birds that fight over shiny things for no reason.” She waved her staff, blasting back a Titankin archer. “Meanwhile, Y/N’s probably lapping you both.”

“I heard that,” Y/N called out, her voice steady as she parried the massive blade of a Titankin. She stepped inside its guard, her sword flashing as she delivered a precise strike to its glowing core. The creature froze for a second before shattering into a heap of glowing rubble. “And Tribbie’s not wrong.”

Phainon’s head whipped around, distracted for a split second, which earned him a close call with a stone sword slicing through the air by his shoulder. He yelped and ducked, countering with a well-placed slash to the monster’s legs. “You’re saying you’re ahead of me?” he asked incredulously, finishing the Titankin off with a dramatic spin.

Y/N didn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on taking down another Titankin with a smooth series of strikes. Her movements were quick and calculated, every step and swing perfectly timed.

Mydei, mid-punch, glanced over at her with a frown. “She’s bluffing. There’s no way she’s ahead of me.” He delivered a devastating uppercut to a Titankin, sending its head flying clean off its shoulders.

Y/N only smiled, which, of course, made both men more suspicious.

“Seven!” Phainon yelled triumphantly, dodging and weaving through another attack. “Seven, Mydei! You better start worrying.”

“Eight,” Mydei shot back, slamming his fist into the chest of another Titankin. He glanced at Phainon with a smirk. “You’re gonna owe me dinner at this rate.”

Tribbie rolled her eyes, blasting another archer from a distance. “Wow, the male ego is really something, huh?”

Finally, the last Titankin fell, its glowing shards scattering across the rocky ground. The battlefield fell silent except for the sound of the group catching their breath.

Phainon wiped sweat from his brow, turning to Mydei with a triumphant grin. “Alright, what’s the tally?”

“Nine,” Mydei said confidently, crossing his arms and looking far too pleased with himself.

“Ha! Ten!” Phainon declared, pointing his sword at Mydei like he’d just won a duel. “Looks like dinner’s on you, my friend!”

Tribbie chuckled, hopping down from her perch. “I wouldn’t get too excited, golden boy.”

“What? Why?” Phainon blinked, confused.

Y/N sheathed her sword, her grin easy and casual as she stretched her arms. “Because I got 20.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“...What?” Phainon said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Twenty?” Mydei stared at her like she’d just sprouted a second head.

Y/N shrugged, brushing some dirt off her sleeve. “Yeah. You know, while you two were busy arguing and trying to impress each other, someone had to actually take care of the problem.”

Tribbie burst out laughing, nearly doubling over. “She got more than both of you combined! Oh, this is gold.”

Phainon’s jaw dropped, his face turning red—not from embarrassment, but from sheer disbelief. “You—you were counting?”

“Of course I was counting,” Y/N said with a sly grin, crossing her arms. “It’s not my fault I’m better at multitasking than you two.”

Mydei groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I’m never hearing the end of this, am I?”

“Nope,” Y/N replied cheerfully.

Phainon blinked, then rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well… uh… you were incredible out there, Y/N. Seriously. I mean, you always are, but today especially.” His usual golden-retriever energy returned in full force, though his cheeks were still faintly pink.

Tribbie nudged Mydei with a smirk. “Look at him, blushing like she just crowned him king of the world.”

Mydei rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”

Phainon ignored them, flashing Y/N a grin that was only a little bit nervous. “Next time, I’ll catch up. Promise.”

Y/N chuckled, patting him on the shoulder as she walked past. “Good luck with that.”

Phainon just stood there, staring after her, the goofy grin on his face refusing to fade.

The group made their way deeper into the rocky terrain, the eerie glow of shattered crystal fragments lighting their path. The air was cooler here, heavy with an unnatural stillness that made Tribbie glance nervously over her shoulder every few minutes.

“So… does it feel like the ground’s gonna swallow us whole, or is that just me?” Tribbie muttered, clutching her staff a little tighter.

“Just your imagination,” Y/N replied casually, stepping over a fallen rock. “Probably.”

Tribbie squinted at her. “Probably? That’s not comforting.”

“Relax,” Phainon said brightly, his usual grin plastered across his face. He gestured to the rocky surroundings. “If anything weird happens, I’ll protect you!”

