#--and that Shadow has to 'pay' for what he 'did' in some way as if there was ever a choice in the books they wrote--

[bonefall]

As a big sibling with a lil sib with epilepsy, when they read TBC they Honestly thought if they got struck with lightning reciting the lord's prayer they'd be cured like Shadowsight is from their epilepsy. I had a discussion with them on how that's not how it works, but ge was so upset they took it away from Shadowsight that he hasn't picked the books back up and has stated that 'he hopes Ashfur wins and starts a new religion.,'

I do not even know how to respond to this besides saying that your little sibling is 100% right to be pissed and I now also hope Ashfur wins and starts a new religion.

[mariocki]

Shadows of Fear: White Walls and Olive-Green Carpets (1.8, Thames, 1971)

"Often, a man wants a girl as long as he can't have her. Then, when he's free to marry her, he has second thoughts. He thinks he could do better for himself: no hurry, shop around. It happens."

"Just like that, huh?"

"People do what's best for themselves. I've been let down before now."

"Often?"

"No one ever did it more than once."

[loriache]

"I've been waiting for ages for somebody to unmask them."

This moment tends to elicit negative reactions in a first read through, and I've got some opinions about why where Kabru is coming from here actually makes a lot of logical sense. So I thought I'd elaborate on that.

I think people hear this and go, "He thinks they must be hiding something because they gave money to someone? What a cynic." Or "he dislikes them because they did charity?? What's wrong with this guy!". And obviously, a lot, a lot is wrong with him. But I think this makes more sense than it seems at first glance! What people evaluating this judgement miss is why Kabru is paying attention to Laios and co to begin with.

Kabru knows of the Touden siblings because (he's a little bit of a stalker-) he is keeping an eye on all the relevant parties in events developing on the island, in order to be able to guide them to his preferred outcome. This includes adventurers because they are the ones actually exploring the dungeon! He's well aware that something as minor as internal tensions between party members could be key to the historical events that are developing. (He would love the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand.)

His desired outcome is that whatever the rewards are of breaking the dungeon's curse, whether that's kingship or the ancient elven secrets of dungeons, are claimed by:

A) a short lived person

B) Someone who will be a good, effective leader and/or use those secrets and the power they carry wisely, with foresight, and to establish a political bloc for short lived people.

The person he can best trust to do this is, of course, himself. But due to his PTSD regarding dungeons and monsters, he's not able to develop the necessary skills to conquer the dungeon. Once he realises this, he starts looking for someone else who he can support to that end.

But most of the adventurers don't have any intentions of conquering the dungeon, don't have the skills, or are unsuitable in other ways. In fact, it seems like some potentially suitable people are the Toudens. There are a lot of good rumours about them going around - they actually seem to have a very positive reputation! That's what Kabru means when he says "unmask".

So when Kabru is observing something like them giving money to an old comrade from their gold-peeling days, he doesn't consider it a problem because "they're giving money to this person who doesn't actually need it" or because they must have some dark secret if they act superficially nice. I think he actually understands this situation and what it implies about Laios (in particular) perfectly well.

Laios and Falin gave money to an old comrade who got injured and couldn't work. That person then healed up but kept taking their money. Then he used the money to start smuggling illicit goods to the island.

The key is that for Kabru, the problem here is the same as with the corpse retrievers - people using the dungeon's resources to fuel dangerous, selfish, or violent pursuits cause problems for the island, attract more criminals and people with motives other than breaking the curse, and increase the chances of the whole situation ending in tragedy.

Kabru is willing to work with the Shadow Lord of the island if it gets him to his goal - he isn't scrupulous - but the criminal element of the island increasing is something he sees as a major issue.

Also, when you're evaluating someone as a candidate for power, riches, secrets, potentially kingship - then being curious about how the money you give to people is going to be used is kind of a relevant trait!

Interpersonally, Kabru's actually very easygoing - I mean, Mickbell isn't exactly an upstanding guy, is he! But Kabru likes him and they get along well. These traits wouldn't be a problem at all in a friend, or a comrade, or someone Kabru was confident he could use. But he can't get a handle on Laios, and Laios is someone who has the potential to be a major player!

On Laios' end, this is the same as with the marriage seeker who joined their party. She kept asking for things and he gave them to her, because he tries to be nice to others. He even gives her money! It's the exact same thing.

That's fine, but it became a problem because he basically wasn't interested in her motives, didn't notice she was trying to manipulate him, and it also didn't occur to him that the other party members would notice or be affected. We can assume the situation with the gold peeler is the same. When Kabru says that "It's not that they're bad people, they just aren't interested in humans," he isn't wrong.

The extent to which this is true of Laios is linked to his autism imo, (because it isn't just disinterest - he genuinely isn't able to notice nonverbal cues that people are lying to him or have ulterior motives) but to a greater or lesser extent I think it's a very common trait. Most people aren't actually that interested in other people who aren't close to them. Kabru is the weird one here. It isn't an issue except as a leader - which is why we see an immediate comparison to the Island's Lord, because that's how Kabru is evaluating them.

And disinterest in/lack of ability with people to the extent Laios exhibits it, it does, actually, make him a worse leader... it's just that as we see in the story, people can help him out. The rest of the party tell him the marriage seeker is taking advantage of him so he tells her he can't give her special treatment anymore. They're pissed and it's a crisis point - he couldn't have recovered their trust without Marcille and Falin - but that's exactly the point. With Marcille and Falin, he was able to recover their trust.

And he has other good traits that make up for it, such as his intelligence, strategic knowledge, open-mindedness and sense of fairplay.

Kabru doesn't disqualify Laios as a candidate based on what he sees about him from afar, though - he still tries very hard to get close to him, obviously hoping that if he manages he can steer Laios to defeat the dungeon and make up for his lack of people-skills in the aftermath. (Which... he does eventually achieve that goal!) He completely fails until the events of the story, so... definitely I think "They just aren't interested in humans" could also partially be a stung reaction to Laios' complete disinterest in him.

Anyway, that's my read on what exactly Kabru's "issue" with Laios is. Obviously, once he does find out what Laios' true nature is like - about his love for monsters - he develops an entirely new set of fears about Laios' priorities. But since Laios kept that a secret until the start of the story, he has no idea of that yet.

Given all that, I think it's interesting that he says that he doesn't think that the Toudens are suitable to defeat the dungeon, and that he's hoping they'll turn out to be the thieves. As some of his few potential candidates, people who he thinks may play a big role in the island's future, you'd think he'd hope they would be good people!

I suppose it's better, in his eyes, because it means that he's involved in something "interesting". They haven't just had their stuff stolen by regular criminals (boring, puts them further away from his goal) - they've been caught up in the beginning stages of "a historic event". The desperate and dwindling group forgetting morals in their quest to retrieve their lost comrade probably appeals to his sense of melodrama. Because he also just... loves drama.

Despite it being "uglier than anything he was expecting", he still pursues Laios as the person he wants to conquer the dungeon pretty much as soon as it becomes clear that he won't be able to do it himself and they are out of time. That's because... well, to be fair, there aren't any other options. And he fits standard A: he's short-lived!

and Kabru still hopes he can fit standard B, too, and be persuaded to use the power he wins for good. No matter how many nightmares he has about Laios, or whether he thinks about killing him. He doubts him, but ultimately he puts his faith in him and seems happy after the manga's ending that he made the right decision.

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English.

Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2 (You're here)

Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 2

The moment you retreated to your room Alfred's gaze hardened as he looked at the kitchen door through which you had left.

With a sigh he returned to making breakfast, however, something couldn't stop going around in his head.

Why?

Why do you have to leave?

Why do you have to leave ME?

He doesn't blame you. Your "family" has done nothing but ignore you and push you aside on more than one occasion since you arrived at Wayne Manor. And if it weren't for him, Bruce wouldn't have remembered to pay for your needs and education.

No. He could never blame you for your decision, but he can blame Bruce and your brothers. He had never felt such anger for them, not even when Martha and Thomas died at the hands of that cruel man. But that never had a solution, but this did. His family has a solution and he was going to fix it for you and for you. To always have his ray of sunshine at his side.

He wasn't going to lose you without having fought a war.

But for now, he had to stay calm. He sighed once more and finally relaxed as he served breakfast on the plates. He has to talk to Duje after you told him about your decision.

He had to think with a cool head. As he had told Bruce many years ago: "Fear doesn't make you think clearly" and not only was he scared of his little ones going out into the world alone, he also had anger built up. And he was going to use those two feelings to his advantage.

It was not for nothing that he was a very feared soldier during the war.

You were in your room as usual texting with a friend when Duke knocked on your bedroom door before coming in.

"Hey (name)!" said Duke happily who sat on your bed while you sat at your desk

"Oh hey Duke!" you greeted him with a smile anyway "How was school today?"

"A little boring, but at least it's Friday now" he chuckled

"And you? How was your day?"

It's now or never.

You sighed and got up from your spot to sit next to him on your bed.

"I have something to tell you Duke…" you put a hand on his shoulder

"And what is it?" He asked worriedly seeing your seriousness "Don't tell me it's something bad"

"No, it's nothing bad. At least I don't consider it bad" you started to say "But, Duke, I've decided to move out of the mansion"

"…What?…" he said in a quiet tone of voice surprised by your words

No, it can't be…

"I know it's sudden, but I can't stand this place" you sighed "I want- No, I need to start over without being in the shadow of others"

You turned to look at him and caressed his cheek.

"But this doesn't mean we won't see each other again. We'll be able to talk and keep in touch" you offered him a smile

Without saying anything, Duke hugged you and nestled his head in the crook of your neck. You put a hand on his neck and caressed him.

"Just… Don't forget about me…" he said after a few minutes of silence.

He pulled away from you and wiped away some tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

"I could never do that, brother," you wiped one of his eyes with your thumb.

After that emotional conversation, you and Duke spent the afternoon in your room talking and watching movies on your laptop. However, Duke's mind was still on that conversation.

There was no chance that you would leave him. He had to find a way to prevent you from leaving his side.

The week you moved went by so fast that when you realized it, you were already taking the last box with your belongings out of the mansion.

You looked back at that mansion one last time and felt like that little kid again who arrived with fear and excitement to what he would call home for years. But soon your face darkened as you remembered the suffering you had experienced there. Without thinking twice, you turned around and got on your motorcycle, but not before securing your last box. You started the bike and left Wayne Manor.

You hadn't said goodbye to Alfred nor Duke but you left a letter on both of their beds wishing each of them the best, thanking them for everything and giving them the phone number of your second cell phone in case they needed something or just wanted to check on you. However, you didn't leave anything else, not even an address. You wanted to completely erase the Waynes from your life, you wanted to erase the fact that you were a Wayne too. You wanted to forget them so much that you turned off the cameras in the mansion for a period of time so you could take out your things in peace, so that no one would see the license plates of your motorcycle that you had been keeping at a friend's house and whose motorcycle was registered.

If nothing else, you had developed the same paranoia as Bruce and decided to take every measure to avoid being located. You even thought about going to live in Metropolis or Star City but the rent and sale of apartments there were much more expensive than in Gotham. Maybe when you earn more money once you finish college.

But for now focus on your present.

Before it is taken away from you.

When you got to your apartment you let out a sigh that you didn't know you were holding. You looked around, there were some pieces of furniture that came with the apartment like a leather armchair that was a little worn but looked pretty new, a wooden bookcase, several coffee tables, some pots and kitchen stuff. The only thing you had to buy was your bed but your best friend did you the favor of giving you a headboard for your bed as a gift of independence and you only bought a mattress. It wasn't as comfortable as the one you had in the mansion but at least you had things you could consider yours. NOT thanks to Wayne, but thanks to your efforts.

You put the box on the kitchen counter and before going to your room you saw several boxes.

Damn... You hadn't thought about how lazy you were going to be when you had to unpack.

That same day you left, Alfred had returned from going grocery shopping. At that time of the morning you and he used to spend the morning together, while you were in your online classes, he did the housework along with the food. Between the breaks you had between classes you used to go see what he was doing in the kitchen and you were his personal taster.

Now that you were on vacation, you spent more time with him because Bruce, Tim and sometimes Damian went to Wayne Enterprises, Dick and Jason weren't usually at the mansion and Duke, Cass and Stephanie were training in the Batcave or with their friends. For that same reason Alfred was alarmed when he called your name and you didn't answer.

He quickly went up to your room only to find it completely empty. His heart raced and he started to sweat lightly.

You couldn't have left so quickly, right?

He went down again and checked all the rooms in the big mansion and found nothing. Only his own room was missing. As he entered he could see an envelope of your favorite color on his pillow. He approached and read it.

In the letter you apologized for not saying goodbye to him in person but if you did you were more than sure that you wouldn't be able to leave. You also left him a private cell phone number where he could call you and you wished him all the best.

It had been a long time since Alfred felt the need to cry but without realizing it he had already shed a few tears. He couldn't believe that his little one was already gone.

After having shed a few tears, he quickly wiped his eyes and composed himself. No, he couldn't cry because you were going to return. He was sure of that.

However, he would let you enjoy your independence a little before implementing his plan for you to return home to your family. With him.

But first he'll have to talk with Duke.

Helloooo! I hope you liked the second chapter! If you did leave a heart and i'll see you in the next one. I kind of think this chapter is kind of bland but the story is just begining. This are the first impressions of you leaving the Manor but soon enough the rest of the family will appear.

Thanks you for reading!

-Izadi <3

TAG LIST

@eyeless-kun

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x Reader )

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon ii Targaryen x Targaryen! Little Sister! Reader prompt: When the small council plans to marry off once again, you turn to your older brother for help. word count: 1, 000+ words

You were the youngest and third daughter of Alicent and Viserys. A few months younger than Helaena and Aegon's little shadow in your childhood. Your older brother at first hated it, the way you cling onto him and gawk at him with an innocent awe.

It was your ninth name day, your Father had not paid much attention to it, but your Mother had ordered a celebration for it. You had trailed after him, babbling about nonsense as he tried to lose you. It was at dinner that night that everything had boiled over. Instead of receiving gifts, you had taken to giving everyone a gift.

He had not expected anything. He hadn't been the most kind to you. But was surprised when you had gifted him an embroidered cloth with Sunfyre on it. It was not the best and some threads were loose, but you proudly had told him you learned embroidery for him. Seeing those big doe eyes of yours his opinion changed. He adored you. You were the only one in the family that did not care about his worsening reputation. You just...adored your big brother, flaws and all.

It was why it killed him on your eleventh name day you were shipped off to the Reach, married off to a Lord as old as your Grandsire. He was haunted by your wails, of the way you clung onto Helaena and Aemond, the two of them wailing as Ser Cole carried you off to the carriage.

His young sister, the only one in the family who truly cared, was sold off like a piece of cattle. Not even your cold Grandsire was able to protest the marriage as politically it was a good match and good enough reasoning for the small council to approve it. 

As years ticked by, you gave birth to two children, a stillborn daughter and a healthy son. Your husband kept you away in the Reach, so no one in your family had seen you since you were twelve and given birth to your only surviving son.

He remembered the look in your eyes, so void and almost dead. Of how you tried to stay positive. Saying, "Tis' not so bad. He mostly ignores me, except when he wishes to bed me. But even then tis' not so bad, he finishes quickly."

When he became King, he swiftly ordered you to return home, regardless of your husband's wishes. No one would take his baby sister away from him. Not whilst he was still alive and had the crown placed upon his head.

Watching you bounce your son on your lap, he attempts to pay some attention to the small council, but his eyes keep straying back to you. It was odd to think that you were now a Mother and all grown up. Snapping out of his little daze, he glances back at the small council, each member arguing intently. Furrowing his brows in confusion, Ser Criston slides a piece of parchment in front of him, an uncomfortable look on his face. Raising a brow at what he had just returned to, he glances at the parchment, reading the words quickly. 

Your cunt of a husband was dead, finally croaked in his sleep. There was no reason for you to go back to the Reach. You could stay here in King’s Landing once more. Softly smiling at the good news, he goes to speak up when Lord Lannister stands up from his chair, slamming his hands down on the table. His face red from anger, his eyes wild like an untamable beast, and voice booming loud enough that it would make a dragon’s roar put to shame.

“To speak of the Princess in such a manner is dishonorable, I will see to it personally that your tongue is removed, Lord Wydle.” 

“The girl is of age, she has proven she can bear heirs, healthy heirs. To not give her hand to another Lord would be foolish.” 

“We need allies, the common folk are starving and soon the coin will run out. Surely as Master of Coin you can see reason, Lord Lannister.”

“Your grace, please, listen to reason we should⎯”

It takes a moment to realize what they had been discussing so intently. Then it clicks, they were speaking of having you remarry. 

"What?" He whispers, his voice shaky and full of disbelief.

"No, Aegon, please don't make me do this again. Please." You whisper, tears building up in your eyes.

"It would be best to have your sister marry someone⎯"

"Think of the war, your grace⎯"

Seeing the tears building up in your eyes, it reminded him of all those years ago when you were whisked away to the Reach. Struggling to speak up and dismiss their suggestions, you kneel in front of his chair, gripping onto breeches as you beg and plead for clemency to their plans. Your son starts to wail on the other side of his chair, making motions with his hands to be picked up. 

Feeling his heart break a little at the sight, he shifts his gaze from you then your wailing son then back to the small council. Everything is hectic and he doesn’t know who or what to focus his attention on. Does he console you? Does he tend to your wailing son? Does he handle the small council? Struggling to find his voice, he just stays frozen in his chair. 

“Please, please, do not make me do this again, Aegon.” You beg, “I did what was asked of me before. Please do not ask this of me again.”

“We need allies, your grace. The Princess is still desired by many men, men who will look past her past marriage and son. Think of the kingdom⎯”

“Send treaties, then!”

“Please, Aegon. I ask as your sister, not a member of the Court. Please do not make me do this again. I do not wish to marry again. Please do not send me away again.” You beg, your voice cracking. 

Watching as the tears begin to fall from your eyes, he clenches his jaw tightly, anger boiling up at the sight of you. His precious little sister, the one person in all of the Realm that he truly cared for, was crying by his small council's hand. Slamming his hands down hard on the table, the room goes deadly silent, minus the soft sniffles of you and your son. 

“There will be no marrying off my sister! If you wish for such alliances as much as you claim, do offer your daughters instead, for I will not be doing the same to my sister nor my daughter.” 

“Your grace, if you would just⎯”

“I am King, no?” He snaps back, “There will be no questioning of my decision. The matter is settled.”

----

@fragileheartbeats

@danytar

@nightvers

[ubeb0nes]

Sevika x Fem!Bar Owner!Reader - The One Who Pours the Drinks

Pt. 3 (can be read as standalone)

༇ ༇ ༇

Summary: After their (very homosexually-charged) estrangement a few weeks ago, Angel tries to bury the sour Sevika left in her heart. Sevika does the same, dismissing any meaning to be found in how she still makes sure to walk by the Five-Copper Furnace at least twice a week.

But one thing remains true: No one threatens the one who pours the drinks.

a/n: i'm a dirty filthy liar, i finished pt. 3 for bar owner reader before i even started my warmup for writing sevika's character LMFAO. will still do that prompt at some point!!

w/c: like 4.3k ish

༇ ༇ ༇

The world doesn’t stop spinning because of one person.

It’s a sentiment you were forced to be fond of in your life before the one you had now. People had always come and gone, it was the nature of the crime life, and it was certainly the nature of the Zaun one too. To stop and mourn for too long was to die.

And you had a business to run.

You did your best to count your lucky stars every night, reminding yourself as you wiped down the bar that there were other people. Plenty of women with smokey laughs and eyes like the moon. You were a good-looking bastard, you’d find the next one. You had all the time in the world now, away from the strife that used to follow you like a shadow.

