#right this very fucking second. and then suddenly its very stressful and my brain tries to reject it

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

#theres a quote somewhere abt an adviser of a religious leader in... maybe the middle ages? where the adviser is like: we need to convert X #group of people gently. if we force our beliefs down their throats they may just expell it back up #and im thinking abt it bc thats how my brain engages with things. like: oh i like a thing. i must consume as much info abt it as possible #right this very fucking second. and then suddenly its very stressful and my brain tries to reject it #but i cant bc the fucking metaphorical evangelical in my brain is like: no. u fucking listen to me #and im just like 😵‍💫 #which is to say that i didnt sleep much last night and overdosed on 0ne piece. which was not a good move bc now i just feel terrible #which i knew would happen bc i was like hm reading this fic sounds like a bad choice. lets fucking gooooo #and then i fucking trigger myself lmao. partly bc of the material in the fic and partially bc the last time i was reading 0ne piece fics i #was a lot more fucked in terms of my lack of self awareness. so it kinda inherently makes me think of back then and im like oh yea i used #to do X bad thing. i should go back to doing that lol. and its like No. stop. fucking. no #make better choices for the love of god. ugh fuck ive got too much i didnt sleep enough energy #im sure ill burn out way hard by the end of the day. channel that energy. channel that energy into finding an apartment in a fucking city #with a fucking housing shortage 😭 i dont wanna go back to having roommates. nooooooooo 😭😭😭 #bleh. im procrastinating going to work. work that i am voluntarily doing for no fucking reason except thst i have issues with #compulsive behavior lol. not lol. sad face 😭 hhhh im vibrating. i wanna run around in circles. why cant i be like this when i actually go #for runs >:-[ im always to fucking brain saturated by then and its a ll static and bees in my head #whatever. time to get tf up and take measurements #unrelated #lmao y did i start this with allusions to a religious quote i dont fucking remember hahahaha #ah its bc i find the contrast of serious academic and philosophical topics funny when i go from thinking abt them to fucking anime and #my petty bullshit. idk i habe a weird sense of humor maybe

[domthedevil]

hihi!! may i ask for some sub lucifer? an afab reader always used to top the shit out of lucifer in the devildom, and now that she's gone, pridey mcprideface is being driven up the WALL with horniness. a package ends up on the doorstep of hol on his birthday housing a generously realistic adjustable fleshlight, and lucifer reads the note from her in ecstasy.

he doesn't realize there's an aggressive vibrator or a soggy lubricant function tied to pact magic yet..

Your brain:

I absolutely loved this, yes thank you please comeback again djdkkalc. Its a bit of a quickie and I did change some things but I hope you enjoy!

Sounds Like You Miss Me

Lucifer x afab!MC

Warnings: masturbation, sex toys,

Another long day at work, another long day at home, and another long night without you by his side. Lucifer’s stress was beginning to weigh on his shoulders. He missed the long nights of being dominated by you. The way you made him call you master, or when you teased him too far, he missed letting himself go after a long day. You going back to the human realm made him miserable.

Coming home late one night, he found a neglected Akuzon package sitting by the front door. Sighing, thinking it was something Levi was probably dying to have, the eldest brother picked up the box and made his way to his room. Everyone was already asleep so he’d keep the box in his room for now. Mammon hopefully wouldn’t feel bold enough to steal it while it remained in the eldest’s room.

Throwing his coat and tie to the side, Lucifer sat at his desk with a tired slump. A small buzz in his pocket startled him. Not sure what to expect at this hour, he slowly took out his phone. But his mood instantly improved when he saw a text from you.

“Did you get my gift?”

Gift?

Lucifer grabbed the package he’d brought in and read the shipping label. Addressed to him.

“I’m about to open it.” He messaged you back.

Using a letter opener, he cut the thin tape holding the box closed. Rummaging a moment Lucifer found your “gift”. His breath hitch in his throat as he pulled out a rather intimidating flesh light. Grabbing his DDD he frantically began typing.

“What is this exactly?”

“I had something made for us. I thought maybe my good boy missed me a little.”

“Hmph. Good boy? Never heard of him.”

He smiled as he texted with you. The exchange felt like you were right here with him. Like he was just waiting for you to come home and treat him how he deserves to be treated. What he really missed was holding you. Kissing you softly throughout the day. But soon your texts grew more lewd. You teased him. Telling him how much you missed seeing his face twist when he enters you. Or how he moans extra loud when you nibble a spot juuuust beneath his ear. Lucifer in turn played back.

Not realizing how excited he was getting, Lucifer began eyeing the toy you had sent him. Though a little embarrassing, it was oh so tempting.

“Tell me about this...gift.”

“Well...it’s suppose to feel like me.

You should let me know what you think.”

Your second text made his cock twitch. Putting his phone down, he walked away from his desk a moment, removing his belt and his gloves. Trying to do something other than give in to the gift you shamelessly sent him. What if his brothers had gotten hold of this?

Sitting back down at his desk, the top buttons on his shirt came undone as he rubbed at his chest. He was getting warmer, more curious about this toy that was going to feel like you. Palming at himself through his trousers, Lucifer let out a low moan. Maybe he did miss you more than he thought. Slipping his trousers down, Lucifer stroked at himself slowly. He wondered if you’d been touching yourself too. How much your body missed being wrapped around his cock. Did it miss him as much as he missed being under your command?

A single buzz from his DDD broke his concentration.

“Call me...I’ll teach you how to use it.”

How to use it? Lucifer was smart enough to know how to use a sex toy as basic as this. Picking it up, he admired the soft fleshy end of the sleeve. He licked his lips as he noticed some resemblance. But all it did was make him miss your sweet walls around him. Precariously he pressed his tip against the entrance, letting the texture of the folds on the outside tease his shaft before entering the toy. Immediately his phone rang.

“I told you to call me.” Suddenly the toy slipped from Lucifer’s fingers and sank on his dick. Fully squeezing his entire member. “Do you like your toy?”

Lucifer whined at the sudden, pleasurable sensation. The toy seemed wet and slick inside, making Lucifer’s hips shake.

“Hmph, it’s seems to like me. What is this MC?”

“Like I said...a gift.” Lucifer thought he heard a hint of heavy breathing from you. “You must have really missed me to use a toy like this. How cute.”

“You sent it to me...” his dark chuckle was soon interrupted.

Lucifer’s hips jerked as the toy began to slowly move itself up and down his shaft. He couldn’t believe he fell for some enchanted toy. But it felt amazing. The ridges and smooth cushions inside this toy reminded him of you. The sensation almost too realistic. It’s movements were slow but erratic, almost random.

“Sounds like someone really missed me.” Your small laugh over the phone caught his attention again. His moans had been low and breathy, but as the toy picked up speed his voice groaned and sighed heavier.

“Well...you certainly made an impression here.”

“You mean I tamed you? How cute.”

“Hmph. Don’t be so fooli-hnnng!” The walls in the toy tightened around him. Lucifer went to grab the toy to slow it’s pace, but he was met with a strange but familiar force.

“No touching.”

The sweet bondage of your shared pact kept his hand from moving any further. Forcing his hand to his side as the other was left clinging to the phone. The only part of his body that seemed to be able to move was his hips. A low whine slipped through his gritted teeth.

“Good Boy.”

The toy moved at a merciless pace as you listened to him whimper and moan into the phone. It became moist with precum, helping his cock glide and and out of it easily. Perhaps a lot of precum as he felt extremely wet and warm inside this enchanted toy. Your breathing was labored, Lucifer noticed. You must be touching yourself. He thought about your wet heat sucking him in just like this as he began to reach his limit.

“MC...Im going to come.” He tried to hold back any embarrassing noises as he reached the edge.

“So soon? How pathetic. You’ll have to use this toy to train yourself again. I’ll be back eventually...and you’re going to be in for it.”

“Y-yes MC. I’ll train. Just let me come.”

“Shhh...okay. For being such a good boy you can come for me.”

“Th-thank you.” He mumbled his gratitude despite the burning pride he wished to uphold. The sudden release with your permission took his breath away a moment. He even heard your own breath hitch in your throat. It took a moment to catch his breath. Completely taken back by how quick he came and how fast you were able to get him off.

“Mmmm...I’m glad I put this together. I’ll be honest with you Lucifer. That’s not just an enchanted sex toy...”

“I saw. It was made to feel like you. Very realistic.”

“Actually...it’s an exclusive portal, just for you. Whenever I give you permission, you can fuck me through this. If you earn it that is.”

Lucifer sat dazed a moment. That’s why it felt so good. He’d missed the feeling of you so much he must have underestimated how badly he needed to give himself some release.

“I have to say you have impeccable taste in gift giving.”

“I knew you’d like it....I miss you.”

“...I miss you too.”

#obey me fanfic #om! fanfic #ns//fw #obey me smut #om! smut #obey me #om! #obey me lucifer #om! lucifer #obey me! lucifer #obey me lemon #om! lemon

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

oh, honey || h. styles

warnings: mentions of sex, kissing

word count: 2.3k

summary: when harry is struck with writer’s block, you come to the rescue and inspire him to write a song, which later becomes known as ‘adore you’...

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t harbouring a crush on a man you’d known for about five years. And for four and half years of that, you found he was the only thing that seemed to occupy your mind. With any crush, it was fun at first. The thrill of being around him brought a new spark to your life. But then, gradually, it became tiresome; the constant butterflies and the overthinking every tiny action began to aggravate you.

You’d had a boyfriend since you met Harry. He loved you and you tried to love him. You knew it wasn’t fair on him, and you felt an ounce of extra guilt every day that relationship went on. You knew it was selfish to paint yourself a mirage of a perfect life with a man you knew you couldn’t love.

The relationship lasted eight months. It had never meant to last that long. At first, it was all fun and games - neither of you took things too seriously. A bit of harmless sex and late nights with red wine and David Attenborough documentaries. But then things took a turn, and he began talking of moving in together and meeting each other’s parents. Your parents would have loved him, you knew that. But what good was that when you didn’t love him?

Eventually, the two of you sat down and decided that maybe it was best if you went your separate ways. It was a mutual decision. And you both agreed that it was fun whilst it lasted. So, this relationship you’d gotten yourself into to get your mind off Harry had ended because you could never love this man the way he wanted you to.

It had been a rough eight months for you. Harry had been in somewhat of a mood with, well, everybody. Mitch concluded that he was probably just stressed with writing for the album and making sure everything was perfect for his debut solo album. But, though nobody necessarily picked up on it at the time, when you announced that you’d broken up with your boyfriend, Harry seemed to be in a much better mood ever since.

So, now, as you walked into the studio, you ran your hands along your jean-clad thighs. It was a desperate attempt to rid your palms of the sweat your nervousness had caused. Sarah had called you and asked if you were free to swing by the studio. She said something about needing a new mind to help Harry. Instantly, you agreed. You would always be there for Harry.

Sat on one of the couches was Harry Styles himself, his hand over his eyes. He was alone, his guitar beside him. A notebook of his lyrics was tossed aside, clearly neglected in tiredness or frustration. “Harry?” you called out, closing the door behind you.

He looked up quickly, startled by the sudden disturbance. “Y/N,” he smiled slightly, sitting up properly. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought you could use some help,” you shrugged, slipping out of your black puffer jacket. “And clearly you need it. Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they went to get some lunch at some place down the road,” he replied.

“And what about you? Aren’t you hungry? You need to eat, Harry.”

“I know. I will, I will. I’m just trying to finish this song, is all.”

You nodded slightly, sitting down in front of him on the coffee table. His hair was disheveled and his eyes were resting on top of dark bags. “Let me see,” you said, extending your hand.

Slowly, he placed the notebook into your hands. You stared down at the scribbled lyrics. Things were crossed out; things were circled; things were accompanied by little doodles. On the very top of the page, though, was the rushed title (above a few others, which had been crossed out): ADORE YOU. “I’m just gonna put it aside and come back to it,” he sighed. “Wanna get high? It always helps me write music.”

“No, Harry. I don’t want to get high with you. If you leave it, then you’ll never come back to it and nobody will ever get to hear it,” you replied.

“Except you. I want you to hear it,” he said quietly, so quiet, in fact, that you barely heard it.

He wasn’t looking at you, thankfully. At least he wouldn’t see the mix of nerves and excitement at what he’d just muttered. You shifted slightly, placing the notebook down beside you, “Well, then you’ll have to finish it, won’t you?”

Finally, he looked up at you. You felt tiny as his eyes explored your face, drinking in every last inch of your features. A small smile worked its way up onto his face, “I suppose I will.”

So, Harry began projecting his ideas onto you. He explained what the song was about and the kind of things he wanted to write. He sang the chorus to you, and you swore you melted right there and then. Hearing his voice fill the otherwise silent room you were in, with no other intent than to please you, filled your head with all sorts of fantasies. “It’s good, Harry. It’s really good,” you nodded, smiling sweetly at him.

“Obviously not good enough if I can’t think of anything other than the first verse and the chorus,” he groaned, raking his long fingers through his unruly hair.

In a moment of fleeting confidence, you reached out and squeezed Harry’s hand. He looked up at you, his green lagoons of eyes staring directly into your own. “Harry, stop. You’re doing yourself no good thinking like that. No songs start out as the greatest thing ever written; you have to put time and care and effort into them,” you said gently. “Let me help, Harry. I don’t want you to go through this alone.”

He nodded, squeezing your hand in return. He pulled out a pen and stared expectantly at you. You smiled - you were happy he was willing to let you help. “What did you have in mind?” he asked, eager to hear a new outlook on these lyrics he had grown sick of reading over and over again.

“Well,” you began, “it obviously has a sort of ethereal vibe to it. So, summer skies? Like, maybe something about ‘you under summer skies’?”

He nodded slowly, absorbing your suggestion. Until, suddenly, his eyes lit up. You knew the look. You’d seen it many a time before. It was the look he adopted whenever he’d been struck by the perfect slice of inspiration he needed to write an incredible piece of music. “You, Y/N, are a bloody genius! ‘Your wonder under summer skies’,” he grinned.

He scribbled the lyric down desperately. You couldn’t help but admire him as ideas escaped his brain and fell onto the paper before him. He finally looked back up at you, the page now littered with prompts and snippets of lyrics. “Thanks, Y/N. You’re a lifesaver,” he said.

You chuckled, “I didn’t do anything.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything for my other songs but they exist because of you,” he rushed out, clearly not comprehending his words. “Shit. Sorry, that- that didn’t mean to come out.”

You smirked. You had the power now, after four and a half years of falling in love with Harry Styles and making a massive fool of yourself in front of him. He’d slipped up and now you were in control. “Yeah? What songs did I unknowingly contribute to?” your confidence was rare, especially when it came to things like this, and yet here it was.

Unfortunately for you, Harry’s natural confidence matched your own. A playful grin swept up his features as he said, “Wouldn’t it be more fun for you to listen to the album and figure it out for yourself?”

“Or you could just tell me the titles?” you asked, your tone hopeful.

He hesitated for a moment, his confident smirk faltering for a split second. But, before you had time to say anything else, he said, “There’s this song called Sunflower, Vol. 6. I wrote that because your favourite flowers are sunflowers. And I wrote Cherry because I know you love cherries. And then there’s Golden, because that’s what you are, Y/N. And then there’s Watermelon Sugar because I know that In Watermelon Sugar is your favourite book. And now Adore You, because, I swear to God, Y/N, that’s all I want to do.”

He was rambling and you couldn’t help but smile. Whilst you’d spent your days rambling to your friends about how you were convinced you’d remain single forever if he didn’t happen to fall hopelessly in love with you, it appeared that he’d been writing down all the tiny details about you in his songs. Because it was true: sunflowers were your favourite flowers and cherries were your favourite fruit and In Watermelon Sugar was your favourite book.

He was staring at you now, his eyes searching your face for some sort of a hint on how you were feeling. When you said nothing, your lips parted slightly, he went on, “Hell, I wrote Cherry years ago. I wrote it when you were dating that guy... what was his name?”

“Ollie,” you replied quietly.

He knew what his name was. He never forgot. It had been two years but he’d never forgotten the eight months of hell where he had to watch you cuddle up to him and take him home after your group of friends had gone out for drinks. He didn’t know why he wanted to hear you say his name again. Some sadistic form of self-torture maybe, hearing another boy’s name on your lips. “Yeah, Ollie,” he played it off as if he really had forgotten your ex boyfriend’s name. “I wrote it when you were dating him. And I’ve been sitting on it for two years because I thought if I released it then you would know I’ve been in love with you for four years. But then I just thought ‘you know what, fuck it’, so I’m putting it on the album. And Anna, that was about you. But I’ll never officially release that one. Because I wrote it one night when I was alone and I couldn’t get you out of my head and I needed to tell somebody how I felt about you. Even if that was just a bit of paper. But then I played it to you, do you remember? And you loved it, so I swore to never release it because it felt like I’d confessed to you how I felt.”

As you listened to him ramble away about all of these songs he’d written about you and how much you clearly meant to him, you couldn’t help but smile. You’d dreamed of Harry confessing how much he, well, adored you. And you’d only ever thought it would be an occurrence in your fantastical dreams, and yet here he was, staring back at you, rambling on about how much he loved you. “Wait, Harry,” you spoke up, “isn’t ‘watermelon sugar’ something to do with oral sex?”

You chuckled as he flushed, “That’s besides the point.”

“And what is the point?”

“That I’m in love with you and, I pray to God, you’re in love with me back.”

Overwhelmed with joy, you couldn’t help but throw yourself at Harry. The feeling of his hands around your waist in a way that wasn’t just a slightly prolonged hug goodbye after a night out or a slightly overly flirtatious gesture of Harry’s felt electric. Harry’s hands on you in a way that was meant to be a moment of appreciation shared between two lovers was how it was always supposed to be.

After so long of knowing one another, falling for each other and sharing life changing moments, everything was finally slipping into place. You’d been there when One Direction first began their hiatus. You’d been there when he cut his hair off. You’d been there when he went to Jamaica to write his first solo album. You’d been there, albeit your eyes were shut most of the time, when he was dangling a thousand feet in the air for the Sign of the Times music video shoot. He’d been there when you finished university. He’d been there when you lost your mum. He’d been there when your sister had her first child. He’d been your date to your brother’s wedding. All of these things, and you couldn’t help but feel they mounted to this very moment.

You pulled your head back, admiring his face for a moment. Your arms were around his neck and everything just felt... right. His smile was bright and his eyes were full of nothing but loving joy. Without another moment’s hesitation, your lips were on his. You weren’t sure who leaned forward, but all you knew was that this was what you’d been waiting for for almost five years. And, now you were here, showing Harry how much you loved him, the wait seemed worth it. “We’ve got so much time to make up for,” he whispered.

“Good thing we’ve got all the time in the world then, isn’t it?”

He grinned, embracing your body. All he’d wanted to do for four years was to praise it. And now he finally had the chance to. That was until the two of you heard a voice behind you, “We only left for lunch!”

#harry styles #harry #harrystyles #harry styles imagine #harrystylesimagine #harryimagine #harry imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry x y/n #harry x reader #harry x you

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.16

No One

02/04/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,025

Warnings: angst, jealousy, crying, infertility, talk of pregnancy, trouble conceiving, smut, LOTS of fluff

A/N: I’m sorry this one took me a bit to get out. I know y’all tell me not to be sorry but I am still sorry lol I stopped taking my endo meds since I can no longer afford them with no healthcare, I got my period and my endo said FUCK YOU! I was in bed for the entirety of my period with no energy to do anything but lay there and do nothing. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I’ve been excited to get to this chapter and I hope it’s worth the wait. Thank you for any comments or reblogs! xoxo

Thor has never been so eager to get back to New Asgard. Even back in the beginning when Jane had been living with him in those first small houses that they’d built when his new Kingdom was nothing but a distant dream.

Even then, this sensation of yearning had not been so strong.