“Wow, I feel so safe,” Tribbie deadpanned, rolling her eyes.

As they moved forward, Mydei, who had been walking ahead of the group, suddenly stopped. “Hold up,” he said, holding out a hand. His sharp eyes scanned the ground.

“What is it?” Y/N asked, stepping closer to him.

“Something’s off,” Mydei replied, pointing to a patch of the rocky ground that looked slightly… different. The texture was smoother, the color faintly darker, almost like it had been worn down by something—or someone.

Y/N crouched down to examine it. She brushed her fingers over the stone and noticed faint grooves carved into it, leading in a jagged line toward a nearby outcrop. “These look like tracks,” she murmured.

“Tracks?” Phainon asked, leaning over her shoulder with barely contained excitement. “Like… a secret path?”

“Possibly,” Y/N said, rising to her feet. She followed the grooves with her eyes, her brow furrowing. “Whatever made them was big.”

“That’s encouraging,” Tribbie muttered, though she followed behind eagerly as Y/N began tracing the path.

The group walked in silence for a few moments, the faint glow of the crystals growing dimmer as they approached a cluster of large boulders piled haphazardly against the side of a cliff.

“Dead end,” Mydei said, crossing his arms.

“Maybe not,” Y/N countered, stepping closer to the boulders. She placed a hand on the surface of one, her gaze narrowing. “There’s something behind these.”

Phainon immediately perked up, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. “You mean like hidden treasure? Or ancient ruins? Or a monster nest?”

“Could be all three,” Y/N replied dryly.

“Fantastic!” Phainon said, clearly missing her sarcasm.

Tribbie poked one of the boulders with her staff. “Alright, so how do we move these without getting crushed?”

“Allow me,” Mydei said, cracking his knuckles. Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward, placed his hands on the nearest boulder, and shoved. The rock groaned in protest before slowly rolling away, revealing a narrow passage that sloped downward into the darkness.

“Show-off,” Phainon muttered under his breath.

“You’re welcome,” Mydei replied smugly, gesturing to the newly revealed path.

The passage was just wide enough for one person to walk through at a time, its walls smooth and slightly damp. Faint symbols were etched into the stone, glowing softly as the group descended.

“This is definitely leading somewhere,” Y/N said, her voice echoing slightly.

“I vote we turn back before we stumble into something we can’t handle,” Tribbie whispered, though she didn’t stop walking.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Phainon asked, his excitement palpable. “This is an adventure!”

“An adventure that could kill us,” Mydei muttered, though he followed without hesitation.

As they reached the bottom of the slope, the passage opened into a vast underground chamber. The ceiling was high and arched, supported by towering pillars carved with intricate patterns. In the center of the room stood what looked like an altar, surrounded by more of the strange, glowing symbols.

“Whoa,” Tribbie breathed, her voice filled with awe.

Y/N approached the altar cautiously, her sword at the ready. The air felt heavier here, charged with some kind of ancient energy. “This place is incredible,” she said, running her fingers over one of the carvings.

Phainon walked up beside her, his grin softer now as he took in the room. “You’re right. It’s beautiful.”

“It’s also probably dangerous,” Mydei pointed out, eyeing the shadows warily.

“Dangerous and beautiful,” Phainon said cheerfully. “Like Y/N.”

Y/N turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “What was that?”

“Uh, nothing!” Phainon said quickly, his face turning pink.

Tribbie snorted. “Smooth.”

Before anyone could comment further, a low rumble echoed through the chamber, and the glowing symbols on the altar began to pulse.

____

The chamber was eerily quiet, save for the faint hum of energy resonating from the glowing symbols on the altar. The group moved cautiously, their footsteps echoing softly off the smooth stone floor.

Y/N stood at the center of the room, studying the carvings etched into the towering pillars. Her fingers traced the lines of the ancient symbols, their glow pulsing faintly under her touch. “These are definitely not from the same era as the city above,” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “This is... older. Much older.”

Tribbie wandered toward the walls, tapping her staff lightly against the stone. “Well, it looks cool. Creepy, but cool.”

“Cool and creepy are rarely good combinations,” Mydei said, standing by the entrance with his arms crossed. He scanned the room with his usual skeptical frown, his gaze lingering on the darker corners.