Pay no mind to how you always swiped harder at the bar as you had these thoughts, slamming tumblers and plates into their places beneath the bar with extra vigor. Nor to how Zaun was about as different from Bilgewater as steel to iron.

Sevika’s men and their presence started to dwindle with hers, albeit more slowly; many of them almost seemed hesitant, apologetic. You caught one of them on your way into the bar to open it for the evening.

“I’m real sorry, Angel,” he’d said.

“I’m sure she’s got other work for you,” you said, waving him off as if it was- and indeed, it was- nothing personal. You only had problems with one ex-frequent of your bar. You weren’t even all that inclined to include the heavy muscle she brought in with her on the last visit.

“Always other work where the boss is concerned,” he affirmed, “But… this has been one of the better gigs.” You stayed static outside your bar for a moment as he walked away, your key still stuck in the lock.

It’s not like you needed protection in the first place, you were more than capable. Not that Sevika knew that. You grumbled to yourself as you organized the prep area behind the bar; you hadn’t had to give much mind to security the past several months, Sevika handled the matter in its entirety without you so much as having to ask.

It’s a sentiment you were forced to be fond of in your life before the one you had now. People had always come and gone, it was the nature of the crime life, and it was certainly the nature of the Zaun one too. To stop and mourn for too long was to die.

You’d have to add that back into your list of tasks. Along with putting all the stools up at closing time. And what were you supposed to do with all these damn cigarillos you had behind the counter? You didn’t smoke nearly as much as she did.

You smacked a hand that wasn’t yours away from the aforementioned stash, smirking when you heard a small, “Ow, jerk!”

“You’re not old enough to smoke.”

“It’s Zaun, babies would smoke if they could,” the boy, a little tail of yours named Kix, retorted, pouting as he hopped up on the counter. You sighed. “I finished that book you gave me.”

“Yeah? How was it?”

“Pretty good! And, I think, as a reward for finishing it, I should-”

“Yeah, I’m gonna stop you right there,” you said, stepping away to move the lemons you just sliced into a container. Your tail, of course, followed.

“Fine, can I at least finally get a knife?”

“When you can wield one of those batons without smacking yourself in the face, yeah. ‘Til then, hell no.”

“That’s a bad word!”

“Like you care!” You could only breathe out a laugh. The children of Zaun were sharp, often leaving you deeply amused and incredulous.

“Ugh,” he said dramatically, flailing against the bar. You shot one of your patrons an apologetic look at the antics of Stray Wet Cat #1. “But you have so many, Angel!” He exclaimed, “How’d you get those anyway? Did you kill somebody?”

I killed a lot of people, you wanted to say, but something told you that wouldn’t have been appropriate. “I told you before, Kix,” you started, voice gentle like a teacher’s, “Zaun isn’t the only place in the world where you need to defend yourself. The world is way bigger.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered to himself, pushing away from the bar and trudging back to the lounge area connected to the kitchen, where a few of the other kids spent their time. You frowned as you watched him walk away, then looked down at the paring knife in your right hand.

For the children of Zaun, life depended on which end of the knife you found yourself on, and oftentimes nothing more. How much were you really doing for them, giving them sandwiches to eat and rudimentary lessons on how to hold a blade? They all had to leave the bar at the end of each day, stepping back into the streets waiting to swallow them whole on their treks back home.

“Don’t be so hard on ya’self, Ang’,” the patron you’d shared a look with earlier interjected. You looked up at him in a daze, quickly putting on a thoughtful smile.

“I’m okay,” you replied simply.

“And so are those kids, thanks to you,” he said, “A little bit goes a long way in Zaun. These kids can stretch an inch of kindness, always have been able to.”

You saw eyes like slate in your mind as the gentleman went back to nursing his drink, and your smile faltered.

Weren’t these the kids Sevika claimed to be doing her righteous work for? What could she tell them as she chipped away at their safe haven, showing up bi-weekly just to take away a little more? You growled lowly as you swiped a cigarillo from beneath the counter, abiding the thought to linger in your mind- as if you could condition yourself to hate her faster.

You were busy staring down the end of the cigarillo as you lit it, almost too busy to notice how a wave of quiet had washed over the Five-Copper Furnace. Your eyes flicked to the door just in time, though.

Your busy mind halted all thoughts more trivial than the now, a low voice reminding you of the shotgun beneath your bar, the knives in your sleeves, and the preeminent experience in violence that scarred your skin. Four men wearing all manners of weapons, and gleaming belt buckles of meridian silver, stalked into your bar.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

Sevika was, for whatever reason, a woman well-versed in the department of odd and unwanted talents. Being weirdly good with kids was at the forefront.

“Oh! Captain-General Metal Arm Lady!” Well, she knew which kid that was*.*

“Why is my name so long?” She muttered to herself as she stopped anyway, and turned on her heel to face him. The boy, one of Angel’s little henchmen named Kix, skidded to a stop in front of her. “What is it, kid?” She asked gruffly.

“Where’ve you been? Are you and Angel having a lover’s quarrel?”

Isn’t he like twelve?? Sevika picked her jaw up from the ground as quickly as it’d fallen. “Who the hell even taught you what that is?” She asked incredulously.

“That’s a bad word. And I read it in a book. Are you coming to the Five-Copper?”

“No, I’m busy,” Sevika said flatly. Her brow furrowed at the way his face fell. Not like a child who’d been told no, but a boy who had something to fear. “…Why?”

“Well, uh… m-maybe you could just stop by?” He rocked back on his heels, looking over his shoulder at the bar in question. He’d caught Sevika so close to the place, he just needed to get her through the door… “I think Angel might… u-um…”

Sevika sighed. “Before tomorrow, Kix.”

“I think Angel might need you.”

Sevika scoffed, turning with a small flare of her cloak (drama queen), “She’s a big girl, she can handle herself just fine, kid. I gotta go.” A small, surprised grunt rose out of her when she felt a tug on her metal arm. She looked down at the boy, shooting him a glare that lacked even an inch of fire.

“Please, Miss Sevika! A bunch of guys just walked in and I don’t know them, a-and they have really ugly, scary faces, and-”

“Okay! Okay. C’mon, let’s go,” Sevika rattled her arm out of Kix’s grasp, sweeping it back beneath her cloak. The boy let out a small cheer as her broad form turned in the direction of the Five-Copper Furnace, and he fell into step under the cover of her shadow. “And don’t call me ‘Miss Sevika���. Just Sevika is alright,” she made a small, grossed-out sound.

“Okay! Does that mean we’re friends?”

“No,” she replied, giving his head a small nudge as they walked.

“Ack! Bully!”

The smile that began to flicker across her features promptly melted back into her perpetual frown as she watched almost half a dozen patrons leave the Five-Copper in succession. “How many of them were there, kid?” She asked in a low voice.

“Uh, I think four?”

Sevika hummed, stopping beside the entrance. She pulled Kix aside by the collar with her, as even more patrons filed out. “Are your friends in there?” She asked. The boy nodded. “Okay. Go get ‘em through the back. And go home.”

“But-!”

“Uh-uh. She’s already pissed at me enough, can’t imagine how mad she’d be if you brats got hurt once this goes down.”

“So…” Sevika felt a few grey hairs grow in at the same time Kix’s frown faded into a grin, “…it is a lover’s quarrel?”

“Kix!”

“Okay, bye Sevika!” He hopped up and down as if to charge himself up before sprinting off. Sevika watched as he nearly tripped over himself when he quickly halted again. “Uh… you won’t let them hurt Angel, right?”

“She’ll be fine,” Sevika said. She sighed as his feet stayed planted in the ground. Her voice was softer when she spoke again, “You have my word, kid. Angel will be okay.” He gave her a final grin, before darting off. Sevika cracked her neck as she zeroed back on the entrance to Angel’s bar. “Guess collections is early this month,” she muttered wryly, before pushing the door open.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

“These people don’t even know, do they?”

You breathed out tendrils of smoke from your nose, lowering your voice in line with the bounty hunter’s. His friends had stayed mute, opting to survey your patrons and the bar itself like three angry lighthouses.

You smiled slightly at those who hadn’t left yet, whose postures were coiled tightly like metal springs.

“I can’t imagine it’d change a thing,” you replied. You picked up the wanted poster (old fashioned, you were aware) he’d thrown on the counter, giving it another flippant once-over. Your likeness had been- rather skillfully- illustrated in the center, with meaningless words like ‘Wanted’ and ‘approach with care’ swimming around it.

God, I’m good-looking, you thought with a smile and a nod.

“And yet you have ‘em call you a different name. Bury your old one with the rest of your money, huh?”

“Oh, that isn’t buried. Not one bit,” Your face spread into a grin, wolfish teeth crushing the filter of the cigarillo. You saw the hunger that flickered in his eyes, a greed so romantically entwined with the people of Bilgewater that men died for it. Like this one would.

“Well, good to know! Between that and the hundred Golden Krakens on your head, you’ll make a fine cashout,” the rancid man said, “Angel.”

Your eyes widened slowly, mockingly. “A hundred Golden Krakens?” You echoed, “…Can I turn myself in?” Your eyes flicked casually to the door as you heard it open once again.

“Very funny. Now…”

Whatever the hunter had to say ceased to matter as you watched her walk in. Wide shoulders curved inwards, entering with the same intent your remaining customers all had. Sevika met your eyes immediately.

On one hand, not only was your safety further secured, but a return in a casket to your old city was all but out of the question now. Sevika wouldn’t let you die, at the very least, you knew that much.

On the other hand… Sevika was in your bar. Your eyes narrowed at her, and you gave her a look that practically screamed ‘piss off’ in spite of your other senses relaxing. She shook her head at you, matching your rising agitation with an annoyed curl of her lip.

Kix, she mouthed. Oh, thanks, kid. What a wingman.

You would’ve found it silly the way she stuck to the walls as she moved through the bar. Trying to get closer to you, you realized. A hand slamming down on the table and another grabbing your collar brought your attention back to more pressing matters.

Sevika felt her heart jump higher in her chest, and she resisted the urge to rush right to you and pluck that man’s head from the rest of him. A firm hand on her shoulder was all that prevented her, and she leveled her gaze with the fool who’d stepped in her line of view.

“We called dibs on this job, you’re too late,” the hunter said. Sevika furrowed her brows in brief confusion, but the pieces came together quickly in a mind as sharp as hers.

Bounty hunters? For you?

He gave her shoulder a shove, and Sevika let herself be moved. Some distance to deploy her left arm’s blade, good. “Go on,” he growled.

A scream from the bar counter swiveled all heads in that direction.

Sevika’s eyes widened as your name started to rise in her throat, until she saw the main perpetrator sink like a stone in water… his hand left behind in your grasp. You wiped the knife on your apron, throwing your still-burning cigarillo at him as he writhed on the floor.

Sevika threw her cloak to the ground before her sensibilities turned to steel.

𒀭 𒀭 𒀭

You would’ve made a fine alchemist, if you hadn’t chosen the more profitable industry of alcoholism instead.

You also would’ve been far less likely to have ever encountered Sevika and the all-consuming rage she inspired in you if you’d started an Apothecary. What with her- very much expected- aversion to seeking out any medical assistance of any sort.

“Ow.”

“Stay still.”

“Ow.” Sevika hissed when you pressed the tonic-doused cloth to her wound with the exact same vigor as before, thrashing away from you. You sat up straight, leveling her with a look that seethed with your indignance.

“You’re acting like a wuss.”

“And you’re acting like a child who didn’t get her way,” she snapped. Your eye twitched, and so you closed them to take a moment to gather yourself.

You missed the way Sevika’s gaze fell slowly to your lap, eyes creasing as she frowned at your battered hands. You hadn’t had time to pull your gun from beneath the bar before shit went down, and so you’d resorted to hacking with hand and blade. Sevika had been at your back like a magnet, sticking to you and letting the hunters come to her. You’d held your own valiantly.

She only serviced you a lukewarm glare as you moved back to her, this time gently easing the cloth onto her wounded cheek. You held her in place by the other side of her face. “You can take a punch but not a wound disinfectant,” you quipped.

“I took more than just a punch recently, princess.” Sevika side-eyed you when your touch faltered, letting out a shallow huff from her nose.

“Unbelievable…” you muttered.

“Who the hell were those guys? What could they possibly want with you?” Sevika asked. You jutted your lip at her in annoyance when her movements shifted the cloth.

She looked down to ponder the fight from a few hours ago (the lower floor was still an absolute wreck, but that was a problem for you to deal with tomorrow). Silver teeth; and weaponry not at all reminiscient of anything you’d find in Zaun, or Piltover. They had moved with an erratic tick to their attacks, not completely unlike the Shimmer-dependent henchmen Silco kept; although their addiction ran strictly red.

“They weren’t Zaunites,” she mused aloud.

“…No. They weren’t. They were from Bilgewater.”

You freed your other hand to reach for your wanted poster you’d nabbed before heading upstairs, and handed it to Sevika. There was a hanging silence between you as she read the same words over and over again.

“They got your likeness wrong,” she said. You pursed your lips, waiting. “Your head is bigger than that.”

“Shut up.”

Sevika chuckled; or at least gave a limp attempt at it. Her hand holding the poster fell with a soft crunch as she sighed. You let your own hands rest in your lap as she closed her eyes, and leaned her head over the back of your couch.

She had such a pretty neck. The lines of that strange scar were like wisps of blue smoke on her skin. You wanted to reach out to touch them, to thank her sweetly for defending you even as you spat fire on her wounds. You wanted to kiss all the smooth and rough patches you could see, lull her into a soft sleep-

“This is gonna get back to Silco in a couple of days tops.”

You scoffed. “What, is he gonna raise my rent? Doesn’t he have a revolution to claim to run?”

Deep down, you were impressed with what Sevika let you get away with saying to her. Inadvertently discounting her life’s work was no small thing, and you’d seen her put others on the ground for less. It was even more surprising when she gave a real answer to your poor-faithed question.

“You should’ve kept your head low. And let me deal with it. Not- cut a guy’s hand off.” She shook her head, rubbing her forehead. You opened your mouth to refute your lost honor, but she beat you to it, “You’re too… competent. He’ll wanna bring you in now. And you’re no good to the Undercity if he pockets you.”

You’re about to ask her why the hell does she work for him then, but another piece clicks into place before the words surface. Sevika watches the realization cross your face. “So that’s why you…”

“Trust me,” Sevika took hold of your wrist as she raised her head to stare scrutinizingly at your wall, and guided you to press the cloth back to her face. “The collections I take from you are cheaper than really being under his heel. You should see what he takes from that Sheriff up in Piltover.” She breathed out a humorless laugh. Your eyes widened, as the scope of Silco’s reach did too. **

You were a fool. Had going straight truly dulled your cunning mind? (Or was it just the handsome woman sitting in your living room…)

“That’s the discounted price too, by the way,” she muttered. You were pulled from your thoughts with a soft laugh.

“I knew you were fond of me.”

“I like what you do for the kids.”

“It’s nothing,” you said softly, surveying the injury on her face and deeming it sufficiently stabilized to move onto the next. You were glad, at least, that the brunt of the pain had been inflicted on you two rather than your good-willed customers.

Sevika’s brow furrowed as she watched you go through the motions of prepping her next injury. Truthfully, she didn’t know why she let you drag her upstairs in the first place; the way you coupled your attentive- if not presumptuous- touch with barbed jabs at her gall for walking into your bar should’ve pissed her off. But she let you move her like you were a breeze.

Your movements were practiced, like you’d spent a whole lifetime sweeping up the broken pieces of stupid, pointless fights. Sevika looked down at the wanted poster again. “…How much is 100 Golden Krakens?” She asked.

You hummed as you tried to think of the best comparison in Zaun’s economy, “Probably eightteen months’ worth of what I make running the bar.”

“Janna-”

You laughed heartily as you carefully peeled the wax paper from a bandage. Subconsciously, you rubbed over the wound once it was patched to soothe the ache, not noticing how Sevika’s gaze immediately went to your nimble hand. “Why, you thinkin’ about turning me in?” You teased.

“Funny,” she deadpanned, “Would be one less pain in the ass for me, though.” She gave you a pointed onceover. Her feigned exasperation melted into a grin when you slapped her leg (albeit very weakly).

“You just said you like me!”

“That isn’t what I said,” she said, still feigning dismissal so smugly. You hated how well she wore a petty smirk, or how pretty her teeth were when she gleaned a real smile.

(You wanted to kiss that stupid look right off her face.)

Instead, all you did was roll your eyes, collapsing on the opposite end of the couch. In Sevika’s mind, she just won that encounter.

“You mind if I smoke?”

You waved your hand, looking out the window of your kitchen, “Worse has happened in my house today.” She didn’t pull your gaze back to her until you heard her shifting around for a longer amount of time than it should’ve taken for someone to find a cig and lighter. “Lose your lighter?” You mocked, taking in the cigarillo hanging out of her mouth as she patted down her pockets with mild frustration on her face.

“One of the bastards must have knocked it out of my pack,” she said with an agitated sigh. Her eyes perked up at the metal clink of… your lighter. You laid your head back against the arm of the couch, resting the open lighter slightly above your abdomen. Sevika’s breath caught as she realized how close she’d have to get to you- how close you’d make her get to you- to get a light.

Her eyes narrowed into a glare as they slid up to meet your gaze. She wasn’t about to make a coward of herself now, though. She held your expectant stare as she leaned down between your legs, one of her hands boldly bracing on your shin with a slight squeeze. She cupped her hand protectively around yours as she lit the end of her cigarillo. The way your eyes widened and your chest stopped rising with breath wasn’t lost on her.

I take it back, Kix, she thought, I don’t think she’s all that pissed.

She turned her head to the side as she blew smoke from her mouth. “Tell me something,” she said, her voice nearly a purr. You had to fight with your own goddamn eyes to tear away from the small puffs of smoke that left her mouth as she spoke. You cocked a brow. “Were you a pirate or something?” She asked. Her eyes widened slightly when you met her with silence. “Oh, sweet hell…”

“Don’t laugh!”

She laughed. You loved that she did.

“That was… a long time ago,” you waved your hand like you could bat the memories away, but they’d never felt more with you than today. You had nearly forgotten how easy it was to snatch someone’s life away. You’d made a fortune on it once, and yet… the muscle of ruthlessness had grown weak and disoriented with lack of exercise. You frowned to yourself, shaking your head. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of.”

Sevika shrugged, taking another drag. “We don’t choose where life puts us,” she replied. You shouldn’t have been surprised by such a… thoughtful sentence leaving her mouth. But your brows still raised slightly as you looked at her. “I’m not gonna be the one to judge you around here.”

You frowned, guilt jabbing in your gut. “But I did you.”

“Maybe you weren’t wrong for it,” she retorted softly. Your eyes widened. She inhaled softly before continuing, swiveling her gaze to meet yours again. “I used to try an’ push Silco to do more for the kids. Get books smuggled in in between all the Shimmer requisitions,” she scoffed, shaking her head. Your heart squeezed as you watched her carefully begin to pull the curtains around her true self back- for you. “Give people resources, just… something. I didn’t realize I let four years go by ‘til I saw you doing all that for the kids the moment you touched down here.”

You sighed, swinging your legs over the edge of the couch to rub your face with both hands. “You really think I won’t be able to help them at all once Silco comes knocking?” You asked, biting your lip as you felt like what was the only answer was slowly enclosing around you.

Immediately though, Sevika shook her head. Your mouth opened slightly in confusion as she stood up from your couch. “No. I’m gonna handle this,” the determination in her step would have been beyond adorable if it weren’t for your utter bemusement. “I… owe you,” she said slowly. You wanted to laugh at how her fierce bravado seemed to come to a skidding stop the moment she had to make an admission on her pride.

“Oh yeah?” You teased.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled her cloak back on over her shoulders, concealing that absolute unit of a figure from your prying eyes. You smiled at how her broad shoulders were still very apparent, and the beginnings of her v-line peeked out with that damn cropped vest- get it together, Angel. “He’s gonna know I was here anyway, might as well make something out of it,” she explained (right, you bought that…), pausing again to scrutinize you, “You’re all good?”

