#A particular end to this situation that he hopes to avoid

[kobadit]

This time.

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: after a terrible day at work, you find an unexpected dose of comfort in an absurd late-night conversation with your coworker.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, you make a huge mistake at work (unspecified) for which you get seriously chewed out by hotch, too many beds trope, ridiculously long considering the entire plot revolves around a single conversation, gets kinda wild at the end, spencer hits his head, but it’s nothing serious

𝐚/𝐧: the ending inspired by a situation from my life, but don’t worry, my head is fine now (in the general sense of the word) (no one kissed my forehead...) i recommend reading it in bed before sleep <33

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 5.7 k

"Hotch, but I thought—"

"It doesn't matter what you thought," your boss replied in his typical, emotionless tone, which in this particular situation sent a distinct chill down your spine. Every word he uttered felt like a frozen dagger, driven straight between your ribs and left there, while the coldness spread across your skin in the form of goosebumps. "What you did was not only reckless but also undermined all of today’s hard work by the entire team. They put tremendous effort into locating the unsub and cornering him at that specific location, and because of your decision, he managed to escape. Every additional day this man remains free could cost someone their life—an innocent person."

You stood before him in an empty parking lot across from the hotel where your entire team was staying. It wasn’t exactly the typical setting for delivering a reprimand, but since you were far from the office, there wasn’t a better option at hand. And while you were teetering on the edge of tears—tears you were desperately holding back to avoid appearing like a weak little girl in his eyes—you were grateful for one thing. Grateful that he had chosen to chastise you in private. One-on-one. Away from everyone else.

A moment of silence fell between you, and you tried not to lower your head like a chastised child—but that’s exactly how you felt. Not just ashamed, but overwhelmingly guilty. As someone who had only recently joined the BAU, you’d never made such an egregious mistake before. A mistake that could cost someone their life. Deep down, you had clung to the naive hope that this moment would never come. That if you followed the instructions of those more experienced than you with feigned confidence, something like this could be avoided.

But reality had placed you in a completely different position—one where, for a brief moment, the weight of everything rested squarely on your shoulders. You failed, and the unsub escaped.

The wind around you blew with a certain bitterness, tugging at your hair. It drowned out the sound of your heavy breathing, your racing heartbeat, and the loud gulp as you swallowed. Hotch, saying nothing, studied you with a measured gaze. You couldn’t help but wonder if he regretted allowing you into this job.

“I wanted you to be aware of that,” he said, his tone less harsh now but tinged with a certain disappointment that only deepened the guilt gnawing at you. He nodded, signaling you were free to go. “That’s all I had to say.”

He walked away, and watching his figure dissolve into the darkness in such a dramatic manner, you couldn’t help but let out a laugh. The laugh immediately turned into the beginning of a sob, which you quickly stifled, waving your hand in front of your face. You stood there for a moment, your feet seemingly rooted to the parking lot, as though the concrete were still fresh, hardening around your shoes.

In your experience, failure almost always came hand in hand with a sense of vulnerability, transporting you into a completely different, weaker body, one without any shields. All the achievements of the past few years, including making it into the BAU at such a young age, seemed to melt away, and once again, you were nothing.

You knew you couldn’t stand there all night, but in a way, it felt safer. In the motel, you might run into someone from the team. You might accidentally meet their gaze, and you’d see the disappointment in their eyes. After all those weeks of trying to prove your worth to them, of showing that you even belonged in this job, the last thing you wanted was to face that look.

To muster some courage, you took a deep, slow breath. You needed to slip into your room unnoticed, lie down in bed, hoping that the night would at least slightly cleanse you of your guilt. Hotch was absolutely right. Not only had you wasted an entire day of hard work, but you’d also put civilians from that area in danger. What if tomorrow another person became a victim?

The thought tormented you so much that by the time you reached your door, you were massaging your temples. You inserted the key you had picked up from the front desk into the lock, turned it, and was about to pull the handle… but it was locked. Frustrated, you figured the universe had simply decided to unite all of its forces against you as some kind of punishment. Before you could resort to a tired kick at the door and curl up in a ball in the hallway, you tried again. This time, the door opened without issue.

So absorbed in yourself, your situation, and your grievances, you didn’t even notice that inside, not only was the light on, but there were someone’s belongings—and, most importantly, someone else. It wasn’t until you took off your coat and stepped further into the room (if you could even call it that, it was an exceptionally small space) and came face to face with Spencer Reid that you realized you weren’t alone.

You stopped mid-step, stunned as if the least expected thing at that moment had just appeared before you—a turtle on stilts wearing a cowboy hat, or some other kind of religious prophet.

Quick note—this wasn't the first time you and Reid had shared a room during cases. Specifically, the bed. It all started when you found out he struggled with a fear of the dark, and someone’s presence really helped him feel better. In fact, at first, he insisted on sleeping on the floor, but you couldn't just watch him suffer on that uncomfortable surface every night. And, you had to admit, sometimes after an especially harrowing day in your, let’s be honest, stressful job, it felt nice to fall asleep next to someone.

As usual, it was him who came to you. Late at night, to your room, when he felt like sleeping would be particularly difficult. He was never there from the start…

"It turns out all the rooms here are double," he blurted out hastily upon seeing you, his tone overly explanatory.

When you walked in, he was in the middle of pulling something out of his suitcase. He straightened up, and you noticed he was wearing a loose T-shirt, his hair damp from a shower, and in his hand, he held that familiar white sweater you often teased him about, the one with an embroidered bear wearing glasses.

"I mean, the rest of the team got roomed together too, so we’re not some weird exception. I hope this doesn’t bother you. If it does, well, maybe we can switch somehow… I know Elle and JJ are together, and I think they only have two beds in their room, but maybe... or I could go with Derek…”

"Oh, come on," you waved dismissively, your tone sounding a bit irritated, like you were shooing away an annoying fly. The truth was, you were exhausted from the day and didn’t want to worry about the accommodation on top of everything else.

Reid stopped mid-sentence, his lips slightly parted. You felt guilty again as you had no reason to speak to him like that. He hadn’t done anything to deserve your frustration.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, your tense posture easing a little as you realized you were no longer outside, under the sharp, yet truthful words of your boss. "Really... I'm sorry, Reid. It doesn't bother me at all. Not one bit," you reassured him, sincerely.

He studied you in silence for a moment, his face showing a concerned, analytical expression.

"Actually, we’ve shared a room before," you added almost immediately, forcing a little chuckle. "And not just once. Well, at least now we have two beds…"

"Did you... did you talk to Hotch?"

The question was asked with hesitation, on a breath. Well, it finally meant confronting everything that had happened that day. You looked him straight in the eyes, searching for judgment or any hint of dislike toward you. But there was none. Instead, you found concern and discomfort at the fact that he had even brought up the subject.

"It’s... it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it," he quickly corrected himself, giving a slight nod. "You... you have every right, I don’t expect you to explain anything to me, your conversation with the boss is your private matter... oh God, I feel like with every word I say, my statement is losing more and more sense, and I’m getting more and more tangled in it, isn’t that right?"

He stared at you with furrowed brows, waiting for your reaction. It turned out to be... a burst of laughter. You honestly couldn’t help yourself.

“I hate to admit it, but yeah, you’re right. You completely lost your train of thought. Maybe we should just pretend I’ve only just walked through that door, huh?”

“That’s... that’s actually a very good suggestion. So... so, uh, hi?”

Your lips curved into a smile, this time genuine.

“Hi, Reid.”

He managed to improve your mood in less than five minutes after you’d received a serious reprimand. You were immensely glad to have ended up with him in the room lottery. Shaking your head in disbelief, you began getting ready for bed without a word. He didn’t say anything either, sensing you needed a bit of space after everything that had happened. Speaking of space...

“This room is alarmingly small, don’t you think?” you said, returning from the shower and slowly sliding under your blanket. Fifteen minutes under scalding hot water had helped your body relax, and you no longer felt like you might throw up on your own feet at any moment. “It’s like some sort of exclusive cupboard under the stairs. Still a cupboard, though. Look, I can practically touch you.”

You stretched out your arm to demonstrate. Sure enough, even though you were sitting on neighboring beds, your fingertips almost brushed the fabric of his shirt. Between you was a massive nightstand made of dark wood, the same as the windowsill and the floor. On it sat a slightly old-fashioned bedside lamp with a glass base and a slightly yellowed lampshade. Other than that, there wasn’t much furniture. Not that there would’ve been room for any.

“Do you hear that?” Reid asked enigmatically, sitting up straighter on his bed.

You looked at him, intrigued.

“Listen closely…is that…paper rustling? Morgan drafting his resignation?”

You chuckled. Your coworker had a particular sensitivity to the motels you stayed in and their condition. He firmly believed that since you risked your lives almost daily during dangerous cases and investigations, you deserved accommodations that were at least decent. And that wasn’t always what you got.