Phainon, meanwhile, hovered near Y/N, watching her examine the carvings with a curious tilt of his head. “Do you think it’s some kind of warning?” he asked, pointing to a set of jagged symbols that spiraled outward from the altar.

“Could be,” Y/N replied, her brow furrowing as she knelt to inspect the markings on the floor. “Or it might be a map... or instructions.”

“You’re saying you don’t know?” Mydei asked, smirking faintly.

“I’m saying I need more time to figure it out,” Y/N shot back, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.

Phainon crouched beside her, peering at the symbols with a thoughtful expression. “You’re really good at this, Y/N. Like, way smarter than I’ll ever be. It’s kind of amazing.”

Y/N glanced at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks, Phainon.”

Tribbie snickered from across the room. “He’s doing that thing again.”

“What thing?” Phainon asked, his grin faltering slightly.

“The thing where you turn into a lovesick puppy,” Tribbie teased, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Am not!” Phainon protested, his cheeks flushing a light pink. He quickly stood, clearing his throat.

Y/N, oblivious as ever, was already back to examining the symbols. She stepped closer to the altar, her focus narrowing on a particularly intricate carving. “There’s something strange about this part,” she murmured, leaning in for a closer look.

Phainon stepped forward instinctively, his hand hovering near her arm. “Uh, careful—”

Before he could finish, the ground beneath Y/N’s feet gave a sudden, ominous crack.

“Y/N!” Phainon shouted, lunging forward, but it was too late.

The floor crumbled away in an instant, and Y/N disappeared into the darkness below.

Tribbie screamed, dropping her staff as she ran toward the edge of the newly formed pit. Mydei was already there, his sharp reflexes keeping him from tumbling in himself. He grabbed Tribbie by the shoulder to keep her from getting too close.

“Y/N!” Phainon called, his voice echoing down the dark abyss. He dropped to his knees, peering into the void with wide, panicked eyes.

There was no sound except for the faint crumble of debris.

“Is she—” Tribbie started, her voice trembling.

“She’s alive,” Mydei interrupted, his tone firm as he scanned the edge of the pit. “There’s no way she’d go down that easily.”

Phainon clenched his fists, his usual smile completely gone. “We have to get to her. Now.”

[ms-snape]

Imagine Snape cannot find his wand only to find his baby sucking on it like a pacifier

Title: Lost Wand

Warning: None

Words Counts: 1000+

A/N: I have a lot of exams these days so I don't really have a lot of time to write, sorry if this is horrible and really short but i'll catch up in like 2 weeks cause I have vacations in two weeks.

Masterlist

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The first light of dawn crept into the windows of Spinner's End, casting long, pale beams across the dark wooden floors of the small, tucked-away cottage. The day began like any other, calm and quiet, save for the faint rustling of the leaves outside, the gentle hum of life that seemed to reside just beyond the threshold. Inside, however, something was different today. Severus Snape could feel it.

He stirred from his slumber, his black hair tousled and sticking out at odd angles. His eyes flickered open and met the empty space beside him, where his wife, Y/N, had been resting not long ago. She must have already risen, he thought, her quiet presence an unspoken comfort in his otherwise solitary existence.

Severus had never imagined himself here—tucked away in a little house, married to someone who had seen past his hard exterior and into the heart of the man he had long tried to hide from the world. Y/N, with her soft smile, her kind words, and her unshakable belief in him, had turned his life upside down. But now, that life had become something else entirely—something filled with joy, in the form of their baby daughter, Hope.

As he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, his fingers brushed across his nightstand, where he normally placed his wand. But when he reached for it, his hand grasped nothing but air. A frown creased his brow.

"Where is it?" he muttered to himself.

His wand had to be around somewhere. It was always near him—on his person, tucked under a pillow, or within easy reach on a surface in the room. It had never just vanished before. He glanced over to the side of the bed where Y/N had laid, but there was no sign of the wand there either.

“Y/N?” he called out softly, his voice laced with the faintest hint of worry.

She didn’t respond immediately, but the soft sounds of footsteps from the kitchen told him she was already awake and making tea.

Sighing, Severus swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, scanning the room in earnest. He moved to the small desk near the window, where he often worked on various Potions-related tasks, his hand brushing across papers and books. Nothing. Not a hint of his wand.