Trigonometric equations started floating around in your head as you tried to decipher what she could possibly mean with that question, until her arched brow turned judgemental at how long you were taking to answer.

Oh. She was just asking about your… general wellbeing. Aw!

“O-oh, yeah, I’m all good,” you said. Truthfully too, you were more used to fighting the Bilgewater types than her, and had come out of the confrontation mostly unscathed. Your jaw stuttered as if to say more when she hummed and took a swift step forward, tilting your head up with her index and thumb.

“You’re not lying?” She asked lowly, turning your head gently from side to side.

“E-even if I was, it’s none of your business,” you snapped defensively. Dumbass. Did you have any idea how red your face was?

With an amused exhale from her nose, Sevika gently let go of your chin, fleetingly brushing her crooked index over your cheek. “Whatever you say, princess,” she said. She didn’t even give you a chance to shoot back something clever (as if you had something prepared) before she was sweeping towards the door, fixing her cigarillo in the corner of her mouth. “Your bar’s a mess,” she quipped over her shoulder, just to be a dick.

“Fuck you!” You called after her, the smile on your face crystal-clear in your tone. The last thing you saw was her pretty side-profile as she half-glanced at you with smug amusement lining her face, before she closed the door behind her.

You slumped back on the couch, letting out a heavy sigh. “That goddamn woman…” you muttered, “Fuck.”

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[certifiedfreec]

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that ghost took an interest in you…

- one time you were showing him something on the computer, and he took that massive 6’4” body of his and leaned it right over your shoulder to read the screen. as if that wasn’t close enough, he rested one of his big ‘ol calloused hands on the desk beside you, effectively caging you into your seat. you could practically feel the warmth that radiated off of him when he did that. (he really likes the smell of your shampoo, by the way.)

- he watched you make your coffee one morning, memorizing your order down to the number of sugar packets you used. after that, you’d head down to make your morning cup and all the exact ingredients would mysteriously be laid out on the counter for you. he’d pick on you later about drinking coffee instead of tea, though. maybe he’ll make you a cup for you to try- back in his own office, of course ;)

- everyone in tf141 knows you’re a perfectly capable soldier, so they think it’s odd that ghost always finds ways to provide extra backup for you during missions. guarding you from danger, making sure your area is clear of threats…he can’t help but want to protect and take care of his fellow teammate, though he has a list of other ways he’d like to take care of you :’)

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that keegan took an interest in you…

- he saw your phone screen after training one day, immediately zeroing in on the artist you were listening to. later that evening he casually brings up the exact same band/person, because he’s coincidentally one of their biggest fans! maybe he’ll ask you to go to one of their shows when you’re off duty… looks like you’ve found yourself a concert buddy ;)

- he bullies you, but it’s with the best intentions. it’s more like him relentlessly nagging at you until you match his snarky energy and give him some sass back, which he loves to provoke from you. you always have the best comebacks when he uses his dry humor on you, and he thinks it’s adorable. he definitely likes to push your buttons, but he’d like to undo them even more <3

- ever since he revealed your “shared love” for your favorite artist, he sends you music recommendations for you to listen to (that will hopefully make you think of him whenever you hear them!). pay attention to the lyrics, because he might be trying to tell you something with them… :))

i feel like there would be some subtle signs that graves took an interest in you…

- if you have any snacks or candy on you, he’s nonchalantly stepping right beside you and doing that “underhand-behind-the-back” gesture for you to shake some into his palm. (sometimes he imagines that’s what your lips taste like- omg who said that???)

- he let you wear his jacket during an operation where you were in the freezing cold outside for an extensive amount of time. he watched you shiver through your orders, trying your best to be a good soldier for him :( he walked up to you and draped his shadow company jacket over your shoulders (which smelled deliciously like him) and flashed you that toothy grin. “you look like you’re ‘bout to get frostbite, soldier. take this.” (he was definitely thinking of some other ways that he could warm you up…)

- he took his time when he read through your file, and wow, it looks like your city’s professional football team rivals his. it’s the perfect way to initiate banter with you. he’ll be giving you a hard time about it for sure, and maybe he’ll make some interesting bets with you depending on how well the season’s going ;)

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

im begging you to make more shapeshifter!141 tormenting witch!reader pleek

since you said pleek :)

65 / 1.1k / part 2 of shapeshifter familiars!141 tormenting witch!reader

...

You pour two warm cups of cloudy sloe ale—one for you and one for Price. You're the only one who feigns enough interest to sip it.

Price laces his hands together and leans forward. "I didn't come for blood."

None of them did, apparently. You curl your hands around your tin cup. He wasn't supposed to come at all. He visits when the moon is full. That was the deal. "I understand that."

Price’s gaze flicks to a bit of drying blood on your hand, and you feel his displeasure at the sight. "Then you also understand my irritation when I learn I've been kept in the dark."

"About what?"

"A number of disturbing reports from the townsfolk."

"Hm." Tension rolls through your muscles before you force them to soften. "I wasn't aware you spent time in the village. Do you visit often?"

Price doesn't like your coyness. His voice loses some of its politeness. "The villagers have become too savvy. They forge protective charms. They invoke holy names. They line the thresholds of their homes with salt and rue." He leans forward. "Now, how would they know to do that?"

You swallow delicately around the lump in your throat. "Old folk tales, I imagine."

"Folk tales?" He chuckles. "They're not paying protection money to cupboard sprites. Old tales don't teach them how to bless trees and cut the lumber into cradles."

"Then I wouldn't know. The villagers don't speak to me on principle."

"Then you have no knowledge of this? You’ve accepted no coin from them in exchange for your talents?”

"You know I'm banned from trading in the village market. The guards would take my head off the moment they caught me inside the walls."

“Maybe so. But there are other ways of propagating information, aren’t there?” Price leans back, arms crossed. “Rumors spread.”

You scoff to sound braver than you are. "They've puzzled out how to keep you away from their daughters. It has nothing to do with me."

Price's blue eyes flicker. "We’ve been quite careful with our food source. Gone out of our way to be discreet. They shouldn't suspect us of being in the area, let alone come up with protections against our kind."

You tilt your head in a stiff shrug. "Maybe Soap let one get away."

"Soap is brash. Not sloppy." Steel creeps into his voice. "He's more likely to bite his tongue off than spill our secrets."

You go to sip your ale again, but Price's fingers latch around your wrist as you raise it.

"Careful with that." His grip tightens as he forces your hand back down to the table. "You'll inebriate yourself if you're careless."

You slowly release the mug. After a long beat, he releases your wrist.

He doesn't say anything else, but you can't meet his eyes. The cold metal of his rings still burns against your skin.

He studies you in silence. The dry glint in his eye tells you he doesn't need to pry for what you're hiding from him. He knows already. But a deal is a deal, and you're under his protection. "Regardless of the reason, our feeding options are suddenly limited. If you insist on keeping my boys half-starved, we'll travel outside our territory to offset your stinginess."

"Fine. We’ll suspend our contract."

"Certainly not."

Your jaw sets. "A temporary suspension of our terms would serve all parties' needs well enough, would it not? You seek your fill elsewhere."

"I will seek it where my needs are most pressing."

"I don't have the means to leave my hut. I assure you I'll keep to myself until you get back."

Price smiles, and your heart sinks. "Another witch might. You?” He hums. “Besides, you know how they get when they're deprived."

You’re hyperaware of Ghost's shadow falling over you. His rough hands cover the back of your chair. It creaks in his grip. You squelch the instinct to cover your blind spot and, fisting one in your skirt under the table to steady your nerves, keep your back to him. You also ignore the gleam of two other sets of eyes behind Price, hovering in the pitch-blackness of your kitchen.

“That’s kind of you,” you say finally, “but there’s no need to be overprotective.”

Price stands. He pours the last sip of your ale out onto the soft dirt floor. You hadn’t even seen him pick it up. "We'll come for you tomorrow night, witch. You'll travel with us."

Your head spins. No, no, this isn't how it was supposed to go. You covered your tracks. You planned perfectly. He can't just uproot you—can't just kidnap you like this.

"No, I—" You stand before you realize it. All four shapeshifters turn back to glance at you. Price looms halfway out the front door. You steady yourself with a white-knuckled grip on the table. "I'm not leaving my home."

Price takes in the defiant look on your face and the tense, brittle set of your body. "No? Hmmm." He rubs his beard. "We're in a tight spot, then. Ghost, what do you think?"

The scars on Ghost's tight scowl gleam in the candlelight. "I think she owes us a meal, and we expect to eat. One way or the other."

Gaz scoffs. "There’s a proper solution."

Soap grins. "We could just take her, you know. Suspend the contract and make her come with us."  His eyes light up. "We could have a lot of fun on the road."

"Not if there's a fight," Gaz says, eyeing you. "She can make real trouble if she wants to."

"No' if she knows what's good for her."

"That's enough," Price says. He looks back at you. "Lads are in a mood. They've been feeding from the villages as a stop gap, and they're not nearly full. Their tempers are short, their stomachs are growling, and they have energy to burn. You understand?” His gaze steadies on your neck. “We'll be back tomorrow night. You'd better be ready to go or else ready to give them a full meal."

Soap’s grin sharpens. The implication is obvious. Payment is payment. If you don't give them what they want, they'll take it by other means.

They turn to go. Ghost is the last to step over your threshold. "Blood won't be enough," he says. Then he's off, a black dog bounding into the night.

...

← part 1 / more Price / more Ghost / more Soap / more Gaz / masterlist

[cheapshrimpysheep]

My Heaven's Light

SUMMARY: Rollo managed to kidnap you before sending the NRC students to Fleur City's Waterways, believing he was saving you. Malleus and the others reach the tower, ring the Bell of Solace and rescue you. Malleus expresses his protective side and Rollo apologizes for kidnapping you.

CHARACTERS: Rollo Flamme VS Malleus Draconia (x Reader)

TAGS: GN Reader; Angst to Comfort; Jealousy

WARNING: Spoilers from Glorious Masquerade; Kidnapping

WORD COUNT: 4.220 Words

COMMENTS: Thinking about the fact that Rollo is the twisted version of Frollo and thinking of MC as Esmeralda, it is inevitable to imagine Rollo kidnapping MC. But not for the same reasons!

Rollo is a really complex character, but one I've wanted to write about for some time now. I plan to try writing more with him in the future.

Until then, I hope you enjoy this one. 🐲🦐🔔

By the way, do you have ANY idea how many times I've looked up synonyms for common words just to get as close as possible to Rollo's way of speaking? One thing is for sure: I am greatly expanding my English vocabulary with this.

.

Amidst the panic that the firelotuses were causing, both your colleagues and Professor Trein end up paying more attention to the flowers than to you.

As you move away from the flowers, you end up approaching one of the pillars. That's when you feel a hand covering your mouth and another holding your arm behind your back.

You are carried away through the shadows as you try to free yourself, but these attempts only make the hands hold you even tighter and run the risk of injuring your arm.

The person who is taking you leans over and whispers in your ear. “I beg you not do make this more complicated that it needs to be.” It's Rollo!

He takes you to a room adjacent to the hall and pushes you inside, making you fall into an armchair. Just before he closes the door to lock you inside you hear Grim's voice.

“[Y/N]? [Y/N]?! MY HENCH-HUMAN DISAPPEARED!”

No matter how loud you scream, or how much you bang on the door, the chaos outside is too loud for anyone to hear you. Eventually you realize something is going on, so you stop to listen to the conversation. Rollo had revealed himself and was talking to your NRC colleagues.

“My, my.” You hear Azul say. “That was quite a predictable villain line, you know.”

“Silence!” Rollo's voice echoed. “YOU'RE the villains here! And what's more, you flaunted your magic and mesmerized our good citizens with it... Just like you did with your prefect. You imprisoned them with you and poisoned their mind. The poor thing became numb to the absurdity after spending every day swimming in it. Mages use their magic to lead people astray and cloud the eyes of the virtuous public. It's sad state of affairs, but it's devastating when the victim is someone like [Y/N].”

“What have you done with [Y/N]?!” Malleus's powerful voice demands to know.

“For now, I am keeping them safe. But once I engulf the world in the fiery crimson of these flowers and strip every mage in Twisted Wonderland of their magic, then I will have saved them, and all those like them who suffer at your hands!”

“You have no idea of the atrocity you are insinuating, Flamme!” Not only does Malleus’s voice thunder, but the sky outside does too.

“And there he is, folks! The secret mastermind who was controlling the ‘final boss’ all along!” Idia says. “But what kind of mastermind jumps the gun and shows up this early? Dude has like, zero patience.”

“Could you not right now? You're ruining the moment.” Azul complains.

The discussion continues with Rollo revealing that his plan is already well underway. When the Bell of Solace rang for an unprecedented fourth time that night, it suffused the city with magic. The firelotuses aren't only in the school. They've spread throughout the city, and are sapping the energy from every mage living there. And after that, he opens the floor for everyone to fall into a pit.

“And those accursed mages, with Malleus Draconia foremost among them... They'll all be finished! Enjoy your time down below. Though I think you'll find it quite...draining. At long last... I shall finally mete out my justice.”

Some time later, the door opens and Rollo enters, extending his hand to you.

“Come. We must go to the Bell Tower. It is safer-”

What he didn't expect was for you to attack him with a tall candlestick. And you discover that in addition to being a promising mage, he also has excellent reflexes. He manages to dodge your attack and grab your wrists so you let go of the candlestick.

“I do not aim to harm you!” He says very seriously. “Please don't turn it into something I have to do.”

“Then what are you doing locking me here?”

“Preventing you from falling for the tricks of those magic-addled fools once again.” He comes closer, still grabbing you by the wrists. “You poor thing. Blinded by villains who wear an elusive mask of companions. But worry not, that tragic state of affairs shan't last much longer.” He brings his face even closer to yours. “Now, I will provide you with a choice. You will accompany me peacefully to the Bell Tower, where you will be safe by my side. Or you will make me forcefully assure your safety. Which one will be?”

If you choose to resist, Rollo will pin your arm behind your back again and place a handkerchief over your mouth and nose. Whatever is in that handkerchief, will render you unconscious. And you will wake up on the top floor of the Bell Tower, lying on a blanket.

You see Rollo with his back to you, looking down at the bright scarlet below. You stand up.

“For the Righteous Judge's sake, don't try to go against me again.” Rollo says, without turning to you. “Even without the use of my magic you will not be able to overpower me.” Still without taking his eyes off the outside he calms down to invite you. “Would you be so kind as to join me in gazing out over the city?”

If you choose to accompany him peacefully to the Bell Tower, Rollo will release your wrists with a smile and give you his arm for you to intertwine with yours.

“I'm glad my judgment of you is aligning with the truth.” He says calmly as he guides. “To remain so virtuous amidst the chaos of magic, you must surely be one of heaven's lights.” You see now a new smile, a peaceful one.

The climb up the tower was silent, as you needed to breathe to climb all those stairs. When you finally reach the top, Rollo extends his hand to you. If you give him yours, he will guide you like a gentleman to a point where you can both see the ominously lit city below.

After your choice:

“Ahh, the city's turned a marvelous shade of crimson... How cleansing it is. I've never felt so at peace before.”

“Why are you doing this, Rollo?”

“Once magic vanish from the world forever, no one will have to suffer with its consequences. Magic is not something to be lionized. It is an evil temptation that, behind its illusory wonders, only causes pain and suffering. If it wasn't dangerous, it wouldn't be like a toxin in your body... However... I wonder how much you actually know about it.”

You look at him as if to ask what he means by that.

“Are you even from this world [Y/N]?” He finally looks at you. “I don't know what it is, but there's something about you that's different from every non-magic user I've ever met. And the circumstances surrounding you are quite... abnormal.”

You choose not to respond.

“I see you have your secrets. I have mine owns as well." He takes his handkerchief to his face. "If you don't feel comfortable talking about your past, then allow me the right not to talk about mine either.”

He puts the handkerchief back in his pocket, and you observe the city in silence for a moment, until he speaks again.

“They will come here. I don't know which students will be strong enough to reach the tower, but Malleus Draconia will certainly be one of those who will be able to reach me. And when that happens, I will guarantee that he will be the first to fall.”

“Why all this obsession with Tsunotarou?”

“Obsession is a very strong word, I simply...” He stops to process what you just said. “I beg your pardon, but am I correct in assuming you were referring to Malleus Draconia just now?”

“Of course, he was who you were talking about just... Oh, I called him Tsunotarou didn't I? Sorry. But yes, I was talking about Malleus.”

“T-Tsunotarou?” He takes the handkerchief back to his face. “Is it some kind of mocking nickname?”

“No! I mean yes, it's a nickname, but no, it's not to mock him. It's a long story but that's what Grim and I call him.”

“Does he know about this... name?”

“Oh, yes. He even likes me calling him by that, he thinks it's funny. Or at least that's what it seams. He smiles every time he hears me say that name.” Just like you were smiling talking about him. “He calls me Child of Man.”

“You have a playful nickname for each other.” Rollo whispers with the handkerchief covering his angry (jealous) expression. “Soon enough you'll feel disgusted by it.”

“Sorry, I didn't understand.”

“No, nothing. Pay me no mind.” He takes the handkerchief away from his mouth. “Ah... I hear the firelotuses rustling... Those wretched Night Raven College mages are making their way up the tower, aren't they? Villains are always so stubborn.” Before you could complain about his words, he puts his hand on your arm and continues. “I must get you in a safer place. Those monsters won't give up without a fight.”

“Who do you think we’re calling-”

He ignores your reprimand and takes you by the arm to a small room that they will not have access to without first going through Rollo.

“I am deeply sorry for what I'm about to do, but I need to make sure you do not alert them to your location.” With his magic, he makes ropes appear to tie you up and a piece of cloth to silence you. “See how despicable magic is? An atrocity like trapping you is completed in seconds. But I will release you as soon as the danger has passed.” And he closes the door.

“Here we are.” You hear Malleus’s voice. “The very top floor of the bell tower.”

“The Bell of Solace stands out even at night.” Azul comments. “Look how it glints in the moonlight.”

“Now to ring it, wipe out the flowers, rescue [Y/N] and finish this stupid pop-up quest for good.” Idia points out.

“But to do that...” Malleus returns. “We must first pay our respects to the host of the party.”

This was Rollo's cue to reveal himself. Which he does.

“At long last, you've arrived. The greater the villains, the more they insist on stopping around. Deplorable.”

“Where are they Flamme?” Malleus demands to know.

“Safe, of course, away from you and your wicked lies.”

“Okay, I really need to ask.” Idia says. “What does our magic-less Prefect have to do with this flower plan and ending magic thing? Why kidnap them? They have no power to stop you. Unless you kidnapped them to keep them for yourself. Good taste tho. But you only met them literally today! That’s like the ultimate desperate creep move.”

“My actions involving your Prefect have nothing to do with personal motives. Innocent victims must be rescued from your evil hands! And that is exactly what I did.”

“I don't know if you would use the word ‘Innocent’ like that if you actually knew them.” Azul comments with a smirk.

“If this is true, it will be proof of your corruption!”

The flowers reach the bell and the exchange of words follows a course that ends with the three fighting Rollo after Malleus said:

“Regardless of your reasons, you will not have your way. I shall stop you for all the fallen in this city... For the wonderful person you kidnapped... For the people awaiting us at school... For Briar Valley... And for myself. You see, I harbor a particularly potent animus toward you. A feeling aggravated by the disrespectful actions you had towards  who is dearest to me. I shall eradicate the firelotuses and put all to rights. With the Bell of Solace itself!”

They lose the first fight against Rollo. And it's after that that Idia reveals what they read in Rollo's diary that they found in the fireplace. About his brother. About him not being able to do anything to save him... And you hear Idia going down a not so empathetic path, to which you would react with a facepalm if your hands weren't tied.