“Don’t worry, as long as the shower has hot water, we don’t have to fear him leaving,” you said. “Though now that I think about it, I can’t blame Harry.”

“Harry?”

“Potter. If I lived in such a claustrophobic little room, I’d convince myself I was a wizard too. Can I turn off the lamp?"

You politely asked, as usual, leaving plenty of room for potential conversation. Aware of his fear, you always ensured he felt comfortable with the encroaching darkness. Reid looked at you with a hint of hesitation.

"Maybe... maybe it could stay on for a bit longer? If that's..."

"That’s okay," you finished for him, knowing what he intended to say.

A fleeting, grateful expression crossed his face. Seeing it, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. You were glad he no longer felt as ashamed of his unease with the dark. Besides, you preferred the light to stay on too. You were afraid of what the darkness might conceal—the worries and anxieties it could bring… already was bringing.

Mainly, it was the looping words of your boss, the thought of how you'd messed up, and the rest of the team. Well, there was one thing that eased your mind in that regard: knowing that Reid was lying in the bed next to yours and recalling the look on his face when he saw you. He wasn’t angry that you’d let the unsub get away. Maybe the others weren’t as furious with you as you’d imagined.

Or maybe it was the opposite?

Maybe he, as the second-youngest member of the team after you, was the only one showing you any understanding. And the others, perhaps, harbored nothing but disdain, their resentment growing stronger at the mere thought of you…

"You're shivering."

Reid's observation reached your ears as you lay on your side, facing away from him. His voice was gentle, blending seamlessly with the quiet that had previously enveloped the room, not cutting through the sound of your sleepy breaths but accompanying it. Not knowing how to respond, you gave a small shrug. He probably saw it—you could feel his gaze on you. It wasn't intrusive, just a worried glance from the corner of his eye.

"I could turn up the temperature if you're cold. Do you want me to?"

Your trembling had nothing to do with the cold, but admitting that felt like too much. You pulled the blanket tighter around you, trying to steady your restless body.

"Yeah, if you don’t mind," you murmured in response.

It was easier to blame it on the chill. Still, hearing him get up and move toward the thermostat, you felt a pang of guilt for pulling him out of bed. He should already be asleep. There was so much work waiting for you both tomorrow. Another day of the investigation—a case that could have been solved already if not for you…

"I'm afraid…it doesn’t seem to work," Reid said thoughtfully. He fiddled with it for a moment longer before letting out a sigh and returning to his bed, though he didn’t lie down right away. He paused in the narrow space between your beds, and you felt his gaze again, wondering what it meant this time.

"Maybe… I don’t know, would you want my sweater? You know which one. It's…too warm for me, but since you're freezing…”

Reid’s voice was soft, tinged with an almost shy kindness that made your chest tighten. You didn’t need to turn around to picture the small, uncertain smile that likely accompanied his offer. Of course, you knew exactly which one he meant. He had received it as a Christmas gift from Penelope, and it was quite light and breathable. But what truly made it a staple in his pajamas was the adorable bear wearing glasses that appeared on the front. Sometimes, when you slept in the same bed, you could feel the softness of its fabric.

You had just turned toward him, a hint of hesitation in your eyes. You weren’t actually cold—you had been lying about that all along—but still... the offer lingered in your mind. His kindness, followed by the concern. You felt that taking his specific sweater, which was not only comfortable but also... well, his, could effectively calm your trembling limbs and ease your anxiety.

"Would you like to give it to me?" you asked, making sure. "You don't have to."

He shrugged slightly and immediately bent down to grab the suitcase tucked under the bed. The sweater in question was right on top, so he could reach for it at any moment when he felt the need for an extra layer.

"I know I don't have to," he replied, pausing for a moment with the sweater in hand. "But, you know, I want to. It's just a sweater."

"Won't Penelope be mad if you're giving it away like that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She’d be furious…" he started, his gaze fixed stubbornly on the edge of your bed, his forehead lightly furrowed. After a serious moment of hesitation, he sat on the bed, as gently as if he feared it would burn him. He stretched the sweater out towards you. "…if I gave it to anyone else. But in this case, she'd probably scold me if I didn’t give it to you."

You took it from him. Though it wasn’t one of those thick, bulky sweaters, it felt surprisingly heavy in your hands.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," you replied after a moment of hesitation, letting out a sigh. "After today."

Reid looked at your face in silence. Suddenly, you started regretting not turning off the lamp after all. His gaze seemed piercing, too piercing. It surely noted every shadow of doubt and shame cast by the subtle changes in your expression.

“That’s what’s worrying you, isn’t it?”

For a moment, you both stared at each other in silence. You sighed, shifting slightly to the side, making room beside you.

“Come on. It’s easier for me to talk when I don’t have someone directly in front of me.”

Surprised, he stared at the small space next to you, shaking his head slightly.

“But… this bed is kind of ridiculously small, don’t you think?”

“I’m not that wide, Reid. If that’s what you’re suggesting…”

“That’s absolutely not what I meant, and I definitely wasn’t suggesting anything,” he quickly explained. “Well, maybe apart from the fact that every tiny movement will risk us both falling off…” He looked at you with an unchanged expression, patiently pointing to the spot next to you and sighed in defeat. “Okay, I feel like I’m not winning this one…”

Well, he had a point. After a while of shifting around, trying to find a position where you wouldn’t keep elbowing each other in the ribs, and after countless accidental jabs and whispered apologies, it ended with him half-lying, half-sitting, leaning against the headboard of the narrow bed, while you lay flat on your back, your head resting on the pillow. His figure cast a gentle shadow over you, making the room feel darker than it really was. It had a calming effect. Or maybe it was just the presence of someone so close by. Or perhaps it was the touch of the soft sweater, the fabric resting between your fingers, in the way one holds a rosary. Maybe it was a little bit of all those things.

"I screwed up today," you said. Though your voice was soft, there was no trace of gentleness in your tone. From the way you were lying, you could see his face, and you noticed his lips part slightly, as if to deny it. "And don't try to convince me otherwise, Reid. I knew that even before Hotch said it to my face."

You heard him sigh softly.

"I guess it wasn't a pleasant conversation."

"Oh, Reid, it was like a horror movie. But I don't blame him for anything he said. I deserved to hear it all from someone else's mouth, not just from my own head." Restlessly, you began to fiddle with the sweater like a stress toy. He watched the movement of your hands, alternating between that and the slight trembling of your chin. "At least the talk with him is over. Now I'm scared... scared of what’s with the rest of the team."

You voiced your biggest worry out loud, and there was a silence as he pondered it.

“I think… I think we’ve talked about this before,” he replied finally, clearing his throat. “About how you’re afraid of what others will think of you. And I don’t want to repeat myself, but... you need to look at it a bit differently. We all started somewhere, we were all rookies. If we got mad at each other every time someone messed up, well, there wouldn’t be a team. Of course, we keep in mind all the mistakes we've made in the past..."

“You're good at comforting...” you muttered bitterly.

"...But we don’t dwell on them unnecessarily," he finished. "We're only human, you know. It’s estimated that each person makes about five to seven mistakes a day. If we assume you live to be about eighty... though of course, I wish you much more than that, that would be between 150,000 and 200,000."

You snorted, listening to those statistics.

“I feel like I’ve already used up half of my lifetime quota today,” you confessed, while also reflecting on the first part of his statement. About the team, who, according to him, wasn’t going to hold a grudge against you…

Reid paused for a moment, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“It’s not the end of the world,” he said after a while. “Just make sure you’re really careful when you’re old. You won’t forget when your grandkids have birthdays.”

“Damn, I think that’s the problem. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. I’ll probably mix up their names. Or call them all by the same one. The prettiest one, of course. The least common one.”

“Just make sure you get a good calendar,” he suggested. “One that’ll remember everything for you. Dates, names.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist.”

“And the number for the rheumatologist,” he agreed.

You spent a long moment without bringing up any new topics, but laughing quietly about the course of the conversation. If you looked at it that way, this was probably the only time in your life you talked to someone about being an old lady with a questionable memory and joint problems with amusement rather than sheer terror. Although the bed was seriously small, you felt more comfortable than ever before. You were sinking deeper into the mattress, into his side, into relaxation. You wondered if and when, or even if, he planned to go back to his own bed. There was really no reason for him to stay...but was there any reason for him to leave?

“And you?” you spoke again after a long moment. You felt like the only way to keep him around was by saying something. Not that you were desperate to have him stay… “Have you ever messed up on a case? Like, seriously messed up?”

"I could lie and say I haven't," he noticed.

He shifted slightly, likely due to exhaustion, as his back had been slowly sliding down the headboard for a while, until it finally sank into the mattress. His head rested on the pillow right next to yours, closer than ever before. Well, you could only blame the narrow bed for that. Because of the tight space, you had to lie on your side, which meant your breath brushed against his cheek.