“Y/N, have you seen my wand?” he called again, this time with a bit more urgency.

The response was immediate. Y/N’s soft voice drifted toward him from the kitchen. “I haven’t seen it. Did you misplace it again?”

“I’ve never misplaced it,” Severus muttered under his breath, though the words were more a reassurance to himself than a rebuke to her. He wasn’t the kind of person who lost things. His wand was his lifeline—his connection to magic. How could it just be... gone?

Y/N appeared in the doorway, her morning robe swishing as she walked. Her eyes, though tired, were warm with affection as she smiled at him. She had always been the calm to his storm, the one person who could steady him when the world felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

“I can’t find my wand,” Severus said simply, though his tone carried a weight that betrayed his annoyance. "I’ve looked everywhere."

Y/N's eyes softened with a touch of sympathy. She knew how much his wand meant to him, not just as an instrument of power, but as a symbol of control and order in his life. Without it, Severus felt exposed, vulnerable in a way he hated.

“Are you sure you didn’t leave it in the living room?” she asked gently, though she could already see the frustration beginning to build behind his eyes.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “I’ve already looked there.”

Y/N smiled faintly, her lips curling into a small, knowing grin. “Well, you could try checking under the bed. Maybe it slipped under there.”

Severus shot her a brief, skeptical look. He had already checked under the bed. But he wasn’t about to argue. Instead, he muttered a quick “Excuse me,” before disappearing out of the room, leaving Y/N to continue with her tea.

The next hour was filled with frantic searching.

Severus moved through the house methodically, checking every possible place his wand could have ended up. He opened every drawer in his desk, shifted through piles of books and parchment, and even checked behind the cushions of the chairs in the living room. No sign of it. His steps grew heavier with frustration.

"Where is it?" he muttered again, a hint of panic beginning to creep into his voice.

The house, usually so quiet, now seemed oppressive, like it was playing tricks on him. He could feel the walls pressing in, the air growing thick. His heart beat faster. This was impossible.

He retraced his steps to the bedroom, hands shaking slightly as he opened the wardrobe doors, rifling through his clothes as if his wand could be hidden in the folds of his black robes. No wand there either.

“Severus?” Y/N called from the kitchen. He could hear the gentle clinking of a spoon against a cup, as though she was stirring her tea, but her voice held a note of concern that only made his anxiety grow.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, a little too harshly. “I’ll find it.”

Y/N didn’t reply, but Severus could feel her presence in the air, a calm force in the midst of his spiraling thoughts. He had to find it. It wasn’t just about the wand. It was the feeling of losing control, of something slipping out of his grasp.

His footsteps led him back to the living room. He searched behind the bookshelves, checked under every rug. He even checked the fireplace, thinking it might have rolled into the ashes by some bizarre accident. Nothing.

He turned in circles, his mind whirling. He was beginning to feel like a madman, unable to find a simple object in his own home. His mind started to conjure dark thoughts—what if someone had taken it? What if someone was watching him, toying with him in some twisted game?

His heart thudded in his chest. A sudden wave of frustration surged through him. His eyes darted to the corner of the room, where a cradle stood, softly rocking. It was Hope's cradle.

Hope.

Severus froze. A thought sparked in his mind, a moment of clarity cutting through the fog of panic.

"Of course," he muttered, turning sharply toward the cradle.

He approached slowly, as if the very act of moving toward it might disturb some fragile peace. Hope, their beautiful daughter, was nestled inside, her small hands clutching a tiny, unfamiliar object. Severus leaned forward, his breath catching when he saw what she was holding.

It was his wand.

The tip of it rested between her chubby fingers, the polished wood glinting in the dim light of the room. And as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Hope was sucking on the end of it, her lips curling around it like it was a pacifier.

Severus stared, his eyes wide in disbelief. He watched as Hope cooed, her little hands gently playing with the wand, her tiny body wriggling with delight. He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips, despite his earlier frustration.

"Well," he murmured softly to himself, "this is certainly a first."