You hear Rollo getting angry and starting to lose his composure, Azul attacking him with Deuce's signature spell, with whom he had made a deal, the astonished reaction when seeing that Rollo is still standing, and finally, you hear Rollo use his signature spell and the sound of flames bursting forth.

A new fight, even more violent, until the sound of the flames died away and...

“Rollo collapsed, and his flames went out...” Azul says. “That means Malleus won, right?”

“Dude, Malleus is out of breath.” Idia says “I can see why he wanted us clear. We could've easily been collateral damage.”

Rollo says he accepted his defeat, but only to try to attack Malleus one last time when he turned his back on him. He failed, and Malleus rang the Bell of Solace, making all the flowers wither.

“The firelotuses...” Rollo was sobbing. “My flowers, my salvation, they're all withering away... You VILLAINS. What have you done?!”

“More important than that.” Malleus approached, his figure towering over Rollo's on the ground. “What have YOU done to [Y/N]?”

“Why do you show yourself so worried? A being like you would never truly care for someone like them. Admit your true intentions! You want to see them suffer on the long term.”

You finally manage to get your feet close to the door. You hear the worried voices of Azul and Idia telling Malleus not to succumb to Rollo's provocations. And you knock on the door with your feet so they can hear you.

You hear hurried footsteps coming your way, see Malleus opening the door, and look down in horror.

“[Y/N]!” He quickly reaches down to free you, breaking the ropes with his own hands and untying the piece of cloth around your mouth. He would have preferred to use magic to ensure he didn't hurt you, but he was relatively weak in that regard. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You say you're fine, but that doesn't stop Malleus from picking you up in his arms.

“Is [Y/N] hurt?!” Azul asked, worried.

“They say they're fine. But just in case.”

“Something tells me that Malleus just really wanted to live the scene of the hero who picks up the princess in their arms after saving her from the clutches of the villain who kidnapped her.” Idia comments, just between him and Azul. “Hey, no judgments. This is what I call sense of opportunity.”

Rollo was furious, but he would never admit how jealous he was. Not even to himself.

You watched the shows that your NRC colleagues prepared. The music was beautiful and they sang so well! Especially Malleus. After that, you all talked for a bit in a group before Malleus disappeared. Only for you to see him dance with Rollo. Seriously? All that and he's still going to dance with Rollo before he dances with you?!

You dance with the others, until Malleus appears to bow to you and invite you to dance with him. However, to his surprise, you look sullen.

“Is there something wrong?” He asks you. “Did I do something that displeased you?”

You answer yes, that after everything, the first person he danced with was Rollo. He chuckles, and you get even more sulky.

“Forgive me, but I could not resist provoking Flamme one last time. That, and warn him never to even come near you again.” He says with a smile, which makes it a little scary. “I jest. Well, partially. I did threaten him if he did anything to you again.” He pauses to see if you would cheer up a bit, but you still didn't seem completely satisfied. He smirks. “I must admit, a little jealousy can actually be charming and cute.”

Other people wanted to dance with Malleus, but he asked them all to, please, wait a little longer.

“You are creating a quite long waiting line you know? I will not dance with anyone else until I have my desired dance with my beloved.” He smiles smugly when he sees your reaction.

You give him your hand, he kisses the back of it and brings your body closer to his, placing his other hand on your waist. And you dance together.

“Please be careful.” He says as you dance. You look down at your feet, confused. “Fufu. No my dear, I wasn't referring to your dancing.” The sweet smile becomes more serious. “I was referring to Rollo Flamme. I have reason to believe that, after just one day, he has already recognized your charm. He does not convince me that he did that to you just because he believed he was saving you. But worse than that...”

His expression turns sad and you feel his hand pull you closer.

“He still have hatred towards me and wants to get read of all the mages. Under different circumstances, I would not fear his attacks. I would even invite him to try. But with you... If he realizes how much you mean to me... Despite what happened, I don't believe he has that kind of character, but if he reaches a state of despair where his hatred for me is stronger than the attachment he might feel for you...”

There’s a pause. His expression becomes more peaceful.

“I learned an expression that the citizens here have. Heaven's Light. We don't know what this place called heaven is for sure, but according to some records from the past, it would have been such a wonderful place that it was not even located on land. It was somewhere above the clouds. I believe even the stories of the Lord of the Underworld spoke of a similar place. They say that the name ‘Heaven's Light’ was given by the Kindly Bell Ringer to the woman he fell in love with, for being such a caring and kind person to him.”

He caresses your cheek with one of his hands.

“I understand him perfectly. From the story I was told, I can only believe that I too was blessed with my own Heaven's Light. And just like the Kindly Bell Ringer, I will do whatever it takes to protect it.”

You didn't even realize that Malleus has led you to a more secluded place. Only when you saw that the two were hidden by the shadows and a pillar and he began to bring his face closer to yours. “My Heaven's Light.” He whispers before kissing you.

After your dance with Malleus, he went to dance with the other people who also wanted such an honor and you went to dance with some of your other colleagues.

You were finishing dancing with Sebek when Rollo approached you. Both you and he startled when Sebek quickly placed himself between the two of you.

“What are your intentions?” Sebek inquired with hostility.

“My intentions are not vile.” Rollo replies, hiding his displeasure at the way Sebek is talking to him with his composure. “I would only like to be able to invite [Y/N] to dance.”

“I cannot allow it! My orders are to keep this human safe and away from you.”

Rollo takes his handkerchief to his face, holding back the urge to respond to his audacity and insulting words. However, you tell Sebek that it's okay and that you would like to accept Rollo's invitation. Both he and Sebek are surprised.

“B-but...” He had those sad puppy eyes, eager to fulfil his duty. “My liege told me... he entrusted me to protect you.”

And you say he can still do it. He can watch you while you dance with Rollo. And if something really happens, he can intervene.

“But what if it's too late?”

You say that Rollo wouldn't do anything like that in front of all those people. And that Sebek could tell Malleus that it was your fault for telling him not to stop you.

“But... *sigh* Why are you humans so stubborn? Fine. But I won't take my eyes off you. Even if I have to stop myself from blinking!... Be careful.”

Rollo extends his hand to you and you place yours in his to accept his invitation to dance. He guides you very gently.

“I wanted to apologize for the way I treated you.” He tells you while dancing with you. “I never meant to be rude to you. And regardless of what the students of Night Raven College tell you, at no point did I intend to harm you.” Your expression shows your suspicion. “I don't intend to apologize for doing what I concluded was the best way to save you at the time. I only apologize for the... atrocious way in which I did it. I shouldn't have forced you to come with me. But I feared what those spiteful mages might do to you in a moment of desperation.”

“They wouldn't hurt me!” You say, with certainty in your voice.

“How could you be so sure of that?”

“Because, unlike you, I know them.”

He looks you intently in the eyes, and sighs. The music comes to an end, as does your dance. You bow to each other.

“I find it pitiful seeing someone magic-devoid like you stuck in that villains' lair.” He tells you when you both straighten up. “I am inclined to make my utmost efforts to have you reside in Nobel Bell College instead, however I've already come to the sorrowful realization that it is your heart that keeps you hostage in that island. But before we part, I insist that you know that if you ever find yourself overwhelmed by those circumstances that involve magic, do let me know.” He gives you that subtle smile of his. “I will be glad to provide you with my support and assistance at any moment.”

You give him a smile back, accepting his offer.

“But, just to guarantee that you don't forget my heartfelt offering...” He reaches into his pocket, takes out his handkerchief and extends it to you. “Here it is said that handkerchiefs are powerful guardians of the memories of a loved one. It is common to offer them when we don't want to be forgotten by someone. Despite my mistakes, I would still like you to have the most pleasant memory of me possible." You accept his gift. "I confess that my biggest wish at the moment was to have one of yours too.” Without his handkerchief, he covers his mouth with his hand. “But that is just a mere whim of mine.” He takes his hand away from his face and smiles again “Not even in my wildest dreams did I think I would have so much pleasure in meeting someone from Night Raven College.” He gives you one last bow. “May the Bell of Solace allow our paths to cross again.”

He turned to walk away, but you wanted to do one last thing. You had also bought a handkerchief just like his when you were doing your tour of the city, and you wouldn't need two. You ask him to wait and he turns back to you.

“It doesn't have to be a mere whim.” You say, handing him the handkerchief you had kept with you. Perhaps the sign of a second chance.

He receives your handkerchief and looked at it with his natural smile, but his eyes were different, they had a small, almost imperceptible sparkle.

“I will keep it as one of my most cherished possessions. Thank you, [Y/N].”

“Should I assume this was some sort of revenge?” You hear Malleus's voice say suddenly as you step away from the dancing crowd.

You didn't know he was there, and so close. You look at him and he's smiling wryly.

“I didn't give him any gifts, though. Should I have bought a souvenir too? Perhaps make a bouquet of those crimson flowers he is so fond of.”

“It seems you were right, Tsunotarou.” You say with a sly smile. “A little jealousy can actually be charming and cute.”

Malleus makes that cute pout.

“I told you to be careful.” He says, not as a scolding, but as a concerned request.

You tell him that nothing bad happened, that Rollo wanted to apologize for what he did to you and for him not to blame Sebek because you were the one who accepted Rollo's invitation.

“Don't worry, I know Sebek is a loyal guard. And that you are the one with a kind heart. I told Sebek that I believed him when he told me that it was of your own free will that you were dancing with Flamme. It is in your character to give others the opportunity to explain and apologize. I know this well because it's one of the things I love most about you.” His pout comes back. “However...” He smiles smugly. “I would be more reassured if you spend the rest of the ball close to me. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what, exactly?” You ask.

“Just in case someone else becomes so captivated by you that they want to lock you up in a tower. Which reminds me that in some tales the kidnapper arrange a dragoon to guard the kidnapped.” His smile becomes even more smug and slightly threatening. “Fu fu fu. I would like to see them trying.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[reginyani]

Wet Dreams | s.reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer decides to call it a day and head to bed, where he has a vivid wet dream of one of his female coworkers at the BAU.

cw: 18+, mdni, nsfw, dom!reader, sub!spencer, fem!bau!reader, oral sex, blowjob, reader swallows, use of Y/N, wet dreams

wc: 1174

authors note: sorry for the inactivity on my account! decided to pay back for that with some spencer smut;) enjoy! if you did, like and reblog!

It was an ordinary night, or so Spencer thought. The hum of the lights in his apartment, the soft tick of the clock on the wall, and the familiar weight of the blanket wrapped around his lower body. Yet something was still different.

 

When he closed his eyes, the world around him slowly started to drift away into an even deeper atmosphere.

 

It started like any other dream he has had—disjointed, unclear—but soon it shifted, warped. He found himself still lying down, leaning up on his bed. The room was dimly lit, and the air was thick with unfamiliar tension. The walls were dark, shadowed, as though the room itself was alive and shifting with every passing second.

 

Before he could process what was happening, the sound of footsteps echoed through the space. He looked up from his covers and found you standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

 

It was you, his BAU co-worker. Unlike anyone he had ever seen, a vision so striking he forgot how to breathe for a second. Your eyes glowed deeply in the low light, and your presence radiated an intense, magnetic pull. You weren't just beautiful; you were something otherworldly. It was odd; he had never noticed it before. As you stepped closer, Spencer's heart skipped a beat.

 

"What are you... doing here?" He asked, his voice hoarse, as if his body were betraying him. It was unable to comply with his usual levelheadedness.

 

"What do you mean, silly? I've been here," you said, continuing to walk over to the edge of his bed.

 

"I—uh..." He's at a loss for words, raising an eyebrow as he watches your body sway side to side as your footsteps make noise against the wood floor.

 

Once you finally make it to his bed, you crawl onto it, on all fours, making your way up his body. You smirk, looking into his big brown eyes. You snatch the blanket off, throwing it somewhere to find some other time.

 

"I can give you exactly what you need, Spencer," you said, your voice soft and melodic, your words carefully crafted to seduce him. It made his pulse race, a sudden heat rising in his chest that he couldn't explain.

 

"Need?" He gulped, sitting up straighter as your body towered over his, his brain trying to catch up with the situation. "I don't... I don't understand," his sad brown puppy eyes staring into your glowing ones in confusion.

 

You leaned in, your face mere inches from his, your breath warm against his skin. "I'm what you need in this exact moment," you whispered. "A way to... release tension, free you from the weight of your thoughts. You think so much, analyzing everything, but sometimes... you need to have an escape."

 

His chest tightened at the suggestion, his mind racing with undignified thoughts. There was something about your presence that made it impossible for him to think straight. It was as if you knew every part of him, every desire, every worry he buried deep inside himself.

 

"You don't have to think anything," you murmured, your fingers brushing over the waistband of his pajama pants. "Just feel."

 

Spencer's breath hitched as he looked down at your hand. He always prided himself on his control, but here, in this strange dream, that control seemed to slip through his fingers. His mind screamed to not allow this to happen, but his body betrayed him as he let out a whimper in anticipation.

 

You smiled at his inner conflict, his whimper music to your ears. "You don't have to fight it," you continued to whisper to him, seductively. "Do you want this, Spencer?" you finally ask.

 

He looks back up at you before finally nodding his head. "...Yes."

 

You grin, quickly pulling down his pajama pants and boxers all at once. His cock sprung out, already hard. He looks away from the scene, closing his eyes in embarrassment.

 

"Don't be embarrassed, baby. It's just me," you say, reassuring him and his doubts about this. Although there was no turning back now.

 

You look back down to his throbbing member, taking it in your hand and stroking it slowly. He turns his head back over, his mouth opening as a low groan escapes his lips.

 

"Oh... oh." he let out, throwing his head back in pleasure. You looked up to see his messy brown curls fall from his slightly wet forehead, his image more beautiful than ever.

Pathetic. It turned you on.

You finally lean your head down, taking it in your mouth slowly, your lips gliding over him as your hand worked the rest that couldn't fit into your mouth. Your tongue began to swirl and flick against the tip, feeling the smooth surface in your mouth.

 

Spencer couldn't hold back anymore. His hands flung to your head, gripping your hair, and he pushed your head further, allowing his cock to be fully pushed into your mouth. He holds your hair back as you begin to bob your head up and down, gagging as his cock hits the back of your throat.

 

Spencer's legs began to shake slightly, moaning loudly. His shame wasn't apparent anymore, as he allowed himself to guide your head on his length, beginning to thrust his hips unwillingly.

 

"Fuck... Just like that." He continues to thrust, this time in a steady rhythm, sliding in and out of your mouth with a swishing sound. Your lips gripped around his cock, driving him closer to release. "God, Y/N. You're so... talented."

 

You look up at him, your eyes locking with his, filled with lust and desire. All his problems seemed to fade away, nothing on his mind but the feeling of your lips clenching against his cock. You moan slightly, sending vibrations up his length, making him stutter out a whimper.

 

"I'm... I'm close..." he warned, his voice low but filled with pleasure as you worked your mouth on him.

 

Suddenly, a loud whine escaped his mouth, his legs heavily shaking uncontrollably. He clutched the sheets, his knuckles turning white as a warm liquid began to fill your mouth.

 

You swallowed.

 

You slide your mouth off his cock with a loud pop, sitting upward as you gaze at his face.

 

"You did so well, baby." You cooed, praising him as you brushed a strand of his hair behind his ear. He sighed softly, his arms shaking as he struggled to keep his body up. "I'm glad I could help you escape, even if it wasn't real."

 

That was the last thing you said before his eyes opened, breathing heavily as he sat up in his bed. The remnants of the dream lingered in the edges of Spencer's mind. It had been so vivid, so real—the kind of dream where every detail felt significant. Spencer rubbed his temples, pulling fragments of the haze, but the more he thought about it, the further it seemed to fade away.

 

How was he gonna act when he saw you at work? He flipped his sheets off his hot body, then looked down at his pajama pants.

 

Fuck.

 

Is all he thought as he looked down at the wet splotch on his crotch.

 

 

tags:

[seoulmatez]

𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓎

rin’s routine takes a turn when a stray cat inserts itself into the equation.

itoshi rin x reader ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ allusions to abandonment issues

There’s a cat that follows Rin on his walk home from practice.

The first time, he simply took notice. A small bundle of black fur seemed to curve at every turn he made, stopping every time he paused. Its light eyes almost glowed in the darkness accompanying dusk. And, as if the creature knew it was time to part ways, it didn’t bother following Rin to the door of his apartment.

The second time caught Rin by surprise. Did the stray remember him? The walk was much the same, Rin leading the way while the cat acted as his shadow. Maybe the man tricked himself into thinking so, but it felt like the cat met his eye every time he looked over his shoulder to check if it was in tow.

This time, Rin crouched down to pet it. His hand hovered tentatively over its head, waiting for some adverse reaction to his proximity—a hiss, or perhaps it would dart off. But it didn’t come. He gently scratched the cat’s head. It purred, leaning into his touch.

The days that followed were much the same—Rin’s initial surprise at his companion’s return, his hesitancy to reach out for fear of an unpleasant reaction, the short moment of comfort the both of them shared before Rin had to go inside. They grew on each other with each scheduled meeting. The cat began to walk closer—beside the man instead of behind him. Rin left a little earlier in the morning to pick up treats for his new friend.

Rin has lost track of how long this has been going on. What he has taken note of, though, is how the cat no longer lingers at the start of the pathway leading to his apartment—it has taken to joining him at the door.

Yours and Rin’s schedules don’t always align the best. It makes taking advantage of the days the both of you are free a given and today happens to be one of those days. It’s bright and early and with the bag of pastries you picked up in hand, you make your way to Rin’s apartment.

“Knock knock,” you verbalize in addition to tapping your knuckles against his door.

You only have to wait a moment before his voice sounds from the other side. “It’s open.”

With his invitation, you turn the doorknob and let yourself inside. As you kick off your shoes at the doorway, you catch sight of Rin lying on the couch. The piece of furniture isn’t quite long enough given his height, so his legs are propped up on the arm. It’s enough to make you chuckle under your breath. Rin doesn’t seem to mind you finding humor in the situation. He simply offers you a lazy wave and a, “Hey.”

“Good morning,” you greet him with a smile. You hold up the paper bag in your hand. “I brought breakfast.”

Rin hums in satisfaction before getting up to join you in the kitchen. You’re just about to set everything on the counter when something beats you to the spot. It’s black and furry and entirely unexpected—so much so that you flinch, clutching the bag to your chest. “Oh!”

You can hear Rin sigh behind you, though, when he appears beside you, he doesn’t look nearly as startled as you do. He picks up what you now realize is a cat from in front of you, holding it up in the air level with his face. “I told you, you’re not allowed on the counters.”

Two pairs of eyes—one aquamarine, the other a pale green—stare at each other in silence. Rin almost looks as if he’s expecting a response and he earns one in the form of an innocent meow.

Rin’s eyes narrow. “Stay off the counters.”

“When did you get a cat?” You suppose you should have noticed sooner. Now that you’re paying attention, there are signs all over the place—the food and water bowls placed on a mat that you walked past to get into the kitchen, the cat tower tucked away in the corner of the living room just a few feet away from the couch Rin was lounging on, there’s even a feather wand toy under the coffee table.

He finally puts the cat down on the floor. Despite being released, it doesn’t wander far. “Last week. She kept following me home.”

“Cute…” The thought of this darling trailing behind Rin during his commute is almost too adorable for you to handle. You kneel down to get a better look at her. She’s idly licking her fur like she’s grown bored of this conversation. You look up at Rin. “What’s her name?”

“She doesn’t have one.”

“Huh?” You stand up once more, frowning in confusion. “How do you get her attention then?”

He shrugs. “I don’t need to. She’s always nearby anyway.”