"You could. But then I'd ask Elle for the truth, and you'd only end up compromising yourself."

"That's true. That's why I'm telling you. Just promise you won't laugh."

"This sounds serious. Come on, what did you do?" you asked, genuinely curious, a smile tugging at your lips. "Oh, or let me guess."

He lay on his back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. However, when you suggested it, he slowly and hesitantly turned onto his side as well, so that you were face to face. He probably wanted to see your reaction, the laughter you'd burst into once he told you, whatever it was.

"You have three guesses," he announced. He tried to gesture to you encouragingly with his head, but then, for a split second, his chin brushed against yours. Slightly flustered, he quickly froze again.

For a moment, something changed in your breath. You bit your lip, thinking. His gaze briefly dropped to it.

"Okay, so that’s the first one," you said, taking in more air than you probably needed. You didn’t really understand what was happening, but it seemed like you were running out of oxygen faster than you should have been. "Did you confuse your weapon with a taser?"

"Really, that was the first thing that came to your mind when you thought about a mistake I might have made?" he scoffed. His breath warmed your face in a pleasant way.

"Oh, sorry, but it’s really hard for me to come up with anything when it comes to a genius with eidetic memory," you replied, rolling your eyes. "I don’t know, did you lose some evidence? Something really important?" you suggested, trying to read confirmation from his brown, unusually gentle eyes at that moment. He gently shook his head.

"Now, I honestly don’t know. Okay, this might sound like some soap opera plot, but here goes. Were you supposed to keep an eye on a potential victim and ended up having a passionate affair with them?"

You lowered your voice to a flirtatious whisper as you said the last words.

For a moment, he held your gaze. He met it like an opponent, sending an exciting shiver down your spine. And it wasn’t because of the cold. But then, he submissively lowered his eyes. You let out such a strong burst of laughter that you started to worry if you had accidentally spat on him.

"Spencer Reid, you’re joking with me, right?"

He turned back onto his back again, avoiding looking at your wide-open mouth and amused eyes. You propped yourself up on your elbow, gently nudging his shoulder.

"What kind of... seductress beast are you? Because I don't know how else to call it," you muttered, still shaking your head from side to side. "Wow, I didn’t know this side of you."

"There’s no side like that," he replied defensively, closing his eyes with some embarrassment. "It was... she was an actress who had a stalker..."

"An actress?"

"...and it just happened that way! But it was definitely a mistake. And it wasn’t any... passionate affair, as you called it. I put her in unnecessary danger when we kissed in the pool..."

"In the pool?"

"Oh, why do I even keep talking?" he groaned, pressing one hand to his tightly closed eyes. He suddenly snorted. "Sure, laugh even louder. Gideon and Derek in the next room won't mind if you wake them up."

"Oh, don't change the subject now. You seduced an actress. Was she famous?"

"I didn’t seduce her..."

"So, she seduced you?"

Reid sighed, resigned.

"Well, I’d put it that way," he admitted finally, quietly, with a certain childish indignation, as if he had simply decided to surrender to the onslaught of your questions. He didn’t reveal much, but after a moment, you learned a few important details about the case, and with some... relief, you realized you didn’t recognize the actress’s name. But why relief?

Suddenly, however, the hysterical amusement faded, leaving you with a genuine dilemma. Reid was still lying on his back, avoiding your mocking gaze and comments. Before you could stop yourself, you lightly touched his arm to get his attention. He nodded questioningly.

"I know this might be a very strange and, above all, an extremely personal question, but what does it take to seduce you?" you asked.

Reid froze, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline.

"What? What do you mean?"

"I just realized that I’ve probably never seen you actively filter anyone. Consciously, that is. Because sometimes it happens, and you don’t even notice it," he opened his mouth to protest, but you quickly covered it with your hand. Confused, he looked down at it. "Don’t even try to deny it, everyone would confirm it. But I’m trying to imagine the kind of person you would lose your head for, and I’ve got a few conflicting ideas. So, I’ll repeat the question. What does it take to seduce you? Asking for a friend, of course."

Reid flinched as if alarmed.

"What friend?"

"My God, it’s just a figure of speech."

He sighed, and the way he shook his head showed a certain disbelief.

"You’re surprisingly hyperactive, considering the time. Maybe we should go to bed?"

"No, I asked you a question," you protested. "Does she have to be pretty? Smart? Probably both, right?"

He looked at you with the same expression—simultaneously embarrassed, disbelieving, shocked, amused, offended, and above all, thoroughly confused.

"I feel like this question is going to keep you up tonight. So, for the sake of your own sleep, I’ll answer briefly. And I don’t care if my answer satisfies you or not." Reid paused, and you waved your hand, urging him to continue. He sighed. "She just... has to seem... interesting."

"Was there any more evasive answer?" you snorted, disappointed.

"Did you expect an entire essay?"

 "Well, honestly, yes. Last time you talked to me for over thirty minutes about bioluminescence and what causes it. You were able to go on and on about that, but not this time?"

You knew by now you were just teasing him, playing with his nerves as if it were an instrument you'd been mastering since early childhood, attending lessons three times a week and slowly climbing the ranks of your musical career. 

Your conversations often felt like a game of ping-pong, with each of you exchanging comments, remarks, observations, and verbal jabs at a pace that was downright wild. Time completely vanished for you then, feeling as though you could carry on such a dialogue forever.

 "Goodnight," he finally said, without much firmness in his voice. Well, that was probably more out of practicality than a strong desire to end the chat. It was indeed late. "I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. Or you into me."

 "So, you're already tired of talking to me?" you asked, feigning hurt. You even tilted your head dramatically.

For a moment, he hesitated to reply, his brown eyes nervously scanning your face, a barely noticeable smile tugging at his lips.

 "Quite the opposite," he finally responded. You raised your eyebrows, not allowing yourself to feel satisfied with his words in case they turned out to be pure sarcasm. "So…goodnight."

As a result of some sort of scuffle, you found yourselves in a rather chaotic position. Well, you were definitely taking up most of the bed, comfortably sprawled in the center. He lay more on the edge, somewhere between lying on his back and on his side. Looking at him and his slightly flushed cheeks, which were quite an endearing sight, you suddenly realized the meaning of his earlier words. I hope I don't bump into you too many times during the night. So he did intend to sleep with you on this narrow bed, when there was a perfectly empty one, entirely at his disposal, just beside you? An unexpected choice, but… you weren’t complaining. In fact, you were kind of okay with it. With a slightly enigmatic expression, you leaned closer to him, intending to say something softly.

 Reid perked up, as although he had officially ended the conversation, he was still curious about what you were about to say.

 "Goodnight," you said slowly, inhaling the scent of his freshly washed hair. You should have moved away, giving him space to settle more comfortably, but you wouldn't be yourself if you didn't add, “Seductive beast."

“God, nothing in life will ever make me regret more than telling you about this,” he sighed, genuinely concerned about that prospect.

You let out a snort and were about to mumble something else when he, with resignation, turned fully onto his back. Well... at least he tried. He was so close to the edge of the mattress that it simply ended beneath him.

You shot up into a sitting position, startled by the sudden noise and the chaos that filled the room.

“Spencer,” you managed to gasp, jumping off the bed to check on him.

It wasn't an easy task; everything was submerged in darkness. If falling off the bed itself didn't sound like one of the most humiliating accidents a person could have, adding to it the fact that he had hit his head on the wide dresser next to the bed made it worse. And, as a result, the nightlight had been knocked over and shattered...

Fumbling, you reached for the light switch, and when the room was lit again, you moved to him. Kneeling beside Reid, who was slowly propping himself up, you gently held his shoulders.

"Careful, Jesus, you hit your head so hard..."

He squinted and furrowed most of his face, letting out a sharp breath.

 "Does it hurt a lot?" you asked, carefully inspecting his head and looking for any serious injuries, maybe some blood... but you saw nothing

Spencer looked at you with a sort of seriousness, as if the pain had suddenly faded.

"What else is it supposed to do, tickle?"

For a moment, the room fell quieter, but it was impossible to ignore the mutual sense of relief that things hadn’t turned out worse. His words threw you off a bit; at first, you didn’t fully grasp their meaning. Instead, you focused entirely on analyzing his face, his body language, his behavior. You were afraid he might have a concussion.

"I have absolutely no medical training, but..." you paused, casting another worried glance his way. Reid was slowly starting to shake off the shock and disorientation. "But judging by how quickly your sarcasm came back, I’d say you’re going to be fine."

He let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a groan.

"Doctor of the year, right here…"

Just then, a loud knock echoed on the door. The door to your room

 “Is someone murdering you guys in there or what?” Morgan’s concerned voice called out.

You exchanged glances—both equally confused and, in a way, slightly terrified. Clearing your throat, you spoke up.