[blondejellykitty]

₊♡ ˚⊹ intruders in the cabin ₊♡ ˚⊹

୨୧ toby rogers x reader ୨୧ after your long walk through the forest, the stranger's cabin approaches but so does the dark... find part one: strangers in the woods. a/n: (1.5k words) sorry this took so long! i had so many different ideas of how this would go but i ended up liking this one best 🩷

After the long trek from within the forest, the encompassing trees merged into the dark distance. Ahead of you and Toby, who you came to know lived out here for his job, was a two story cabin. It wasn't overly large but you could tell it wouldn't be cramped inside.

You both were coming out of the forest from the right side of the house. At the front of the house was a small porch area with an old weathered metal stool. There were two dirt tracks from a vehicle winding into the forest. Toby offhandedly pointed to it as he walked up the porch stairs mentioning that that's the only way to get to an exit road.

He pulled out a silver key that was beginning to rust out of his jean pocket. His hand twitched a few times as if he had a bad hand cramp before roughly shoving the key into the lock.

Said wooden door was roughly shoved open hitting the wall behind it with a thud. The roof lights took a few seconds to come on after he flicked the light switch but he seemed to know where to go without them anyway. You hesitantly follow him into the old house.

It's not as if you had any other choice really. How else would you find your way out to the woods in the dark?

The interior was just as aged as the rest of the place. There were two brown couches one opposite the tv mounted on the wall above the fireplace, the other was on the right of the tv closing the living room off from the kitchen. There was a coffee table in between the two couches that had seen better days.

The kitchen table didn't look much better, there were four chairs although one had a bent leg and was sitting on an angle. So was one of the wooden cabinets barely hanging onto its hinges.

What else would you expect from a park ranger? Though it was a bit odd for someone your age to be doing this kind of job but then again the job market was rough so you gave the guy some slack.

He led you to couches where you sat on the nearest seat. Although it didn't look like it, the couch was more comfy than it looked. You almost melted back as you took in the rest of the room's details.

Most of the pictures and wall decor had a layer of dust on it, with thick cobwebs in the corners of the tall ceiling. There were worn marks from frequent use on the stairs opposite the front door, leading to the second floor of the cabin.

The creak of the fridge door opening startled you from your observations. Toby's head was peering into the fridge. "What'd you want? We've got gross pulp juice or flat cola?"

Not particularly your favourite choices in the world.

"Oh, there's some redbull cans- never mind their Bri- uh. My roommates." You were practically telepathic thanks to your customer service job but you could only just make out what he was mumbling about.

"I'll just have the juice, thank you" He hummed in agreement as he pulled out two glasses and poured you both a glass of the bulb orange juice.

He went around the other couch sitting down and leaning over to place your drink on the rackety table.

As he drank his eyes never left you, as if trying to soul search you. Under such intensive eyes you picked at the ends of your shirt, an odd habit you picked up during your time at school.

"So, do you live here alone?" Another habit of yours rose to the surface, filling the awkward silence. A habit you picked up at work.

"No, i have roommates"

He literally just mentioned it. Ugh you idiot, honestly.

"Right, you did mention that. Sorry" You quickly reached forward to grab your cup, raising it quickly to your mouth.

He laughed a bit, more like chuckled at your misfortune before muttering 'it's fine'.

"So why're you walking the trail you know before you got lost?" He emphasised the lost part as if he knew you weren't really. You gulped uncomfortably.

"I wanted to clear my head, walk with nature- that kinda thing." He raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Walk with nature? What the hell does that even mean" You scoffed.

Clearly this guy hadn't read many self care books.

"You know, like to get away from what's bothering you" He shrugged nonchalantly and placed his empty cup down.

"I usually try to get away from the forest with all my problems" You somewhat snorted, also placing your half drank cup down.

A surprisingly easy quiet washed over you both. You were finally able to fully take in the fidgeting man in front of you.

He really was quite attractive. His hair had the slightest curl to it and he had the nicest eyelashes. His jawline too was perfect for his face. Not to mention his build too, he clearly had a runner's body but slightly more muscles in his arms, he- he was smirking too. He definitely saw you check him out. Opps.

"Would you like to share?" His voice jolted you out of your embrassing trance, you only just managed to not let it show.

"Share what?" He stretched his arms a bit before leaning one on the back to the couch with the other one falling back next to his legs.

"Share your problems, why you were out 'with nature'" His voice held a soft yet joking tone.

"Oh uh, it was just my boss- ex boss now"

"Oh, yeah?" He sat up a bit, more interested in what you had to spill.