Every moment away from you has been unbearable. The detour he’d taken after just arriving only increased his desire because if seeing Jane has shown him anything it’s that he has indeed made the right choice.

He really hadn’t doubted it, but it’s nice to know that even with Jane standing inches away from him, his heart had not pounded. His breath had not caught. His fingers had not tingled as they once had in their wish to touch.

Her brown eyes, once beyond beautiful, are indeed still pretty. However, they aren’t yours. Yours that look at him with an innocent admiration. Love pours from them so freely. Eagerly.

You’re not afraid to show him how you feel and it takes his breath away how much you’ve given into loving him.

All he can do is try to return your love with the same fervor. So far he thinks he has been doing the job well.

As he struts forward towards your shared bedroom, he reaches into his cloak, down along his left hip to unhook a small leather satchel bulging with its contents.

Smiling down at what he hopes will be a welcome and pleasing gesture, he makes to open the doors to the room but finds them thrust out towards him.

Instinctively his hand twitches around the satchel, almost throwing his palm out to call his remade hammer, but he resists.

From his bedroom spill two beings. One Asgardian, one human. The doors swing shut behind them.

“Doctor Wilson? Alric?” Thor teeters back onto his right foot, completely surprised to see them. “What brings-?”

Both of them look grave and Thor’s heart hits the pit of his stomach. All of the strength in the universe leaves him in one terrifying instant.

“Is Y/N alright? Is she hurt? Injured? Has something happened?”

In his panic he begins to push through them and they move aside for him but before he can open the doors to get in to see you, Alric reaches out to place his hand on Thor’s shoulder.

“Just our monthly visit, nothing to fret about Your Majesty,” Alric assures him and yet, Thor’s squirming nerves are not put at ease. “Unfortunately things do not look well for an heir as of now.”

“They don’t exactly look bad either, Alric,” Doctor Wilson interjects. “We’re in uncharted territory, Your Majesty. We have to play this as it comes at us. I’m sure with Alric’s help we’ll find a way to make it work.”

Their words at the moment aren’t making any sense to Thor. All he wants is to see you.

“Right…” he says on reflex, but his voice is weak.

His mind on you and only you.

“She is a little melancholy after our news so, perhaps it’s best we let you go see her. Until next month, Your Majesty,” Doctor Wilson gives him a curtsy. “If you need us before then, you have our numbers.”

Alric gives Thor a bow and the two of them march off, Alric lugging a strange metal case along with him.

With nothing to hold him back now, Thor pulls the doors open and hurries inside.

He scans the room from the left to the right, expecting you in the bathroom but you aren’t there. Several of the doors to the balcony are open letting in a much warmer breeze than this morning but still very cool.

Thor finally spots you sitting at your vanity, your hand pressed to the inside of your elbow as you hold a small cotton ball against the point at which one of your doctors probably drew some blood.

Even that tiny sting of a needle piercing your beautiful skin makes his heart ache. Any pain you feel is his own and he can’t believe he forgot what today was.

“Cherub?”

You don’t look at him and instead keep your hand pressed tightly, fingers moving in slow and small circles.

He can’t see your face from here. You’re turned away, sitting with your gaze trained on the balcony doors closest to your vanity.

Thor can’t take you not looking at him. He sets his satchel on the chaise at the end of the bed and when he reaches your left side, he squats down so that he can look up at you, his right hand taking gentle hold under your left bicep. His left hand he places over your right one, pressed against the inside of your left elbow.

“I’m sorry about today. I forgot they were coming for your tests,” Thor confesses, feeling so guilty he could leap from the balcony and welcome the pain of any bones he might break.

The silence is heavy and he thinks he might really be in for it and opens his mouth to plead for your forgiveness when you give him relief, “So did I.”

He breathes in deeply and with a wave of relief releases his worries in a gust of air.

“Alric said that things did not look good. You’re not with child?”

Even though he knows, he still needs to hear you say it. He wants to know what you’re thinking to make whatever is making your face look so sad go away.

He takes his right hand and runs it along your lower back instead, rubbing in what he hopes is a soothing way.

Finally, you turn your head towards your vanity and he can see more of your heartbreaking expression. He hasn’t seen that loss of hope in your beautiful face since the night you begged him not to make a fool of you just before dinner on a night that feels a lifetime away.

“No, it-it wasn’t a no. The test was inconclusive.”

“Inconclusive? So, what does that mean? Does that mean they don’t know?” Thor asks, confusion twisting his handsome face.

“No, it just means that the test didn’t come back in any way that they could read it. We’re not exactly the same species even if we are compatible physically, we don’t know if we can even get pregnant. They took more of my blood and are going to do the test with more reliable equipment.

“They’ll call when they know something,” you sigh heavily, leaning back against your seat and trapping his hand between it and your body.

Thor tries to think of what he can say to make you feel better. What can he do?

And then what he has to say doesn’t matter as you turn to meet his gaze with your own full of betrayal and suspicion.

When your mouth parts, your words freeze him and his brain short circuits.

“I saw you with Jane earlier on the tower, Thor. I’m sorry but I-I thought you were going to come find me as soon as you got back, not your ex.”

You take a deep breath and Thor watches as your nerves spill forward, your lips trembling as you slowly exhale and all of your fears shine out through the depths of your eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you crying, cherub?” Thor gushes, pulling his hand from your back to turn your seat to face him.

He cups both sides of your face, his large thumbs wiping away at the tears that spring forward.

It had seriously messed with you to see him and Jane so happy and close earlier. And then the tests and Doctor Alric and Doctor Wilson had no idea what was wrong with them so that was stressing you out.

All of your jealousy and frustration pours out of you suddenly. So fast and so unrelenting that with just this small bit of affection from Thor makes you shut your eyes tight as you sob two-three times.

“Y/N...no, my love, please. Don’t cry,” Thor begs, his own throat tight as he pulls you towards him.

You let him hold you because as insecure as you feel, as upset as this morning has made you, his love still feels real. The softness in his voice doesn’t sound fake and as much as he is the source of one of the aches in your chest, he’s your comfort now too.

How fucked up is that?!

He caresses the back of your head as you bury it against his shoulder, slumped down a little because of how low he is in his squat.

His other arm is wrapped all the way around you, firm. Possessive and eager to make you feel better. Can you trust this display?

Until this morning you had no reason to doubt it.

“We will have our baby soon, I know it. I can feel it. I’m not only the God of Thunder, you know? Trust me, cherub. I know these things. We’ll have our little one before you know it.”

He sounds so confident, so sure. He’s lost that tightness in his throat a little and he pushes you back so that he can look into your eyes, quickly wiping away at the saltwater stains on your cheeks.

“As for your former worry, I went to the tower because the lights were on. I wasn’t sure who was there so I simply went to check. I wasn’t expecting Jane out of all the people it could have possibly been.

“I’d hoped it was you, finally making use of the tower for your own office to write or perhaps your own personal library?” Thor’s instincts on what you might want a private space to be.

You suddenly feel foolish for doubting him for even a second. It makes you cry again, and you bury your face in your hands.

“No, my love, please don’t cry anymore,” he continues to beg. “Look, I’ve brought you a gift.”

He gets up suddenly and moves towards the package he’d been carrying when he came in. It wasn’t large. About the size of a shoebox.

“I thought of you when I was passing over Paris on my way home. You can eat them all at once or slowly, whichever you prefer,” He flips open the leather satchel and from inside pulls a thick and shiny rust colored box with a satin brown ribbon that delicately holds it closed.

It looks expensive and he doesn’t wait for you to take it since you’re too busy wiping at your cheeks and sniffling to grab it. He pushes the ribbon off of the box then removes the lid and places it underneath while tossing the ribbon onto your vanity.

“I’m not sure what each of them is, but you don’t have to eat the ones you don’t like. I’ll eat them for you,” he pushes fancy gold tissue paper aside to expose the contents within.

Inside the box is a tray of twenty-four chocolate pieces. Some of them have designs painted on them with what is more likely more chocolate in bright colors and patterns. Other pieces look to be decorated in plain chocolate with small embossed hearts, triangles, or teeny tiny bows.

The box is too thick for this to be all there is, so you’re pretty sure there are two trays of chocolates.

“Do you like them?” Thor checks, his voice light and rising at the end gently almost as if he’s talking to a small child which maybe should offend you?

But it doesn’t because you know that’s not what he means by the tone he’s using. He’s being as gentle with you as he can in your moment of sad anxiety and you love him so much for it.

“They’re so pretty…” you hiccup, wishing you weren’t so emotional and crying all over his lovely gift.

“That’s not all,” he tells you, putting the chocolates on your vanity to free up his hands to reach into his satchel again.

You quickly cover the chocolates, pushing the ribbon around the sleek container before they can be ruined.

Thor tosses the satchel onto the chaise with a flick of his wrist but draws your attention to him when he places another box on your lap. This one is much smaller, but wide and square.

“Happy two months of marriage, cherub,” Thor says softly, then carefully lifts the lid of his second gift.

Nestled within lush purple velvet is a beautiful platinum chain, thin, short so that the gorgeous lotus flower with your birthstone gem settled at its very center will sit just below your collarbone.

“It’s so beautiful, Thor.”

All of a sudden you’re crying again.

Thor smiles and rises again, taking the necklace from inside the box which he tosses onto the chaise too before moving around behind you to slip the necklace around your neck.

You reach up to place your fingers on the pretty flower, sniffling and trying not to make your crying too vocal but a sob or two slips out.

Thor moves back around you and takes a long look at your mess of a face before he takes your hand and pulls you to your feet, “Come here, love.”

He waits for you to stand then takes your spot on your seat but then leads you down onto his lap.

Reaching up with his hand, he gives the back of your neck a squeeze while his other hand finds a resting spot on your thigh.

“Is it Jane still upsetting you?” he guesses.

You nod, unwilling to say it aloud.

“Why? What exactly is it that’s troubling you?”

He genuinely doesn’t seem to understand. While he might understand your nerves about her, the reason you’re still crying is lost on him.

You don’t want to say, but Thor bounces you a little in his lap, taking his hand to caress the side of your face and hold your gaze.

“Nothing you can say will make me love you any less.” A promise.

“When I saw you two this morning, you just looked so h-happy,” your lip quivers. “You looked happy. Pleased. You were smiling that one smile that’s only supposed to be mine.”

For some reason Thor’s chest puffs up a little, a proud fix to his chin as he reaches up to grab yours and give your head a little shake.

“It is all yours, cherub. I am completely yours. I was so happy when I was with Jane this morning because I felt nothing of what I’d once felt for her. I had no stuttering in my heart, no butterflies in my belly. I wasn’t taken by her eyes or tempted by her lips.”

“Alright, I get the picture,” you grumble, hating everything he’s describing even though you know he’s telling you that he wasn’t feeling any of it.

He chuckles, bringing his hand down to rest on your hip.

“I was happy because Jane is no longer the source of all of that for me. You are. All meeting her so unexpectedly proved is that I am more in love with you than I ever thought I could be. You were my arranged match. The most I had ever expected was friendship. And when that turned into more, I wondered if it could really be more than what I ever felt for Jane and it is.

“Jane was always a dear love but you are family. It’s only been a short time since we married but you are more my love than Jane ever was. You’re my cherub!”

He doesn’t wait for you to recover from his little speech. He hooks his hand behind your neck and pulls you down for a kiss.

It quickly changes and shifts and the lonely night you’d spent tense and worried, missing him, explodes you onto him. You’re both a frenzy of movement, Thor ripping away at his armor until he’s in the plain dark undershirt and a very small pair of black briefs.

You’re about to push him onto your bed when he suddenly grabs you and tosses you around his massive body and onto the bed to bounce as you land with a gasp.

He shoves his briefs down, still kicking them away as he steps towards you and gathers the long skirts of your dress higher and higher around your hips.

“Thor…” you whisper, a gasp of anticipation which drives him a little wild as he yanks you closer to the edge of the bed and thrusts into you with a shaky groan.

He goes still for a moment, hooking his hands around your thighs more securely. He bottoms out, sheathing his cock within you until you reach down to scratch at the bottom of his shirt then his hands as you fall back against the bed.

“Please,” you plead and he quickly obliges.