“Well, since I’m the reason this whole situation happened, I guess it’s on me to explain to him how it even got to this point,” you sighed. When he didn’t react, you raised your eyebrows. “No objections? No heroic offers to take this off my hands?”

“Not a chance,” he replied curtly, shaking his head before wincing briefly as another wave of pain clearly shot through it.

You told him, worried, to stay down for a little while longer for his own good.

 “And as my mom used to say,” you added, slowly starting to stand, glancing briefly toward the door. Morgan knocked again—or rather, pounded on it hard enough to nearly take it off its hinges.

Taking your time, you rested both hands on Reid’s shoulders in an almost protective gesture. Completely ignoring the surprised look on his face, you brushed your lips against his forehead.

 “A kiss will make it better.”

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @kakamixo @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @aristeia29 @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby [part 2]

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution: NOT PROOFREAD oh and angst hehe]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

[tags: @luujjvi @c-lunette @mokisano @ghostdoodlen @wildfire153 @anonymousewrites @bewitchedbymadness @thisbitchreallyneedssleep @22carolina08 @original-person]

[remember if you want to keep in touch with a particular series I write, let me know in comments or messages you want to be tagged! you will only be tagged once unless specified that you want to be tagged till the end of a particular series!]

(also once again, apologies if alastor’s last name isn’t actually altruist qwq it’ll stick till the end of this fic but I’ll try not to mention it as much)

For the first time in years, you feared being in heaven.

Not that you felt unsafe, just that you felt incredibly uncomfortable seeing your serial killer dad who's now a demon be invited to be in the place where light and goodness is it's main foundation.. even reassuring yourself that it was temporary didn't calm you down when you were flying away from him. For your own sake you even avoided where the welcoming was happening.

Ahh but.. it also didn't help that he was following you around after the show without you knowing.

After the angels had performed their song to welcome in the princess of hell, her apparent partner, and-- him.. everyone sort of went their separate ways and the visitors from below started to relax in their new yet temporary places of stay. You felt a bit of relief when you assumed Alastor would also be setting himself in to relax as well.

During heaven's performance you decided to take a breather at a local coffee shop, one where you thankfully always had a spot there where you could hide away from the huge windows of the cafe.

Although right after that, unbeknownst to you at the time, Alastor was looking for you, but obviously pretended as if he was looking for a good bite to eat.. unfortunately for him he had to behave and he couldn't eat a living walking thing until after they came back home.

Oh how bummed out he was.

You were in a far corner inside the shop, as mentioned before anyone that was able to look in through the windows wouldn't be able to see you since you were out of view. Drinking your favorite beverage that the shop offered and eating a filling snack to relax your body and mind. Safe to say you were now more in touch with your feelings and weren't overly panicked as you once were.

'Why is he here.. is he an advisor to the princess? a companion?.. some kind of servant?.. she's really young though, perhaps she's ward to him or something.. but she has her.. dad.. and I'm sure he must be alive still.. ' You thought, different theories and ideas passing by in and out your head trying to make sense of the situation.

'perhaps.. he's here to see me?..' you hoped, then scolded yourself right after,

'nono.. I can't be wanting that.. sure he raised you but he's a monster. he killed you, _____. get a grip..' you sighed deeply while massaging your temples in frustration 'even if he seemed to not.. have meant to do that. he tried to kill someone else anyway, that poor man could've died instead of you.' you tried to reason with yourself, coming to a single conclusion in the end.

Eyes glued to your drink. staring at it with intensity.

"I regret nothing." you claimed to yourself in a low mumble, not enough for anyone close to hear.

Ahh.. but you did miss him very much.. the version of him that you grew up with at least.

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You were in your warm and humble home with your father. It was a fairly cold night with rain dropping onto the roof of your home yet the warmth of the house seemed to make the cold seem almost cozy to you.

Your small footsteps could be heard running around the house, as your little seven year old self ran around you seemed to be giggling uncontrollably with a peculiar circular item in your hand.

"No running in the house _____, remember what I told you." Alastor exclaimed in slight irritation as he could hear you from afar while he was cleaning up the table from the dinner you two just had, he started slightly missing the times when you didn't know how to walk and when you simply just blabbered baby nonsense.. he definitely doesn't miss the sleepless nights of baby crying though.

You huffed and puffed as you then plopped the item on the sofa, it was a disk, a record. You then climbed yourself up and once your little body landed on the cushions you then picked yourself up once more to then grab the disk and turn to the small table right beside the sofa where a large phonograph rested on.

"Papa!" you exclaimed, "Papa! Music music!.." you pleaded, your little voice begging to once again turn on the music playing machine.

Alastor faintly chuckled at your little demands, amusing how such a small thing dares to command but nonetheless he found it silly at how you tried. "Yes yes my dear, I'll be right there." He then set the last few dirty dishes away to be cleaned soon since he couldn't say no to listening to some tunes before bed.

You smiled brightly as your little feet playfully tapped on the cushions, almost jumping. Noticing your developing excitement Alastor hurried over to you.

"Ah-ah-ahh, no jumping on the sofa my dear. I'm excited as well but I can't have you break your little head open, that'd be no fun at all!" Well.. that and he didn't wanna ruin his cushions, but nonetheless he cared for your wellbeing the most even if he wasn't fond of admitting it.

His hands gently took the disk from your hands, carefully setting the disk on the phonograph to have it play your favorite tunes. Once you two heard the amazing first few notes of jazz was when Alastor settled down beside you on the sofa and you started clapping in delight.

Alastor looked at you almost fondly, letting out a small huff of delight at your reactions. Your innocence seemed to be something that contained him from wanting to continue his murder spree, although his bloodlust always wins in the end, he seems to always willingly pause his life for you.

Plus, he loves jazz just as much as you do.. why would he miss out on this?

Your fit of giggles dwindled down but didn't stop, in a sudden burst of energy you jumped off the sofa and then started dancing similarly yet obviously a bit more goofy to how you've seen couples and single dancers dance in the nights of Mardi Gras or just parties your father took you when he would be invited. Your little dance moves seemed to be fiddled with confidence yet they were so off from what you were trying to attempt, nonetheless you were happy, and that's what Alastor secretly liked to see.

"Dance with me papa dance with me!" you pleaded again, your smaller hands grabbing his larger one and tugging at it, trying to get him to stand up.

"_____ darling no tugging, besides I just sat down my dear and I'm exhausted." He sighed, his constant smile always present yet he was visibly a bit tired from the day he had.

But oh how you persisted, and how darn adorable you were as a kid. "But papaaa!.. pretty please! I wanna dance how you and that singing lady did the last time we went on those big loud places!"

"Parties, dear." he corrected you, but let out a long sigh and got up. Because no matter how tired he was or how annoyed he seemed to be he didn't mind keeping you happy.

So that's what he did, he danced with you. Swinging you, twirling you around to the melody and the beat, your cheers of glee and uncontrollable laughter motived him to keep up with your excitement. Not only that but your smile, genuine and pure, it was what he needed to get himself to match your energy. Jazz music was what always connected you two and it always brought you together no matter what.

At the end of the song Alastor ended it by gently throwing you up in the air and catching you, letting you get your last giggles out. You both laughed together, your bond ever growing stronger. You truly did tame this bloodthirsty killer without even trying or knowing, of course you were too young to know.

Once the giggle frenzy ended you both finished your dancing with a long sigh, the phonograph ending it's segment. You then suddenly yawned and rested your head in the crook of his neck over his shoulder, snuggling for warmth and for a sudden need to sleep.

"Seems like my little fawn needs sleep now, almost past your bedtime young lady." Normally he'd scold you a bit more strictly as he usually did, but seeing as how you were basically ready to fall into a pile of dreams he just felt no need to do that.

"Sorries papa.. I forgot.." your little words muffled by your face hidden in his neck.

Alastor was never one for being touched, let alone hugged or snuggled. Oh but he had no right to complain, he's had you this close since you were a baby.. to him this just felt normal now.

Of course no one but you could be this close to him, you're his little girl after all.

"No need to worry, my dear." He stopped in front of your bedroom, carefully opening the door with a creak following after. With careful footsteps he walked towards your bed, pulling the blanket away to then gently place you on your cozy sheets with care.

Alastor gently moved any misplaced hairs away from your face as he then pulled your soft and warm blanket up to your neck. Your sleeping face reassuring him.

"Sweet dreams sweetheart." His usual smile softening a bit more before backing away and slowly heading towards the door of your room, lingering for a few extra seconds to take one last look at you before slowly closing the door and heading off to bed himself.

After the click of the door closing can be heard, you mumbled "Goodnight papa.." with a smile, even if in the end Alastor didn't get to hear it.

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

You missed him, dearly.

A weight fell on your chest, your eyes begging to form tears. You missed when you had that childhood innocence, when you didn't know what he was capable of, when he was nothing but a saint to you.