He doesn’t tell you that he’s pondered the idea of naming her but shied away. It’s better this way—not getting too attached and making things too real. Because if it’s real, that means she can leave him—cast him aside—too.

“She needs a name, Rin,” you tell him, finally setting down the bag from the bakery and pulling out its contents. You shoot him a smile. “We can come up with one while we eat.”

Movement from the corner of your eye catches your attention. Your gaze falls to the floor to find the cat rubbing against Rin’s leg.

Your smile widens. “See, she likes the idea.”

He’s still wary but he considers it for a moment, his stare never straying from your face. He reminds himself that you’re very real—standing right in front of him, close enough to touch. You’re real and you’ve stuck around. That should be all the evidence he needs.

“Fine,” Rin concedes. 

He glances down at the cat he took in. Strangely enough, her presence since the start has had an impact on Rin, made him feel a little less lonely.

He supposes she deserves a name.

manon here ( ≧ᗜ≦) thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[oceantornadoo]

part two - outlaw!simon x reader who was supposed to marry johnny (rip)

when you wake in the morning, there is no husband in your bed and an angry sheriff at your door.

the missing husband is a later problem. you snatch your worn dressing gown from your nearby chair, shirking it on over your night shift as you head towards the door. you grab your rifle on the way, noting simon had unloaded it when you weren't paying attention. bastard.

"mornin' ma'am." sheriff graves is a sunny character on your doorstep, western sun and a shifty smile. you mutter a greeting back, wondering why in god's name he is pounding at your door when the sun has barely touched the sky. "did ya have any trouble last night? there's rumors of an outlaw group on the edge of town." you shake your head, gaze holding firm. "no, sir. woulda shot 'em if i did." he nods, then looks down at his boots. "and that husband of yours? he at home, protectin' his wife?" ah, so that's why he's here. everyone knows you are married but no one's ever met the guy, seeing as he's been journeying over mountains and grasslands to get to you. sheriff graves is well aware of your lonesome self, just you and your rifle. "he's around, sir. i'll be introducin' him to yall soon enough. 'course, we're spendin' some time together as man and wife first."

his pupils go wide at your insinuation, not ladylike in the slightest. 'course, you are a barmaid, so what's to be expected of you? "i see. well, i'll leave you to your mornin', ma'am." if he really wanted to give you your morning, he wouldn't have woken you up so early, but you weren't going to give him that much attitude. "good day, sheriff." you close the door when his boots are still in its shadow, a little too close to be polite.

"you protectin' me, darlin'?" you jump at his voice, nearly scaring you out of your gown. "good lord, give a girl some warning!" he's fully dressed, hiding in the shadows of your pantry in a full-black outfit. you take in the bandana hiding his face, the all-black chaps encasing his thick thighs, and the holsters strapped and loaded. "you're up early." he grunts, coming closer. simon checks the door lock, then pushes you up against it with his body, his arms coming to hold the wall over your head. "had t' water my horse. you miss me?" you shake your head vehemently. "you snore. you will not be gettin' in my bed again soundin' like a freight train." instead of taking offense, he laughs, all gravel in your ear. "johnny woulda loved you."

you can tell he regrets saying it the moment it leaves his lips. his body tightens, that easy flirtation dying in the wind. "you miss him?" you ask quietly, testing the lines between you. "everyday. less now, i think. got a spitfire to take care of." unwillingly you lean closer, crossing your arms over your chest. "you better be talkin' about your horse." he grumbles something unintelligible, one hand leaving the wall to ghost against your hip. you're reminded of last night, of his rough embrace and warm arms.

"hips up for me, sweetheart. there ya go." simon places a pillow underneath your hips, the angle revealing more of your cunt to him. you whine as he stares, hips bucking as if to entice him. "y'r so needy, darlin'." you moan, one leg reaching out around his waist to tug him closer. he lets out a laugh as you line up your pelvises, the rough material of his pants rubbing against your bare body.

"i've been horny. can't fuck anyone when you're married, apparently." he hums, opting to trace the line of your jaw instead of the seam of your cunt. "still, coulda been a killer, yet you opened up so easily for me." embarassment courses through your body but you refuse to feel the shame along with it. you reach out your hands to find his zipper, tugging it down when he doesn't stop you. "you're no killer. if johnny trusted you, so do i." your hand finds his cock beneath the layers of his clothes, tugging it out slowly. he hisses when it meets the cool night air, already so hard and ready to go. "don't go makin' assumptions about me, sweetheart. there's a lot you don't know."

the fear hits you for a moment. a realization that this man could be lying completely, some stranger off the street who barreled his way into your home. you search his eyes for the truth, sticking to your belief in the good in people. you find it in his gaze; he's trying to scare you. you smirk at the thought, this big tough man wanting to scare you, a lady living on her own in the wild west. takes a lot more to do that. "can i put it in?" you refuse to acknowledge what he said, gripping his cock tightly and tapping it against your opening. he's already made you come twice, once on the kitchen table and another against the door, but you still need to be full. "yeah baby, put it in."

you shake out of your daydream, noting the moving path of the sun lighting the outline of simon's body. "c'mon, i'll show you where my stable is. and then maybe, if you're good, you can come to my shift at the pub later." he snorts, one hand on your hip. the feeling of possession is alien. you've spent so many nights dreaming of johnny, dreaming of having a husband, that simon's presence feels like something you need to wake up from. he could be a figment of your imagination, you decide, watching him untie his horse from a nearby tree and bring her over. instead of walking down that mental path, you take another step towards this outlaw of a husband and try to shake off the butterflies in your stomach.

--

PART FOUR

yes he's wearing the gunslinger fit idc but with the bandana (i couldn't find a good pic)

tag list:

@chickennn-soupp

@vmaxis

@samanthamarkle92

@sinful-tawtute

@nightingale2124

@scottpilgrimvsmyfists

@saucypeanuttt

[hemlock-dreams]

Horny brain! Activate!

Just wanted to write a scene of Spidey finally getting to indulge his colossal oral fixation. Wade volunteers as tribute! So here: 4k words of pure filth.

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

Wade's back hits the wall. He's out of breath, body thrumming from the adrenaline, pulse a hummingbird beat against his chest.

Spiderman has him caged against the rooftop access, an inky blot in the darkness, an electric shadow pressed up against Wade. Their masks are halfway up, and Spidey's tongue is halfway down Wade's throat.

Spidey drops his head to the crook of Wade's neck, leaving a series of sucking kisses that make Wade ache in the suit. "I win," he says, smug as shit, but Wade can't fault him for it.

It was a good fucking chase and an even better fucking fight. He just wishes he could keep the bruises.

"Yeah, you did," Wade pants, grinding against Spidey's dense body. It's amazing, a perfect end to the night, except Wade's not ready for it to be over. "Where I come from, winners get a prize." He says, hoping it doesn't come out too desperate. Or maybe just the right amount of desperate.

Who the winner is in this situation is really up for interpretation, but Wade wants to think they can both get what they want.

Clearly, they're on the same wavelength because Spidey grabs the tail end of the thought and runs with it. "I've got some ideas…"

The dark, masculine purr of Spidey's voice makes Wade want to lick into his mouth, so he does, groaning when Spidey lets him have it. It feels so unbelievably good to let himself want without compunction, to take what's on offer without having to break off pieces of himself to pay for it.

It has the strange side effect of making Wade unusually generous. Borderline pliant—especially when it comes to his favorite spider.

"Oh, yeah?" Wade asks. His vision is already starting to sparkle, body twitching under Spidey's hands from the venom. Wandering hands inevitably end up on Spidey's magnificent ass, squeezing hard, knowing he can take it. "You know what they say. Sharing is caring."

A hand comes up between Wade's legs, palming the erection that's been there ever since Spidey tackled him across a fire escape three blocks ago. He's not gentle, either. Wade pushes up into it, shuddering when the pressure doesn't let up.

Fuck it's good. But he's more interested in what's Spidey's got cooking.

"Here's what's going to happen," Spidey starts casually, cool as a cucumber. Wade's heartbeat picks up immediately. Spidey always has spectacular plans, especially when they involve Wade. "I'm going to get on my knees, and you're going to fuck my mouth. My prize, is going to be swallowing you down— as many times as you can take it."

The words hit Wade like a nuclear fucking blast, evaporating all the air in his lungs. He doesn't even pretend to think about it; just shoves his hands between their bodies and starts yanking at his suit like it's offended the honor of his house and name.

“I haven’t done this before,” Spidey’s voice is thick with anticipation, and the way he watches Wade unbuckle his suit, licking his lips like there’s a five-course meal waiting in Wade’s pants makes his hands shake. “But I’ve thought about it. A lot.”

His mouth brushes under the edge of Wade’s mask as he confesses, licking the seam of the merc’s lips before continuing down his chin. 

“Tell me,” Wade grunts, fingers clumsy as he tries to get his fucking zipper to cooperate- difficult when Spidey’s fangs scrape over the sensitive skin of his jaw, little pinpricks of pain and pixie magic that make his trapped cock scream in the suit.

“Been thinking about how it would feel on my tongue,” Spidey indulges, panting wetly against Wade’s neck. “Thought about holding you down and stretching my throat around you, wanna swallow till I’m sore-”

Wade tears the zipper clean off with an unhinged sound. Spidey huffs a laugh, something about being impatient, but he's far past caring. Fuck patience. Fuck the suit. Everything between him and Spidey’s ravenous fucking mouth needs to fucking disappear. 

It takes a few drugged, desperate seconds to summon the coordination, but Wade finally manages to pull out his dick, hissing in relief as he palms the throbbing length of it. He’s already painfully hard from the chase. The thrill of being so thoroughly roughed up has him leaking against the blood-slick leather of his glove where he twists it around the head. 

Spidey bats it away with a low, possessive growl that makes Wade forget to register the tired knee-jerk stab of shame about his scarring. All attention is devoted to the sight of Spidey sinking to his knees with inhuman, predatory grace, and the heavy curl of his hands around Wade’s hips, coupled with the sharp glint of his venom-streaked fangs, has his dick jumping like he’s been electrocuted.

Fuck, fuck— Spidey hasn’t even done anything, and Wade's on the verge of begging.

“C’mon, Fangs,” he pleads because shame is on vacation right now, fisting the edges of Spidey’s suit and spreading his legs as far as the leather will allow. He tries to flex his hips, but it’s no use. Spiderman is carved from marble, his hands immovable from where he’s anchored Wade. 

There’s barely two inches between Spidey’s mouth and his dick, but it might as well be a fucking mile. He glances up at Wade, and his smile is hungry and a little manic, tongue pink and lurid as he swipes it across his fangs.

“I’ll probably hurt you,” he whispers.

Wade’s brain rattles in his head. “Promise?” He begs, breathless because just the thought of it has him panting like a bitch. 

That was apparently the right thing to say because Spidey laughs and gets with the fucking program.

It’s been a while since Wade’s been on his knees for anyone. Even longer since he’s been on the receiving end, but given Spidey’s hungry enthusiasm, Wade expected to be halfway down the man’s throat by now.

But predicting Spiderman is an exercise in futility because instead of going to town or doing any of the normal things people do when presented with a cock, he bypasses it to press his face to the base of the shaft, inhaling through his teeth in heaving gulps.  

Oh, that’s right. 

It's been mentioned once or twice, how Spidey can taste Wade on the air, that their constant proximity means he can parse the merc’s flavor apart from the rest of the ambient soup of the world. 

Wade doesn’t know what that really means, but he doesn’t care because Spidey rolls his face against Wade’s skin, breathing deeply, fingers convulsing around the merc’s hips in fits.

It’s both blisteringly hot and strangely chaste— like Spidey is feeling Wade because he’s pleasing to touch, using his body to satisfy all the little urges he’s had to keep tucked away, just because Wade makes him feel good in some bone-deep way.

The feeling unfurls, rolling outwards till his legs are trembling. His hands scrabble against Spidey because his grip is the only thing keeping Wade from freefalling.

“Jesus, Slick,” Wade pants, trying to swallow around the sudden lump his throat, “You’re gonna fucking kill me, come on.”

“Pot. Kettle.” Spidey breathes, in time with Wade’s spiking pulse, “You’ve been driving me crazy. The way you fucking taste, you have no idea-”

Wade really doesn’t. He’s extremely fuzzy on what keeps Spidey here, but he’s not dumb enough to call his bluff, not when his gorgeous hunter leans back and rolls his tongue over the head of Wade’s weeping dick, groaning like the merc is doing him a favor.

The first real touch of his tongue has both of them shivering, and Spidey suddenly descends on Wade like a man starved. He works his lips over the head of his dick like it’s the world’s most delicious lollipop, leaving tingling iridescent trails in his wake as he kisses down the shaft.

Wade is transfixed at the sight, pulse rabbiting as Spidey traces over the scars with his tongue, dipping into the grooves like he’s trying to ingrain them into his memory by mouthfeel alone. 

It’s the hottest fucking thing Wade’s ever seen. In fact, he wishes he could permanently pluck out his own eyes to make sure it’s the last thing he ever sees. Then again, maybe it's good he can't because there’s no way he’s missing the sight of Spidey chasing a drop of precum like it’s vital to his survival.

“You taste so pretty,” Spiderman slurs like he can read Wade’s mind, or maybe taste it on his tongue— punctuating the statement with a debauched kiss to the leaking tip. “So fucking perfect, wanna keep you here forever.”

The praise goes straight to Wade’s head, hips jerking uselessly against Spidey’s iron grip. “You can,” he sounds pathetic. “As long as you want, all yours.” And he is, fuck, he is— for as long as long as Spiderman can stand him. 

“Yeah?” A pink-slick tongue laves the underside of the head, tracing the throbbing vein there. Wade’s vision crackles; it’s so intense, “Whenever I want?” There’s something deeply satisfying in the way his fingers dig into Wade’s hip, ten sweet points of bruising pain that makes his dick weep.

“Yeah. Anytime, anywhere,” Wade promises fervently, sounding like the lovelorn maiden he is. He’ll let Spidey blame it on the venom. 

That gets him a crooked grin, pleased. Spidey purses his lips around the head of Wade’s cock, content to linger, pressing torturous little licks into his slit. 

Now, Wade is a well-known masochist, but apparently, he’s got a limit. “C’mon, Fangs,” he moans, twitching against Spidey’s mouth, heart jumping when the head of his cock hitches one venom-slicked lip high enough to see teeth, “Let me in.”

That earns him a heartfelt groan and a shiver. 

“I want, but-” Spidey hisses, rubbing his lips against scarred skin. Lips draw back in a facsimile of a snarl.

Wade pulls at Spidey’s shoulders, impatient, “Your teeth? Trust me, baby, it's all I've been thinking about. I want it.” Wade’s cock is literally jumping at the sight. Want doesn’t even begin to describe it. 

Wade needs it; needs to see that pretty needle-lined mouth wrapped around his cock before he wakes up behind whatever dumpster he’s offloaded his body. 

Spidey stares at him, breath coming out in harsh gasps.

"Please," Wade begs, and it must be convincing because Spidey twitches forward in an aborted movement.

“Show me,” Spiderman says, then shakes his head, sounding unhinged, borderline feral. “No…Make me.” 

The demand practically creaks under years of habits born in response to having fangs that don’t retract.

Jesus, he really hasn't done this before, has he?

The thought of being the first person to sink into Spiderman’s virgin fucking mouth drives him crazy. Wade isn’t delusional enough to believe he’ll be the last but fuck, he wants to make it so good that Spidey keeps coming back-

He remembers to tear his gloves off before fisting one hand into the back of Spidey’s mask, tugging hard, forcing the man’s head back until his neck is a pale, elegant line in the dark.

His gorgeous little spider doesn't even flinch; he just leans into the pain like it's a gift. The explicit show of trust sends all voices roaring, and the intensity of Wade's desire takes him by surprise. Violence, lust, love, all the lines blur until Wade can't tell the difference between wanting to fuck Spidey or kill him— whatever it takes to permanently mark him as Wade's.

Spidey chooses that moment to swallow, knowing that Wade's eyes follow the motion like a man possessed. Fucking tease. Wade's going to ruin him.

“Poor itsy bitsy spider,” Wade's voice is a velvet growl as he settles his other hand around Spidey’s jaw, reveling in how the simple touch makes him shiver. Has anyone else ever reacted like that to Wade? “Spent your entire life with that hungry mouth muzzled, huh?”

Wade doesn't wait for Spidey to confirm. He can already imagine the man's civilian life, a sad snapshot of carefully regulated emotions filled with close-lipped smiles and pursed grins. A real fucking shame because Wade recognizes a repressed slut when he sees one. Something, something birds of a feather.

“Don't worry, baby,” He slides his cock up and over Spidey's mouth, watching the wallcrawler jerk and pant as he spreads all that shiny venom over his cheeks, pushing up against the edge of his mask, “I'm going to pry you open just to see how soft you are inside.”

Spidey grits out a wounded noise, jaw hard enough to chew through gravel. He’s drooling through clamped teeth, venom, and spit trailing down his chin in rivulets. He wants it, bad, and Wade wants to give it to him.

Spidey just needs a little coaxing, and the challenge of it, combined with Wade's frayed impatience, makes his touches mean.

“Thought you wanted this?” Wade cruelly squeezes his fingers deep into the bone, right where the hinge is, just to watch Spidey flinch and take it. “Don’t tell me you chased me through the city just to pass on your prize?” 

He presses his cock against Spidey’s closed mouth, pushing past his lips to rub against his teeth and catch against his swollen gums, right up against the sensitive glands.

It must feel intense because Spidey shakes and whines, muscles spasming under Wade's fingers as he struggles to fight years of conditioning.

“Was it all talk?” He taunts, pulling back just enough to watch Spidey fight his grip to chase him. “Is it too much for you? Maybe I should put it away-”

It’s a bluff because Wade is fucking desperate, but Spidey’s jaw flexes in response, loosening just enough to unleash a furious growl. 

“No?” Wade pretends to think about it long enough for Spidey’s grip to turn dangerous. Wade's hips might be splinters by the end, but that’s just icing on the cake. “You want it?” 

“Yes,” Spidey chokes out, and Wade gives him a brutal little shake,

“Then, open up.” His voice is all malice, the way it gets when Wade's face to face with a target he’s looking particularly forward to taking his time with. “Let me break you in.”

That does it. A full-body tremor rolls up Spidey’s entire frame, and slowly, very slowly, his jaw begins to relax. 

What a perfect, fucking freak.

Immediately, Wade pushes his fingers into the soft hollows of Spidey’s cheeks, forcing his jaw wider, crooning in pleasure as he watches bruises bloom under pressure. “That’s it, Slick. Open up those pearly gates, lemme see what heaven looks like.”

The fangs really are pretty- long and graceful, and absolutely drenched, gums swollen around the base of his canines— hypersensitive, if the way Spidey is twitching is any indication. His mouth is plush and bright pink, a salivating mess when Wade jerks his head up for a better look.

His cock throbs at the sight, and Wade reached his limit about two paragraphs into this whole thing, so he starts pushing, dragging the leaking tip past Spidey’s criminally soft lips.

“Fuck,” he breathes, hand shaking around Spidey’s jaw. “Fuck, baby, you feel so good. Wider, that’s it, yeah-“

Spidey makes a garbled, incoherent noise that makes Wade want to slam in. His spider is breathing hard and fast, hands tight across the merc's hips; Wade has to fight for every goddamn inch, earn every shallow, torturous slide into that glorious mouth.

The wet, needy sound that accompanies every slide is addicting.

“That’s it, baby, keep that mouth nice and loose for me. Let me give it to you, fuck-” he’s working his hips in little jerks, just dragging the head across Spidey’s drooling mouth, fighting not to come before he's given Spidey his damn prize.

Wade goes deeper each time, teasing both of them when he pulls out and dips back in, little thrusts that have Wade’s nerve endings sparking. Fuck, fuck, he needs more—

"Is that all you can take?" It's supposed to be a taunt, but the words come out twisted, desperate. Wade needs to get deeper; he needs to carve out a space in Spidey's body just for him.