He pumps into you, filling you to the brim with no intention of ever stopping.

~~~~~~~~~~

You and Thor eventually come out of your room. You dressed in your carefully chosen dress and Thor a little less regal in a pair of crisp dark jeans, and layered up in a green sweater over a blue button up collar shirt over a plain white t-shirt.

Honestly though, even in his slightly more casual ensemble, Thor screams royalty. He’s so beautiful.

Both of you giggling like giddy kids, he pulls you closer and loops your arm through his.

It makes you happy that he likes you close by. He proves it now as he leans down to whisper so that only you can hear him as the palace staff moves about cleaning and fixing up the rooms that have been used throughout the day.

“I’m a little glad you’ve decided not to use the tower for a workspace.” Thor confesses.

“How come?” you wonder, turning your face to look at him, genuinely curious as to the change of mind. He’d been so insistent before about you having your own personal space to work in peace where no one could bother you and you didn’t have to give up writing your stories even if you were now Queen of New Asgard.

“I don’t know if I could stand having you that far away from me. Our night apart has only driven that home for me. I want you always at my side.”

His sentiment is sweet and you stop to turn and face him, reaching up to place your hands on his bearded cheeks to smoosh them because he’s so damn adorable. He’s massive so you have to push yourself up, lifting your heels a little to do so comfortably.

“Do you have any idea how incredibly lovable that makes you?” you ask.

He smiles despite you morphing his face, beaming down at you with a look that must mean he loves you. Everything he says has to be true. The more you think about it, the more you realize that your jealousy, while founded, doesn’t make any sense now that you’re married.

Not after everything the two of you have shared and been through. Not after all the time you’ve spent building this foundation with him. 

“Quite a lot more than I was before?” he guesses. “Only, maybe not when I go to the bathroom?”

Through your smile you tilt your head to the side a little, confused by his amendment to his desires.

“Why?” What difference does it make?

He drops his voice to a whisper and leans down a little closer to you, “Sometimes I have smelly poops.”

You’re not expecting that and throw your head back as a loud unfiltered laugh rips through you. The movement pulls you down flat onto your feet but Thor catches you with one arm around your waist to pull you back up onto your toes and against his hard body.

He’s laughing too as he dips down and kisses your laughing mouth, silencing you a little so that it’s only air slipping through your lips as you kiss him back.

It’s just a long held peck. He’s relishing in the feel of your lips against his as your body shakes with more laughter.

Still laughing with you, Thor pulls back and gripes, “Stop laughing and kiss me!”

You drop your head against his chest as you keep laughing, unable to help it because the cuteness of him being self-conscious about his smelly poops is too much for you to handle.

Especially considering that you’ve both already been in the bathroom together when the other is using the toilet.

He loosens his arm around your waist so that you fall down a little further but keeps his hand resting on the small of your back while the other hand he places on the back of your head, caressing it as you chuckle weakly from laughing so much.

The sound of a clearing throat brings both your heads turning to the end of the hallway.

Your visiting trio stand there, Tony smirking, Bruce smiling shyly, Jane averts her eyes.

“Uh, get a room?” Tony suggests, but you can tell from his tone that he’s only teasing.

“Where do you think we’ve been all morning?” Thor grins, readjusting with you to hook your arm on his elbow before leading you towards your guests.

“So that’s what those screams were,” Tony counters.

Thor wiggles his eyebrows at them but your neck burns and your mouth pops open in surprise and embarrassment.

You start to fret, hands fluttering up towards your new necklace as you look from Tony to Jane, who’s looking at her shoes, to Bruce who is smiling with his own laughter in his eyes.

“Was I-? I didn’t mean to-! Thor, I didn’t know that I was being-” your panic is real and your heart is thrumming a million miles an hour.

“He’s teasing you, cherub, don’t worry,” Thor assures you, dropping your arm from his elbow to wrap his own arm around your waist to pull you into his side again.

You turn to Tony and he’s laughing a little. Not maliciously, just purely entertained by your reaction.

“I-a joke?” you ask him, still uncertain.

“Sorry,” Tony says, nodding. “Just a joke.”

You swallow hard, trying to settle your heartbeat.

Thor kisses your head and like a switch is flipped, all of them shift into work mode.

“Have you started installing the security system?” Thor asks Tony and all together the five of you move down into the lowest level of the palace which actually happens to be a dungeon?

You’re not really listening to their conversation as you move with them, still flustered about you possibly letting all of your sex noises reverberate through the halls of the palace for everyone to hear, but when you reach a large vault-like door, you start to focus again.

As the heavy door slides open like part of some futuristic spaceship, you’re thrown into a large room about the size of the throne room where you’d had your wedding reception only it looks nothing like the rest of the palace.

This place looks more like the Avengers compound. High-tech stations line the walls, large monitors with readings you don’t understand and camera footage from places you recognize from around New Asgard and the palace itself.

There’s a full crew working all of the stations, Asgardians and humans, all of them wearing the same charcoal gray uniforms, splashes of gold and red like Thor’s cape on their shoulders and chests.

As you and Thor enter, they stop what they’re doing to stand at attention, bowing to both of you as Thor leads you to the center of the room where a large stone table is set with schematics of plans that you don’t understand.

Tony moves over to them and starts to sift through the many scrolls all laid out for viewing while Thor nods to the crew.

“At ease, my friends.”

He’s so nice. The crew fall back into their respective jobs.

One of them moves towards a large screen against the wall, a TV you realize, playing different news footage from all over the world.

He flips to another channel and you pull away from Thor to walk and stand beside the crewman who stands taller once you’re beside him.

He turns to you and gives you a quick bow, “Your Majesty.”

Turning to him, you smile and then look back at the screen, “To monitor any weird things happening around Earth?”

“Yes, m’am,” he asserts then flips the channel again.

This time it’s a documentary style report, you see a familiar scene. New York in shambles as Iron Man, Hawkeye, Black Widow, the Hulk, Captain America, and your Thor fight off the invading Chitauri.

Slowly another body settles beside you, its warmth drawing your attention to it.

“I still remember that day, sort of,” Bruce says gently, his voice always so easy and calm.

It’s hard to believe he can turn into the giant Hulk in seconds.

“Was it scary?”

“Sort of. I think for me, I was just worried that Hulk would hurt someone other than the aliens. But by then I think he understood what side we were on.” Bruce nods.

“But, aren’t you the Hulk?” His words confuse you a little.

“Well, yeah, but also no. He’s like another half of me? If that makes sense? I haven’t worked out how to combine both sides yet. I’m there, I’m just...it’s like someone takes who you are and reduces you to your most basic instincts.

“We’re almost like two different people but we’re also the same person. I’m working on understanding our connection better. Underneath the Hulk, I’m still me. I’m still there I think. I’m just trapped for some reason.”

The two of you watch the screen in silence for a moment then Thor shows up, blasting the Chitauri with his lightning. He looks a little different because he has both eyes and his hair!

“Thor had long hair,” you realize, gushing a little.

“Did I look better with long hair?” his deep voice slips into your right ear and you jump not having been expecting it.

“Not better,” you promise him, smiling at him before turning your eyes back on the TV. “Just different. It suits you.”

“Should I grow it back?”

With excitement, you turn to face him and he chuckles at whatever look you have in your eyes, “Would you? Wouldn’t it bother you?”

“If it will make you look at me the way you’ve been staring at me on that television, I will go out and buy a wig.”

You laugh and Thor leans down to give you a quick peck.

“It’s that time of year I guess,” Tony says, sliding over to stand on Bruce’s other side where Jane is already standing having moved over at some point.

She still hasn’t said anything.

“What time of year?” You wonder.

“Oh, in Spring they always start to play footage on some of the news channels about Loki’s party days in New York. Some type of anniversary celebration or something? Only it’s more like a wake.”

“It’s a memorium,” you realize, then look at Thor who seems to sense your upset.

He wraps his arm around you and settles in beside you, kissing the top of your head again.

“Where is Loki?” you ask him, frowning with worry and wondering if it must upset him to have one of his biggest mistakes thrown in his face for weeks.

“He’s tending to business with the guard. He’ll come find us when he’s finished,” Thor promises.

After a tense moment, Tony claps his hands and then pats Bruce’s shoulder, “Shall we? Pepper wants me home by Friday so that we can explore the wonderful art of tantric massage.”

As Bruce turns to follow Tony back to the center table where a new console computer has come from a panel at the center you hadn’t noticed, he gives him a skeptical look.

“Pepper? Are you sure it isn’t you pushing the tantric massage?” Bruce sounds like he already knows the answer.

Tony shrugs, “I’m not the bossy anymore.”

You look back at the TV, your worry only spiking at the thought of Loki coming down here and finding all of you watching.

“Change it to something else,” you tell the crewman. “Make sure no one puts it on that channel again.”

“Yes, m’am,” he bows his head in obedience and quickly changes the channel while moving to a small box hooked up to it where a small screen comes out and he quickly goes about pressing buttons hopefully blocking any and all sources of that footage so that Loki doesn’t accidentally have his face shoved into his past.

“Don’t worry, my cherub. Loki is well aware of what the Earth grieves at this time of year. He won’t be blindsided by it.”

“I still don’t like it,” you insist, unable to shake the frown from your face.

“Thor?” Jane’s voice interrupts you both softly.

He looks at her and you give her a glance before turning to look at the news reports on the TV.

“I’m gonna need one of these mainframes for the telescope. Which one can I take?”

“Right,” Thor nods, “Of course. Let’s find you a place to work.”

Before he leaves you he leans in and kisses the side of your head again, squeezing your hip before he moves with Jane away towards the many workstations in the very large room.

After getting everything sorted out this morning, your heart doesn’t even sway towards jealousy and even though you’re worried about Loki, you breathe a sigh of relief that your realization about Thor’s loyalty has really engrained itself into you.

He loves you and nothing will change that. Even as they laugh somewhere behind you, your confidence doesn’t waver.

You reach up and touch the lotus on your necklace, a shining reminder of Thor missing you on his very first night away from you since your wedding.

You’re sure now that no one will ever come between you and Thor.

No one.

#a wife for thor #king!thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #thor x reader #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #marvel au #marvel fanfiction

[george-mackay-macfine]

Let's play a game

A/N - Who remembers the snippet I posted ages ago with the bad boy / good girl. Well, I finally did something with it.

Please enjoy, Chapter one.

The warmth of the sun was the first thing I felt when I woke up, coating me in a blanket of warmth. It was too much warmth, and I was rapidly becoming uncomfortably hot. The second was the throbbing in my head, undoubtedly brought on by all the alcohol I had consumed the night before. And the third was the heavyweight of an arm across my torso. Who did the arm belong to? Well, to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure.

“Shit,” I whispered, cautiously turning on the plush bed, careful to not startle the owner of the arm that lay all too casually around my waist. “Shit, shit.” I moved the arm carefully off my waist, putting it beside its owner.

The owner of the arm was none other than Jude Hastings, the boy I’d known since I was eight, and the boy who’d mercilessly teased me throughout school and somewhat into our adult lives.

People, primarily our parents, often called it teasing— a bit of harmless flirting between an adolescent boy and a dorky adolescent girl, so they said. I, on the other hand, referred to it as warfare.

Which would lead to a lifelong war between Jude Hastings and me.

“Fuck,” I stood from the bed and looked down at what was covering my body… It wasn’t much. All I had on was what I’m assuming was Hastings’ button-down shirt, and that was it. No bra, no pants… And I had no clue where my underwear had gotten to. “Pull yourself together, Darcy,” I whispered to myself. “Just find your shit and get out.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, taking five deep breaths. My mother always told me it was a way to destress, but guess what, mom, I am still stressed. “Okay. Pull it together.” I had seven things I had to find in this apartment, and hopefully, it was all contained to this one room. Anything I couldn’t uncover would just have to be left as a sacrifice to the apartment demon.

My pants and top were the easiest to find, laying at the end of the bed a dead giveaway of where Hastings and I had ended our night standing, or at least standing for the most part. I vaguely recall him pulling me off the bed just to bend me over the desk he had pushed against the wall… I guess that counts as sort of standing.

“Jacket…” I crept around the room, trying to find where my favourite corduroy jacket had landed in the thralls of passion I had shared with the still sleeping demon. “Gotcha,” I pulled on the sleeve bringing it out from behind the chair that sat pushed into the corner. Another memory of Hastings and I making out on the very chair flashed through my mind bringing a blush hot enough to make the top of my ears burn. “Shoes, bra and underwear,” I sat on the floor, pulling my jacket over my arms looking around for a sign of any of the missing clothing. I quickly spotted my bra hanging over the bedpost at the top end of the bed. “Ahha.” I pushed up from the floor and padded across the carpet, keeping a keen eye on Hastings to make sure he didn’t suddenly wake up and catch me in the shameful morning after clothes collection. If I was lucky, I’d leave with all my belongings and whatever scraps of dignity I had left. “Four down, three left.” I scooped the bra off the bedpost and shoved it in my pocket. Watching Hastings, I dropped to my knees and looked underneath the bed in hopes of finding at least one of the remaining items, if not all of them. “Shoes.” I gripped the heel on one of my boots and pulled it towards me, half an item down… The second boot was more brutal to get to. I had to crawl at least halfway under the bed to reach it, somehow it had landed so far underneath the bed last night, but at least now I had shoes to wear for my solemn journey home.

Was underwear really that necessary for a journey home? Could I just leave without them? And my purse, I mean, I’m sure any decent human being with any dignity would give it back to someone who’d left it at their house. Still, then again, this was Jude Alexander Hastings we were talking about. He wasn’t known to me for being a decent human being. Besides, cancelling all my credit cards and getting a new I.D sounded a lot more appealing than risking Hastings waking up with me still inside his apartment with minimal clothing.

“Fuck it.” I army crawled backwards out from under the bed, careful not to get any carpet burns on any delicate parts. Trust me, one time of having sex on some carpet, and you know the pain well enough to not do it again. Once I emerged from the pits of the bed, I took a final look around, trying to find the elusive underwear or purse. “Note to self, cancel the credit card.” I stood up and walked to the pile of items I’d begun to form at the end of the bed: pants, top, bra, shoes and jacket. Five out of seven ain’t bad in the grand scheme of things. I mean, was it my favourite purse? Yes, and were they my favourite pair of lucky underwear? Yes. Could I buy more to avoid any further interactions with Jude Hastings? Fuck yes.

“Missing something?” The husky voice that haunted my alcohol-soaked brain startled me into dropping my pants to the floor. I spun on the ball of my feet and looked at him, lazily lying in his bed. The sheet hanging from his waist was the demon man himself. Since when did he have abs? - No, not the point, Darcy.

“Two things actually,” I felt the rush of heat blossoming on my cheeks as I finally allowed myself to look over his bare chest.

“Would these be one of them?” His hand rose, hooked around his pointer finger was my black lace thong, the one I’d been crawling around this whole fucking room looking for. Bastard. “They sure look like yours.” He held the up higher, squinting with one eye.

“If they’re not mine, perhaps they’re yours,” I smirked in self-satisfaction as the smirk on his face faltered. One Edwards.

“Well, if you’re sure they’re not yours.” He bunched them up, leaning over to his bedside table. “I think I’ll keep them then.”

“Wait.” I yelped, springing onto the bed. “Give them to me,” I reached for them. Holding my hand out, waiting for the lace scrap to be returned to me. “I need them to get home.”

“No, I don’t think so.” He dropped them into his bedside table. “You said they were mine.” One Hastings.

“God, I hate you,” My eyes turned to slits as the smirk came back to his face more prominent than the one I’d managed to make him lose moments ago. He shut the drawer and returned to his previous position, his whisky coloured eyes running over my form.

“Not what you were saying last night.”

“Was that before the double shots of tequila? Or was it before the fishbowl margarita?” I moved back, standing at the end of the bed, pulling my pants up over my hips. Usually, I’d feel self-conscious dressing and undressing in front of someone I’d just had sex with. Still, by this point in our lives, Hastings had already made numerous comments about how ‘plump’ I was, as he liked to call it. I didn’t have time to dwell on the idea that I gave him a front-row pass to see how correct his childish name-calling was. “Or maybe it was before the game of beer pong?”

“Yeah,” He dropped his head and laughed. “It started about there.”

“Hastings, you know as well as I do that I don’t remember a thing about last night, right?”

“Would you like me to give you a play-by-play?” I unbuttoned his shirt with nimble fingers. For once, my skill of unbuttoning button-downs came in use.

“No, thanks. I think I can surmise what’s happened from the lack of underwear.” And the memories of him pushing me up against his front door helped with the overall picture.

“It was your idea,” I stole a look at the bedside table where the same old alarm clock I was sure he’d had since middle school sat. Nine-thirty. Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“Was it now?” I didn’t really have time to hear how this interaction was my fault, but I was curious. Even if I was supposed to be meeting my parents for brunch in half an hour, and by the looks of it, I was going to have to suffer through without underwear.

“Oh yeah.” He fell back onto the bed. “The boys and I were at the bar, and you came up to me… You know I was expecting to have another verbal sparring match with you, one I’d ultimately win.”

“Doubtful,”

“When you began to flirt with me.” I could hear the smirk in his voice even with my back facing him.

“Is that so.” I sat on the edge of the bed and picked up one of my boots, unzipping the side.

“Oh yeah,” I heard the shuffle of sheets on the bed behind me and then felt the warmth of his chest pressing onto my covered back, heat radiating from where his skin touched me. “Never expected this from you, Edwards.” He moved my hair to the side, his fingers leaving goosebumps on my neck as he trailed a fingertip along the skin. “Really, I never did.” His lips touched the skin now, ghosting the same pattern his fingertips had traced.

“Alright,” I stood up, balancing on one foot as I tried to shove my foot into the boot. “I don’t know what this.” I wiggled a finger between our bodies. “Is, but last night was all there was. There will be no encore, M’kay.” I knelt down, zipping up the boot before shoving my foot into the second.

“If you’re sure you can live without one.” He moved back to the top of the bed, leaning back on one arm, watching me scamper to make myself presentable. “You know you’re still wearing my shirt.”

“Thank you, Captain obvious.”

“I’d like it back. It’s one of my favourites.”

“And those.” I jutted a finger at the bedside table where my underwear remained captive. “Were my favourite pair of underwear.” I smiled sweetly at him. “So we’ll call it even,” I brushed my hair with my fingers, trying to make some sort of progress with it so it didn’t look like I’d just been to pound town… which apparently from the ache in my legs I had been.

“You know that’s not helping,”

“What isn’t.”

“Trying to make yourself look like you haven’t just had one of the best nights of your life.”

“Bold of you to assume that,”

“Not an assumption. You told me so much yourself last night.”

Fucking Hastings. That’s it, fuck it. I was getting my underwear back. Even if it meant a small game of seduction.

“Look, Jude.” I let my voice drop into a whisper as I walked towards where he lay comfortably. I flung my legs over his body, straddling his waist. I couldn’t help but internally melt when his hands clinging to my waist, pressing me down onto him. I’m human. What can I say? The thin sheet gave everything away, and I had to admit, Hastings was packing more than I thought. Self-satisfaction flowed through me as I saw his eyes widen slightly, his pupils dilating as his fingers moving in circles on my waist. “I want you to know something about last night.” His eyes locked with mine as my right hand held onto his chin, keeping our eyes locked, my left going to the bedside table quietly pulling it open.

“Yeah?” His Adam’s apple bopped as he swallowed.

“Last night was,” I moved his head, so he was looking away from the drawer as my hand began to search for the fabric. “Was something that I…” My fingertips grazed the lace. BINGO! “I’m going to pretend doesn’t exist.”

“Oh really?” His hand quickly left my hip and grabbed around my waist. “Because I’m going to remember every little detail.” The lace slipped from between my fingertips as he flipped us. “Especially every time I open this draw.” I heard the draw slam shut and all hopes I had of leaving with my underwear gone.

“Get off me.” His right hand pulled my leg up and wrapped it around his waist. Oh god… he was good.

“Oh no, you started this.” He laughed, his chest pressing into mine with each exhaled laugh. “I’m just finishing it.”

“I need you to get off me so I can leave Hastings.”

“I dunno, I’m quite comfortable.” His hand pushed the fabric of his shirt up, revealing a tiny slither of my skin. “I like how you look in my bed, a forbidden fruit who doesn’t belong.” I let out a snort. If this was his attempt at flirting, he had a lot of work to do. “But here you are,”

“You are right. I certainly don’t look like the type of girl you’d waste your time on, so how about you let me up, and we pretend this didn’t happen.”

“No, I don’t think I like that idea,” His voice came out in a soft whisper.

“Why?”

“I was always told girls like you,” I felt a rush of enjoyment as his eyes ran over my body, a rush I didn’t want to feel. “The good girls who their parents think their perfect when really they’re the worst of the worst are the best,” It was beginning to be a struggle to concentrate as his fingertips brushed the hair away from my forehead. “And from what I’ve been told, you’re the best of them… So I want to find out myself.”

“Oh really?”

“Really. Why did you come up to me last night?” Why did I go up to him last night because I was lonely? Because I was sick of April talking about her fiancé? Because as much as I don’t want to admit it, verbally sparring with Hastings was a highlight.

“I heard that the reformed bad boys are the best,” His finger dragged along my jawline. “And I heard you’re one of the best.” I countered with a smirk.

“Oh really?” He mimicked.

“You tell me,” His fingertip tapped against my lips. Impulsively I nipped on the tip.

“Let’s play a game.”

“I’m listening.”

“The game to end all of our little games for good… No more practice jokes, no more telling my parents I got some random girl pregnant.” He chuckled.

“Then you can’t egg my car anymore or let down my tyres.”