"Yeah, he was a bit of a dick. Fired me which majorly sucks" He let out a 'oof' sound as he blew out air in a sigh.

"Right-o that sucks, damn you're having a worse day than me" You tried not to laugh, a tight smile the result.

"Happened yesterday actually so between us, you're having a worse day so" You dramatically shrugged and he laughed along.

"Fair enough" His voice teasingly defeated.

After a bit more back and forth talking about anything under the sun for a good while. He got up grabbing both your cups and retreating to the kitchen once more, asking if you wanted a refill.

As you were about to answer, a light shone through the gaps in the curtains. Toby was frozen in place before quickly darting over to you.

He roughly grabbed your upper arm pulling you up and into him. You whimpered an 'ow' out before he forcefully pulled you away from the couch and towards the stairs.

"What the fuck, let go of me!" Your voice spiraled the more confused you got and the longer he gripped you tight.

He merely lowly grunted in response, almost pushing you up the stairs. He got you about half-way up when the door slammed open.

Two men around the same height walked in and stopped at the view of you two. The man who walked in first had dark hair, a tan jacket over a red checkered shirt. In his hand was a black and white mask.

The other man had lighter hair, an off-yellow hoodie and fingerless gloves. In his hand was a black ski mask looking hood.

They were covered in blood except their faces. The masks however were dripping in blood, most of it falling onto the wooden floor.

A scream rang through the dimly lit cabin. It wasn't until Toby's hand violently covered your both did you realize it was coming from you.

Your now muffled cries seemed to awaken the two new men out of their distraction.

"What the fuck Toby? We were gone what three- four hours and you bring a fucking stray here?" The man with the yellow hoodie angrily ran his hand through his messy hair while the other man shook his head in disbelief before collapsing down onto the couch.

"She got lost, besides she's pretty" His stuttering heightened the more the man glared at him.

"I don't care whether she Helen of fucking Troy Toby! You know the rules"

Your attempts to get free were futile, with Toby's arm wrapped around your middle and his hand covering your mouth. Your wriggling and jolting did nothing but push you into him again and again.

He grumbled under his breath before flipping you around to face him. He held both your wrists in one hand while his other wrapped around the back of your head.

You could feel the sting on your arms and neck from his harshness. Your wide eyes watering in fear and the cold air. Your jarpled words mixed together to form a barely cohert sentence. Thoughts too scattered to comprehend the situation.

Toby's eyes were blank but his bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

"Well, it seems like you are having a worse day than me huh?" You blinked in confusion.

You opened your mouth to respond when his hand shifted to your hair pulling at the roots. He pushed your head towards his shoulder. Then in a split second he smacked your head towards the hard, cold wall.

[aarchengel]

Hey 😊 would you do a Damon Salvatore imagine where you’re dating but then you leave the house after a fight with him and get in a bad car crash. He feels this and searches for you, just to find you I’m time to save your life. Then he stays by your side, feeling guilty and when you wake up again he’s there taking care of you, apologizes and promises to never let any harm happen to you again? Just some lovely fluff and a bit angsty. Thank you so much 😊

Apology

Summary: Your boyfriend Damon has been acting very possessive and controlling and you get into a huge fight with him. You go out for a drive to clear your head but end up in an accident instead. Damon finds you and takes you home, making up for everything he had done.

ANGST, fluff

Damon being controlling, car crash, reader having a near-death experience

1.5K

A/N: Thank you @imagine-all-the-fandoms for being my first request! I'm so sorry it took forever (this is horrible). Do let me know if this is satisfactory. Happy reading!

Damon Salvatore X Human!Fem!Reader

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Your boyfriend of two years, Damon, was recently being very controlling and possessive. He started making your decisions for you without bothering to consult you, being unreasonably jealous of any male around you and demanding to be with you at all times, not understanding the healthy concept of giving 'space'.

But this time, it ran deep. He compelled your childhood best friend, Jake, to leave town and forget all about you. You caught him in nick of time otherwise you would've never even known about what happened to him!

Deeply hurt and driven mad with rage, you left the Boarding House for a drive after a few broken objects, wounding words and a heavy heart.