Spidey makes a frustrated, guttural noise around Wade’s cock as he tilts his head. The new angle makes his fangs look obscene, like two gleaming daggers poised over the head of Wade’s dick, and his voice pitches embarrassingly high at the sight.

“In, wanna see you take it.” Panting breaths, Wade pulling as much as he can, pushing his hips at the same time, but there's no fucking give to Spiderman. “Come on, come on, c’mon, c'moncmoncmon-”

Spidey shifts, and Wade feels his jaw pop under his thumb, the final piece of resistance disappearing as he finally leans in, and god- Spidey's mouth is a fucking revelation, all scorching heat, so wet there's almost no friction, just a long, dripping, sinful slide.

Wade hears himself whine, a perfect counterpitch to Spidey's low animal groan.

It's too fast, especially given Spidey's inexperience, but the promise of bruising that beautiful throat from the inside out burns all of Wade's gentler impulses.

And Spidey sounds so fucking pleased, like Wade is everything he ever wanted, sinking further and further like he can't bear the thought of pulling back— like the weight of Wade's cock is more important than the air in his lungs.

“C’mon,” He’s babbling, comically delirious even to his own ears, leaking every thought right into Spidey's greedy mouth, “Take it, take it, sweetheart, it’s yours, all of it, anything you need, Slick, please—”

He's so close. The world is starting to go hazy, the wet sound of Spidey's mouth, the bruising grip around his hips, the chill breeze over his stomach, everything blurring together to tease the most monstrous orgasm of his life.

Right as he's about to tip over the edge, Spiderman retreats, and Wade nearly breaks his own fingers trying to claw him back over his aching dick. Wade's throat burns, loud and incoherent, a wash of white noise against the coming tide.

It doesn't seem to matter, or maybe it does, because Spidey just breathes deep and sinks all the way to the root, and the resounding crack of Wade's skull against the wall is nothing but a delicious accent to the absolute tidal wave of pleasure that swamps him.

Time turns to spaghetti, and by the time Wade floats back up, it's to the sight and sound of Spidey shaking, whining around the thick length of Wade's cock, nose pressed against the bone. He sounds pained, like he's hurting, or—

“Jesus, Jesus, baby, did you just-?” Wade shudders, staring down at Spidey's kneeling form in disbelief.

Spidey just makes a raw, broken noise, sounding as fucked out as Wade feels. He swallows, then nods.

His hands haven't moved from Wade's hips.

"Where did they make you? Fuck, you're so, —just— fucking perfect. You're gonna kill me," Wade chokes out, hoarse, twitching against the soft meat of Spidey's throat.

Spiderman seems to take this as advice because instead of pulling off, he sinks even further until his face is completely pressed up against Wade's abdomen.

It's immediately too much, and Wade scrabbles at Spidey's shoulders, hissing as his body instinctively tries to retreat.

He doesn't go far because Spidey fuckin’ snarls around Wade’s cock in protest, and Wade suddenly finds himself pushed against the wall hard enough to grind his spine into the brick. He’s pinned, completely immobile, save for his mouth- which is still running a mile a minute, 

“Fuck, baby, Jesus, you're a fucking lunatic—!" His voice cracks as Spidey inhales him, taking the entirety of Wade's shaft like he's going to find the meaning of life at the base of it.

He stays there for a long time, immune to the desperate, inarticulate noises tearing out of Wade's mouth. Wade's cock hasn't even had a chance to go down, and thanks to Spidey, is almost painfully hard against the back of his throat.

Enthusiasm aside, Wade knows he needs to ease up. Spidey can't be getting enough air— but Wade can’t pull back, not when he feels the tips of those fangs threaten him when he tries. Instinct paralyzes Wade, but the sound that Spidey makes, a low hum of warning, vibrates through his cock and all the way up his spine.

Those teeth press close, locking tight enough to be unnerving. There's no pain, not yet, but the threat, the mere idea of it, sends Wade's brain right into the fucking stratosphere.

When his ears turn back on, it’s to the sound of his own babbling, out of his mind on a heady cocktail of terror and pleasure, "Fuck, Slick, your fucking teeth, yeah do it, do it, do it, do it—" Wade’s voice is wobbly, wet as he shakes from the overstimulation.

Spiderman doesn't let up, forcibly pushing Wade deeper into the wall as he speeds up.

Spiderman pulls back and sinks down, dragging the sharp points of his teeth across Wade's cock over and over and over, carving shallow lines of blistering pain and pleasure that coil in the mess of his brain until they're indistinguishable from one another.

Wade is suspended, writhing in pure, terrifying sensation, and the sounds being punched out of his chest are humiliatingly small and honest. 

Spidey’s venom is shimmering on his skin, coursing in his veins, sinking into his fucking soul and staining the ragged thing electric pink. His entire nervous system feels like it's been doused with gasoline and set on fucking fire.

It's too much. Every inch of exposed skin feels flayed. Wade's cock is just a raw nerve, and Spidey’s mouth a fucking black hole, sucking every single thought out of Wade’s head with incredible violence.

“Fuckbabyfuckican't—" But he wants to, wants to give it to Spidey, but there's just no way, he can't.

Spidey doesn't give a shit about Wade's limits, because he pries one of the merc's hands from his shoulder, and Wade valiantly scrapes half a brain cell off the floor to pay attention when Spidey presses the bare palm to the side of his neck—

Everything slows down. Oh fuck. Oh fuck-

Then Spidey swallows and squeezes, and the feel of his fangs pressing in, his throat distending around Wade’s cock, under his palm-

That’s it. Game over. Wade’s entire body locks up, muscles convulsing as Spidey wrenches his second orgasm from the fucking pits of hell. He comes so hard his teeth ache. It lasts for centuries, time stretching and wringing out every drop of pleasure until Wade is whiting out, eyes rolling to the back of his head.

He’s not sure he ever really comes back down; just floats just over the precipice of consciousness, just low enough to hear his own overstimulated whimpers as Spidey swallows around him, just like he promised.

For the first time in ages, Wade's head is blissfully silent, and he basks in it for as long as he can.

Eventually, the world begins to filter in, but Wade's body still feels languid, lacking the telltale bite he associates with general living.

Cracking his eyes open— when had he closed them?— Wade is treated to the sight of a very satisfied, very smug spider.

"Fucker." He manages, voice broken and rough with affection.

His legs are completely fucking shot, and the only thing stopping Wade from buckling to the grimy cement are Spidey's hands holding him to the wall, keeping the entire bulk of Wade's considerable weight like he's nothing.

His thumbs are stroking over Wade's hipbones.

It's hot. It's...it's...

He runs a soft hand over the fading bruises on Spidey's jaw and gets a sweet kiss on his knuckles in return. Wade's heart does something funny in his chest, but the accompanying feeling isn't funny in the slightest.

Then Spidey nips the thumb, grinning wide, a little drunk and a lot vicious. The broken rasp of his voice straight up rewires the pleasure centers of Wade's brain, “Again?”

Wade feels the addiction forming, physically impossible but there all the same. And like every substance abuse story, Spidey is going to eat Wade alive from the inside out.

What a way to go.

"Yeah," Wade grins. "C'mon sweetheart, let's see if you can actually kill me this time."

[the-xolotl]

A Taste of Darkness Itself

Alastor x fem!Reader x His Shadow

ᯓღ Filthy one-shot of Alastor’s shadow railing reader.

ᯓღ a/n: i have been rotting on this idea for like literal weeks and i finally had the willpower to write it. idk how it got to 3.5k but it did. ENJOY !

SUMMARY: You hate being away from Alastor, but at least the silver lining is that Al’s shadow is nice company while he’s away. Today, though, it was a little more needy than usual.

ᯓღ CW: biting, licking, belly bulging, slight voyeurism, accidental exhibitionism, slight dub-con, no use of y/n, fem reader, size kink, monster fucking?, some aftercare, squirting, overstimulation, cumflation.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED IN SIGHT. Thank you~

Waking up without Alastor is always a bummer; turning over to find a cold, empty spot where your lover should be have been isn’t a great way to start the morning. Being understanding of how busy he is and that sometimes this Overlord duties take him away from the hotel and essentially from you doesn’t take away from how much you dislike it. At least when he had trips to the other side of the pentagram he often left his shadow behind to look after you and keep you company.

The shadow you had affectionately named Shade often attempted to keep you entertained or went with you about your day. Shade has always been pretty docile with you, at least when you are in his care. Sometimes you wonder if it’s capable of its own feelings or if Shade is only nice to you because Alastor tells it to, or because being part of Alastor means he also loves you somehow. You’ve never discussed it with your lover but you like to think it’s the former simply because it makes it more special and cute.

Today, especially, you think about how that works because Shade had been especially clingy and… a little needy. In a way, as clingy as a being that can’t talk or isn’t really tangible can be but he keeps distracting you by making you pay attention to it; showing you little trinkets (don’t have the slightest idea where it got them), turning on the nearest radio to play smooth jazz to dance to. It took your shadow’s hand to twirl you around and dip you down or wrap itself around your shadow.

“You’re acting like me when I’m being clingy with Alastor,” you giggle, petting the top of its transparent head. You get the sensation that it leans into your touch even when you’re not really touching it. Shade has its charm, the shadow is definitely sentient and thinks on its own outside of Alastor’s orders.

You start retracting your hand but Shade snatches it with a somewhat tight grip, something it doesn’t really ever do. “What’s wrong?” your voice filled with a mix of concern and confusion. His expression is indiscernible with a wide grin still edged on its flat features and being that it can’t speak you can’t expect a response either. However, your confusion turns to absolute bewilderment when Shade intertwines your fingers together with it, actually seeing and feeling a cold touch wrapped around your hand.

It sent a shiver down your spine, it was like touching a corpse; cold and clammy. Slowly, Shade emerged from the wall. It’s a little funny the way it looks like a sentient sticker pealing itself off a flat surface but as it left the wall of Alastor’s bedroom its form changed into something akin to materialized dark matter. Not quite slimy or gooey but also not entirely gaseous; just pure darkness in the silhouette of Alastor and just as tall.

Shade is still holding your hand and not letting you go, smile even wider, one that reaches the blank holes of his eyes. While it didn’t feel menacing it’s off-putting seeing and being grabbed by a tangible shadow. You’re looking up at it with wide eyes, blinking owlishly, “Shade…?” your voice cracked. Again, you weren’t scared but very shocked as it had never shown you this form before. Shade draws closer to you excitedly, enveloping your entire body in its chill embrace. “Oh, oh you’re cold,” you laughed nervously, “Since when can you— Oof,” you’re caught off by Shade lifting you up and taking you to Alastor’s bed in a blink of an eye. Even more confused and a little concerned now you attempt to free yourself from his grasp but it only tightens as Shade nuzzles its face against your cheek and neck.

“A-Alright buddy, haha. What are you doing there?” Shade is harmless, and there’s no doubt in your mind it would hurt you. Not with Alastor being his master and you being the love of its master’s life. It’s an odd sensation having the manifestation of darkness pinning you down onto the bed with a bit of rough force. Even still, you can’t help but be endeared by the affection the creature is giving you.

It’s innocent enough until you feel ghostly lips pressed against your neck, trailing up to your jawline and then to your cheek and stopping at the corner of your mouth. You’re frozen for a few moments, eyes wide, and you swear you hear a record scratch. “Shade…?” you whisper again but it doesn’t move. You hear it make a noise that sounds like a laugh or a chuckle. It’s something between radio static and demonic growls. Before you have another moment to process, the shadow is stealing your lips again in a hungry kiss.

You surprise yourself by returning it but are unable to keep up as Shade robs you of all the air in your lungs rather quickly as the kiss deepens. It’s heated and has you gasping for air soon. You have to fight to breathe between the savage kisses it seems to not get enough of. The darkness of its lower body starts wrapping around your thighs parting them to better accommodate itself between them.

Gasping you pull away from the desperate lips to finally fill your lungs with proper oxygen with big gasps. Icy fingers travel up your thighs digging its sharp claws and making you hiss. “Shade!” you yelp its name when it decided to shove its entire hand up your skirt and past your panties to give experimental rubs at your pussy. You arched and squirmed under its touch as he watched your reactions with rapt enthusiasm and attention. Heat begins to creep up your face, red dusting your cheeks in embarrassment. But you can’t help your hips bucking into its chill touch, “More,” you moan.

Shade tilts its head to the side, the holes of his eyes still boring into your face. You nod at it, breathing heavily, and grinding your hips up again, “Please, more,” you mewl again enjoying the contrast in temperature between your warm folds and the coldness of its slender fingers.

Shade presses further then, rubbing your folds up and down, your pussy is quickly becoming increasingly wet under its attention. The shadow lets you grind against its fingers, occasionally rubbing at your erect clit. Soft moans and heavy breaths spill from your lips as you let the sentient being have its way with you. His mouth returns to your skin to kiss and nip at it creating a path of blooming red marks across your collarbone and chest.

Once your juices are practically dripping down to the sheets, Shade decided to dip in two fingers. It’s a tight fit that has your back arching and eyes rolling back but you welcome them spreading your legs even further inviting it in. He makes what you can only assume is a pleased low, reverberating growl. Your soaked cunt makes it much easier to slide them in despite the resistance, and oh how or where did this being of darkness and magic learn how to finger fuck so good?

Even with the frosty presence over your entire body, you feel the temperature rising around you, the room quickly growing hot and stuffy. You needed out of your clothes, except Shade still hadn’t let go of your hands yet, it held them up with one of his as he devoured the rest of your body with love bites and kisses. “Shade— Clothes, off. I need—” and just like that your clothes went up in smoke leaving you completely naked and more of your body exposed to the shadow’s hungry eyes. Its eye travels over your every curve, mapping its ups and downs, every groove. Finally, its hand releases your wrist in favor of touching your skin, especially your plush chest. It grabbed and squeezed at your tits feeling the size and weight of them. The contrast of the heat of your skin felt delightful against his cold one.

Shade pinched at your nipple, tugging it earning more moans and pleas. You’re losing yourself bit by bit, succumbing to the pleasure not even thinking about the consequences—would there be consequences?— you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “C’mere,” you whimper, a hand coming up to cup the side of his head and guiding him down to eye level with your chest. Shade didn’t resist and went down willingly, “Suck,” keeping its eyes on your face he obeyed willingly taking the hardened bud in its mouth sucking and digging little sharp teeth into the soft flesh. Meanwhile, his other hand hadn’t stopped, in fact, its fingers sped up in scissoring motions to coax your cunt open. Both your hands are on his head now holding on for dear life while you allow it to take you however it likes. And maybe you didn’t have a choice, you aren’t really calling the shots, but it didn’t matter. Not when you can feel your first orgasm building in your core.

Shade is oddly good at pleasuring you, in the back of your head you still wonder how, a morbid part of you think it’s from it possibly watching the way Alastor touched you. It’s then the fleeting thoughts of missing your boyfriend float momentarily in your lust-ridden mind. As your moans got more frequent and louder, your fingers digging harder into the shadow you felt yourself an inch away from coming. You cum with a scream and your orgasm wrecks through your entire body but Shade doesn’t miss a beat. It doesn’t stop, it doesn’t pause. The shadow continues to assault your g-spot while he alternates between biting and sucking at your breasts, even planting its palm against your clit while it continues to finger you to add even more stimulation.

Your body is shaking uncontrollably and the only thing keeping you in place is its grasp over your body. “Fuck me, please fuck me. I can’t take it anymore, fuck. I need your cock inside me,” voice desperate, as if your livelihood and sanity depend on being stuffed. You didn’t have to wait long for that request to be fulfilled either. The removal of his fingers from your wet pussy had you whining and clenching around nothing but almost as soon as they were gone they were replaced by something bigger pressing into you.

A tendril is teased along your folds with curiosity, as if copying movements and your suspicions that Shade is following Alastor’s actions in bed click subconsciously in your head. However, you’re too busy focusing on the tentacle between your legs now pressing its way inside you. Shade makes a noise and radio static spreads across the room, it makes a whiny sound along with your loud moan at the feeling of the thick length stretching you out. Your nails made their way to its back scratching at pitch darkness.

“Shade, don’t—” you tried to warn it to be gentle but it was too late. The shadow followed the tight heat of your dripping pussy and sheathed itself in one thrust making you cry and scream out. Tears slide down your cheeks, your body trembling already, writhing and trying to pull away from the fat tendril penetrating you. But it wouldn’t allow you, Shade only pinned you harder against the mattress with shadow tentacles and lifted your hips up to begin thrusting into you.

The shadow clearly had never done this before, given the sloppy way it’s thrusting into you with little rhythm but, it’s hard and it’s intense. The radio static buzzed across your skin rising goosebumps, Shade’s own moans increased; they sounded deliciously demonic. It picked up the pace before you even had time to adjust, “S-Slow down, too much,” but it didn’t listen. The restraints only got tighter, Shade didn’t mean to but it’s losing itself to the immense pleasure your body is giving it. The shadow continued to lick and bite anywhere it could, adding claws to the mix; its hand began to roam across your curves committing them to memory and dragging sharp nails that nearly broke skin anywhere it touched.

You felt Shade all around you overwhelming your senses and caging you on the bed. There’s no escape, not that you wanted to really, the mischievous shadow has you screaming and moaning its name wantonly. Despite begging it to slow down the pace you’re still wrapping your legs around its shadowy torso brining him closer to you.

“Kiss me, Shade. Kiss me again.” you plea between sobs of ecstasy. Its mouth leaves your tummy where it had been passionately sucking hickeys to comply with your request. It’s hot and heavy with a long tongue prodding your mouth, moaning loudly you enthusiastically accept the ravenous kiss. Shade’s hand in the meantime takes purchase on your hips for the purpose of guiding you up and down its cock and using your body as a life-size flesh-light. The shadow is still hammering into you and bullying your cervix with every rock of its hips, being mean about it by pulling all the way to the tip just to slam you back down for your ass to meet its hips.

You’re unsure how many times you’ve cum by now, it’s certainly been a couple times but you’ve been completely unaware because your mind is on cloud nine and the difference between pain and pleasure has been blurred. Right then, a particularly hard thrust straight into your sensitive bundle of nerves makes your body go limp, mouth hung open in a silent scream, no sound coming out but your body convulses within the dark grasp of its massive hand. Your eyes had rolled back so far only the whites of your eyes were visible and you swear you died again right then. Shade’s pace didn’t falter, fucking you straight into overstimulation, fucking you dumb, drool dripped from your agape mouth.

Shade is becoming increasingly feral with his ministrations, you’re to the point where you can’t hold a single thought for more than a second, not being helped by Shade maneuvering your body to turn you over so your chest is being pressed against the mattress and your ass is high up in the air. It doesn’t miss a beat thrusting into your spent cunt to continue right where it left off. Its pace doesn’t falter for a second no matter how arduous it’s been fucking into you and you’re not better than a rag-doll being used for the shadow’s pleasure. Your throat is raw and sore from all the screams, moans, and whines.

You’re tired, possibly nearly unconscious, and completely drunk in pleasure. Pleas of mercy have turned to begs of more, don’t stop, harder over and over like a desperate prayer. Even your cheeks are raw from the tears, every little caress makes them sting but you take it. Your hips are pushing back against its cock, off rhythm but the effort is there. There’s no matching the shadow’s inhuman pace even if your stamina could. Barely. Shade tangled a shadowy hand in your hair to press your head into the sheets, using its weight to cage you down.