“Fine.” He conceded. “Then let’s sweet talk,” His lips went to my neck, placing sweet kisses along the skin. “Let’s play fight, talk twenty-four-seven,”

“I’m no good at sweet-talking, and I don’t think I could stand talking to your for so long.” My voice came out breathy as my senses zero’d in on the feeling of his lips.

“Let’s wish each other good morning, and good night every day… We’ll take walks together.”

“I’d prefer a ride on your motorbike.” He let out a chuckle, the skin under his lips practically vibrating from the motion.

“I’ll give you a nickname,” His lips were on my jaw now, my hands we on his back, nails digging into the skin, I’m sure leaving moon-shaped indents. “Let’s hang out with each other’s friends.”

“Your friends are dicks.” His lips dropped close to mine, a chaste kiss being left on the right side.

“We’ll go on dates, talk all night on the phone… I’ll hold you, kiss you.” His lips moved to the other side. “We’ll make love, bang, fuck whatever you want to call it.”

“I’m waiting for the game part, Hastings. Right now, it sounds like you just want me to be your girlfriend. I mean, I know last night was good, but really this good?”

“The game is, Whoever falls in love first, loses.” He finally pulled away, his right hand still rubbing circles on my hip bone.

“Doesn’t seem like much of a game.”

“Then why do you seem so scared?”

Was this asshole serious? I was never scared, especially not when it came to challenging him, beating him.

“I’m not.”

“Then what do you say?”

“So you want to pretend we’re a thing to all of our friends, all of our family, just to make one of us fall in love with the other first for what? Bragging rights and heartbreak?”

“Tell me something.” His lips hovered inches from mine. I could feel the warmth of his breath, and how the hell did he not have morning breath? “How good would it feel to know you conned me into loving you, then breaking my heart,”

He had a point. After all the years of heartache and teasing he’d caused me, it would be fun to break his heart into a million tiny shattered pieces.

“What would we tell everyone?” His body moved against mine as he shrugged.

“That we’ve reconnected or connected whatever you want to say.”

“You really want to do this?” My brow raised in suspicion.

“Make you fall in love with me.” I nodded my head. “Oh hell yeah,”

“Fine.” I smirked. “Let’s play a game.”

#george mackay #dean charles chapman #calahan skogman #Ben Hardy #dylan o'brien #George Mackay Smut #Dean Charles Chapman smut #Calahan Skogman smut #Ben Hardy Smut #Dylan O'Brien Smut #Harry Styles #Harry Styles Smut

[shhh-no-ones-home]

tantalizing* bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++ Holy shit this is so long (wc: 2011) I'm so sorry 😅 worth it tho 👀

* - Convincing him to let off some steam after a very stressful mission in which he is frustrated and agitated over and in need of some relief. god i havent written smut in so long, i hope its not too bad lmfao

Song: sick from the melt by motionless in white 

tag list: @cynic-spirit +++++++++

"can you calm down?"

i said, venom barely dripping from my tone.

"No! I'm just frustrated. And angry. And pissed off!"

He seethed, pacing in front of me.

"God you need to get laid."

I said annoyed, rolling my eyes. I noticed he had stopped pacing now, looking at me like I was crazy.

"What?"

I asked innocently and he shook his head, continuing to wear a hole into the carpet of our shared hotel room. His bed was still made, his duffle bag sat neatly atop it like he hadn't even touched it since we had arrived.

"I just. God I want to punch his face in. I can't believe I was so stupid."

He lamented and I sighed, sitting back on my hands and crossing one leg over the other.

"I'm telling ya, it's a really good way to let off some steam."

I pointed out but he just kept going.

"Who does he think he is? And don't think I'm ranting, because I'm not. I'm quiet and reserved and-"

"Need to get laid."

I repeated and he sent me a look.

"Okay, what is with you?!"

He asked and I shrugged.

"You have a lot of pent up emotion and I just think it would help. Forgive me for trying to be a real one."

I said and he just stared at me, a darkness to his features.

"I'm not that kind of guy."

He said, moving to pace again and I snorted.

"What?"

He asked irritated and I shook my head.

"Nothing, you keep wearing the carpet down trying to solve the world's problems."

He rolled his eyes at me.

"When you're ready to get some let me know. Either I'll help you get it done or I'll call someone for each of us cause lord knows I could use it too."

I said, pulling my arms out from under me and falling on my back, staring at the popcorn ceiling.

"Did you just offer to get me a call girl?"

He asked and I snorted.

"Call girl. God you are old."

"I don't need a prostitute."

I shrugged, my t-shirt moving and holding against the white sheets folded over on my own bed.

"Maybe you don't but if you don't stop complaining I'm gonna."

I torted back.

"Surely you are not that shallow."

He said and I laughed, sitting up on my elbows.

"You wanna come over here and help a girl out instead? It'd save me a couple hundred."

He sent me a look and I just stared at him.

"I'm being serious."

I said after a minute. When he still didn't say anything or move I stood up, walking to him and staring him down.

"What's it gonna be sergeant Barnes?"

I said lowly, taunting him. I watched as his jaw clenched, staring back down at me like he'd die if he didn't.

"You want it that bad?"

He growled and I could feel a wave of desire wash through my body.

"Dont you?"

I challenged. There was a long pause, making sure we understood each other, before he slammed his lips into mine. In the moment it felt like my brain short circuited, slinging my arms around his neck as he held my hips for dear life. And before I knew it we were fighting for more kisses, the air barely staying in my lungs as his hands roamed my body, tugging at clothes I wish would vanish.

"Just rip it."

I said against his mouth as he tried to undo my bra from under my shirt. It was old and I had brought a back up for the trip so I wasn't that worried about it, I just wanted this to happen.

"This is harder than you'd think, not being able to actually feel it."

He said. And just as it clicked what he meant it didn't matter. In a second my shirt was over my head and he was tearing the front of my bra open like an animal. He groaned as he came back to kiss me, finally trailing down my neck as he undid my pants, moving long enough for me to get rid of his shirt too. What I wasn't ready for was, once naked, he picked me up and tossed me onto the bed, kicking off his own bottoms and crawling up between my legs.

"God I want this so bad."

He said a little breathlessly, kissing down my chest, his hands roaming my thighs.

"I need you."

I whined, my fingers pressing hard into his shoulder blade as he went further and further down my body.

"Beautiful."

He said, kissing the inside of my thigh, hoisting my leg onto his shoulder as he sucked a hickey into it.

"Bucky."

I moaned, closing my eyes as he leaned down, getting closer and closer to my core.

"Use your words gorgeous."

He sang, his hot breath sending a shiver down my spine.

"Just fuck me."

I sighed out, digging my head into the mattress as he licked a stripe up my folds. Needless to say I wasn't ready for what he had to offer, his tongue pressing figure eights against my clit as he brought his hand up to tease me. It was soft touches for a moment but then it was two fingers, pumping in and out of me slowly. When he moved to suck my clit instead i gripped the sheets tightly with one hand, the other going to the back of his head as I panted.

"Please. Bucky."

I sighed out, scratching the back of his head. When he slowed his hand I couldn't help pushing my hips further into his face. my mouth dropped open when he added a third finger, pumping quickly until I felt butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

"Jesus Christ!"

I yelled, him curling his fingers up and making my legs quiver against him as I came hard. I breathed heavily while he licked me clean, making me seize every time his tongue ran over my clit again. When he was done I pulled him to me, slamming my lips against his and kissing him hungrily.

"How was that?"

He asked and I nodded against him, placing open mouthed kissed along his jaw.

"Otherworldly."

He just smirked at me.

"That's good, cause I'm not done yet."

He said and I sent him a worried look.

"Don't worry, it's nothing you can't handle."

He reassured. I couldn't think straight so I settled on nodding, tracing my fingers down his torso. As I reached his erection I touched it gently, watching it jump before I grabbed it and pumped him a few times. He moaned loudly, closing his eyes as I swirled my thumb around his tip, smearing his precum across it. He half opened his eyes to watch me but as I went to go down on him he stopped me.

"No, I want to be inside you."

He said darkly, pulling me into his lap instead. I looked down at him with lust filled eyes as he began kissing across my chest, taking one of my nipples into his mouth and biting it. I moaned at the sensation, bucking my hips against him. As his mouth moved he pulled me closer, helping me line up above him and pushing my hips down. We both moaned at the feeling, him dropping his head back as I sat back up and sank back down onto him.

"Y/n."

He groaned, pressing his finger tips into my hips as I began riding him. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced. He guided me more than anything though, holding me so firmly I was sure there would be bruises later. But God it felt so good I didn't even care. I just wanted to be closer to him.

"Switch?"

I asked and he looked almost nervous.

"I don't want to break you."

He said, his brows knitted together and I laughed.

"Please do."

He sent me a look as I sank back down onto him. He moved to place one hand at my back and flipped us over, making me gasp as he managed to bury himself ever further in me.

"Bucky."

I moaned, him pushing the hair out of my face as he began pounding into me. It was so hard the bed was beginning to creak, the headboard now hitting back and forth into the wall. It was now the more prominent sound in the room, overtaking the sound of skin on skin or breathing or even the soft moans escaping his lips as he bit and sucked at my neck. I couldn't help the whine that made it's way through my body as I pressed my nails into his back.

He was fucking me so hard I was sure the bed would break, but so far it was holding up pretty well. He grunted harshly, pressing his fingers down between us and circling my clit a few times. I closed my eyes at the sensation, letting out breathy moans as he continued to take all his frustrations out on me. As he got faster though I got worried and suddenly I had spoken too soon. The next thing I knew the legs at the foot of the bed snapped, the two at the head following shortly after, making me scream in surprise. He looked at me with a worried expression until I shrugged, pressing my hips up against him and urging him to keep going. He just laughed a little and kissed me, slamming into me again. And with that I was done for.

"Bucky!!"

I screamed, feeling another rush of pleasure flood my body. But he kept going.

"So close."

He managed, tilting his head up and squeezing his eyes shut. He pushed into me a few more times before his mouth dropped, a deep moan escaping him as he came hard into me. He stayed there for a second, breathing deeply until he opened his eyes, pushing into me one, two, three more times before pulling out. I felt so empty as he rolled onto the bed beside me, it squeaking at the weight shift. I just laid there, staring at the ceiling, feeling his hot cum drip out of me and onto the sheets.

"I guess you were right."

He said after a long pause, taking my hand in his and bringing it up to kiss the back of it. I turned my head to look at him and he sent me a lazy smile.

"I don't think anything in my life could have ever prepared me for that."

I said seriously before cracking a smile and laughing, rolling over and him bringing me into his side.

"Are you okay though? Sometimes I don't know my own strength. I mean you weren't protesting during, but still. id feel bad if i hurt you."

He said and I kissed his chest lightly.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I think that's the best sex I've ever had. If I can't walk later it was totally worth it."

He laughed, kissing the top of my head. then he froze, his body tensing against me as he looked down at me.

"shit. I didn't even think about a condom. Do we need to go get something... Or?"

I looked up at him, blinking slowly, the tiredness hitting me like a train.

"We can go get a plan B pill when we leave in the morning. Right now I think we deserve a nap."

i said through a yawn. He smiled at me and nodded, watching my eyes flutter shut. I hummed as he pulled one of the blankets up over me, kissing my temple lightly.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

#wattpad #x reader #smut #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #white wolf #falcon #the falcon and the winter soldier #imagines #one shots #marvel #captain america #324

[missinghan]

aria of an assassin ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : assassin au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 6,2k.

❖ warning : mentions of blood & violence, explicit language 

❖ summary : minho hasn’t been fazed for decades throughout his bloodied career until the next target happens to be a black cat and he’s suddenly incapable of pulling the trigger.

❖ note : okay, so it’s been a year? this tiny, stupid blog is turning one year old today? yea I couldn’t believe it either. this is to all of my mutuals and readers out there, I don’t say it enough but I truly appreciate each and every one of you 🖤 I wish I could have written something longer but due to school, this random piece will have to do for now.

❖ the sequel : with felix is out!

one.

“Shit.”

Minho grits in a hushed tone although all that has been accompanying him is the pitiful moonlight and icy breeze dissolving into every fiber of his skin. Every minuscule movement suddenly becomes too irritating to his eardrums. The hustle and bustle life of the city at night. Terrible traffic. Even the sound of his own inhales and exhales. 

What is that thing?

He thinks to himself, proceeding to expand his eyesight with the pair of scopes; confusion soon flares into curiosity, then faint anger and dead silence. He swears his heartbeat just paused awkwardly like a broken record for a split second there. Such strange, or odd targets are no stranger to him; nor do they stir something inside the coldness of his rib cage. 

Not an easy kill, they say. And not easy it is. 

Because whatever he’s watching with his very eyes is a cat. A goddamn cat with a coat as sleek pitch as the dark canvas upon his head and piercing golden eyes. The peculiar animal walks with its head held high like it’s lording over everyone else—such self-reassurance, such radiance some humans cease to possess. 

It’s dangerous, they say. But it’s a fucking cat! Irritation bubbles up at the back of his throat, makes his skin crawl, and causes a bark of profanity to leave his lips once more. Has it not occurred to his client that he doesn’t kill children and animals? When it’s clearly been written on the contract? In bold, underlined, and everything?

They could have at least given him more details on what he’s getting himself to this time. 

An exhale. He packs up his things, pulls his black cap down a little, and leaves the top of the building without looking back. If he did, he would have seen those starry eyes boring holes onto his back. 

two.

The road Minho is walking through is more than familiar. For one, he takes the same path every day to grab a drink at his go-to place—a vending machine near an old, plain high school. 

It’s fair to say he knows every corner of the neighborhood like the back of his hand—from the dark alley where bullies beat up their classmates to the small stall of lemonade of a middle school girl who waves at him every morning. He never reciprocates though; it doesn’t feel right. The amount of apathy in his heart isn’t enough for him to act normally when taking lives is what he does for a living.  

For two, he used to have a part-time job at that particular high school for an old request. Due to his conscience, he did go out of his way to take the kill outside of the school—causing a catastrophe in such an environment makes him uncomfortable.

Just then, he stops. His brow raises. Isn’t that…

The black cat slinks through the crowd of nosy students in the direction of where he too is heading. It raises its nose and gives the air a rough sniff, making a face as though the general stagnant with exhaust fumes stench of the city disgusts the entirety of its existence. 

Watching it take a slight dip to avoid being hit with someone’s bag, Minho holds back every urge to come running at the creature and wrap his arms around its small figure. He wonders how long it’d take for the cat to reach its final destination because it’s definitely taking some sweet ass time to stride through the front of the main gate like a supermodel. Meanwhile, he’s stressed to the core as if the harmless high school filled with teenagers is nothing less than a battlefield. 

Is it testing him?

Something is oddly unsettling about an animal staring straight into his eyes. Paranoia fuels the forgotten irritation inside his chest, sets out to make him actually think those golden eyes are memorizing every inch of his feature. Then, they soften with what seems to be exhaustion, its tiny head turning and its tiny feet take it skipping gently away from the scene. 

Minho finally acknowledges the knot inside his stomach and the breath he’s been holding. With a harsh gulp, he no longer takes notice of the fact if his cap is hung low enough or if he’s walking too quickly. For the first time in long, a rush of adrenaline hits him hard enough to make him speed walk through the herd of chatty teenagers. 

Questions naturally pop up as his shoes kiss the ground, his shadow sprinting into a dark, though familiar alleyway. Was he hallucinating? But he’s been getting enough sleep and eating well. What makes him so certain that it was the same cat? Instincts or some sixth sense bullshit perhaps. If it was the cat that’s assigned to be killed off in a week, what’s so dangerous about it? And how long has he been running for? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? And to where? 

“You.”

Half-way through trying to keep his thoughts off of his face, Minho stops himself when a rather feminine voice echoes through the narrow space. Unsure of whether the voice was reaching out to him, his legs stop moving while his eyes are peering through the dark. Much to his heart’s dismay, shivers run up his spine when something comes in contact with the warm flesh of his neck. 

“What’s your name?” 

Slowly, with his hands on the back of his head, he turns on his heels. “Excuse you?”

You retract your gun-shaped fingers into the pocket of your jacket, phlegmatic eyes gazing at him through the thickness of the night. “I want to know your name,” you try to make your point clear, utterly unfazed. 

Minho stares you down for a good five seconds. Neatly dressed in the school uniform, an oversized jacket thrown over your body but no backpacks. There’s a name tag being embroidered onto the fabric in red “Shin Yuna - 1A”. Whoever you are, he’s certain that isn’t your name. That name doesn’t even suit you. That isn’t your uniform. 

“What’s the point?” he questions, hands dropped to the sides in slight relief. 

You tilt your head, expression neutral. “I have a habit of collecting names of people who tried or are trying to kill me. It’s quite relaxing to write it down on a list actually. You know, easier to keep track.”

He’s trying hard to not let any impulsive urges overthrow the rational side of his brain. Everything suddenly twitches in slow motion. His silence seems to bore you. Your eyes are more dead than angry, more done than irritated. Like you’ve been through this shit one too many times already to care. 

“At least say why you’re sent to kill me.”

That, Minho can answer within a blink of an eye. “They sent me because I don’t exist.”

Your gaze glistens with a glaze of boredom. “Everyone said so.”

“Yeah, no shit Sherlock. Where’s your house, kid? I’ll walk you back. It’d be a pain in the ass if your parents found out how you’re wandering alone after school,” he brushes it off like you’re a slight nuisance (which you are). His heartbeat spikes up once at the mention of family, one that you’ve acknowledged with ease. 

Your arms are folded over your chest now, to cover up the sudden stab of sympathy inside your chest. “There’s no need. I don’t have a place to go back to nor do I have parents who will nag me for staying out late.” 

His mind automatically blackouts along with his senses, blurred with such peculiar feelings swirling at the pit of his stomach. You make it sound like it’s not that big of a deal like you’ve utterly been numb for so long. It’s tragic but understandable. This isn’t the first time he has witnessed a story like yours—your parents, dead or alive, he does not know; by the sound of it, you’re an orphan. Another unfortunate being to graze this planet like himself. This means you can’t afford school, so that uniform really doesn’t belong to you. 

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

“It’s Lee Know. Call me Lee Know.”

“Don’t bother trying, Lee Know. No one has ever made it. They never did.” 

You didn’t mean to expose anything about your life to a total stranger, or specifically an assassin. However, nothing matters when you most likely won’t meet him again nor will he succeed in taking your life. Even the fact that he chose not to give you his real name amplifies how much shit he does not give about you. You don’t expect anything more honestly. 

“Alright, we’re done here,” you feign enthusiasm before clasping your hands together. “Go home. The sun is already going down.”

Strangely enough, Minho can only watch as your shadow shifts to the outline of a black cat before dipping into the depths of the starless night. 

three.

To Minho it’s always just another day in the office. Except his office is a windy rooftop overlooking the mark’s exact location. His tools—rather than a computer—is a state-of-the-art rifle with a telescopic lens. A silencer isn’t very important since traffic and people are more than enough to drown out any suspicious noises. Most will mistake it for a back-firing van. He takes aim with no more qualms than one would gossip about a colleague, then pulls the trigger while thinking about what to order other than Chinese for lunch. When the work is done, he carefully packs everything up into an inconspicuous rucksack. And leaves the scene, like a phantom. 

It’s always been the same boring, bloodied cycle. 

Yet something’s changed since Minho met you. 

He used to maintain a cool detachment to his targets. His conscience prefers not to think of them; whenever he does, it’s as if they’re already dead, mobile meat bags waiting to be laid on a cutting board. He doesn’t like to think merrily of his job, he doesn’t see it as helping them meet their destiny. None of that bullshit. To put it more nonchalantly, everyone will die one day. Minho considers it as a good way to go. Oblivious and in pain for one moment before completely gone the next. 

Simple. Convenient. Much less agonizing than this brutal world. 

Although that doesn’t mean he isn’t traumatized by the amount of blood that has stained his hands. On good days, he might get three to four hours of sleep. Bad days, few minutes to none at all. Terrifying nightmares gnaws at his soul every night, the ugly scar like a reminder of every single one of his sins. He can’t force himself to lose his sanity like any fools out there going down the same path. 

“Shit…” Minho mutters, running a rough hand through his hair. He didn’t sleep well last night—like every other night; hence the bad temper and bitter taste at the back of his throat. 

After a deep breath, he stares at his Hecate II with mischievous eyes—those of a hunter framed in the expressionless face of an executioner. His blunt hands are steady as they lift the shiny weapon over the concrete of a rooftop, drawing out a dry shot in his mind. 

Through his scope, he watches as you’re crossing the road in your human form before stopping abruptly in front of a random tree. You then proceed to squint your eyes and look up in the opposite direction. Minho unknowingly holds his breath, waits for you to release your iron gaze, and move on with your life. But his expectations don’t prevail. 

“What the fuck?” 

Without much patience, he curses before shifting his scope to the same direction only to find another shadow creeping around on the balcony of a nearby building. No time to think of a rational solution—killing them is an ideal one—Minho feels his palms growing sweaty when a small, peculiar object comes flying toward his way. His head quickly moves away before the bullet pierces through his scope, shattering the glass completely. 

“Son of a bitch,” he lets out a shaky breath. Crimson starts to drip down on the side of his cheekbone, but he can care less. 

Because that’s the least of his problem right now. 

Another subtle ‘bang’ can be heard in the distance, like a broken record scratching against his eardrums. Kid…! Minho’s heart collapses in realization. 