It still hurt after all these years, you thought he was a good man.. a bit strict, blunt, a bit too true to himself and definitely peculiar but.. the Alastor that raised you would never do that. Until you were obviously proven otherwise.

Oh but I guess you were too into your reminiscing that you didn't notice the background gasps and small shrieks of surprise and fear, and you didn't yet feel the eventual stares and eerie presence right in front of you.

"What don't you regret, my dear?"

You choked on your drink in surprise almost spitting it out,

that fucking radio voice again.

For heaven's sake how did he find you?? He couldn't have seen you through the windows. Did he follow you??.. did you just not notice.. Oh geez maybe getting used to having your guard down during all your years in heaven definitely didn't help with this situation.

You continued coughing on your drink, even punching your chest a bit to get that last good cough out. The radio demon pulled the chair in front of you to sit across from you, not waiting to ask permission.

To him he didn't need to, he's your father after all.

Once you calmed down you immediately avoided eye contact, only giving him a once second glance to confirm it was him in hopes your ears were playing a trick on you-- they weren't.

"How.. how'd you find me.." you mumbled in slight fear.

"Oh how would I not! Sweetheart I'm your father of course, as your father I must have those parental instincts.. I always know where you are!" he exclaimed, seemingly proud of this.

"I'm guessing those 'parental instincts' didn't kick in when you stabbed me, huh." you spat with attitude, unafraid to be rude to him with so much sin he's committed.

A sharp static sound came from him, as if in slight shock at the disrespect and comeback you gave. "Watch the attitude young lady, you're still an Altruist you know."

You scoffed, hating at how indifferent you felt about your last name.

"Not by blood though.."

"I raised you, don't forget that." he spat back, starting to get irritated.

"And because of that I owe you?"

"Yes, yes indeed! Smart girl you are."

You scoffed at his response, finally getting the guts to look at him in the face. His appearance frightened you, disgusted you even.

Is this truly the man that raised you?

"As a matter of fact, I actually don't." you crossed your arms in annoyance and a huff. Your eyes couldn't help but to slowly drift to off to the people behind him and you see fellow angels you know continue to stare in awe or fear, of course at Alastor. With all eyes on you and mostly him it made you feel a little embarrassed. You cowered down a bit and your wings went over your head and shoulders a bit as if to hide you behind a 'curtain' of sorts.

Alastor obviously noticed this, but could care less about the stares.

You sighed, "Look, Alasto--"

"I think you mean to call me 'father'." he interrupted as he obviously seemed a bit sassy about it. "Even 'dad' is just simply fine and dandy with me!"

"No, I can't," you frowned, wishing you could "I won't. Not after what you did to me, to that man that night, and to every other poor soul you hurt."

Your face slowly scrunched up in disgust "You don't deserve my forgiveness, my mercy."

In embarrassment and feeling tears want to shed you grabbed your drink and got up to walk out, before you could get past Alastor though he grabbed your wrist harshly.

"Uh-- hey.. let go--"

"I didn't mean to do what I did, my dove." His voice turned into a weird version of gentle, almost uncharacteristically gentle. "I never intended to take your life away."

He sounded genuine.

Could he?.. Would he?..

Maybe, just maybe--

"No." you spat, "Maybe you didn't mean to hurt me, but you definitely meant to hurt others. That's something I can't forgive and I'm sure your victims wouldn't neither." you glared at him, setting your foot down. "I refuse to call you my father, not until I know that you repent for your sins but knowing you I highly doubt that." You snatched your wrist away and for a slight second you stopped caring about what others thought when they'd see this "Besides, you killed me two weeks after I turned eighteen.. don't even include the years that passed since the 30s and present time so clearly you can't control me anymore old man."

But Alastor wouldn't go down that fast nor easily.

His sharp smile widened, you felt immense dread.

"Oh little one, no matter how far you are or how much you try to disown me you are forever connected to me. I made you who you are and you can try to run and fly off however long you want but in the end you're tied to me whether you like it or not. Even in death."

He seemed deathly serious with his statements so much so that you could've sworn you could see his shadow giggling and smirking in a way that seemed even worse and more than evil.

Your breath quietly hitched in fear in noticing this to the point where it even forced you to take a step back. He let out a sinister chuckle before you couldn't help but speed out of the shop and flew out.

You couldn't handle him, he was shameless when showing this side of him.. how could he be this shameless and normal?? How could he act like this and be proud about it? He killed people and doesn't regret it, you being the only exception just didn't feel right and it wasn't fair!

Not to you.

He may have been able to silently control you and vaguely manipulate you to believe he was anything but a bad person back when you were alive and young but now your eyes are wide open and so is your heart.

You have such a bad feeling about this whole thing, he was up to no good he just couldn't be-- he had to be using the princess as an excuse to do something shitty.

Good thing you had plenty of connections, if you just played your cards right...

Hey.. wasn't there something about a court meeting happening soon?

On the other hand Alastor stayed sitting there still chucking devilishly, his intentions and true feelings smeared and unclear.

With a snap of his fingers a cup of black coffee appeared and he began drinking it with a sense of casual glee and eyes closed in delight. Until he felt eyes on him, two nearby to be exact. He opened one eye to look at the angels staring at him and they both seemed like more biblically accurate angels, both having one eye and all. The radio demon shot them an evil grin.

"Oh adolescents these days, rebellious aren't they." He cackled before going back to drinking his coffee, the angels creeped out by his interaction soon scurried away from him.

The fear. He enjoyed it, just not really from you.

(thank you all who asked for part 2!! of course I had to deliver since you all really wanted it and honestly I love adding flashbacks to memories Alastor and the reader had when they were alive, makes their ending on earth just that more painful (as if it wasn't clear I love angst). Honestly I don't mind making more parts for this! If the demand is consistent and you guys still want to keep up with it I have a few ideas to keep this going! Once again thank you so much for reading!! Now I must finish writing for other stories lolllll!)

(p.s: i highly recommend listening to any mitski song while reading this I think it fits well especially with the flashback scene hehe)

[bratbby333]

I got some thoughts 👀 can I request a little something? like reader finds herself in a situation where a guy is disrespectful to her and Geto steps in to defend her... she would be so relieved like 'thank you so much tall and beautiful stranger' 😍🥰 and he's probably like 'don't worry about it, it's whatever' but in the end he offers to walk her home and he fucks her against the wall things happen 😳😳

`⭐︎ ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ YOUR GUARDIAN STRANGER ! — feat. suguru geto

word count. 3.6k content warnings. characters are 21+, fem!reader x suguru, mentions of blood, allusions to violence, reader gets hit on and grabbed in the club, alcohol consumption, p in v, unprotected sex, use of pet names, dirty talk, thigh-riding, sugu fucks hard, one night stand, the pull-out method, non-curse!au author notes. thank you for ur ingenious request my sweet nonnie...i hope you enjoy xx not beta read !!

nsfw 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 mdni

A skin-tight dress. Four inch heels. Dark lip liner with a clear gloss on top. A few spritzes of Chanel No. 5, and you are out the door and heading to the club.

Everything is great; good vibes, strong drinks, pounding 808s reverberating off the walls. The liquor warms your stomach as your hips sway to the music, your over-worked body relaxing with every bump of the heavy bass. You take in the scene around you; drunk couples making out in the corner, a few underage kids getting thrown out, a group of friends arguing over god knows what– it’s all very entertaining. You laugh to yourself, your eyes scanning the room once more before your vision settles on the one thing you were trying to avoid. Shit. Your heart drops. Really? Did he not catch the hint the last two times? You sigh deeply, rolling your eyes as you prepare yourself for the inevitable. Not this again.

Because, of course, all good things must come to an end. 

You're used to being hit on. But tonight, there is one guy in particular, unrelenting in his attempts to get close to you. He's shorter than average, the two of you being the same height when you're in heels. He reeks of liquor, cigarettes, and BO. His fringe clings to his forehead as he approaches you for the third time this evening, a disgusting smirk plastered across his face. He seems to have mistaken your accidental eye contact as an invitation to test his luck once more. With tense shoulders and an apprehensive tone, you offer him polite conversation. Not that you want to, but god forbid you reject him in just the right way to make him snap. You don't want to end up being a headline. Your eyes dart elsewhere, knowing damn well that if you look at him for too long you might gag. He is truly disgusting, rambling on and on about his podcast and his most recent bouts of buying and trading crypto. 

It's a tough situation to navigate. You're out alone. Granted, you are at a club that you're comfortable in; you're familiar with the layout, you're friends with a few of the waitresses and bartenders. The DJ knows you by name. But, you're still riding solo in a loud, rambunctious environment. Even though there is a level of comfort here, it's still a club filled with drunkards at the end of the day. 