You feel its long, icy tongue lick a path from the bottom of your spine all the way up the nape of your neck, tasting the coat of sweat over your body. It sends a full body shiver and for once you actually feel yourself cum. Sinking further into the mattress your hands cling onto the sheets tightly, “Shade, no more, no more please!” you can’t even recognize your own voice. It’s hoarse, barely audible. The lewd, squelching sound bounced off the walls, and the sounds of your bodies rang loud in your ears making the blush of your face an even brighter red. Its thrust is brutal and unrelenting. It’s beyond you how you can withstand being split open by such a beast without breaking. It seems to obey you for the first time since it started having its way with you body.

However, in the next moment, it’s pulling your hair to bring up against his chest. Leaning back against the headboard and laying your back against him with its cock still nuzzled deep inside you. You look down to assess the damage, your tired eyes go wide seeing all the bloody bites and scattered bruises, there are finger pricks around your hips and thighs where he gripped you. The thing that really draws your attention is the prominent bulge in your tummy and the sheer size of the stretch of your hole. There’s cum and juices dripping down to your and Shade’s thighs too. You relax into the embrace, exhausted even if you’re still being made to cock-warm it, at least it’s no longer moving; you’re far too overstimulated and doubt you could handle any more.

The Shadow, though, had other plans. Shade appears to have infinite stamina already grabbing the underside of your thighs to lift you up and down his girthy length. You have neither the will nor the strength to combat it, only tightening around it and holding on to its forearms for dear stability. Shade used its tongue to lick away stray tears as one of its ghostly hands pressed on the bulge on your belly. It made you yelp, every inch dragging along your inside felt like your insides were on fire. Your eyes are fixed on where its cock disappeared inside you mesmerized by the way it parted your folds and your body accommodates it. “S-Shit you’re— so fucking big.” your voice is small, pathetic, barely audible. But your hips are still moving, you’re still ready to cum for the umpteenth time today.

Head swims with lust, you’re reaching highs of rapture you never thought possible; Shade has pushed you to your absolute limits miraculously without breaking you. It growls again, louder this time, and its hold on you clamps down like a vice. It makes you wince in pain before you feel a hot liquid spill and cover your insides. It came, finally, triggering your own orgasm with a shrill scream. You squirt involuntarily just from the overstimulation alone. The sheets soak and make a huge mess from the spray of juices, making a mess on your own legs, and Shade’s as well. This time it actually stops thrusting now that it has reached its release but doesn’t pull out, you lay there completely limb in his arms. It goes back to nuzzling your face sweetly, making a purring sound, and caressing your stomach softly. You could barely keep your eyes open at this point from sheer exhaustion.

Hearing a familiar voice yanks you out of your blissful trance, “I see you have been quite busy today, my dear.” A silky smooth voice resonates across the room making your head whip around to find the source. Alastor steps out of the shadows with a wide, wicked smile. You try to find your words but it’s futile. You’re too far gone and there’s no way you’re able to speak now. However, Alastor doesn’t press further, nor does he comment on the cuddling. He knew already, of course. For now, he’d let you rest and have a stern talk with his shadow later. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up, hmm?” he offered with a soft voice and a gentle hand. Shade lifted you into his arms and disappeared back into the shadows suddenly leaving you feeling empty and copious amounts of cum spilled from your pussy, making you wince and grimace. Alastor stayed silent as he carried you to the bath, running warm water before easing you in.

“I missed you today.” were the first words you managed to croak out. Your throat is still fucked, it likely would be for some time. Alastor is careful cleaning your body and rolling up his sleeves to be able to wash your hair. You’re not quite meeting his gaze, which he found amusing.

“Did you now? You seemed a little preoccupied when I came back— In fact you didn’t even notice when I had arrived.” the lilt in his voice is teasing, you can hear a chuckle.

You groan softly, “You watched?” you ask with embarrassment written all over your face. He silently continues to massage the shampoo into your hair without answering the question. You didn’t know what made it worse; the silent confirmation or if he had admitted to watching you get absolutely wrecked by his shadow.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll have my turn with you and you can have the real thing. See how you manage then.”

Your thighs clenched at his statement. Your whole body ached painfully, there’s no way you’ll be partaking in any strenuous activities for at least a week; there’s no way you’re walking for a couple days either. Alastor chuckled at how easily he could rile you up even after getting absolutely destroyed by a demonic entity.

“Just so you know, me and that shadow are connected,” he brought the shower head to rinse the shampoo off, “It’s a part of me, its thoughts are my thoughts, what it feels I feel.” It almost seems like an offhanded piece of information but this makes you realize something. Shame, embarrassment, and horror make your body stiffen.

© 2024 the-xolotl — all rights reserved. do NOT alter, translate, or repost my works on any platform without my consent, do not claim my content as yours.

[ddejavvu]

Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader (Part Five) (18+) / Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Summary: You should have known the ‘no refunds’ detail on the website for Spring Fling was a red flag. But you paid no mind to it, eager to be assigned a quick fuck for spring break. When the man that walks through your cabin door is none other than Jake 'Hangman' Seresin, your wildly infuriating fellow pilot, you have two choices: bicker the entire time and have a miserable spring break, or fuck.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni. fem!reader, pilot!reader, enemies/rivals to lovers, lots and lots of arguing, could these two people be any less cooperative, sex seven ways to sunday and then some, seriously like so much smut it'll make your eyes bleed, makeouts, rough sex, oral (m+f receiving), penetrative sex, will add as i post

WC: 7.0k / navigation / inbox

A/N: Thank you all for waiting for this chapter! I know it took me longer to finish this one than it did the others but it's the longest chapter so far, and I also had a lot of major life events go down in the time between this chapter and last. I appreciate each and every single one of you who stayed patient with me, and I hope that this chapter and that the rest to come are worth the wait :) <3

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You’re doing a terrible job at paying attention to where you’re going as you take the elevator, jamming your finger against the 12 button so hard it hurts. Pizza is on the twelfth floor, and you’re hoping Daniel will be there early like you so that you can forget about Jake and his tyrannical rule. 

It’s clear as day to you; Jake thinks he has control over you just the same way he has control over the girls that drool over him at the Hard Deck. He thinks one glance will melt your brain into mush, but it won’t. It doesn’t, and you’re not letting the cockiest man you know believe he’s won you over. Especially one that you work with. If anyone found out- if any of your fellow aviators knew that you’d succumbed to Jake’s charms… you’d risk losing the respect you’ve fought hard to earn on the tarmac. You’re not letting your career take a nosedive because Jake won’t stop bragging about getting his dick wet. He doesn’t get a say in your life if he has nothing genuine to contribute to it. You know him well enough to know that caving in and fucking would be the worst decision of your life, and you refuse to let him feel like he’s won you like a prize. You’re standing up for yourself; if he can shit-talk Daniel, you can shit-talk Miss Melons.

Your skin prickles with annoyance the more you think about the woman that had approached you both- seriously, did she not consider that she was being intrusive and rude? You assume Jake has snagged her away from her roommate by now, and they’re probably having a better time than you are. 

Everything feels unfair, down to the coincidental roommate placement. It’s like the universe had heard you needed a break, and wanted to punish you for it.

Cracking open your book helps, but it takes you a while to get into the groove. You’re sitting poolside across from the pizza place, eyes glancing from page to parlor every once in a while to check for a certain bearded man. The main lead is compelling, and your stomach soars as you imagine Daniel in a cowboy hat. You’d save that horse.

Peace is hard to find while sitting poolside on a cruise, but chaos is actually the perfect white noise for you to read, and your concentration isn’t broken until a shadow falls over your lounge chair. You glance up, but it’s not the man you’d wanted to see.

“Hey.” Jake’s already frowning, his face apprehensive like he thinks you’ll scream at him to get away. You want to, but you don’t want to cause a scene.

“What, Hangman?”

“I’m not trying to control you.” He pushes despite seeing your gaze back on your book, “I just don’t think you’re meant to be with Daniel. But I shouldn’t have given you a hassle for doing the same thing to me. I just… I do it because-”

He stops short, glancing sideways at a man running despite the clear no running sign on the lifeguard tower. You decide to help him in his moment of need.

“Because you’re used to women who let you walk all over them. Even if you’re not trying to control me, you’re used to having that control. It’s familiar for you, so you expect it, even if you don’t know you’re doing it. But I’m not like that. You can’t keep me waiting on you.”

The scoff he lets out is accompanied by an expression that looks truly pained, “That ain’t it at all. But forget it. Don’t worry about why I do it. I just thought maybe you were doin’ it to me for the same reasons. But never mind. I’ll shut up about Daniel. Truce?”

You glare up at him, book still open in your lap. He extends an uncharacteristically helping hand, and you wait a truly uncomfortable amount of time before taking it and shaking once.

“Truce.”

He takes the chair beside you, stretched out in the sun. Unfortunately, it seems like your reading time is over as his head turns to you, “So, Dudley showed up yet?”

“He’s coming for lunch.” You cling to your novel, trying desperately to ignore Jake and his instantly broken promise, “What about Melon girl, they weren’t ripe enough for you?”

“She wasn’t my type.” He starts, and there’s a heavy silence before he continues, “I don’t like a woman who thinks it’s fun to get between a couple.”

The sideways glance you send Hangman, the ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk, is lethal.

“Anyways.” He continues, tone more casual now, “Fancy a swim, darlin’?”

“I’ll read instead,” You offer, “But you have fun, Hangman.”

“Party Pooper,” He accuses, standing from the lounge chair he’s occupying and stretching briefly, “You’re an absolute mood-killer. No fun, the most boring person on this boat.”

“I’m about to be more of one: have you put sunscreen on?”

“Nope,” He grins, “You volunteering to do the honors, you sleazy thing?”

“Absolutely not. But you can use the stuff in my bag.” You nod at your tote bag, “Don’t use it all, though.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Jake nods, folding into a seat on the edge of the lounge chair beside yours, “So, what’s going on in that book, they boning yet?”

“Mhm.” You nod absently as Jake begins smearing sunscreen over his arms and legs, “Real sexy stuff.”

“I’ve got somethin’ sexier for you.”

“It’s a porn book, Hangman,” You clarify, in case he’s forgotten, “I’m trying to read porn. Leave me alone.”

“There’s porn right here!” He calls, arms out to show off his impressively tanned and toned chest, a thick layer of sunscreen giving it a sheen that glistens in the light. As reluctant as you are to admire anything about Jake, you can’t lie; he has a body worth ogling. But you will not ogle it.

“This porn’s better,” You hum, glancing up at Jake through your lashes, deceptively inviting, “This guy’s got a cowboy hat on.”

“I’ve got a million and one cowboy hats,” Jake insists, slowly inching towards you and away from the edge of the pool, “Is that really all it takes, darlin’? ‘Cause I can slap one on in seconds, if that’s what you’re after. ‘Even brought one with me in case my roommate was into it.”

“Mm, maybe,” You let him get closer, excitement clearly swirling in his eyes as he advances towards your chair. He doesn’t notice the shifting of your feet until it’s too late and one is shoving firmly against his chest, knocking him off balance and sending him tumbling backwards into the pool.

There’s not anyone in his immediate vicinity besides you, so you take the brunt of the splash, but it’s worth it.

“But I like it better when the hat’s on a real gentleman!” You call, laughter interrupting your words as Jake emerges from the pool well and truly soaked, shaking water out of his hair. He’s been thoroughly underwater trained, so he’d been able to catch his breath in time despite the surprise of it all, and there’s no real harm done besides the initial splash.

“You dirty rotten minx,” He calls, water dripping from his short hair into his eyes, “You lured me in with the promise of cowboy hat sex just to push me in the pool?”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” You’re still laughing, but maybe this bout of giggles is only to annoy him, “That’s, like, the oldest trick in the book. Well, maybe besides the cowboy hat sex thing. But you shouldn’t have gotten so close!”

He braces his elbows on the wall of the pool, the border surely burning his skin. But he stares at you regardless, “I thought you were finally givin’ in.”

“It’d take a lot more than a cowboy hat to make me give in, Jake.” You laugh, turning back to your book, “Like, a full personality transplant.”

Jake hears Danica’s words repeated back to him in his head, ‘Show, don’t tell’.

“Noted. I’ll look into one’uh those,” He quips, smile sarcastic and empty as he resorts to swimming alone, “Hey, when you’re done with that chapter, you should join me.”

“No.”

“Alright.”

You glance away from the book’s pages at Hangman’s unusual, immediate acceptance of your refusal. But he lifts himself out of the water- no stairs, no ladder, only his forearms against the deck, and your stomach sinks as you realize he might be playing a game of wills with you.

Instead, he sits beside you again, this time facing away from you, “Will you rub some sunscreen on my back?”

You want to say no. You would, if he were only asking to feel your hands on him. And maybe that’s part of it, but you also know that as much as he tans, he could burn, and his back is the only part of himself that he can’t reach. You’d want someone to do you the solid too, so you sigh and set your book aside.

“Fine. But you owe me.”

“Mhm.” He nods, passing you the sunscreen, “I’ll rub it wherever you want, Y/N.”

You whack him upside the head with the bottle, and when he hisses in pain and pitches forwards, you squirt some of the lotion onto your palm and begin applying it to the broad, tanned, muscled expanse of his back.

You’re no masseuse, but apparently you’re rubbing all the right places, because Jake lets out grunts and groans that are borderline pornographic. If they were coming from anyone else, you might have squirmed in your seat, but each one sends your eyes rolling skywards as you cover Jake’s skin in goopy sun lotion.

“Damn, you’re good.” Jake grunts as you dig into a knot beneath his shoulder blade, “Do that again?”

“I’m putting sunscreen on you, Jake, not working out muscle tension.”

“Oh, come on, just a little more?” He pleads, turning so that he can glance at you from the side of his gaze, eyes shining in prayer.

You dig extra hard into his muscle, and you take some sort of wicked pleasure in the way that his resulting groan is more of a pained yelp than something of enjoyment. 

“There, Hangman.” You whack the middle of his back, between his shoulder blades, “You’re all oiled up.”

“Aren’t you glad you were the one to get to do it?” Jake grins blindingly, and you bury your nose in your book again to avoid answering his question.

“Oh, you can stick your face in that book all you want,” Jake drawls, and you hear the displacement of the water he steps in as he lowers himself into the pool, gracefully and by choice this time, “But I know you liked having your hands all over me, darlin’.”

You want to gripe something back- something witty and cutting that will tear him down where he stands, but he’s turned away from you, already submerging himself to begin swimming laps. You admire his dedication to exercise even while on vacation- you have no plans to visit the gym in the lower decks.

Jake sees the diving board just as you do, and you keep him in your peripheral vision as he climbs out of the pool to make his way up the ladder. Your novel is begging to be read, but your eyes stick firm on one fitting word- ‘abdomen’ so that you can watch Jake from the corner of your eye as he prepares to dive.

Fortunately, you don’t need to continue the ruse of reading because Jake bellows from across the deck, “Y/N, look!”

You’re met with a grin when you look up at him, his arms raised above his head and joined flush together in diving position, “I’m gonna dive- watch me.”

“I’m watching.” You call, injecting your voice with as much disinterest as you can manage without feeling guilty, “This feels like babysitting, Hangman.”

He dives instead of quipping back, and it’s an impressive one, not that you’ll sing his praises for it. He comes up on the side of the pool closest to you, arms flinging an arc of water onto the concrete before you.

“Was it good?” He asks, panting slightly, hanging onto the wall.

“Yes,” You reply, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you condescend to him, “You did so good, honey.”

“Shut up,” He sends a wave of water splashing over your sandals, and you can’t be mad at him after all the teasing you’ve been inflicting upon him.

“I’ve been workin’ on my diving,” He goes back to swimming around, this time more casual as he keeps his head above the water to speak with you, “My nieces back home are learnin’ to swim so I’ve been in the pool a lot lately. Anytime they drag me in there I dive in and splash them.”

His arms cut through the water with strength and ease, confident strokes as you mull over his words. The image of Jake urging a toddler in floaties to cross a 3-foot gap into his arms is- endearing, not that you’ll admit it. You hum in acknowledgement, and tuck back into your book.

There’s not many people in the pool this early- most are probably still in bed with a hangover and a mess to clean up - and it’s large to boot, so there’s plenty of room. Your eyes drift left and catch sight of a jacuzzi, and suddenly your beach chair seems to pale in comparison.

Okay, you won’t join Jake in the pool, but you’ll relax for a couple of minutes in the jacuzzi. Just until Daniel gets here.

Jake doesn’t notice that you’ve stood until your chair is empty, and you have a perfect view of him floundering, scanning the entire deck until he spots you half-submerged in the hot tub.

You get to laugh at him again, and he grants you a good-natured grin instead of getting annoyed.

“I thought you’d finally found what’s-his-name,” Jake swims over to the separation wall that keeps the hot water parted from the cold, “Mind if I join you, Y/N?”

“Only if you’re- careful!” You shriek, trying desperately to protect the pages of your book from his sopping wet skin as he scales the barrier, “Hangman, if this book gets wet, you’re replacing it for me.”

“Alright, alright! I’ll take you on a shopping spree, relax. Hey, if I’m buyin’ you porn books, doesn’t that make me somethin’ like a sugar daddy?”

“You’re not getting any sugar,” You shrug, “But sure.”

“Just call me daddy, Y/N.” He grins, “That’s all the sugar I need.”

You hide behind your book so that he can’t see the way your face wrinkles into a grimace. The heat from the jacuzzi spreads inexplicably quick all of a sudden, warming your neck, your ears, your face, and Jake lets out a thick, heavy groan as he settles into the warm water.

“This is nice.” He muses, eyes closed, “Real relaxing.”

“It’s less relaxing when someone’s talking the whole time,” You peek across the side of your book, “Shut up, maybe?”

Jake snorts, leaning his head back against the edge of the pool, “Alright, alright your majesty. I’ll stay silent.”

You don’t verbally thank him, but you don’t make a scene when his leg drifts across the jet currents of the jacuzzi to brush against yours.

You cover a good chunk of your novel before a voice calls your name, and this time it’s the two people you’d been hoping to see all morning. Danica waves giddily at you and Jake, who’s picked his head up from where you thought he’d fallen asleep and is already mad-dogging Daniel. You wave back to Danica, and cast a quick glance down at your bathing suit before standing to greet Daniel. It’s just as tight and showy as you prefer it to be. 

You pay no attention to Jake where he gets out behind you, too focused on Daniel to care. But perhaps you should have, because you’re two steps from meeting Daniel in the middle when Jake’s strong arm shoves you sideways, and your book is wrenched from your grasp as you fall sideways into the pool.

It’s cold, colder even because you’d been soaking in the hot tub. You’re surprised, but you suppose you can’t even really be mad at him considering it’s just payback for what he’d done to you.

You’ve barely righted yourself in the water before there’s another splash beside you, and when you finally emerge there’s hands reaching for your waist, Daniel’s as you realize he’d jumped in to help you. 

“You-!” You splutter at Jake with bleary, chlorine-soaked eyes, attention split between Daniel who’s trying to ensure you’re alright, and Jake who’s snickering while holding your book in his thankfully dry hand.

“You asshole.” Daniel finishes for you, “She could have drowned!”

“I know how to swim,” You brace a hand on Daniel’s chest- startlingly bare, but riddled with coarse, brown hair, “It’s fine, I- I pushed him in earlier.”

“Relax, Prince Charming. It’s just a bit of payback. And look,” Jake waves your novel in front of you, “Dry as a bone.”

“Well I am- uh, not.” You stand half-submerged in the pool, Daniel still holding onto your waist, “So, I guess I will go swimming.”

“Great. You can swim with us.” Daniel smiles, warm and inviting as he keeps his hands on you.

“Yeah, us.” Jake agrees, taking Danica’s towel and spreading it over a sunny lounge chair for her.

Jake helps lower Danica gently into the pool, holding her hand while she takes the stairs, before jumping in beside you so that you’re splashed by the wave he creates.

“You are an asshole,” You laugh, breaking away from Daniel’s grip to shove at Jake’s shoulder. The grins on your faces are bright and genuine, perhaps the first time you’ve both been able to laugh with each other the entire trip. It feels nice, and you don’t fight when he shoves back at you with strong arms.