four. 

It’s not hard for Minho to do research on quite an amount of vital information about you. When he saw your body dropped to the ground lifelessly and an ambulance immediately drove by to pick up your body, he knew things weren’t going to end just like that. 

“Don’t bother trying, Lee Know. No one has ever made it. They never did.”

He isn’t a believer, has never been one. Yet when he managed to take out your kidnappers in that ambulance, your weak breaths startled his heart and shook his mind into awareness of how serious the situation is. After that, he tracked down the hitman who delivered the hard blow, put a bullet through his brain, and found an USB full of detailed information about your existence. Which just makes things a whole lot more complicated to understand. 

Apparently, you’ve been ‘killed’ one too many times before—there are photographs of your supposedly dead body in a bag, thrown into the deep, dark woods, other times into a nameless river. The thing about you is that you were once an experimental subject to your own biological parents who are sickeningly vile scientists. At the age of nine, you fell down the stairs and had a big gash on your head. They never knew because your wounds were quick to heal themselves. However, your whole life was flipped upside down when they saw you shapeshifting into a black cat while running around at the playground. 

From then, your life became a living hell behind cold metal bars with needles stuck in your arms and strange pills being forced down your throat almost every day. Their sudden change only nourished resentment through time until you managed to cut down the laboratory’s power supply and fled from your own home. 

You have no one to lean on. No place to go back to. No nothing. And you’re just a teenager. 

Minho feels awful. 

Usually, he isn’t the type to be empathetic nor does he have the energy to. It’s very out of character for him to let his emotions linger on a homeless kid with some supernatural abilities that will make his life that much more dangerous. Because to him, more often than not, people tend to give their condolences only to forget after brief moments of grieving. At the end of the day, it isn’t their own problem, it isn’t their own life. But now when it comes to you, Minho feels a strong sense of responsibility that if you end up dying, it’s on him. 

It’s stupidly conflicted, it really is. His job—blowing people’s brains out—is the sole reason why he makes a six-digit amount of money for every job. Therefore, he isn’t sure what picking a random kid up from a fake ambulance and bringing her back to his shabby apartment is going to do him any good. 

“Ah, you’re awake.” 

You hate the fact that you can recognize that voice. 

Just then, you wake as if it’s an emergency, as if sleeping has become a dangerous task. Your heart is pounding loudly inside your ears, the sound echoing listlessly to the pit of your rib cage. It’s always like this. It takes you some time to calm your nerves before gathering what exactly happened the moment you blacked out. 

Right, you think to yourself, groaning slightly while pushing yourself up. You were shot right in the chest, and your body was probably discarded somewhere. After that, you’d grab a hitchhiker so they’ll drive you back into town. Like always. The only difference, this time though, is Minho placing your limp body on his bed with a blanket to warm you up. 

His face appears within your eyesight when you’re done adjusting your vision to the bright room—you’re not used to this much light around. “You look calmer than I expected,” he mentions. 

Minho grabs your face and scans it over. “Let me see. Did your wounds close up properly?” 

The tender action, which has become weirdly natural to him although this is his first time, accidentally triggers something inside you. Your hand automatically slaps his away. It is an upfront refusal, but it doesn’t surprise him. He only offers you a comfortable moment of silence before placing a tray on the wooden nightstand. 

“Eat up. I’m not going to feed you,” he cocks his head toward the bowl of porridge with his arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

You glare at him in suspicion. “Bringing me home. Giving me a bed to sleep on. And even food to eat. What are you trying to get at?”

“Nothing. I didn’t kill you only because you’re too young for my moral code,” he pretends to roll his eyes, voicing monotonously. 

A frown adorns your tired features. “So you’re going to kill me when I get older then?” 

“Probably,” Minho smirks faintly with a cock of his eyebrow. “That depends if you still remember my name, Y/N.” 

One thing after another, this assassin only continues to baffle you. He was just going to shoot you the other day and now he’s giving you food? Preposterous! To put it simply, you’re unprepared for such kind actions, such gentleness from someone who takes lives for a living. You’re unprepared for dealing with people in general because they detest anyone who’s different from them—your kind, the kind with supernatural abilities and all. Hence, you’re left unwilling to befriend anyone and would rather be alone for the rest of your life. 

Until such twisted moira pushes you to—what was his name again? Not his real name, the made-up one that he uses in the underworld. 

You speak up softly after feeling safe enough to let your guards down, “Lee Know, was it?” 

“It’s Lee Minho.” 

“Pardon?”

He only smiles, “My real name. It’s Lee Minho.”

five. 

“Y/N! A little help over here?”

“Coming.”

“Y/N, go check the fog machine!”

“Got you.”

“Y/N, can you put these boxes over there?”

“Alright.”

That’s all you’ve been doing for the entirety of your boring day. Getting yelled out at, having people ask for help nonstop, and responding with a two-word answer at max. You’re not complaining—they pay you well enough, the job is more on the down-low side because you’re nothing but a mere stage crew for an above-average theatre studio. So you simply hoist the three final plastic boxes into your arms with a jerk of your knees and place it where they asked you to. Thanks to your parents, their experiments along with skeptical-looking substances have efficiently enhanced your general strength and agility. 

Another crew member perks up when you plop the heavy stack of cardboard boxes down with a loud thud. “Oh, can you carry those lights to stage left too?”

“Sure.” You could have pretended to pick up one box at a time and to drag your feet across the stage with difficulties to avoid being used. But you’re too lazy to repeat the same cycle two more times, so you really don’t have any other choice here. 

Nevertheless, you suppose it’s not entirely bad to do all of this heavy handiwork. Because it keeps your mind off of unwanted things, such as Lee Minho for example. Lee Minho, the assassin, not the actor—you’d gladly fangirl over that certain celebrity rather than admit that you actually enjoy the hitman’s abrupt presence in your life. 

The fact that you know he will find you even if it means traveling to the ends of the Earth and back doesn’t help to ease your insomnia. So for the past few days, you’ve been working extra hours along with picking up a job at a florist in hopes of not bumping into him. Stupid. You know it is. But how can you deal with a self-esteem crisis because the idea of being a burden just irks you so much? 

It’s like you’re hopelessly proving that you don’t need anyone when you, in fact, want that kind of unconditional love that every other human yearns for. 

After helping your colleagues out with the lighting, you simply sit behind those thick curtains until the show is over. Then, you head out, find a place to sleep, and head to an old lady’s place to pick up new clothes to change into for the next day. Since she’s been treating you with nothing but kindness, you’ve tried to pass by and helped her out at her son’s antique store too. 

Your routine is supposed to go that way and stay that way. You won’t die because you don’t like overworking yourself. You’re doing just great. 

“Hey, Y/N! Your brother is here to pick you up!”

Throwing your crewmate a blunt wave, you find your way out of the school’s theatre through a back door without shifting the expression on your face. You don’t have any siblings. And your colleagues don’t know anything about your family background either. So it, unfortunately, boils your guesses down to one. 

Despite knowing who it is and why they show up, you open your mouth to speak, “How did you find me again?”

Minho shows up with a more casual version of his working attire—instead of the fully black, monochromatic outfit, he’s changing it up with a leather jacket, white t-shirt and jeans. He leans on his shiny motorcycle smugly like he knows something that you don’t, in which you very much dislike. 

“Young lady, I’ll have you know that being an assassin helps me appear at places to do things I’m not supposed to do,” he ignores the fact that your question was purely rhetorical and chimes. 

You attempt to throw him a glare which isn’t intimidating enough. “Call me ‘young lady’ one more time and I’ll put my foot where it’s not supposed to be.” Who are you kidding? He’s a hitman when you’re just a kid. Pigs would be flying by the time you managed to physically shoo him away. 

“Am I supposed to guess where that is?”

“Enough. Go to work. Get out of here. Leave me alone.”

“I’m sorry, are you encouraging me to kill people?” Minho gasps, acting shocked and appalled. Clearly, he’s not good at it despite sharing a name with a well-known actor. 

You can only retort harshly, “Don’t put words in my mouth, you ass.”

“Come on, kid. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Why?”

His hand automatically reaches for your forearm. “Don’t people eat for pleasure? What’s wrong with you?”

Your heart leaps in, anger perhaps, pupils shaking when he closes in on you. Upon your reaction, Minho retracts his arm immediately. He should have thought better of it; you’re probably too traumatized to be dealing with him right now. 

At that, your eyes round at the remorse on his face and you could have glared him off right then and there. But somehow, your basic human manners overcome your usual snappy self, letting you think that maybe he means no harm. Maybe he’s checking up on you one last time before going on about his life. You shouldn’t be too riled up about it just because he tried to kill you once.

Minho catches the familiar anxious gaze and sighs, “Okay, we don’t have to get something to eat. I’ll give you a ride back. Do you have somewhere to stay the night?”

It’s rotten work, whatever he’s trying to do. So you shake the harmless tingle inside your chest away before pushing past him. “No,” you answer dryly and leave. 

six.

You go to work sick the day after because you couldn’t find a place to sleep in and had to make do with napping in front of a tattoo place. Yes, napping; because when you finally shifted into your cat form and allowed your eyes to rest, the sky started pouring waterfalls. The rain had soaked into your shiny black coat, making it frizzy and luring the sickness up your spine the moment you tried finding a different haven.

No one notices. No one.

Not even the mask, the extra layer of sweatshirt nor your hushed coughs every now and then. Despite downing the cold pills early in the morning, you’re only burning up harder by the second. Oh, you know! Maybe they just don’t care, that’s it. Because calling in off for work due to a minor cold isn’t a valid reason. However, you’re still shivering on the inside and burning on the outside. Enhanced genes or any of that bullshit isn’t enough to prevent you from getting sick like any other student. Perhaps something wasn’t complete, or they’d messed up somewhere. Perhaps that’s why they’re trying to get you back.

How foolish of you to think somewhere deep down, they still want you back. With a reason as blunt as you being their child. 

Drowning in deep thoughts, you almost crash into a pile of boxes filled with equipment when your foot gets tangled to a random cable. Your eyes automatically screw shut as you wait for the impact but it never comes. Only a gentle pair of hands on your shoulders did. From that point on, you can’t hear or see properly. You don’t even have enough stamina to register who’s holding onto you so reassuringly. Whatever is happening gets hazier by the tick of a clock. It’s either you’re hallucinating or Minho is giving you that mirthful scowl of his. 

Yep, you’re definitely hallucinating.

“Why didn’t you call in sick for work?”

“That’s a stupid fucking question.”

A frown adorns his perplexed features as his glassy eyes skim your face. He has a really pretty smile, he should smile more, you think. His hand latches onto your burning forehead, slides down on the side of your cheek with such grace as though he’s caressing you. A grumble leaves his lips at your dreadful state. This is why he should have never let you go in the first place. 

“Come on, kid. Let me help you,” Minho says before giving your arm a light tug.

You don’t like what you just heard. “I don’t need your help.”

“You can barely walk.”

“Who said so-” As if on cue, he lets go of your arm bluntly. Caught off guard, your legs go weak without any remaining strength. You stumble and would have most likely fallen on your face if it weren’t for his grip on your arm. A gasp comes out inaudible when he hoists you upright, not planning to let go any time soon.

Minho scratches the tip of his nose with his ring finger, sniffing lightly. It seems like he’s arguing with a younger version of himself. He now knows how it felt like for those caretakers back then. 

“You did,” he says with the same smirk when you woke up in his apartment for the first time.

seven.

That’s the only time you’ve ever allowed someone to help you with something. But Minho had to constantly check on you every two seconds, not wanting you to fall asleep on his bike while it’s speeding down the highway like a gust of wind. For a moment there, he really thought you would slip away into the night as he tried to find his keys because that’s just how you are. 

Minho is no doctor, but he doesn’t go to one for a cold or a really bad fever. He can manage, he tries to convince himself. 

After testing your temperature and giving you something new to change into, he slaps a cool gel patch onto your forehead before heading off to the kitchen to cook up something. You need to be full to be able to take your medicine anyway.

In the act of resting on his bed, you decide you can’t take staying in the same spot anymore so your body perks up in a sluggish manner. The aroma of home-cooked food wakes your senses almost immediately, causing you to look over at his busy figure by the marble counter. You think it’s endearing how he hasn’t bothered to change into something more comfortable. But he instead threw an apron over his working attire and dived right into the cooking process. 

You have always felt like you were missing out on something whenever you looked at Minho. Perhaps it was how his striking eyes stared at you, whether mischievous or else. Perhaps it was how his lips were turning down most of the time with less than affectionate words. 

Or it’s plainly how he has been trying to hide that he actually cares. 

“Hungry?” He tilts his head to the side playfully once his sixth sense starts kicking in. 

You can only nod. “Yeah.” 

It takes Minho a lot of convincing yet you won’t let him feed you. Like hell, you would. Therefore, with helpless eyes, he watches you from across the table. He doesn’t laugh or get annoyed when your shaky hand drops the spoon and splatters the soup all over the table. His hand simply reaches for a piece of paper towel to clean up the mess, tossing it into the trash bin later. The same cycle repeats in comforting silence until you finish the entire bowl. The soup definitely wasn’t five-star worthy. But it’s enough to warm you up inside and out. Of course, Minho chooses to let the dishwasher do the job—his hatred for doing dishes is always at its finest. 

Then, like the other night, he has already passed out on the table with a blanket draped over his body when you step out of the shower. Instead of plopping the weight of your exhaustion onto his bed this time, your legs stay frozen like cement on the floor while your eyes take in his reclined figure under the thin fabric. Minho is sleeping with his head buried in his arms, his glasses and messy files abandoned to the side. He’s definitely not a heavy sleeper because he doesn’t snore; only feather-like breaths can be heard through this endless beat of silence. The faintly blinking light from his laptop makes you feel exposed so you push yourself toward the balcony. 

A hiss comes out hushed and quiet when your feet come into contact with the cold tile floor, bringing you across the studio apartment with small tiptoes. You peer over your shoulder, gazing at the only available source of light. Unconsciously, you ball your fists. 

With a soft sigh, you slide open the glass door and step out to bathe yourself in the comfort of the moonlight. Despite the chilling air of the night, something warm fills up your lungs like an overflowed cup of wine. It suffocates you a little until the knots in your muscles and mind loosen; a sense of relief washes over you—you haven’t felt that in years. 

Nothing makes sense. 

A hitman hired by your parents shouldn’t be putting a roof over your head, tucking you into bed nor feeding you. Minho barely knows you; and your knowledge about him as a genuine person isn’t enough to convince you that this is reality. Because after years of wandering the streets, being tossed around like trash with plenty of a series of unfortunate events, you’ve made it a habit to sink into yourself. 

So the longer you stay here, the more you’ll get attached to him. And the more you get attached, the more he takes away your default instincts to turn your back on everything.

Guilt wells up inside your chest as though it’s an old habit, a setting by default. If you ever try to go over the moderate line, you will break. 

Holding back a croaked sob, you know that once you let it go, tears will only start flooding. With a push of your muscles, you effortlessly hoist yourself up the metal railings in one go. The wind combs through your hair like an empathetic hand but you ignore it, Minho’s sweater closing in on your skin. 

You should leave, you try to urge yourself. You should jump off and dive into the depths of the night, let the allure cradle you in its emotionless arms. 

Because after all, despite all those eyes on you out there, you’re ultimately alone within. 

A foot dips out into thin air once the slump in your shoulders goes weightless. Immediately after, an incredible force pulls you by the ankle, and to the ground with a loud thud. Minho falls onto his back harshly, groaning slightly with you on top of him.

He knew what you were trying to do, he saw it the other night with his own eyes. Even under the knowledge of your capabilities, Minho still feels a rush of panic rising inside his chest. It’s only until his arms fully have a hold of you does his racing heartbeats slow down. Supernatural abilities or none, you’re still sick. And he’d be losing his mind if he woke up to an empty bed tomorrow morning. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” he speaks with trembling vocal cords, in a tone you’ve never heard before. Strict but mellow. As though there’s a race inside his mind but he’s desperately trying to keep his cool. It’s fear. The moment he’s introduced to the idea of losing you—it’s genuine fear. 

“Minho, I can’t die. Didn’t I tell you—“

His grip squeezes you in a breath tighter, cutting you off completely. “The fuck were you thinking? You can’t just jump off the balcony like that!”

“I already told you. I can’t die. Minho, I’ve done that plenty of times before,” you furrow your brows in a troubled manner, unsure of how to react. 

Minho widens his eyes at you in sheer disbelief. Shock riddles his senses and gets the best of him. So now he’s fussing with his hands, incoherent profanity leaving his lips non-stop within the next thirty seconds or so. He’s usually very calm, collected, calculating, and cold. This is very unlike him. It makes you wonder why he’s acting this way. He knows that you can’t die from jumping off a building. So what’s there to worry about? 

“You’re such an idiot! Try doing that again and I’ll kill you with my own-“

You truly don’t know how important you are to him. Frankly, he hasn’t even realized that yet. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, pulling him closer. Since you’re bad at resolving any kind of conflict, you opt for the most rational solution—going with his flow until he’s calmed down. “I won’t do that again, promise.” 

His lips fall agape at your words. He wasn’t expecting that. And even when you see how he’s reacting to your sudden change, you decide it’s no time to back down. This might be the only time you could show him that you’re at least grateful for everything he’s done. 

He’s quieted down now. And when he manages to speak again without tripping over his own words, his voice comes out as a whisper. “Hey kid,” he looks down at you, wanting to stroke your hair but drops his hand in sheer defeat. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. Why didn’t you call in sick for work?”

“Who would do my job when I’m gone? Isn’t that irresponsible?” You exhale deeply before fluttering your eyes close, finding odd peace within the rhythm of his heart. 

Minho says pointedly, “Well, you could have asked someone to help you with it.”

“No one would help me.”

“How’d you know? Have you tried asking them before?” 

Your eyes shoot open and flicker around your surroundings, you’re at a loss for words for a split second there. Heat rushes to the apples of your cheeks in shame, your head hung terribly low. “I’m not used to asking for help. I’d hate to be a burden,” you confess. 

Innocence glimmers in your eyes when you look up at him, waterlines threatening to break any second now. Your lashes are slightly damped and how lost you’re looking right now can physically draw crimson on his heart. At the end of the day, you’re just a kid. You had to grow up the hard way, with no one by your side telling you what’s right and what’s wrong, even simple things like how to react to non-verbal affection. 

Don’t let her go, Minho. Not now. Not ever.

“Then fix it now.”

“What?” You pause. 

“If you need help, ask for it. If things are hard, say it. I’ll be there to give you a hand.”

Tears well up in your eyes, croaked sobs shake your body, only prompting him to pull your closer. It’s warm. Damnit, why is it so warm? “I-I can’t sleep. Sing me something?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Minho just knows that he would bleed with you even when the rain pours and the sky falls one day.

#skzwritersclub #inkidz #stray kids #lee minho #lee know #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #lee minho imagines #lee minho scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #stray kids assassin au #assassin au #bang chan #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin

[novoaa1writes]

“hey. wanna bang?”

pairing: mazikeen x f!reader

summary: you meet maze on a night out at lux. the two of you hit it off, and end up sleeping together. you leave the next morning thinking it’s a one-off, but maze seems to have other ideas...

rating: teen

word count: ~1,300

warnings: implied sexual content, implied sex, minor blood and injury (not to either of you), maze being prone to violence and always ready to stab a bitch

notes: none? i don’t think? i just haven’t seen that many maze x reader works so figured i’d contribute something. also available on ao3

— —

You remember meeting Mazikeen like it was yesterday. 

It was late—quarter after midnight, maybe, and you were drunk. Well, not drunk. More like buzzed. 

After all, why shouldn’t you be? Your finals were over, you already had more than enough in your savings for next month’s rent, and your friend Vanya had managed to get the two of you on the list for Lux, the most popular nightclub in the city. 

It was just for one night, of course, but it was still pretty freaking cool regardless—sleek leather upholstery, a bar taking up the entirety of one wall, a spotless grand piano on the ground floor. In short, Lux made your guys’ go-to nightclub look like a shitty dive bar in comparison. 

Vanya had just left to go home with some dapper twenty-something woman in a suit, leaving you alone at the bar amidst a gaggle of exceedingly well-dressed people knocking back your third $20 shot of the night. 

With that, you were about ready to call it quits and send for an Uber to take you back home… except, it seemed, the night had other plans for you. 

Or, perhaps you should say Maze had other plans for you. 

She sidled up next to you at the bar, shoving over a lip-locked couple to make room for herself. If she felt the man turn to glower at her or the woman scoff and roll her eyes at her rudeness, she didn’t let on. 

“Hey,” she said, not even bothering to hide the way she was eyeing you up and down like a predator would its prey. “Wanna bang?” 

And… well. Turns out, you very much did want to “bang.”

You awoke buried in a mess of sheets atop a very nice bed in a loft that probably cost at least twice your yearly tuition, a fully-naked Mazikeen staring down at you with a quizzical expression.

You startled fully awake with a jolt, but managed to recover and flash her a shaky smile in the interest of keeping things casual, or... something. 