With a fake smile and a couple nods of your head, you try to ignore the part of the conversation where he referred to himself as an “alpha male” as you accept the drink he presents to you, kindly excusing yourself before disappearing into the crowd once more.

A shudder runs down your spine, your body quite literally trying to shake away that awful conversation. God, he’s the worst. On your way to the dance floor, you pour the contents of the cup into the soil of a potted plant. He doesn't think you're stupid, does he? There is no way in hell you're drinking that shit.

You're dancing alone, enjoying the house mix that's bumping through the giant speakers, the colorful spotlights that bounce around your face as you feel yourself begin to relax once more. Finally, some much needed alone time. All you want is to let loose after an arduous week of working. Can't a girl have some peace?

"C'mon...just give me a chance." You don't even have to turn around to see who it is, you can smell him. Your nose scrunches up before you turn to face him, another fake smile pulling at your cheeks as you speak to him for the fourth time tonight. 

"I'm sorry, but I'm just not looking for anythin'...I'm just tryna have fun," you say politely, before beginning to walk away. If you just keep moving through the crowd, he won't be able to find you again. But this guy is annoyingly determined and obnoxiously entitled, because after one step away from him, his hand grabs at your wrist, "We can have fun! C'mon...seriously?! I bought you a drink and this is how you treat me?"

As soon as the contact is made, your blood boils. Rage runs through your body as you spin around to chew him out for A, assuming some smelly asshole like him has a chance with you; B, for even thinking he could touch you, and C, the absolute nerve of this man to actually follow through with it. 

But when you turn, you realize you can't see him anymore. Your eye line is obstructed by a broad, muscular back. Utterly confused, you step to the side in order to fully see what the hell is going on. The sweaty hand that was once wrapped around your forearm is now gripped by a large fist. Your eyes trail up to your savior, a damningly handsome man with jet-black hair. 

"Do we have a problem?" a stern voice addresses the musty, shorter guy. 

"Yeah, this chick's been flirting with me all night...I'm tryna get what I'm owed," he spits back, attempting to pull his wrist away, "Dude, let go...stop bein' a cockblock." The mystery man's face twists at the other's bold choice in words. You're shocked that he doesn't feel intimidated at all. 

"What you're owed?" A deep chuckle emerges from the unknown’s chest as he stares down at him. "I dunno...it seems like she wants nothing to do with you," he muses, tightening his grip around the other’s arm. 

He turns to address you, and you finally get to take a good look at him. His side-profile is god-like, but looking at him straight on is a whole different realm of attractiveness. The man's fucking gorgeous. You're too busy ogling him that you miss his question all together. 

"S-sorry...what did you say?" You shake your head a bit, adrenaline pumping through your ears from this entire ordeal, the expensive scent of his cologne mixing with the pounding bass of the club; it's all making your head spin. 

He laughs and leans down to your level, his head hovering just next to your ear. "You want me to get rid of him for ya?" he repeats, his breath brushing against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. He pulls back, looking down at you with his grip still tight around the other guy's arm. The pathetic man is squirming as the two of you share quite the intimate eye contact. You nod, your mouth dropping open as he drags him out of the club immediately. 

You let out a deep sigh before making your way to the bathroom. You lather up your hands with soap and do your best to scrub away the feeling of that man's skin on yours. Leaning up against the sink, you take a few deep breaths before fixing your hair and reapplying your lipgloss. That man is vile, but you're not going to let that gross interaction ruin your night. 

You make your way to the bar, keeping your head on a swivel in hopes to see your handsome rescuer once more, wanting to thank him for handling that for you. You pout a bit as you fail to see him on your trek, sighing as you place your order with the bartender. 

You take a few sips before turning to walk back toward the dance floor, when you literally run straight into someone. "Fuck! I am so sorry, I-" but then you smell it, the same entrancing cologne as before. You look up and are met with a devious grin on the most angelic face you've ever seen. You smile, pushing your hair from your eyes, "I was looking for you." You sound relieved as the two of you stare at one another. 

"Were you now?" he asks coyly, shifting his weight as he smirks down at you. You nod shyly, "Mhm...I-I wanted to thank you for earlier," you take another sip of your cocktail, hoping it will calm your nerves a bit, "I appreciate you stepping in, that guy couldn't catcha fuckin' hint," you laugh, looking away. 

"Don't mention it. It's the least I could do," he responds. "I'm Suguru, by the way."

Turning to face him once more, you tell him your name with a kind smile. As the two of you make small talk, you notice his chest is heaving a bit, and with a quirk of your brow, you run your eyes down his body, realizing that his knuckles are bruised and slightly bloody.

"Oh...oh my god. Are you alright?" you ask, grabbing his hand. You bring his fist up to inspect it, the dim lights of the club not offering you much assistance. "Oh, yeah," he laughs, rotating his wrist so you can examine it further, "the blood's not mine," he grins. A laugh escapes you as you gaze up at him, still holding his hand in yours. 

"Damn...you really did a number on him, huh?" Suguru laughs at this.

"Absolutely, he deserved it. Dude was a prick. I'm really sorry that happened to you," he sympathizes, watching as you grab napkins and a shot of vodka from the bar to wipe off the dried blood from his knuckles. 

"It's alright, I'm used to it by now, but having someone step in and save me was definitely a first." He releases a jagged exhale as you pour the liquor over the small abrasions on his hand, "Sorry...gotta disinfect you. That dude was gross...I had to go scrub my arm off after he touched me," you giggle. He watches intently as you finish cleaning him up, his heart skipping a beat as you smile up at him triumphantly. You are quite the woman, cunning and confident. He likes that. 

"There ya go," you chirp, before tossing the reddened napkins into the garbage can located nearby. His eyes run across your face and up and down your body, taking in every part of you. Poor thing. Though you seem so unbothered by that whole situation, there is a telling look behind your eyes, and Suguru notes that you are still a little shaken up. He would be crazy to let you wander back out there alone. 

"Do you want to come hang with my friends? I promise they won't pester you like that dude did," he offers. He nods toward the booths that line the wall. "That's them over there; Shoko and Satoru." You follow his eye line, seeing a brunette woman accompanied by a blue-eyed man. They seem to be about your age, and you love meeting new people. You smile and agree, thanking him once more as the two of you make your way over to the table. 

The rest of your night is spent laughing and dancing with the three of them. You learn that they all work for the high school across town, and that Shoko can really handle her liquor; Satoru cannot. You and Suguru are in your own world, chatting about everything and nothing, taking breaks to dance together when a good song comes on. His hands rest on your waist as you move your hips against him, your bodies fitting like you are made for one another. Suguru, being the gentleman he is, never pushes any further than that, allowing you to initiate the contact. 

It's 2 AM when the four of you stumble out of the club, the tall blond leaning on his smaller friend's shoulders as she guides him toward the taxi. It's quite the amusing sight. 

You stop short of the curb, wishing Satoru and Shoko a good night, before turning to Suguru. "Thank you again…for everything," you say, your voice raspier than usual from all the shouting you did inside the loud club. 

"Of course. I'm just glad we got to spend some more time together," he says with a smile, ushering you toward the taxi. He's confused when you shake your head. 

"I live like three blocks from here, I'm just gonna walk," you state. "It was really nice meeting you, you were great company," you smirk, heading down the road, your heels clacking against the pavement with every step. 

A few unintelligible words are exchanged between Suguru and the taxi driver, followed by a car door slamming shut, before the sound of someone jogging catches up to you. 

"You're crazy if you think I'm gonna let you walk home alone," he retorts, pushing you toward the inside of the sidewalk as he walks closest to the cars that pass by. 

"You're quite the gentleman, aren't you," you tease, pushing your shoulder into his. He chuckles, "Can you blame me? I see a beautiful woman in distress, I have to jump in." You blush at his compliment.

"My knight in...," you pause as you run your eyes down his body, "...jeans and a black tee," you giggle. After sharing a few laughs, silence settles between the two of you as the cool air swirls around you. The occasional car passes by, but other than that, it's a quiet evening. 

You glance at Suguru through your peripherals, enjoying the way his layered hair bounces with every step he takes. His cologne, though more subtle now, still wafts toward your nose. He really is beautiful. You wonder if it'd be too bold to see if he wants to continue your evening. 

You walk toward the door to your apartment, turning to face him. It's now or never. 

"You comin'?" You ask with a raise of your brow. He chuckles as he climbs the stairs, joining you by your side, "Thought you'd never ask."

You have never been into one night stands, but something about Suguru is irresistible. Whether it's because he saved you from that creep or because he is super fucking sexy, you know you need him. Now. The two of you barely made it through the doorway as you’re pushing him up against the wall of your foyer, your lips immediately finding his.

He's taken aback by your boldness, taking a second to register his surroundings before quickly flipping the two of you around, his hands cupping either side of your face as his knee wedges between your legs. His muscular thigh is pressed directly onto your core, the pressure sending waves through your body.