“Hey- hey!” Danica shouts, standing behind Daniel with a hand on his shoulder, “Why don’t you turn that pushing and shoving into a game of chicken?”

“I’m down,” Daniel seems thrilled to be opposite Jake as he lowers himself for Danica to climb atop his shoulders, “Y/N, you okay on his shoulders?”

Jake does the honors himself, dunking himself under the water and coming up between your legs. You barely have time to plant your hands on the top of his head, fingers twisting instinctively into his hair as you accidentally tug it while he stands at his full height again.

“Shit, sorry Hangman.” You let go of his hair, hoping you hadn’t yanked too hard. He’s forgiven, for now, so you won’t resort to childish things like hair-pulling.

“That’s okay, darlin’.” He grins, craning his neck back to meet your eye, “I like it when you tug on my hair.”

You have to overlook Jake’s suggestive comment as Danica’s already reaching for you, and you eagerly engage in a shoving match while the two men beneath you plant themselves into the bottom of the pool. You manage to get a leg up on Danica, and they’re both pushed backwards by the force of your shove, but Daniel surges forwards and ends up knocking you and his roommate right into each other.

You collapse against Danica, forehead-to-forehead, giggling like little girls. Her eyes are bright and shining with amusement, and her breath smells minty- like gum, not toothpaste. You’re more than happy to begin pushing at each other again, and though you’re confident your navy-built muscles are going to prevail, she lands a critical shove against your shoulder that throws you off-balance and sends you toppling off of Jake’s shoulders.

The water is cold, colder than you remember as you splash into it, and when you come up for air, already laughing, Jake’s facing you, having turned when you’d fallen from his shoulders. He’s grinning too, a hand already outstretched to help you up, but upon seeing you stand his eyes widen and his face drops.

“Shit.” He lunges for you, cutting through the water as his arm wraps around your back to yank you tight against his chest. You protest, grunting with exertion as you try fighting against his grip. But his muscles are impressive, and you’re trapped against his chest despite your best efforts.

“Would you cut it out? I’m trying to help you. Your top came untied.”

“What?” You splutter, water trailing down your face as you quell your instinctive struggle against his crushing hold. You realize that the reason for the extreme cold had, in fact, been because your bikini top had abandoned ship, and you barely have time to process the feeling of your bare tits slammed up against Jake’s hard, toned chest before he’s fishing the bathing suit out of the water and feeding it around your waist.

“Up,” He instructs, lifting his eyes to the expansive blue sky above you so that you can separate yourself from his chest for long enough to cover your own again. It’s- a strange gesture of courtesy that you would have expected from Daniel, sure, but not Jake. Perhaps that’s why you’re so sluggish, why it takes you longer than expected to fit your top back over your tits and grapple with the strings.

“You decent?” Jake asks, and when you grunt in confirmation he drops his eyes again. He notices you struggling with the ties and reaches for them himself, gently swatting your fingers away as he uses his advantage of sight. It presses his muscular shoulder up against your face, and you turn so that your cheek rests against it instead of your nose. Suddenly you’re held against his chest like a slow dance, and something terribly and inexplicably squirmy happens in your stomach.

“Done. I double knotted it.” He hums, and it’s such a sincere tone, one that’s completely vacant of all his usual dickishness, that you lose yourself staring at his face when he pulls away. You begin examining it for any sign that perhaps he was murdered and replaced with a poorly-trained doppelganger.

His hair looks right, albeit sopping wet. His eyebrows are growing slightly bushier than usual, but nothing you’d consider a complete and total imposter. His nose is still the same: strong, slightly downturned (though not as far as Rooster’s), and there’s a tiny patch of sunscreen that hasn’t been rubbed in near his right eye. His mouth is set in a determined purse as he double knots the strings of your bikini top together, and his eyes- his eyes are different.

Miles different than you’ve ever seen them. The outside edge of his hazel-green rings is softened, like someone has blurred their usual sharp border and lined it with suede. His pupils are huge, and they’d be eclipsing his irises if those weren’t so big and puppy-like. He is, in every sense of the word, gentle, inside and out. 

Jake has never been gentle before. 

“You alright?” He asks, and you snap back to reality with his large hands spread over the expanse of your bare back, the eyes that you’d been examining firmly and concernedly fixed upon you. Only a few meager strings separate his skin from yours, and you nod once, steadily as you gently push his arms off of you.

“Let’s go again,” You call to Danica and Daniel, your voice a piss-poor attempt at strength and nonchalance as it lacks its usual life, “Good hit, Danica. But watch out, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Bring it,” She grins gleefully, and her giddy gaze drifts downwards to Jake’s face when he lifts you onto his shoulders yet again. From the looks of it they share some sort of silent conversation- some inside joke that you’re not privy to. 

Something about that, something about her excluding you from a conversation with your own teammate makes you shove her, not enough to knock her off of Daniel’s shoulders, but enough to show her that you’re not going easy on her. She shrieks giddily as she writhes to stay balanced on Daniel’s shoulders, a smidge less broad than Jake’s. You’re thankful for that, for the steady mount you’ve got, as you resume pushing and shoving at Danica.

Jake is going insane. Not only does the phantom sensation of your bare tits- nipples hard from the chilly pool water - stick to him like a wet t-shirt, he can feel you against the back of his neck, your warm sex nestled snugly against him with only the bottom half of your bikini to separate you. Your thighs bracket his head, close enough for him to reach out and bite at, but he has to focus on keeping his stance sturdy so that you can play properly. Daniel’s glaring viciously at him across the few feet that separates the four of you, and he’s not going to let Mr. Mailman win. 

This time, Jake suspects you’ve used that military muscle of yours, because Danica slips backwards off of Daniel’s dewy shoulders and splashes into the pool. Your hand cups beneath Jake’s chin, tilting his head upwards and leaning it back into your lap.

“Nice one,” He grins upside-down at you, and you bump your fist against his when he offers it. Then you’re craning your neck down, surely uncomfortable as you leave mere inches between your lips and his, and his ears are ringing.

“Back up,” You murmur, disguising it as a congratulatory speech while Daniel helps Danica back onto his shoulders, “Get them to chase us and we’ll use the momentum against them.”

“Darlin’,” Jake proclaims, pride puffing up his chest that your legs are resting against, “You’re my kinda woman. Always looking to win.”

“Just do it, Hangman,” You scoff, but your eye-roll is less than irritated, fond if anything due to your partnership as Jake drops his head to face Daniel and Danica once more.

Jake stands in place where he’d been before, but when Danica engages with you he begins backing up. Slowly, carefully, ensuring that his feet are planted steadily each step so that you’re not tipped over, he makes his way towards the drop off towards the deeper end of the water. Daniel follows, taking the bait, and soon enough his predicament becomes obvious: he’s not as tall as Jake.

He stands somewhere close to six feet, surely, but not past it like Jake does. Your partner’s head is still comfortably above water, smirk in full force as Daniel’s beard becomes waterlogged. 

“That’s not fair!” Danica laughs, petting sympathetically at Daniel’s sopping wet hair, “Poor guy, we’ll get you stilts for the next round.”

Daniel lands a teasing pinch against the curve of her ass and she shrieks. You lunge for her, using her momentary shock to catch her off guard as you send her tumbling backwards into the water behind Daniel. 

You don’t have time to celebrate before Jake is ducking down and slipping himself out from beneath you, his strong arms bracing your fall so that you barely sink a few feet into the water. He crushes you in a celebratory hug, his laughter harmonizing with your own. He turns you both to face Daniel and Danica as they splutter to catch their breath, his cheek pressed flush against your own. 

“Chicken Champions,” He declares, holding you tight to his side at his own height, which means your feet float above his own in the water, “I’d offer to go again, but that’d just be cruel. You ladies wanna chatter in the hot tub while Danny-Boy and I show off on the diving board?”

“I brought a book,” Danica hums, face dripping with water you feel only mildly guilty for submerging her in, “If you wanna read, Y/N, I’ll do it with you.”

“Perfect.” Daniel nods, already cutting through the water on his way to the diving board, “I’ll be careful not to splash you guys.”

“I won’t.” Jake supplies helpfully, his grin turned shit-eating as he eyes you up, “No point in reading one of them smutty porn books if you’re not soaking wet.”

“Splash me and I’ll throw your room key off the side of the boat, Hangman,” You promise, “You’ll be begging strangers to take pity on you in the elevator.”

“Nah, that’s not my style,” Jake’s voice is dripping with intent while Daniel takes position on the diving board, his swim trunks dripping steady trails of water. You don’t know why until he continues, taking his own bait, “I’ll leave that to Daniel.”

You blame Jake’s comment for why Daniel’s dive nearly turns into a belly flop. It’s instantaneous, really, Daniel’s changing of posture as he register’s Jake’s biting words, and you have half a mind to admonish Jake for riling Daniel up during a dive- that could have ended badly. As it stands, Daniel does a sort of cannonball, though not intentionally, and you and Danica cringe in unison when he lands, sending water splashing well over the divider into the hot tub. Your book remains mostly unscathed- only a droplet of water lands on the cover and obscures the male lead’s face, blurring out his beard and making him appear clean-shaven. 

Jake is already scaling the ladder, and when he gets to the top he surveys Daniel emerging from the water.

“Six,” He shrugs, sneering down at Daniel from the highest point on the deck, “‘Could’ve clinched a seven if you hadn’t splashed the ladies, but your form was still shit.”

He doesn’t give Daniel a chance to fire back- or maybe the man is just too smart to take Jake’s bait - before he sets his arms together above his head, and seamlessly, impeccably cuts through the water. For someone so muscular and bulky, his form is graceful- not that you’ll ever tell him that. Water arcs outwards from where he’d landed, one half of the splash practically targeting Daniel where he stands watching.

He swims farther, nearly reaching the other end of the pool before he emerges, shaking water from his hair like a dog as he looks intently at you and Danica in the hot tub for a rating.

“Ten!” Your reading companion shouts, blessedly unaware of the tense atmosphere- or again, too intelligent to fall for Jake’s lowly antics- and you look at the water-stained cover of your novel.

You smear away the water droplet with your dry thumb, and the male main character’s beard returns.

“Four.” You call, voice deadpan as you lock your eyes on your novel, “For playing dirty and sabotaging the other contestants.”

Hangman’s grin is open-mouthed and cemented into place as he stands taller than Daniel in the water, tanned skin standing starkly out from the blue of the chlorinated water, “Dirty’s the best way to play, darlin’.”

Danica shoots you a look from behind the spread of her novel that you’ve sent many-a-girlfriend before. It’s the wide-eyed, restrained smile that screams ‘We’re talking about this later’, and you mirror her expression with your own disdain.

“Leave us alone,” You call, grinning apologetically at Daniel so that he knows he’s only a bystander, “We want to read.”

“Let’s leave the ladies to their smut, Dorian.” Jake calls, louder than he needs to be as he stretches to display his toned abdomen and muscled arms, “We can find our own fun. Wanna see who can swim the fastest? Place your bets, ladies: pilot or mailman?”

“You swam pretty slow when you crash-landed in the Pacific that one time,” You muse, fighting to keep a smirk off of your face, “I remember thinking you would die in the time it took for you to swim back to shore.”

“Wouldn’t’ve gone so slow if I wasn’t hauling my RIO back to shore. He hit his head on the way down,” Jake dips his head towards Danica, happily regaling her with the tale,  and you realize you’ve only fluffed his ego more, “So he was unconscious. Well I couldn’t just leave him there, ‘poor guy was only a trainee. So I took him along. It did slow me down, but,” He heaves a disgusting, gaudy, fake sigh, “It was worth it to send him back home to his mama.”

You taste a hint of blood where you’ve apparently chewed through your lip. You let it go and hope nothing escapes your mouth. It would be a shame to stain the pages of your novel red.

You’re trying very hard not to pay attention to Jake and Danica where he’s engaged her in a staring contest. Well, you suppose it’s not much of a contest that she can win: the point is that you’re losing. Jake’s showing off his impressive build, still running his mouth with every vaguely self-complementary anecdote he can embellish, and Danica is taking the bait, which means that your rampant attempts to cool Jake’s ego have failed. 

You let the warm, borderline-hot water sink into your skin and simmer alongside the building irritation that threatens to blow beneath the surface. You’re tired. This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation for you- or, if not relaxing, a good way to blow off steam. You were supposed to be bent in half up against the shower wall by now, not bending the pages of your book with the strong grip you’ve cemented onto them while you mediate Jake’s ego and the willingness of so many women to accommodate it. 

Part of you wants to let loose and have fun- not with Jake, of course. Never with Jake. But part of you wants to act rationally, forget the constant rivalry between you two and let him shack up with whoever will show him her tits first. But the other part of you, the one that cheers every time he places second in a show of skill, wants to knock him down a peg. It’s why you’re so persistently humbling him- or, trying to, at least. Something about him putting on this cocky persona- erasing all human emotion to make way for pure sleaze puts you on edge, and you pity the fool who believes it.

You can’t tell if Danica’s that fool yet, because she’s turned back to her book with a smile, but to her credit she doesn’t ogle him while he’s swimming. It would be easy to- he’s all tanned muscle and gestures that show off just the right curve or vein. He knows how to preen, but Danica seems to be minding her own business. That makes it easier for you to read your own novel; you don’t feel like you have to keep an eye out for her anymore.

You’re not sure whether it’s a love for the act or a wordless competition to outswim the other that keeps Jake and Daniel occupied with lapping the pool for so long, but as more and more people filter out of their rooms and onto the deck, there’s not much room for recreation anymore.

“Are you done?” You ask Danica, peering over at her after someone unknowingly sends a wave of water straight for you both, narrowly avoiding soaking your novels.

“I think I’m done.” She nods sheepishly, rushing to stand and keep her book dry, “Should we run away before the men notice we’re leaving?”

“Excellent plan,” You laugh, but you can practically feel Jake’s eagle eye upon you as you race for your towel, leaving soaked footprints behind on the wooden deck, “We should go get some pizza. They’re making more now that it’s a little busier out here.”

“You shouldn’t stare like that.” Daniel’s irritatingly smooth voice, pitched up slightly from Jake’s and entirely free of Jake’s rugged charm, makes Jake’s lips yearn to curl into a sneer.

Jake pivots in the cold pool water to face Daniel rather unimpressed, a scoff begging to burst from his lips, “Like what?”

“Like she’s a piece of meat, or something.” Daniel’s arms are crossed, and Jake plants his feet firmly against the concrete floor of the pool.

“Oh, you’re so virtuous,” Jake drawls, his skin burning and not from the rays of sun hitting it directly, “You frenched her in an elevator, Daniel, you’ve got no room to be talking to me about class.”

“She wanted me to kiss her. She kissed me.” Daniel insists, and Jake laughs- actually laughs, a grit of his teeth and a forceful exhalation of air, “That’s different than staring at her ass while she runs away from you like you’d flip her skirt up at a drive-in movie theater.”

“Flipping skirts,” Jake laughs, sadistic grin in full force, “Daniel, I’m not that old fashioned! Please, she’s in a bathing suit that she chose, for a sex cruise that she booked, and you know what? She probably wants you to be staring at her ass in it. And you don’t seem too concerned with the other people on the deck, I’m sure a few of them are looking too. And are you worried I’m looking at Danica’s ass?”

“You’re not looking at Danica’s ass.” Daniel nearly bites his tongue in an effort to keep his voice level, “Because you’re not interested in Danica. You’re interested in Y/N and you can’t have her. She’s not yours.”

“She’s not yours, either.” Jake spits, and there’s a moment of silence where both men’s chests heave with barely-suppressed tension. Jake realizes that he’s admitted to Daniel that he has no real claim over you, but the other man doesn’t fight back against not having one of his own. But you are his, you are Jake’s, in the way you’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, in the look in your eyes when you’d stared into his own earlier, in the stain on his pajama pants.

You’d moaned his name- his name, not Daniel’s.

Someone knocks into Daniel from behind, backing right into him and nudging him slightly off balance.

“Oh!” The woman shrieks, “I’m sorry! I wasn’t paying attention.”

“It’s fine.” He offers her a tight smile, heading for the ladder, “Don’t worry about it.”

Jake hauls himself up out of the pool with nothing but his forearms, using his towel to dry his hair if only to show off the expanse of his chest to any who may be watching. He checks- you’re not.

“So,” Danica leans forwards into your space at the pizza counter, eyes meaningfully wide, “Tell me why he’s acting like this.”

“He always acts like this.” You scoff, and when she levels you with an unimpressed glare, you insist, “No, really! He’s just- everything is a competition to him, everything. I met his mom once, and she told me that he used to have races at the dinner table to see who could finish their food first. He kept making himself sick but as long as he’d beat his brothers he didn’t care. He always has to win, and right now, he’s competing for us.”

“No, he’s competing for you.” Danica corrects you, “Is he winning?”

“Hell no. He’s- he’s not really competing for me, not meaningfully. He just wants to say he ‘got me’, you know? That would be major bragging rights on the tarmac. But that’s exactly why I can’t give in- I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her fellow pilot! Then they wouldn’t see my achievements anymore, just my mistakes.”

“I get that.” She nods, “But how do you know he’s just gonna dump you?”

“I’ve watched him dump the whole of San Diego,” You scoff, “That’s what he does. He doesn’t do love, he’s the kind of guy who’s only ever interested in something quick and dirty.”

“Everyone does love.” Danica frowns, “Some people just start later in life than others. And I think he’s starting now. With you.”

“Love,” You laugh, and sure, it’s dramatic, but if it gets through to her, you don’t care, “A man who loves me would not have tormented me for my entire career.”

She tilts her head thoughtfully, “I think he does. Even if he doesn't act the way you think he should, even if he doesn't act the way you would, I think he does love you. I think he just loves differently. I think he's new to it. What has he done to torment you?”

You huff, grateful for the opportunity to vent, “He constantly tries one-upping me- again, he can’t lose. He just- he pokes and prods and teases me like we’re on the playground or something, and it’s non-stop. It’s not like he’s sweet most of the time and then there’s a few bouts of light teasing, it’s- it’s constant, and I can’t ever let my guard down, or I’ll lose.”

“So you’re fighting to win, too.” Her eyes narrow slightly, “Why?”

“Because. I can't be second-best, and I can’t be known as the woman who slept with her coworker. I’m not doing that.” You repeat.

“Oh," She laughs, "So you're both stubborn. You don't want to lose, either. But second-best is temporary, rankings come and go. And I understand your thing about not wanting to be known for sleeping with him, but even if you did sleep with him, the whole Navy doesn’t have to know.”

“They will, Hangman will brag. He always brags.”

“He won’t- not if he’s in love with you, not if you want him to keep it private.”

“He’s not in love with me-!”

“Four slices of Pepperoni, two cheese?” A large tray is placed between you and Danica at the counter you’re both leaning against, and it snaps the two of you out of your debate.

You turn to see one of the employees looking expectantly at you, and Danica stammers, “Uh, three cheese.”

“Sorry.” He smiles placatingly at her, scooping another slice onto the plate, “Three cheese.”

“Thank you.” You take the pepperoni pizza, leaving Danica to collect the cheese. You feel bad for walking away, even if you know she’s hot on your trail, but you feel frustratingly suffocated, like everyone is urging you to make the biggest mistake of your life and never considering why you simply can’t. She doesn’t know Jake, she hasn’t spent the last decade with him as he’s blown his way through tourist after tourist, bragging all the while. And he doesn’t understand what it would be like- even if he wasn’t looking to win, even if he did just want to try casual sex for fun, you’d never be able to escape that reputation. 

You feel like you’re going crazy, and you plop down between Jake and Daniel where they sit at opposite sides of a table, ready to stuff your face with pizza instead of dealing with any of it.

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