“Hi,” you said.

“Hello,” she said. She was still staring, completely unapologetic. 

It was strange—like all her boldness and audacity from the night before had suddenly vanished, replaced by… well, by what, you weren’t quite sure.  

“How long have you been awake?” you asked. 

She tilted her head slightly to the side, though her eyes didn’t leave you. “Hours.” She tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear, tracked the movements of her fingers brushing your skin with rapt attention. “You look.... not unpleasant when you sleep,” she said finally, then winced as she retracted her hand as though it physically pained her to do so. “For a human.”

You blinked, taken aback. The hell did that mean? “... Thanks?”

Her lips twitched. “You’re welcome.”

You giggled. “You’re weird.” Caution bled into her gaze, and you rushed to reassure her. “No, not bad weird… it’s good. I like it.”

She nodded, though she still looked wary. “Do you have anywhere to be today?”

You yawned, turning your head over to glance at the clock on the nightstand and—

Oh, shit. It was 10:42. 

“Fuck!” you shrieked, bolting upright in bed and throwing off the covers. “I’m late!”

“Late for what?” Maze asked. She watched with a vaguely disgruntled expression as you stumbled to your feet, far too frazzled to be abashed about your state of undress, eyes darting wildly around the room in search of your clothes.

“Work!”

And that… that was the first time it happened. Not that you’d expected (in any sense of the word) that this… thing you had was going to continue.

You weren’t exactly the girl who did one-night stands on a weekly basis or anything, but you’d had your fair share. You knew what to expect. Cocktails at the club, drunken sex, quick exit the morning after. Maybe one (or both) of you would stress meaningless pleasantries enough to exchange numbers or say “We should do this again sometime” or maybe even stay for breakfast (rarely), but that’s all they would amount to—meaningless pleasantries. 

You’d go to work (or class) the next day, head to the club on the weekend to drink and flirt with some random stranger (a different one this time), and that would be that. 

It didn’t matter that the sex was even more fantastic than it ever had been (which it was), or the way your heart skipped a beat when Maze’s fingertips brushed along your jaw (which it had). You knew better than to get hung up over a drunken one-night stand—especially one that started out with “Hey, wanna bang?”

 So, imagine your surprise when Maze strode into the 66th Ave Lounge where you worked as a bartender and made a beeline straight for you, gaze narrowed and lips flattened out into a thin line. She almost looked… angry—though, you were beginning to understand that ‘angry’ was pretty much Maze’s natural state of being.

It also seemed like the world had it out for you that day, because right then, some hammered middle-aged jackass from the other end of the bar decided to speak up, making some gross (and blatantly derogatory) comment about your tits. 

The effect was immediate: Anger flared like a lit match in Maze’s eyes, and she swiftly changed directions, stomping over to the sleazy man in question with narrowed eyes and murderous intent rolling off of her in waves. 

Needless to say, he got his hand skewered to the bar by one of the numerous curved blades on Maze’s person and a swift knee to the crotch for his troubles. 

He was screaming bloody murder in a matter of seconds, Maze had procured twin knives seemingly out of nowhere as she bore down, and you didn’t doubt that she’d have finished the job had you not chosen that exact moment to intervene. 

“Maze, stop !” you ordered—or, at least, tried to. Your voice trembled horribly, and it was at least an octave higher than usual. 

Immediately, she froze. 

You fought the sudden urge to shrivel on the spot as she turned her hard gaze upon you, brows raised in something like a challenge. 

“Maze, it’s fine,” you told her—pleaded, really. The man whimpered, slumped over the bar, drool and tears wetting the lacquered wood. “He’s drunk. He didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, I think he did.”

“Maze…” You sighed, silently begging her with your eyes. “Please. Even if he did, you’ve punished him enough, don’t you think?”

Maze’s expression softened incrementally, and she heaved a sigh. “Fine.” 

She snatched the ringed handle of her blade, yanked it loose from the bar (and the man’s hand) with little effort. The man screamed and sobbed, collapsing down onto the floor the moment he was freed. You fought the urge to grimace at the smear of blood he left on the bar. 

“But only because it’s you asking,” she clarified, then turned to loom over the writhing man, pointing down at him menacingly with her bloodied knife. “You say anything about my girl again—hell, you even look at her the wrong way… I’ll find you. And next time, she won’t be there to save your sorry ass. Got it?”

“G-Got it,” the man sobbed, his words choked with tears. 

“Good.” With that, Maze’s expression cleared as she turned to give you a calculating look over the bar. “When’s your shift over?”

You blinked, your brain struggling to comprehend what just happened. Primarily: ‘My girl’? “I-I get off at 11:00.”

“Good.” Maze’s full lips curved into a wolfish grin. “I’ll pick you up… and then we can get off.”

Then, she turned on her heel and strutted back out of the lounge without a backwards glance, leaving you confused, terrified, and… ridiculously turned-on in her wake. 

Holy shit. 

— —

end notes: idk i love maze being soft / confused by human interaction and confounded by Feeling Things™ but also being endlessly stabby because she’s maze and stabbing people is part of her charm

#maze x reader #mazikeen x reader #mazikeen #lucifer #stuff i wrote #lucifer fic #maze x f!reader #mazikeen x f!reader

[eltanin-malfoy]

The Portend (His Royal Highness II)

word count: 6.7k

warning(s): cursing, anxiety

a/n: hi all! i just wanted to say that i know this chapter’s length is SO different from the first one’s but that’s because that one is, again, 2 years old and was written all at once. the other chapters will also be fairly long from here on out. i hope you enjoy this one!

taglist: @drawlfoy @war-sword @lilyreachelcassidy @socontagiousimagines @andreasworlsboring101 [@kaibie @regalillegal @mayorofzillyhoo, i know you all wanted to be tagged in the full-length HRH and this is pretty much it ig. please let me know if you’re still interested and want me to add you to the permanent tag list for this series]

reply to this post or send me an ask/dm if you want to be added to the tag list for the series or for all of my fics!

HRH - Table Of Contents

Y/N placed her palms flat on her desk as if doing so would bring any sort of change to the absolute hurricane that had begun its wrath within her stomach. She tried to imagine she was somewhere else for a second. Why would any rational human being do this to someone? That too to someone with as much responsibility as she had. Oh, right… she’d forgotten. Prince Draco was far from rational. Far from being a human being, even.

She looked down at the paper trays with guest lists upon guest lists kept before her, shifted them to the side and planted her face on the wood. That’s better , she thought. Now no one else can see how fucking ridiculous I feel right now! She tried to think about what the hell she’d done to him to make him act so horribly towards her. What could she have possibly done in a past life that would have resulted in her having to face such a… conundrum? She’d thought it was hard enough having to bargain with the King and Queen over how much detail could possibly be squeezed into cake decorations but had no idea a situation even more stressful could and would arise.

How could she let herself get so weak? How could she not bring herself to be assertive? She could have just said no, right? It wasn’t that hard. He hadn’t been nice at all. She took a deep, deep breath, trying desperately to calm her brain. It had begun to run from thought to thought, imagining every possible scenario that could go wrong. She had so much work left to complete on her own, and god knew how much attention and criticism she might face at and after the ball.

And the way she’d freaked out in front of Draco as well! She was sure he must’ve been at least a little put off by how strongly and emotionally she’d reacted so quickly. God, not that that should matter that much but… if they were supposed to work together for a highly publicised ordeal, they had to get along, right? Right? She hadn’t meant to do that. It’s just that he’d already shocked her a bit by slipping into her office so unexpectedly. And then he’d gone on and rushed to… that . Not to excuse what he did but perhaps she should’ve realised she didn’t need to panic so much over it either. She knew she was having a hard time with her anxiety…

Nevertheless, she brought her hands to the edge of the table closer to her and pushed herself up. She looked forwards, turning slightly to face the window she was looking out before everything turned to shit. The scenery was still gorgeous, albeit not that comforting anymore but looking out at the wide expanse of a beautiful garden would bring just about anyone some tranquillity. She had been thinking about how lovely the weather was today, how nice it would be to go for a walk after she’d finished up with her work. Maybe she could even head downtown for once and meet some old friends. But no, no one was happy just giving her a single moment of peace. Even fate was bent upon just giving her as much to stress about as was possible.

She looked down at the paper trays she’d just abandoned. Administrative work could distract her a bit, couldn’t it? All she had to do was send RSVP reminders and reach out to the guests and performers coming in from out of town about their travel and accommodation details. As well as request the performers for the outlines of their performances and send them contracts saying they’d stick by the approved setups. They couldn’t have a repeat of last year’s embarrassing The Hobgoblins’ performance. To be very brief, it had gone sexual. (The King and Queen’s expressions during it were still popular reaction gifs) She picked out one of the lists and opened up her laptop, finally beginning the work she’d been putting off all morning. It seemed so much easier and more comforting now that she had the much more disturbing dilemma on hand. She corroborated the list in front of her, adding ticks and crosses to the list to mark invitees as having confirmed or not. She then compiled their contact details and created a template for emails to send to those that had yet to confirm their attendance and travel itineraries. After this, she did the same with the list of performers, making sure to add enough information to their emails regarding the outlines they should send back.

And there… most of her work was done already, wasn’t it? Now all she had to do was proofread these, make sure all of the addressees were receiving the appropriate emails and well, press send. It shouldn’t take too long and then she could… She could get back to stressing about the problem fucking Draco had landed her in, goddammit! She was right back there again, her stomach beginning to swirl dangerously. She tried to take in a few deep breaths, forcing herself to get back to work. It wasn’t that hard. It wasn’t that hard!

Never mind, she couldn’t deal with it right now. She… Well, she needed a break. Or maybe she just needed to leave work early today. It was fair game after what the hell Draco had just unloaded on her. It was time she gave her intern some actual responsibility anyway. He was a sweet little fellow, straight out of university. Had his head in the right place but wasn’t particularly good with all the practical work yet. She’d assigned him some random organisational task she knew wouldn’t take her more than a minute and wasn’t going to bother checking because she thought it was simply too easy. Hopefully, he’d been able to do it to her standards.

She sat back in her chair and raised her hands up to her head, stretching out her fingers and breathing in and out deeply through her mouth. She was going to do this. She was really going to handle this (easier) bit of the work off to the intern and he was going to do it just fine. Just fine. Maybe she might have to assist him with it a little bit but it was going to work. It would work. Yes, it would. She shook her head to try and shake off some of her anxiety and stood up, closing her laptop’s screen and picking up the tray of guest lists. She walked out of her office and into the large room outside of it, which had a small group of cubicles placed in the middle.

While the rest looked rapt in their work (an exaggeration, to be sure, a lot of them were chatting with their co-workers and eating snacks), she noted her dear intern was just sitting idle which both made her feel hopeful and worried. He was sitting with his laptop closed, one hand tapping on the table’s surface, the other holding his phone.

“Hi, Colin!” Y/N said and he jerked forwards in surprise, dropping his phone to the floor. “Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”. Colin shook his head as he picked it up and looked it over, “It’s no problem, miss… My phone is just fine. Are you alright? I know the prince was just in your office, he came to ask me where it was first! I was so excited and I asked him for a picture but he said he was in a rush! I can’t believe I’ve managed to have a conversation with one of the royals already!” Hmm… “have a conversation” was probably a stretch but… she chose to ignore that. The boy was definitely an optimist and she couldn’t fault him for that.

“That’s lovely, Colin. I’m sure you’ll get to talk to him and the others again. I had some work for you if you’re up to it.”

“Yes, of course! Does it have anything to do with the prin-”

“Let’s calm down there, Colin. I trust you’ve completed what I assigned you earlier?”

“... Oh, yes I have!”

“That’s great.”

She set the paper tray on the side of his desk and he looked at it for a few seconds before looking up at her again.

“So… what do I have to do?”

Y/N gulped and laid out the lists for him, beginning to explain to him the meanings of the markings she’d made and the emails he had to look through and send off.

***

Beep, beep.

Y/N kept her phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear as she walked around her apartment. She was holding a large iced vanilla latte in one hand and her purse in the other. She knew she needed to set something down but felt too jittery to do anything but pace around with her stuff. It was probably partly inspired by the amount of caffeine she’d drank that day but hey, that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Today was also a terribly tense day, wasn’t it?

Beep, beep.

She took a nice long sip of her latte, relishing in how nice and cold it was. She had the air conditioner on and had taken off her blazer but it still felt like she was this close to overheating. This sudden heatwave throughout the country was absolutely unwelcome as far as she was concerned.

Now if only Pansy’d pick up so she could get some clarity on the situation. Suddenly the dial tone ended and she heard the crackling of breathing through the speaker.

“Hello, Y/N?”

She smiled and finally set her purse down.

“Hi, Pansy! It’s so nice to finally hear your voice. Are you free to talk?”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I was just sending off this email but now I’m free for a bit, yes. And Jesus, Y/N, is something… up?”

“Oh, nothing… it’s just… the prince really got me gobsmacked today.”

She hears her gasp over the phone.

“Oh my, the prince?! Well then… I certainly wasn’t expecting that. Although, I suppose… it’s not so far off for the prince to bother you when you’re working at the palace...”

“Pansy… that’s beside the point.”

“Yeah, okay, so… what happened? You have to tell me now.”

“I will but you need to promise me you won’t get mad or jealous of me or anything. I didn’t choose to be a part of it.”

“Of course I won’t be mad. Why would I be?”

“Well, you know, your history and… how you were off your trolley about him as a teenager?”

“Oh, bugger off, babe. That’s not even true anyway.”

“Oh, really? I can vaguely recall someone crying and taking care of him for weeks after he was attacked by that bird he harassed in the first place.”

“I was just… overemotional.”

“Right.”

“So what, okay? So what if I liked him for a while? There’s nothing there anymore. Even waking up to him the next day after the… you know what between us, I was just repulsed. And you thought he was fit too! So. And I feel like I only just liked him because I thought my parents would be happy with us together.”

“That’s… fair. But yes, you’re right, I’ll get back to my story then.”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N started to unbutton the collar of her shirt, beginning to feel hot again. She took another sip of her latte.

“Well, basically, I was just sitting in my office, you know, minding my own business, when Mr Royalty just busts in and starts talking to me.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah, I know right? Anyway, he got straight to it and asked me to be his date to the coronation ball.”

“Holy shit! That’s… never mind, but you said no, right?”

“Well… at first, yes. But then...”

“You what? That’s so unlike you, Y/N, come on…”

“I know, okay… I shouldn’t have. I just started to feel bad for him and I... Should I get out of it? I’m thinking I will. It’ll be stressful, won’t it? I just… I don’t know what to do about it, okay? I’m lost. Help me.”

Pansy fell silent for a second and Y/N undid the whole of her button-down, setting her drink down onto a table as she headed into her bedroom to look for a lighter change of clothes.

“You know the first thing I’m going to tell you is you owe him nothing. I know you felt bad for him but he really shouldn’t have asked you that with no context or anything. He was the one in the wrong here for sure. It’s sweet of you to accept his offer but you don’t have to keep up on it if it’s really stressing you out so much. Also, the fact that you accepted such a spontaneous offer makes me a little sceptical of the power play there...”

“You’re right. Also, I think it definitely wasn’t nice of him but he wasn't mean about it or anything. He was definitely adamant but eh....”

She set her phone onto her bed and turned it to speakerphone, opening her wardrobe and taking out a t-shirt and some shorts.

“At the same time… when we look at the positives, they are fairly significant. You’ll likely have to give in… not that many hours in exchange for a pretty fun night. You know the service at royal events is amazing and if you’re literally the date of the guy the event is being thrown for, the King being crowned that night… I’m going to guess you’ll get so much from that. You’ll obviously get some… fame and have to pack on some PDA there and what not but that means free stuff, great clothes, who even knows what else. You’d just have to work extra hard for that time and balance the work, but I thought you said you were done with a lot of the stuff already.”

“That is … true.”

“But you’re not happy with that, are you?”

“You don’t have to say it like that. It’s just… actually I don’t have a counterargument for that. The perks do sound pretty good.”

“Right? But you know, there might be criticism or hate or something you might get.”

“Well… I’ll also get paid to advertise things after that, won’t I? And free things and VIP invites to places I wouldn’t even have been able to enter before.”

“Well, yes, but… maybe that’s something of an exaggeration, you know. Not every brand or group or whatever is that fixated on how much publicity they can get.”

“... I mean, aren’t they?”

“Okay, yes, they are. I think you should do this.” Y/N laughed as she took off her skirt. She sat down on her bed in her underwear, lying down so her head was near her phone.

“This was a very helpful call. Thank you.”

“I do agree, I think I was a huge help.”

“I concur. Again.”

“Thank you! Now, can I request an invitation to the ball as well?”

“Pansy!”

She giggled and sat up, crossing her arms. “Of course I’ll get you an invite, Pans!”

“Great. I was expecting that. I’m not missing you floundering around, having a… Cinderella moment for the world.”

“A Cinderella moment?”

“You know, getting a chance to dress up like a princess for a night? It’s weirdly literal too, it’s just for the night and then you go back to being normal again. Unless… the prince charming decides…”

“Shush up!” Y/N felt her face beginning to heat up. Not for the second time in one day… She sighed. And… partly because of the same person too.

“I’m sorry, darling. I hope I didn’t say too much there. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. It’s just a problem I’m starting to recognise with me. I keep getting more aggressive and emotionally charged than I mean to be.”

“I get that… you could try meditation, you know. Or you could join my yoga class, it’s pretty relaxing. The teacher has a nice butt too.”

“Pans!”

“Y/N!”

***

Her evening was fairly relaxed after that. The call with Pansy had seemed to fix the problem. Well, not exactly “fix”, more like change the way she looked at the issue so it felt all the lighter. And it worked pretty much the same. She began to feel so much better about the decision she’d made. After all, even if it was destiny or whatever, she’d been chosen for a reason, right? She’d managed to get Draco’s number off of Pansy. (“ It’s from… way back when so forgive me if he changed his number to get me off his back or some shit. ”) And… on a caffeine high, she had decided to text him almost right away.

Hi, your royal highness!

It only took a few hours but soon she was privy to:

Where did you get this number?

Got it from a friend. It’s Y/N btw :) should’ve said that before.

Oh, right! That makes sense. How’re you doing?

I’m alright, thanks. What about you?

I’m okay.

Listen, I was thinking about what happened today.

And now I’m wondering if we could meet tomorrow? Morning, if possible? It’s urgent.

Y/N squinted down at this message in confusion. What was this suggesting? Was there something wrong? Was he going to retract his offer? She knew there must be some kind of administrative work they’d have to log but was it really that serious already?

Sure, I’ll be free to meet before 9:30.

That is not what I was thinking of when I said morning :(

What, do you wake up at 4 o’clock or something?

No, I meant that that was too early!

She rolled her eyes. She should have seen that coming. He wasn’t exactly known for being put together. Or spiritual, for that matter.

We can call now if you really want.

No, it’s okay. It’s better we talk about it in person. I should try and wake up earlier anyway.

As you wish.

So I’ll meet you tomorrow then. Let’s say, 9 am sharp?

Perfect. I get dropped to the main drop off point at that time anyway.

Great. See you xx

See ya x

Y/N set her phone on her counter and put it to charge for the night. What the fuck? What was happening? The sleep she’d been looking forward to seemed to have suddenly drifted away. What was she going to have to worry about tomorrow morning?! She shifted under her sheets, turning where she lay to face the other side and look out her bedroom window. It was a clear, clear night. If she looked hard enough, she could probably see the edge of the royal estate. But then again, she really didn’t want to. She turned to the other side and just stared at her closet.

She wasn’t sure when her mind got tired of imagining potential disaster scenarios for the next day but Y/N woke up to the sound of her alarm ringing at 6:45 am. She reached over to her nightstand and turned it off, sitting up in bed and looking out the sun already shining bright in her window. It was barely May but the days had already begun to increase in length.

Since she’d woken up with ample time to complete her routine, she did everything she could to pamper herself, spending almost an hour in the bathroom. She even changed into her nicest formal clothes after, a white pantsuit with dark detailing. She packed her work bag with the essentials, her laptop, her water bottle, her royal admin ID, her wallet, stationery and her phone. She felt very prepared for once. Whatever was coming her way would be taken care of as needed.

She had a comfortable trip from her apartment building to the estate, the state-sanctioned car ride feeling a lot less bumpy than usual. It was still just as clear as it was last night, but the car’s windows were tinted so the sun’s rays felt like they barely even touched it. There was only the slightest hiccup when the driver slammed the brakes too hard all of a sudden and made Y/N’s face hit the seat before hers. OUCH!?

It didn’t take very long for the car to get to the palace, stopping at the main entrance pavilion. She didn’t notice anyone there yet and checked the time. It was still only 8:53 am. She had enough time to walk to the administrative wing, leave her things there and come back with time to spare. She walked through the hallway and towards the next hall which she knew led her to-

“Fuck me!” “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Hi, Y/N.”

She had her hand on her heart, trying to slow down her breathing as she looked at the blonde who had bumped straight into her. He had his hands in front of her to catch her if she fell. Thankfully, she had just missed falling.

“What the hell is it with you and giving me heart attacks?”