“Couldn’t even make it to the bed, huh?” he husks into your ear, placing a wet kiss on the sensitive skin below, nipping and sucking at it. Soft moans echo through the hallway as Suguru finds your lips once more, your tongues battling one another. You thrust your hips, rubbing your warmth against his leg. “Eager, are we?” he teases, lifting his leg more. 

“Mmm…mhm,” you gasp as the contact intensifies. You’re already addicted to him, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside you. You grind your hips harder, pressing your drenched cunt firmly against his clothed thigh, certain that he can feel your pussy throbbing against him, the tightness in your stomach intensifying. Your cheeks fluster at how quickly he’s getting you to your breaking point without even having to do anything.

He breaks the kiss, watching intently as your hips gyrate against him. “Shit…are you gonna cum?” The tone of his voice is taunting, yet laced with desire. The sight of you using him to get off has him rock hard. You blush immediately, tilting your head away from him. You nod shyly, though your hips continue their pattern. “So fuckin’ hot,” his hand wraps around your throat, your head tilting to rest against the wall. “Uh uh, don’t get shy now…look at me.” Through low lids, you meet his gaze. His lower lip is between his teeth as he glances between your face and your cunt rubbing against his thigh. With a desperate whimper, you pick up the pace. “C’mon…that’s it–cum for me,” he growls, entranced by the fluid motion of your body. You come undone just a few minutes later with a whine and a few moans of his name. Your cum soaks through your panties and a guttural moan breaks through his chest as he watches you finish. “Fuckin’ drenchin’ me already, huh?” You blush profusely, your eyes screwed tight as embarrassment courses through you.

You yelp as he flips you around, your chest now pressed against the wall, your legs parallel with your shoulders. “All that cum ‘n I wasn’t even inside you yet…” He unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to free his throbbing erection, “...can’t wait to see how much you cream on my cock.” You whimper at the filthy words that shamelessly fall from Suguru’s lips as he pulls your dress up and drags your panties down your legs. You aren’t much help, small pants leaving your chest as your body recovers from your unexpectedly intense orgasm.  His lips part as he teases his thick tip along your slit, lubing himself with your cum. “You ready, doll?” His head shallowly dips in and out of your needy cunt, already loving the way you stretch for him. You hum, nodding profusely as you look over your shoulder. “Mm. Mhm…p-please fuck me,” you beg. Your words feel foreign to you as you say them, unsure of where all this submissiveness was coming from. But Suguru’s effortlessly domineering aura makes you want to bend to his every whim, to please him in any way that you can. 

Inch by inch, he’s delving into you. The warmth of your dribbling cunt sucking him, the squelching sounds ricocheting through his head, the sinful moans that break through your throat–it drives him wild. He growls as your back arches, pushing him even deeper. Your ass flush against his lower abdomen, your eyes blowing wide at the damning stretch of his full length nestled deep inside you.

He stays still for a moment, allowing you time to accommodate as your gushy walls flutter around him. The pace starts slow, but Suguru’s patience wears thin, and after a few strokes he’s ramming into you, one hand wrapped around the front of your throat, the other pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he bounces you on his cock. The scratches that should be left on the tanned flesh of his toned back are being dragged down your beige walls, your breasts rubbing against the cold plaster with every rough thrust of his hips, the sensation stimulating your budding nipples. 

Every bump of his hips pushes his head into your sweet spot, his length caressing every part of you with ease. “Takin’ me so well,” he grunts as he rams into your furthest wall. You can’t suppress the cock-drunk whines that spill from you, your eyes welling with tears while delirious pleasure claws its way through your body, your tummy tightening as you clench around him. Your shoulders tense as your perch on your tiptoes, opening yourself up to take more of him–if that is even possible–praying he finds refuge within your womb. “Shit–” he hisses, his words nearly incoherent as the sound of skin against skin echoes through the hallway, “fuckin’ milkin’ me, doll.”

He releases your throat, the same hand trailing down your spine before his arm snakes around you, his nimble fingers strumming delicious circles against your throbbing clit. You cry out, eyes screwing shut as your legs shake. “Fuck…oh fuuuck–ahh! Gonna…’m gonna…” Your voice trails off, any semblance of a coherent thought cast to the wayside as a deep chuckle rumbles through his chest. Suguru leans down, kissing behind your ear before biting at your lobe. “I know,” he muses, his fingers work even faster against you, “Squeezin’ me s’tight…”, his hips shifting to push himself even deeper, “...C’mon. Make a mess ‘f me.” You reach your breaking point once more, lips parting as squirt spills out around his cock and dribbles down your thighs. 

His release follows suit with a few raspy swears and sultry mumbles of your name. He pulls out, working his fist around his cock, his hot seed shooting onto your ass and lower back. Suguru places soft pecks along your neck and shoulders, working to regain his breath. He catches you as he untangles his body from yours, chuckling at the evident exhaustion of your body while your knees buckle, unable to support your own body weight as you lean against the wall. 

After tucking himself away and a speedy rebuckle of his belt, he scoops you up in his arms, carrying you bridal style to your bed, setting you down on your plush duvet. 

“Bathroom?” he asks. Your brows furrow before you comprehend his question, still dazed from the spell he cast on you. With a weak flick of your wrist, you gesture toward the closed door to your left. You watch with tired eyes as he returns with a damp rag, his soft touches along your weary body juxtaposing the meanness of his strokes as he mindfully cleans you up. With a quick kiss on your cheek and a soft mumble of “you were wonderful” into your ear, he smiles down at you before beginning to exit the bedroom. It’s crazy–insane, even–how much you want him around. You must be out of your mind…this near stranger—the fact that you even let him in your house is wild, let alone asking him to stay the night? But you want him to, so bad. There’s just something about him.

You sit upright, ignoring the ache in your lower back and the morality of your choices, your question flying from your lips before your brain can stop it. “Wait…can you stay?” Your words are soft as they drift through the air. He stops just short of the door, before turning and offering you a knowing smile, “I thought you’d never ask.”

author notes. certified sugu glazer…what can i say. i just cannot get enough of him ugh.

i’m still workin thru all my requests, i appreciate yalls patience w me 🤍

my reqs are closed atm, but thirsts + chats are welcome! come say hello ☺️

tag list: @admirxation @sadmonke @the-weeb-of-the-uchiha @call-memissbrightside (lmk if u want to be removed from tags🤍)

©bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do not distribute. 2024.

[chilschuck]

Hello! I don't know if requests are open, if not just ignore this. am not sure if this makes sense, but I had this idea where the reader's succubus takes straight up the form of Chilchuck. They are very self-concious of this, and since i see them as a calm and reserved person they will try to avoid them like the plague. They don't want Chilchuck to know at all costs, mostly because they fear to be turned down. But at some point, they both get separated from the party running eventually into a succubus. If it's too much information just take what it feels right for you!!

✦ AAAA i loved this idea so much that i had a bit too much fun with it, LOL! it ended up being more than a drabble somehow, so i really hope you enjoy it!! i hope it flows okay and doesn’t seem too rushed, as it’s been a while since i’ve written this much!! lots of love to you!! <3

— HYPOCRITE: chilchuck x gn!reader

꒰ warnings: ꒱ hurt/comfort ?? fluff + sfw! use of they/them for reader!

꒰ wc: ꒱ 1.8k (holy hell…..)

✦ if this is rough i am so sorry, i kinda let my brain take over and this was the result! nervous to post something this long since i’ve only ever posted lil tidbits, but i really hope you like it!!! <33

The walk back was deafeningly quiet. You couldn’t bear to even look in his direction, cheeks still hot in mortification at just what you had seen earlier. Usually you were stronger than this, but the idea of him knowing just what exactly you saw had your stomach in knots.

It wasn’t like you had never come in contact with a succubus before, but for it to take this particular form had your mind reeling. The heavy pit of guilt and shame kept twisting in you, and the more you thought about him, the more you felt sick. Even so, you could feel eyes burning into the back of your head just waiting for you to spill.

“What’s gotten you so quiet?” Chilchuck questioned, his brows raised at your current show of behavior. It was unlike you to shut yourself up like this, especially since you were known for being cool and collected in any situation. He would never admit it, but the lack of your voice amongst the others made him nervous.

You waited a moment to reply, the shakiness in your voice not getting past him. “It’s nothing, Chilchuck.”

And like hell it wasn’t, especially if it had you clamming up and avoiding his gaze. Knowing it would be better not to pry, he stayed silent. You were thankful for this.

“Everyone’s together now, right?” Laios called as you caught up to the rest of the party, your eyes still downtrodden. Not able to bring yourself to look in his direction, you kept your head down when motioning in the direction of the half-foot behind you. “Yeah, Chilchuck and I managed to find each other.”

Marcille was the second to notice your lack of enthusiasm, the calm air you usually exuded gone. Worried, she called out your name, pulling you out of the state you were in momentarily.