You didn't know how, perhaps you weren't in your right senses, you couldn't hit the brakes and crashed right into a tree. The car flipped over, and your arms twisted at an odd angle. Your limp and now-sore body was fastened with the seat belt, and you couldn't undo it. You were hit badly in the back of your head, and you could feel unbearable burn of a deep gash.

Your senses had perked up under the stillness of the night, and you heard a faint trickle. Then wetness across your back, your head, soon trickling down to your neck. It was a strange fluid --- coppery metallic smell, thick and red with a mud-brownish tinge. It was oddly enticing and familiar. A shiver ran down your spine when you realised it was your blood. Blood, so much blood --- your own. You were losing so much blood, and you could do nothing to stop it. You felt faint and suddenly, the hardest thing in the world was staying conscious.

You were terrified. If you were going to die, then it mustn't be like this. An accident. Your whole life snatched away just because of a mistake. God, you had so many things to do in life. Get a job, travel the world, adopt a cat --- ordinary things but they were your dreams, which now lay shattered. You didn't want your life --- and death --- so unremarkable and ordinary. And while all this time, there was a deep wound of regret in your heart --- perhaps greater than the gash on your head --- to part with Damon.

Sure, he could be such an asshole at times, but you knew that he loves you with all his heart. You didn't want your last words to him be an angry "I hate you". You had never really thought about it, what would be your last words to him. You couldn't breathe at the sheer grief that hit you at the moment. Unable to withstand the blow, you closed your eyes, succumbing to a world of endless darkness, getting lost in your way towards the blue-eyed vampire. And you couldn't do a damn thing about it...

Anger and frustration clouded Damon's mind. It was all hazy, and he was searching for a light. Ah, there it is! Remorse, regret, fear of having losing her. He knew what he did was wrong, but why couldn't she understand? He loved her so damn much, everything he did was tp protect her.

She lived her constant danger because he loved her, and he knew at times that he should let her go, but he couldn't. He needed her to function, she was his damn sanity, and without her, he lost it.

Suddenly, there was this intense urge to go find her, not to waste a single moment. He'll do anything to have her back, she can't leave him. He knew he was unreasonable, ill-tempered and sometimes too controlling, but he couldn't help himself.

He got behind the steering wheel and let his heart lead the way, for it was with her where it truly lay.

He was aghast, devastated, even. Finding her like this, so near to death, he suddenly came to his senses. He was crying, he realised. He never cried. But that's what she does to him --- make him into someone he never thought he could be.

"Y/N, no! No, no, no!" he wailed, feeling utterly helpless. He undid your seatbelt and somehow pulled you out of the overturned car. Without wasting a moment, he bit into his wrist and forced his blood into your mouth.

You drank for a moment then turned away, trying to sit up but immediately fell back and the sheer exhaustion and soreness you felt.

He was here. He was here, you realised.

"Oh Damon, I'm so sorry!" you sobbed into his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around you and you knew he was crying into your shoulder.

You simply let things just be. In that dark night, the feeling of death heavy around you, the two of you embraced a new life. Of promises of forever, of understanding, of accepting --- and it was beautiful.

After what seemed like an eternity, he composed himself, giving you some strength, too. "Let's get you home, yeah?" he whispered and you nodded. He lifted you bridal style in his arms and helped you into his car. You leaned on him, as much as you could and he kissed the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry..." he began but your shook your head. He understood. Not now.

You drove to the Boarding House in companionable silence. The silence was golden. The silence spoke it all. And all you needed was the silence.

With his help you went inside. The house that was so familiar --- it looked the same --- but it promised something different.

"You don't know how scared I was today," he whispered as he rubbed your feet.

"Me too... I didn't want to die like that. Not without saying goodbye, though I wonder if I ever will be able to say it-" he silenced you with a kiss. "I won't let anything happen to you. I want you all for myself, I know that's selfish. I am prick and I don't deserve you, but I do love you very much, so much that it's frustrating, and I won't be able to live with myself if something happens to you. I know I make bad decisions, I know I react impulsively, but I do it only for you. I am sorry for today. I had no reason to compel Jake, but I did it anyway because I was insecure. I realised my mistake, I have no reason to be. So, if you have it in you, please forgive me...". Tears were streaming down his face.

You wiped them away and hugged him close.

"I'm hungry," you said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere. It made him laugh. "Pasta?"

"Yes!"

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