"I promise you that wasn’t my intention.”

“Well, I’d sure have hoped it wasn’t.”

She sighed and dropped her hand to her side, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“So?”

“So, yes. Um. Can we walk or something? I don’t want to be standing here and have someone walk in on us?”

“... Draco, what do you have planned exactly...?”

She looked up at him quizzically and smirked. He managed a small smile but shook his head.

“God, get your mind out of the gutter! I just mean… this is stressful, okay?”

“Well, I’d like to drop my things off at my office if you don’t mind.”

“Alright, I’ll wait for you by the admin wing’s garden exit.”

“Done.”

***

Y/N had decided to leave her blazer on her chair and all her belongings except for her phone on her desk. Hopefully, Colin was good enough as a guard or she was getting robbed. Either way, she could spot a tall blonde’s head nervously bobbing above the hedge next to the exit. His face was a concerning shade of pink, goodness could only hope he’d put on an adequate amount of sun cream.

“Draco?”

“Yes, hi.”

He managed out, looking toward her walking out now.

“Are you okay? You look… red.”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean, are you sunburnt?”

“Oh…?”

He brought a hand up to touch his cheek.

“No, but that’s a good point. Let’s stand in the shade.”

She stopped where she was and he walked in to meet her. She felt her insides begin to do the jitterbug in anticipation. What could possibly have him so on edge? What was wrong?

“I’m really very sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t exactly thinking very straight when I came to see you. In hindsight, I know it got on your nerves and everything and I should’ve been a lot better at telling you about it.”

“It’s no big deal now, honestly.”

“Okay, but that’s not exactly why I called you. The thing is, there’s going to be a lot of PR work at this ball. I didn’t realise it before but Mother told me she’s arranging a meeting with our publicist for us today. And the publicist is never there just to take the piss. This is serious now. Like, even more than I thought it was.”

“I- what do you-”

“It’ll be very pressing, I would never hold it against you if you decided to pull out.” He stared into her eyes with a pensive expression on his face and Y/N felt whatever response she had been planning just vanish from existence. She pretended to have comprehended everything he said, but could only really think of saying one thing right then… That’s what she said... but that would be inappropriate. He soon got conscious and looked to the side and she felt the cogs in her brain begin to work again.

“The thing is my mother was getting a little impatient with me and telling me it was time for me to tell her who my date for the ball is. My parents have been begging me to find one unless I want to risk an arranged marriage, it’s a long story. So, I told them I’d find a date for myself and that they don’t need to worry. The truth is, I didn’t actually bother to find one and it was starting to get a little late. You know there’s only one month left till... right, you know. So… she came to talk to me about it over lunch and she told me I had to tell her who it was so she could arrange everything for us. I started to think about whom my parents would be okay with me going with and whom I would be okay with and well… you were on top of the list.”

“I’m hoping that’s a compliment.”

“It- it is. I told her your name and she was satisfied with it, I think. And then I was scared she’d come and talk to you immediately so I ran to you first and just asked you about it then. Again, I’m sorry it came out as forcefully as it did. I didn’t mean to… get you stuck in this whole thing.”

He took a deep breath and looked back at her again. Her stomach seemed to begin buzzing as she felt her anxiety grow. This was not going to go as smoothly as she expected, was it? The queen, and most likely the king as well, knew. Although that wasn’t exactly unanticipated, it gave everything a sense of finality. Like, she didn’t have much legroom here at all.

“Anyway, that's what happened. I’m sorry, again.”

He looked at her as if he was waiting for her to yell at him. She wasn’t intending to and just turned to the side, trying to calm her racing heart. She needed to make a decision, didn’t she? And who knows what kind of problems would face her, either way, she decided to go? It seemed like teasing to dangle this lux option in front of her just to draw it away. Draco annoyed her.

Looking at how strangely afraid of her he looked, she couldn’t help but notice how very much he started to look like the Draco she used to know. Little and arrogant and scarily afraid of his parents getting upset with him.

“You’re fine. I… I’m going to need some time.”

“That’s okay. You can take as much time as you need. The problem is, I have no idea when today my mother is going to pull you out for the publicist meeting.”

Y/N huffed slightly and covered her face. So, what was she going to do? What was she going to do?

“I’m in.” She’d set her mind to it, hadn’t she? She’d made a promise to the prince, and his parents knew of it already. She’d already told Pansy she was going for it. Well, all of those things and also the prospect of fulfilling a childhood princess fantasy seemed more enjoyable than anything. There was something so gratifying in that idea, dressing up well and being pampered and showered with affection and just… pretending to be a princess. What could be more fun than that?

“You’re sure?”

The answer was nothing.

“Yes.”

Most likely.

“Well, I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“So do I.”

***

It still hadn’t really sunk in yet that she was actually going to do whatever this would entail. Sure, she’d been dreaming about it the day before but it seemed completely different now. Her gut seemed to be calmer now, signifying that perhaps her intuition hadn’t been completely off guiding her in the direction it had.

What’s sad was Y/N was still lost about this after Narcissa had whisked her away into one of the palace’s many giant bedrooms. She was sitting on the bed, still in her work clothes, stressed after having had to explain to Colin how to decide how accommodations would be settled for the guests and the performers coming. She’d been expecting the meeting with the publicist and Draco to happen but she was lost as to what was taking place right now.

Narcissa approached her with a clipboard and a pen. “Now, dear, I just need you to sign these first.” Y/N took both from her and glossed through the texts.

A non-disclosure agreement and an employment contract…

“I’m sorry, your majesty. Do you mind me going through the documents before signing them?”

“Absolutely not, sweetheart. Though do try to rush, we have appointments we need to get to in time.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Honestly, ma’am, I’m not too aware of legal jargon like this. Could I please ask you to explain the purpose of this agreement?”

“Well, when any…”

She seemed to want to say a word but held it back, twisting her tongue around in her mouth as she thought of what to say.

“Person unfamiliar with our ancestry and our policies gets… involved with a member of the family, we have them sign one of these in order to protect our privacy.”

“I see…”

That seemed very… imperialist of them. She began to skim through the document, trying her best to understand it based on what little knowledge of this she had. It all seemed par for the course except for the last clause.

“I’m sorry again, ma’am. The others make sense to me but this one: 11. Covertness, it’s quite vague, the “other actor”…?.”

“To be transparent, the King and I posed the covertness clause as a protective measure. We don’t need Draco learning about this agreement and growing wary of all of us. We’re doing it to protect him more than anything. You are not to revert any of this portion of our meeting to him and he mustn't ever come to know of this agreement or the contract at all.”

The Queen suddenly seemed scarier than she ever had in all the years she’d known her.

“Well, that’s- I’ll have to think about that for a second.”

She started looking through the employment contract. It was similar to the one she currently held, nothing too special, except for the fact that it detailed that she was entitled to a lump sum of £200,000 at the end of the event, assuming she kept up her end of the agreement. She paused for a moment and just stared at that number.

“Is this a misprint by any chance, ma’am?” The Queen leaned over and looked at where she was pointing, then shook her head.

“No, it is not.”

She took a deep breath. That would be much more than enough to have her set for life and for a private event planning business alongside. It would take her 10 years to even come close to earning as much. She continued reading the document. She was supposed to participate in a few publicity stunts, make it clear “she had good intentions” and was supposed to disconnect from the prince entirely after the affair was over. Those terms didn’t sound too harsh, now, did they? A little acting and ghosting for 200 grand? It didn’t sound like much. Even a real big shot actor wouldn’t get paid half as much for such little work. And the part about her leaving the prince alone after was a little strange, but she supposed it made sense, what with the royals’ obsession with keeping their family all blue-blooded. Draco had been the poster child for that kind of thing growing up. And she likely didn’t have an ounce of it in her.

Why were they even that desperate anyway? This seemed huge. It might boost the prince’s reputation a bit but… what else was there to this? She knew the country was not doing the best in terms of international relations but did this really hold that much weight along those terms? Surely, there was something here she was missing. Regardless, 200,000 quid for a little work and a lot of fun was too amazing an offer to turn down. And so, Y/N signed both papers and handed them back to her. Jesus Christ, Draco’s impulsive decision was about to get her rich. Quick. She certainly hadn’t been expecting this.

She handed the clipboard back to the Queen who smiled and took it back quickly, setting the papers into a folder which she kept in a decorative paper bag. Not a bad hiding place at all. She walked outside for a few minutes, before reentering, followed by a squat old lady well-dressed in mauve and a younger woman wearing similar clothes. The Queen ushered towards either of them and began speaking.

“Madam Malkin and assistant, this is miss Y/L/N, the crown prince’s date to the coronation ball, miss Y/L/N, this is Madam Malkin, the family’s official stylist and designer, and her assistant.”

Y/N raised her hand out for her to shake, and she did so, firmly. “It’s so great to meet you, Madam.”

“Pleasure as well, love.”

She retracted her hand, looked over Y/N’s outfit and began whispering to her assistant.

“Well, to be very honest, I feel we don’t have to worry about my wardrobe as much. I know I probably don’t meet the royal standards but… I was planning on buying this really nice dress online anyway. I could show it to you and have you approve it if that would be fine.”

The Queen looked at her vacantly, her eyebrows raised and her nose pinched in the slightest. Then her expression settled and she exchanged a look with Madam Malkin before looking back at Y/N. Madam Malkin maintained an unamused expression, then began to speak.

“ I hope you know we’re not going to let you just wear a dress you bought online to the ball… We’ll tailor one for you. And your other clothes will be picked from contemporary designers ourselves.”

Y/N just looked at her silently, nodding and blinking slowly in assent.

***

An hour or so of Y/N having to change into various clothes behind a divider and then show them off to the pair of them passed quickly. It was very fun knowing she’d get a bunch of very nice clothes out of this (even custom made underwear so her clothes fit her right over them!), and she thought the royal family was really being very generous with all of this. Lots of money and clothes? There had to be some kind of catch, right? Something that would make this hard to keep up with? What was it? Just the stress of all the work that’d pile up? That didn’t seem like enough. Everything was not going the way she was anticipating. It was going a hell of a lot better. Mostly.

The actual meeting she’d been waiting for all morning was finally occurring. She was seated in a meeting room opposite the Queen and Draco and their publicist. It was weird seeing them like this. It seemed like a strange grown-up parent-teacher conference.

“So, our point is, we need to have you both make it clear to the public that there is a strong relationship between the two of you.”

The redheaded man droned on at the head of the table and Y/N looked over at Draco who glanced at her as well before both turning to look at the man.

“It’s Percy, right? I’m just a little… I’m sorry if I just don’t know my current affairs well enough for this but… why?” Y/N gulped, crossing her arms tightly after asking this question. It was quite bold of her for sure. She could only hope she wasn’t violating anything by asking this. “She’s not wrong.” Draco chimed in, ”You never had to do anything like this, mother.” The Queen smiled but shook her head. “Things just aren’t the same anymore, are they?” She looked over at Percy to continue.

“We now live in a world of social media and tabloids and none of that will work towards the image we need to create.”

Draco seemed to be satisfied with that and just looked at Y/N silently, who could only really do the same at this point. “I’m sorry, again, I… think I’m missing something here. What “image” are we trying to create?”

Percy and the Queen exchanged a long look, where she pursed her lips and shook her head somewhat disapprovingly. She then nodded and he began to speak.

“Miss Y/L/N, to be very frank, the kingdom isn’t doing amazing. In terms of international relations and funding and… most importantly, resources and trading. We’re afraid we’re losing allies and we cannot risk anything. We not only need to increase viewership and publicity of the ceremony and the ball, but we need to raise the reputation of the family and the prince in the public eye. It’s… a trend at King’s coronation balls for royals or other elite families to offer their daughters’ hands in marriage to the crown prince or king. Our prince is bent upon not getting into an arranged marriage and having to reject offers is a lot more publicly disgraceful than you might anticipate. As you might know, the country wasn’t even on speaking terms with one of its neighbours because centuries ago a crown prince rejected an offer for marriage and an alliance with them. We cannot risk having that happen when we’re in as dire straits as we are.”

Y/N could only look up at him with her mouth agape. They were serious. This was why it mattered so much to them. This was why she was being paid to do this. In case they offended an ally or just any other country. Because of the prince’s idealistic desires for romance or whatever it was. Although she couldn’t really fault him for that, his father hadn’t had to do the same and she’d heard the conditions for some of those alliances and the situations they landed themselves in the future were never that positive.

She nodded up at Percy. “I understand. I should probably read a bit more on the news and the family anyway. I tend to avoid it.” Percy barely seemed to notice her response and started to talk about strategies and actions that needed to be taken. The meeting ended with Draco and Y/N agreeing to keep up with their public profiles and maintain a good reputation on them. They were supposed to interact more publicly for the time being while Percy laid out more intricate publicity stunt plans.

As she left the room and started to walk back to her office, thinking about what work she had to do, someone tapped at her shoulder gently. She turned around to see the very same prince that had dragged her into this mess staring down at her.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

Him saying that like this made her feel guilty now.

“It’s- it’s really okay. You don’t have to say that.”

“I feel like I have to. You’re barely getting anything for doing this for us.”

“That’s- that’s not true. I’ll have my fun, won’t I?”

“Well, whatever it is, what I told you yesterday, the offer still stands. I’ll get you anything, I’ll buy you a mansion, whatever you like.”

“Not that I’d ever decline you giving me anything… you really don’t need to. Thank you for the offer, though.”

Y/N bit her lip and smiled up at him, waving him off as he made to leave, pretending like that was really the truth. She watched him as he walked to the other end of the hallway. She was going to have to keep up this lie all the way till the event. It definitely wasn’t going to be easy. She began to clench her jaw, setting a hand on the wall as everything rushed through her head.

This was exactly like Cinderella except she had no evil stepmother or fairy godmother or glass slipper or a prince charming on a quest to find her, just a lump sum, publicised PDA and more acting than she realised. And absolutely no way out of seeing the story through anymore.

a/n: there will be a hell of a lot more draco in the next chapters, stay tuned!

#draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco malfoy #draco #hp #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #hp imagine #au #prince au #royal au #prince draco #prince draco au #romance #draco malfoy series #draco x reader series #draco malfoy x reader series #drama

[xenteaart]

You’re a Cat, Hargreeves

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Request 1: Hello, so Five has been through a LOT in just two weeks, so can I request something where the reader and him have a bit of intimacy but are not together yet. Then something happens that is just the last drop to him and he shows up to the reader with red and glossy eyes and collapses in her arms? She just holds him (because boy, he needs it) and after a while he manages to talk about things letting his feelings for her slip in the process. Then she can just calm him down and make him feel loved.

Request 2: Could I request a fanfic where Five has a terrible day at the Commission or in the Apocalypse and at bedtime the Reader comforts him, and he suddenly becomes the little spoon for the first time? Idk I think it would be cute to see him shy and secretly liking

!!! Note: Since these two requests have a common theme of Five being stressed as fuck and having a breakdown I’ve decided to combine them. Personally I imagine this scenario in my Commission AU, HOWEVER, I intentionally didn’t make it very specific in terms of the circumstances so you can headcanon whatever u like <3 also sorry its not the exact scenario from your requests but i hope you don’t mind me taking some creative liberty.

also both Five and Reader are in their 20s here coz otherwise i’m very uncomfortable

massive thanks to @wonders-of-the-multiverse​ for helping me out with wording the physicality of certain things <33333

GIF: @maxiemayfield​

You’ve seen Five in many different states.

You’ve seen him anxious and spiraling, you’ve seen him furious and borderline insane; depressed and distant, lost and confused. At this point, you genuinely thought you’d seen it all but, apparently, you were wrong.

“I am just so tired.” Five whispered almost inaudibly with a sigh so desperate that it made your stomach turn.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice small as you weren’t quite sure how to act yet.

He glanced at you, and you couldn’t help but notice his eyes glistening with salty wetness that was about to spill out and smear his frustration all over his cheeks.

You always loved Five’s eyes - his huge, almost puppy dog eyes that made you absolutely lose yourself in their depth. Whenever you looked into them, you saw wisdom, maturity, exhaustion and patience, dedication and passion, all at the same time. There was a whole other universe behind his blue orbs, and you admired it endlessly. Looking into his eyes right now, however, was nowhere near as exciting and pleasant. Instead, it felt like some strange and violent ache was gripping you at the very heart and squeezing it without mercy, and you winced at the sensation as worry and concern were uncontrollably blossoming inside your ribcage.

Five didn’t grant you with an answer, too busy trying to hold back his tears and clenching his teeth proudly as if there was any point at all.

You got up on your feet and approached Five slowly, careful not to freak him out as you were giving him the time to get used to your presence in his personal space. Normally, he wouldn’t mind yet you couldn’t tell if the same rules applied to scenarios like the one taking place.

“I’m here, yeah? It’s okay, you’re okay,” you kept repeating like a mantra as you pulled Five into your embrace.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck and you instantly felt your skin getting damp. In just a few seconds Five’s entire body relaxed into yours and he wrapped his arms around you tightly, finally letting go and allowing himself to have a proper cry. He hadn’t had one in years, and, by all means, he was entitled to this breakdown.

Most of the time, Five was the one protecting you - looking out for you and leading the both of you out of dangerous and potentially lethal situations. Not that it was a completely one-sided dynamic but it was true that you tended to rely on him quite a lot in times of crisis. Five was good in crisis, exceptional actually. He made decisions quickly and didn’t hesitate to do absolutely anything it took to achieve his goals, which, unfortunately, meant that he was often forced to make choices where humanity and ethics were no longer a top priority.

Despite all that, Five always seemed in control, and even when he wasn’t, you knew he’d get it back eventually. You had placed your trust in him at all times, and only now were you starting to realize that it must have felt like a huge weight of responsibility on his shoulders. Granted, he was objectively smarter and more capable due to his superpowers but he was still human.

Hearing Five’s hopeless and feverish sobbing was unnerving, and you could only imagine what was going on in his cluttered and clearly overloaded mind as he was bawling his eyes out with such raw and genuine fury. From the lack of a better idea you simply waited for Five to cry himself out, patiently holding him in your arms and whispering words of reassurance into the air, not so much out of hope he’d hear them and listen but more as a means of letting him feel you were still there.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Five finally uttered but his words rather quickly got drowned in his weeping. You still got the message, though.

“You deserve to rest, Five,” you replied, feeling your legs start to shake from the weight of Five’s entire body leaning on your form. As much as you wanted to stay like this for as long as he needed, you couldn’t exactly go against your evident physical disadvantage. Five was a heavy gentleman, after all.

“Hey, let’s move to the bed, yeah?” it was more of a statement than a question, so you stepped towards the bed suggestively, expecting him to follow you. To your relief, he didn’t resist and followed your lead right away, seemingly too exhausted to even think, let alone disobey.

Five’s body was limp from the absence of energy, all of which had presumably gone into crying, and he could barely manage to walk on his own, so you grabbed at his shoulders to steady him.

It felt like his physical self was now merely a vehicle with no pilot to steer it, and his mind was long lost someplace else.

As you sat Five down, you caressed his cheek with your thumb, wiping away the trails of his tears whilst also trying to gently break him out of the prison of his troubled and restless brain. To your disappointment, it failed to spark any sort of response.

Right in this moment, he looked almost defenseless. Sure, he wasn’t an incapable baby all of a sudden but he was relying on you, reversing your roles and putting all of his worries and pain on your shoulders, basically asking you to carry them for him because he simply couldn’t anymore.

“Fives. Fives? Look at me, please?” you called, trying to shift his attention to something on the outside because you knew it was the looking inside that pushed him to crumble.

“Focus on my voice, alright?” you tried to keep your tone as steady and stern as you possibly could because right now you were his only bridge back to reality.

You pressed your palms against Five’s shoulders and slowly climbed onto his lap, resting your weight atop of him completely and hoping the pressure of it would manage to snap him out of his almost delirious daze.

As your hand reached for Five’s, you placed it on your chest right where your heart was beating and said:

“Can you feel it? It means I’m alive, Fives. I’m a human and a consciousness just like you. And I'm never leaving your side, no matter the circumstances. You’re never going to be alone, I promise you.”

You took Five by his chin with your other hand and softly guided his gaze upwards to meet your own, noticing his red glossy eyes finally regaining some clarity. The very peak of Five’s episode had already passed, and, as he was coming down from it, he encircled your waist with his arm and let his head sink to your shoulder with his eyes closed shut.

Still sitting straddled across his lap, you brushed your fingers through his soft silky hair and began to massage his scalp in a calming manner, trying to release some of the tension and lull him further into peacefulness. As your fingers moved a little lower, you knew you’d hit the sweet spot because Five literally purred into your skin as soon as he felt your nails gently scratch at the nape of his neck.

“How many times did I say you’re a cat, Hargreeves,” you rolled your eyes at his reaction and couldn’t resist a wide smile as you buried your nose in his hair. Five hummed quietly, and it was the only response you were going to get from him, which, to be fair, was already a big improvement so you couldn't really complain.

“How about we get you into some comfier clothes, wash your face and then you can tell me all about what’s been on your mind, hm?” you proposed confidently, still holding Five close and practically enveloping him in your warmth.

Your every movement was saturated with such understanding and care that not for a split second did Five feel like his vulnerability was making him weak or unworthy. It was quite the opposite, and with each passing moment he was beginning to feel like you were only making him stronger.

He nodded at your suggestion approvingly but didn’t move an inch, and you took it as a hint that he needed a few more minutes of sitting in silence; the bridge of his nose pressed to your collarbone as he was still finding his way back into the present.

You didn’t mind at all.

#five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five x you #tua fic #The Umbrella Academy #my fic #my writing #five hargreeves #number five

[innocent-chris-evans-slut]

The Assistant - Part One

My Masterlist ✨

Series: Personal Assistant - Part One

Summary: Y/N is Ransom Dysdale’s assistant. She’s the closest person to him and spends everyday with him at his house. Usually she gets in at nine o’clock and makes sure everything is perfect. One day he doesn’t want to get up and Y/N goes in his room. She finds a surprise.

Type (in this part): smut, soft anger

Words count: 2,5k

Warning(s): male masturbation, fingering, denied orgasm

“Ransom…fuck” and then a long scream.

A fake scream lead only to faking an orgasm.

Ransom’s house was an open-space and, even though his bedroom’s door was closed, everyone in there could hear -and imagine- what was going on in that room.

Another normal morning in Hugh Ransom Drysdale’s mansion. You drove there from your little apartment in the city center at nine o’clock, once there, you opened the door with the key he gave you and waited for him, and his company, comfortably sat on the couch in the living room.

You openly laughed, careful enough not to let them hear you. When the door opened, you took the papers from the coffee table in front of you and handed then to the girl, without even looking at her.

“What’s this?”

You rolled your eyes, even though she couldn’t see you doing it, and stand up turning around the counter. Once in front of her you took a moment to look at her: blondish, blue eyes, perfect white-teeth smile and perfectly tall.

Yet she faked an orgasm.

“A non-disclosure contract”, you motioned her to sit down at the table and gave her a pen, then you pointed at her where she had to sign, “Thank you”.

“I’ll have bacon and scrambled eggs.”

You had to let a couple seconds pass before answering to her: “I’m not the maid”, then you had to recollect all your killing instincts and put on a fake smile, “Mr. Drysdale won’t be happy to find you here”.

“Why on Earth?” she rested her chin on her fist, “Tonight I rode his cock three time. I made he cum three times. I think I earned the right to have breakfast”.

Once again you had to breathe in and out, “Don’t do that”.

“What?”

“Don’t think you’re the best. ‘Cause you clearly aren’t”, every girl would have left, without even saying goodbye, yet she was there and she clearly didn’t want to leave. “Stay here if you want. Anyway, I’m not the maid, you gotta ask her for your breakfast”, you left the room and entered Ransom’s office. You sat down to your desk and switched on the computer, starting working.

Two hours later you still hadn’t seen Ransom, so you decided to head upstairs and check on your boss.

You hated him since the first moment; his being bossy and sloppy bothered you in every possible way. The way he treated his employees, as well as his family and his friends, and you, it was unbearable. Yet you needed that job, otherwise you didn’t know how to pay your studies. Every morning, in front of the mirror you repeated to yourself: another couple of months. By the end of April, you would have finished your studies at University and, after paying all the tuition fees, you would have been free from the Thrombeys, and Ransom Drysdale. You kept telling yourself that working for them was temporary and sooner or later -preferably soon- you would have dropped the job and not seen them for a long time -hopefully forever.

While making your way to Ransom’s bedroom, you kept texting to your best friend -the only one who knew where you were working- and she had been asking you to join her, and your other friends, to that night’s bonfire.

Y/N 11:26 – I’ll do my best. No promises.

You smiled at the possibility of hanging out with your friends after a long time; with that thought in your head you locked your phone and shoved it in the back pocket of your jeans once you had reached the door of Ransom’s bedroom. Your hand already felt the cold of the grip, when you heard a groan coming from inside.

Was there another woman with him?

You waited before announcing yourself, not understanding what was going on in-there. You knew you could just bend down and peek from the keyhole -being his bed clearly visible from the door.

And you did it.

Yet you weren’t ready for what expected you.

Ransom was laying on his bed -his back against the mattress- and he was naked. Completely naked. You let your eyes wander on his toned chest. As much as you could hate him, there was a little part of you that was inevitably attracted by Ransom Drysdale. Maybe it was his being always self-sure and self-centered that charmed you. As much as you kept saying he was an horrible human being, you just couldn’t ignore the fact that every time he lowered his voice, every time he looked at you, anger on his face, every single part of your body trembled, your heart increased its pace and your brain pulsated in your skull.

You couldn’t.

And it all became bigger when, that morning, you saw him holding his cock in one of his hands, and his phone in the other hand. His fingers were softly, yet firmly, wrapped up all over his long and thick member and they moved slowly, gradually increasing their speed, until his cum spurt out. It was everywhere; on his fingers, on his wrist, on his abdomen and a few drops fell on his toned legs too.

You were frozen in your place. You didn’t know what to do. Should you have entered the room and scold him? For what then? For sexually please himself in his own bedroom? In his house?

You shouldn’t have been there. You should have been in the office, replying to the working e-mails he got and the thousands of texts the many girls he had slept with were sending him -some of those were very inappropriate.

You felt hot and sweaty, your heart-pace had increased, and your hands were slightly shaking. Your legs were about to give up and you could have collapsed from one moment to another, yet you made it downstairs -after having taken off your heels. Once in the office you put them one again. For the rest of the day you tried not to think about what you had seen, but you failed miserably. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw him. Every time you breathe in and out, pretending it never happened. Indeed, it did, and you knew that image would persecute you forever.

“Where’s my sandwich?” Ransom shouted from the couch in the living room. The Patriots’ game was almost done, and he still hadn’t eaten. He snapped his fingers insistently and his personal chef entered the room with a dish and a beer in his hands.

“Here it is, Sir”, he placed the Monte Cristo sandwich on the coffee table in front of the huge plasma-screen TV and handed the beer to him.

Ransom didn’t bother to thank him as he made his way back into the kitchen. He neither took his eyes off of the screen. He was so focused on the game that he didn’t heard your footsteps coming closer.

After a whole day in the office, you finally managed to get all the work done and, pleased with yourself and the job you did, you approached Ransom in the living room. You glanced at the score on the bottom of the screen and saw that the Patriots were losing the game. It certainly had an implication on your boss’s mood, yet you hoped he wasn’t on a bad mood.

“Where are you going?”

You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t realized the second quarter had ended and Ransom’s attention was now all on you. You didn’t know when he got up and approached you; he was now a few inches from you -closer than usual.

“Ehm…I wanted to ask if I can go home before, today. I’ll hang out wi-“

“I don’t care what you do”, he said taking one last drink from his beer, “The work is done?” he watched you as you silently nodded in his direction and he caught you lowering your eyes, as if you didn’t want to meet his gaze, “Then, you can go”.

You mumbled a “thank you” very quickly and tied your fingers over the shoulder strap of your white leather bag. You hurried your way to the front door and, as you put your hand on its grip, you heard Ransom’s voice again.

“You liked it?”

You looked around you, confused by his words and asked: “What?”

The smirk you hated showed up on his face and he folded his arms over his chest, coming closer to you, “I asked if you liked what you saw before”.

“And my question is: what have I seen?” you tried to avoid his gaze, yet it was impossible. Ransom cupped your chin and forced your eyes into his. Your mouth dried out seeing his blue eyes becoming darker as they laid on your body. His hand reached your hips and laid there longer than you’d expected.

“Come with me”, he suddenly took a step back and motioned you to follow him upstairs. Then, you realized what was he talking about.

Did he see you that morning? You had been careful enough not to let him see you. Again, you didn’t understand why he wanted you upstairs.

“I-I should go-“

“Last time I checked you get off at nine”, he paused and gave a quick glance at the clock on the wall. Then he put his eyes on you again, “And it is a quarter to nine now”.

You knew he wouldn’t let you go before thirty minutes; so, you placed your bag and took off your coat, before following with him.

Your loud snort made Ransom turn his head towards you and send you one if his angry looks. You apologized and kept yourself a few inches behind from him. You eventually stopped when he stopped, in front of the door of his room, -avoiding banging onto his built body.

He turned to you again and you swallowed hard at the glimmer in his eyes. The situation, the silence and the glance Ransom’s was throwing at you were stressing you out.

“Get in”, he gestured you to enter the room.

You didn’t know if you should it or not? What he even wanted from you?

“I really shouldn’t be her-“ you tried to say, but Ransoms, being a complete dick, pushed you inside and tells you to lay down on his bed, “Hugh, I’m not your personal whore”.

“Can you shut up and do as I say?” he saw you close your mouth and slowly walk up to the bed; you took off your shoes and climbed on, resting your head on the pillows.

As you moved, you smelt his strong scent -a mix of whiskey and musk. You breathed in as much as you can, it swarmed you nose and your head, too.

“Y/N, are you still with me?” As he heard you groaning on his bed, he half-closed the door, “Look at me. What do you see?”

You turned your head towards him and answered: “You?” It came out as a question, though you weren’t asking. You were stating the obvious: you could clearly see him, even if the door was almost closed. You could see his hateful smirk on his pink lips, his eyes fixed on you and his arms crossed over his chest. He was oddly silent, as if he was waiting for you to tell smoothing else.

The you realized.

You could see him.

Perfectly.

“Oh”, you sat up and kept your eyes on him, as he kicked the door open and he was now walking to you.

“Yes, oh”, he stayed there, at the edge of the bed, looking at you -motionless in front of him, “I didn’t know you were a voyeur?”

“What- I’m not a voyeur!” you tried to slip away, but you couldn’t.

Ransom was shamelessly staring at you, wanting to make you uncomfortable with his smirk -which had never left his face since he had brought you in his room- and his inquiring eyes, his hands at his hips and his gold family ring around his little finger.

“Indeed”, Ransom came closer to you, his knee sinking into the soft mattress, “You were so watching me. Your eyes were glued at me. At my cock. You liked it. You liked watching me jerking off”, he touched slightly your cheek as you tried not to let him understand how you were feeling. His touch was so gentle and soft against your skin and his hot breath crushed against your neck, “I gues- no, I know you were hot. You could have gone away, but you didn’t want to. I know what your thought are. I know your pussy was soaked”, without you realizing it, his index and middle finger had undone the buttons of your jeans, unzipped the zip and they were making their way to your panties.

“Wha-“ a moan escaped your lips as his hand cupped your clothed sex. You couldn’t talk anymore; the only thing you could do was moaning as he skillfully touched you through your panties.

“You’re already so wet”, Ransom whispered really close to your ear. He slipped two fingers under the thin piece of cloth and didn’t stop there, “Do you come to work wearing lace?” he let go of the elastic band of your underwear and it hit your skin, “How many times do you dream of riding me? Riding my cock?” Ransom started leaving a trail of wet kisses at the base of your neck, slowly going up, “Did you like what you’d seen?”

You weren’t able to answer his question, guilty the pleasure he was giving to you. His fingers were caressing your folds -more than wet at that point- and his main purposed seemed to be making you admit you’d liked it.

He quickly moved all his weight to his knees and grabbed you by your throat; he chocked you pleasantly, “I want an answer, baby girl”, and he pushed two fingers into your pussy.

Feeling his long and thick fingers inside you, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes and let your mouth fall open. You felt them against your walls, moving around and finding your g-spot -then, you wide-opened your eyes and let out one long moan, “Y-yes”.

“’Yes’ who?”

“Yes, d-daddy.”

Hearing you calling him in that way did nothing by made his cock twitching in his pants, “Good girl”, he didn’t stop. His fingers still in the most intimate parts of your body, now his thumb was rubbing your clit.

You felt the knot in your stomach grow more and more as his fingers worked faster on you. In a matter of seconds, you were about to explode, you would have reached your climax and you would have come all over his fingers. As you were about to cum, Ransom pulled out his fingers from your jeans and sat down at the edge of the bed. He twisted his hand, the two fingers, which had been inside you, were wet. Your juices drizzling from them.

You froze in your place when he brought them to his mouth and licked them -cleaning them up. “It’s nine o’clock. You should go.”

Tag List -open-: 

@sinner-as-saint​

@andreasworlsboring101​

#ransom drysdale #ransom thrombrey #ransom x y/n #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale smut #knives out #imagine #smut #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader

[nebraska-is-a-myth]

oh dreammmm. Shut up Tommy.

Okay so I was watching Tommy's stream today and it gave me this very out of character idea for my crime au.

The pilot episode: 2 & 4

Masterlist

Its a few days after the dream teams public execution that terrorized the city. 

Dream, George and sapnap are hanging out in a backstreet bar that's notoriously know to be one of the many criminal friendly bars around the city. Even though all of their faces were partially revealed to the public, nobody seemed to bat an eyelid at the trio. They didn't even look like criminals at all to be honest

They were all laughing and joking and just having an all round good time

Until dream heads home early to feed his cat, and feels a presence behind him as he walks through the streets to his apartment.

He turns round and pins the person to the alley wall just as he felt a hand near his back pocket

“Woah-o-ho okay okay” Dream swears he hears the guys voice crack

“Hey man, that's my bad. I’m sure we can work things out, just please don't shank me, my mum wants me home by 11.”

Dream furrows his eyebrows and looks the guy up and down.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, he looks more like a kid

He’s got a thin frame and straggly hair that he cant tell weather its light brown, or just dirty. His face is red but mostly pale with a few cuts and a large purpling black eye on the left side of his face. The kids facial expression takes dream by surprise. He doesn't look like someone whose being pinned to the wall by, basically a mass murderer. 

In fact, he looks like someone he knows.

“Tommy?”

This is the kid that used to follow techno everywhere.

“Well I mean yes but, h-how do you know that if you don't mind me asking big man.”

Dream releases Tommy and steps back from the wall, the kid looks confused but he follows closely behind when the taller of the two motions for him to join him out of the alley.

Tommy smirks for a second until dream turns back around

“Wallet first.”

Tommy sulks for the rest of the walk

Its a few months later and Tommy looks a bit older, he’s still covered in bruises and his hair is still dirty. He’s sat on top of one of the larger buildings in the city, swinging his legs over the edge and looking down into the street below 

He knows Wilbur will be worrying where he’s gotten to, especially since tensions in the city are so high right now, but he needed to get away. He needed time to think.

He looks up to the stars and thinks of how alone he felt when techno disappeared without a trace. Remembers feeling so upset with the world, so worthless and lost. He still thinks it was his fault the kingpin of the city went away. Maybe he had finally gotten fed up with Tommy, maybe he’d annoyed him too much, he knows he was defiantly being too clingy. And he thinks a part of him will always deem himself to be a burden to others.

But then he met dream, and life changed.

( Or rather, he pickpocketed dream and suddenly this strange man he tried to steal from wanted him in his life )

And suddenly he felt less alone

He learnt very quickly that the man he tried to pickpocket was in fact the masked man he’d been watching all over the news, and man did he annoy the hell out of the dream with the amount of questions he asked.

He didn't know why the older man wanted to keep him around, especially since he knew of his close connections to his ( former ) rival technoblade, but he was very grateful for the friendship regardless.

Dreams friends weren't as quick to trust him, and tommy didn't blame them. ( He did try to steal a number of there possessions )

He remembers the first heist dream ever brought him on. He was supposed to be on crowd control with sapnap, but one of the hostages lunged at Tommy when sapnaps back was turned, wrestling the startled kid to the ground. Tommy was never the best at winning fights, he usually just let his opponents get a few hits in and then they would usually walk away with whatever possessions he had on him, but this guy wasn't backing down. 

He hit Tommy a few times before taking the gun from his hands and pointing it in his face. He remembers this as one of the only times in his life he showed how truly scared he was infront of other people.

The guy tried to use Tommy as negotiation to let everyone out of the bank unharmed, neither sapnap nor George knew how to handle the situation, but as soon Tommy saw Dream re emerge from the vault pistol in hand, he didn't feel scared anymore.

Tommy smirks at the memory and looks up from where he was watching his feet swing back and forth, in the distance he sees the rubble of the bank and he almost wishes he could go back to that day just to see if he could tell if Dreams worry was just another ploy for the public .

The young boy hears the creak of the metal door behind him and he knows its Dream. He doesn't turn around to look at the man, he doesn't even really want to have this conversation, but he cant pretend like there's nothing wrong forever. Dream knows him now, knows his queues and quirks and even through the stress of an incoming war, he knows that Tommy's upset.

“Shouldn't you be in l’manberg”

Dream doesn't join tommy on the ledge 

“You know its not safe for you here.”

Tommy doesn't look at him

“Tommy”

“What dream!”

“Oh so its dream now is it.”

“Yeah its fucking dream”

“What the hell Tommy, what's you deal man .”

“What's my deal? I’ll tell you what my fucking deal is.”

Tommy stands up from the ledge and pushes himself into dream space. “Why were you so persistent to become my friend ay. You knew, you knew I had connections to techno, pretty fucking close connections dream. And even when the people you trusted with your life told you over and over again that I was gunna fuck you over, you went against them to keep me, fucking me in your life. Why the fuck did you want a scrawny ass, shit for brains, worthless fucking kid in you life dream? Was it to get back at techno? Was it ! Because I cant think of any other fucking reason dream!” Tommy was so caught up in his own anger he almost didn't hear dreams reply.

“He asked me to!”

Tommy's breath hitches and he feels like times stood still, for a second he forgets how to breath, how to think. He doesn't know how to feel.

Tommy watches Dreams facial expression, only just notices that he hasn't got his mask on. He watches Dream furrow his eyebrows and then soften as he try's to put his hand on Tommy's shoulder, but the younger boy just swats his hand away. “Don't touch me.” Tommy try's to be aggressive but Dream sees how tired tommy is and he notices the tears building up along his waterline.

Its a while before Tommy speaks again

 “What do you mean, he asked you to.”

“He didn't do it in person, probably would have shot him otherwise. He sent me a letter, few days after everyone realized he’d gone for good. It was smart, sending something that wasn't digital, probably would have been hacked by some shitty fangroup by now. Told me he was going, and that he probably wasn't going to come back. Told me to look out for you, to tell you not to go looking for him, and than none of this was your fault cause he knew you were a stupid kid who would blame everything on yourself.”

Tommy's a lot calmer now, he still feels tears threatening to spill but he doesn't make an effort to wipe them away. “Why didn't you tell me.”

“Didn't think it would make a difference. Thought it would just make you think I was only looking after you because of a debt.”

“Arnt you?”

“You think Id put up with your teenage bullshit for this long if I didn't care about your stupid ass.”

Tommy searches his friends face for anything, any indicator that he was telling a lie. Out in the field when his masks on he’s unreadable, his expression is worthless because everything he does is an act. But when he’s talking to his friends, in the comfort of their headquarters or their apartment, his expressions change like the weather. So when Tommy sees dream give him warm eyes and a soft smile, he cries.

He sobs and falls into dreams arms. He wraps his arms around his friend and for the first time he hugs dream without feeling like a burden of any kind and he feels like the world has been lifted from his shoulders.

Dream lets Tommy sob into his embrace for a while before he addresses the elephant in the room. “Your not safe outside l’manberg Tommy.”

“I know.” Tommy mumbles into dreams tear stained shoulder.

“You know I cant promise that your friends wont get hurt tomorrow.”

Tommy only nods at this

“Knew you'd be to stubborn to give up on this.”

Tommy smiles and lifts his head, “Have my disks thought you nothing old man.”

“Hey! I'm not that old.”

They step away from each other now, Tommy hovers at the door to the roof. The sun would start to rise soon, and he needs to get back to his part of the city before Wilbur has a heart attack. They stand there, so many things left unsaid. Tommy wants to tell dream to spare Tubbo, to make him tell the Dream smp not to kill his friend, but even Tommy's immunity is falling apart at this point. Dream wants to tell Tommy to convince his friends to surrender, he doesn't want the boy to see the bloodshed. Maybe he even wants to convince him not to take part in the war at all, but he knows his attempts would be futile.

“Hey, whatever happens out there tomorrow.”

Tommy cuts dream off and just nods “I know.”

They look at each other one last time, both wishing tomorrow would never come. Tommy's eyes water again, he knows he’s doing the right thing, for him, for his friends, and for l’manberg.

Tommy slips out the door and he never looks back

#dream team #dreamwastaken #dreamteam #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #tubbolive #georgenotfound #sapnap #dream smp #dream smp war #mcyt #crime au #technoblade #its very out of character but this was fun to write