“Everything alright?” She whispered as the rest of the party walked ahead of you. Knowing how much it was killing you to hold everything in, you gave a frustrated sigh.

When you were sure everyone was out of hearing range, you spilled everything on your mind. How your succubus took the form of Chilchuck, how you’d been fighting off the feelings you held for him, how scared you were that he’d find out. Her head nodded with every concern you aired, but there was a certain sparkle in her eyes when you admitted to having feelings for him… Great.

“You’re certain he didn’t see?” She asked softly as you caught up to everyone else, and you gave her a nod of your own.

Her advice had been simple: maybe this was a sign to tell him how you truly felt. You wanted to scoff in that moment, knowing just how repulsed by inner party relationships the half-foot truly was. Telling him what happened seemed like the least intelligent thing to do, but you admired Marcille for her ability to see this in a hopeful light.

Envy coursed through you, wishing you could look at it hopefully, too. It just didn’t seem realistic, so you’d keep to yourself and try not to talk to him until these feelings died down inside. Certainly they would, right?

Days continued on, your relationship with Chilchuck turning into remorseful smiles and awkward silence. The tension was building, and he was convinced he couldn’t take much more of it.

The fact you hadn’t been seeking him out like you usually did struck him hard. You two would often spend nights chatting, voices soft and warm as you talked about everything that you could think of. He’d just started coming to terms that maybe he didn’t have to keep so much away from you, away from everyone else. This hit him harder than he’d like to acknowledge, and his attempts at reconciling whatever he did wrong fell flat.

Chilchuck only ever saw you talking to Marcille lately. He knew you two shared a friendship somewhat akin to his with you, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary at first. But that, paired with the fact you wouldn’t even lay your bedroll down near his, nearly drove him to insanity.

Gritting his teeth, he rested his cheek in the palm of his hand. This was getting nowhere, and if it continued he was sure he’d never let himself hear the end of it.

Laios, as softly as he could muster, called his name. “They’ve been ignoring you, haven’t they?” He spoke, brows furrowed as he studied Chilchuck’s expression. “Do you know why?”

He huffed, glare turning to focus on the blonde across from him. “If I knew, I’d tell you. But I don’t have a damn clue.”

Laios hummed, tapping his chin as Senshi listened in on their conversation. “Maybe you should try asking them. It never hurts to be honest with how you’re feeling, too.”

This was going to drive him up the wall. Every time he did try and corner you, you came up with some excuse as to why you were needed elsewhere. Chilchuck was left watching you leave him behind every single time. It only proved to make him feel even more scattered.

Before he could open his mouth to retort, he heard you stand up, wishing Marcille goodnight. Chilchuck begrudgingly noted that you seemed even farther away from him than usual. He sunk into his neckwarmer.

Looking down at his hands, he debated on just what he could have possibly done. This all happened after that damn succubus incident, and he wondered just what exactly you saw. You seemed not only distant from him, but from the whole party. Being an integral force in the group, having you seem so far away from everyone only served to build up rifts.

You were headed to the water fountain to wash your face, and Chilchuck assumed this would be the one chance he had. Following behind you, he called your name once enough distance from everyone had been built up. You took note of the aggravation that was laced in his tone.

Immediately you tried to think of a way to get out of talking to him. There had to be some excuse you hadn’t used, and as he approached you, you found yourself more and more cornered.

“Are you just planning to ignore me the rest of the damn time?” Chilchuck asked plainly, but you could hear the hint of concern. He continued to walk towards you, not giving you much of an opening to scatter. Panic settled in.

“You… Wouldn’t get it.” You whispered, finding yourself looking everywhere but at him. Chilchuck found this increasingly frustrating.

“What do you mean, ‘You wouldn’t get it?’ How am I supposed to get anything if you don’t tell me? I can see how you’re acting. Is whatever you really saw worth separating yourself from the entire party?”

His words cut you like a knife. You could hear the aggravation in his voice, chest seizing knowing it was because of you, because of your stupid fear. You swallowed harshly, trying your best to build up the courage you just couldn’t seem to find.

His body, caging you in and causing your back to hit the wall, continued to grow nearer. It felt like all the air left your lungs, struggling to gather just what you wanted, needed to say.

“You always say how you don’t want inner party relationships to ruin things,” you muttered, finding his closeness increasingly difficult to handle. “The last thing I want to do is put everyone in jeopardy like that.”

Chilchuck scoffed, confusion etched into his expression. “What? You saw a party member as the succubus or something? Don’t tell me—“

That tension that had been suffocating you before built itself back up to the point where you struggled for air. Before he could say just what had made you so ashamed the past week, you felt it bubble up in your throat.

“Yes, Chilchuck, it looked like you! Are you happy?! I didn’t want to tell you, couldn’t tell you. I…” Your hands shook, as if in shock of all that you were laying out in front of him. “I’ve been holding everything down inside for everyone’s sake! I’m not as strong as you, as strong as everyone else, okay?! I had no choice but to distance myself! I’m in love with you, and I know you don’t feel the same, so I just wanted that part of myself to stay hidden!”

You had hoped when, if, this had all finally come out, a weight would be lifted. Instead, you felt ten times heavier at seeing the realization in his eyes. Biting your tongue, tears welling up in the way they never could before, you pushed past him.

“I’m going.”

Yet he did just what you didn’t want him to do; grab your wrist and pull you back to that moment you tried so hard to forget in those few seconds. So he was going to reprimand you now? Tell you how irresponsible you are? Before you could spit out what was on your mind, his hands had wound around your collar and pulled you down to smash your lips against his own.

Everything was still in that moment. It was rough, deprived, filled with emotions that made your mind stutter. You tilted your head further into the kiss, still letting him take control. Despite the suddenness of it, you couldn’t help but pull him closer into you. After a beat, he pulled away, panting and cheeks rosy in what you could only guess was sheer relief.

“You’re so frustrating.” He whispered, still clutching onto the collar of your sleep shirt. “Hardheaded to no end. Drives me insane.”

You couldn’t form a sentence, still trying to catch up to what exactly just happened between you two. Was that… his way of telling you he felt the same? Even if it was sudden, it was very like Chilchuck. Blood rushed to your cheeks.

“So…?” Your voice began, matching the softness of his own. He clicked his tongue, and you could tell by the exasperation on his face that he was about to just up and groan at your cluelessness.

“I… have feelings for you, too. I know what I said before, about prioritizing work over everything else.” Chilchuck spoke, his voice having a slight wave to it. “I’m a damn hypocrite…”

“Apparently.” You replied, hearing him grumble under his breath, and for the first time in days, what felt like weeks, you laughed.

The sound made his head buzz. His heart beat in his ears, and for the first time in a while, he let himself smile too. Maybe he could get used to this being honest thing, if it meant staying close to you like this.

“I’m glad things worked out the way they did,” you hummed, the two of you walking back to where your party had decided to settle for the night. “Strange to think it’s all thanks to a succubus. Maybe I should give them more credit.”

Chilchuck rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Sure. Tell me more about that next time, though. I want to know how handsome you really think I am.”

You couldn’t get back to camp fast enough.

— dividers by @/cafekitsune! <3

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Okay so hear me out. Angst. Pure hardcore I’m gonna crawl into a hole angst. DIVORCERRY. (I’m unwell I can’t help it)

I'm back! Feels weird tbh. Hehe, I had actually started writing this before going through my own. Feels timely that I post it now. It might not be as angsty as you requested, and/or as I intended, but I hope you enjoy... it's been so long since I've written that I have no idea of it's any good.

You never thought you'd be here. Then again, does anyone? Sitting in a cold conference room, with your lawyer beside you and the man you thought you'd spend the rest of your life with now avoiding eye contact, as he stares down at his rings from across the large wooden table. It's not something you ever considered happening when you said 'I do'.

But here you are, feeling every emotion and yet none at all, listening to a mediator list off all the 'assets' that you and Harry accumulated together over the years.

Item after item brings back memory after memory, and a part of you wants it to stop. What's the point? These are things you bought together, found together, did together. Now you are no longer together.

"Mrs. Sty-... sorry, I mean... Ms. YN."

“Hm?” Your eyes shoot up to the man at the head of the table, the one who is there to divvy up the material items from your relationship. The only one who seems to have a hint of compassion in his eyes.

“Is there anything you'd like to start with? Something in particular you'd like to have for yourself?”

What a loaded question. Is there something you want? Yes. How about the last few years back? Or how about a marriage that didn't fall apart in the first place? How about just the beautifully dimpled smile that would appear any time Harry looked your way, rather than the small, apathetic glances you occasionally receive when you have to be in the same room with each other?

You clear your throat, taking note of the fact that Harry still has yet to look at you.

"All I ask… is for my attorney fees to be covered.” You take a quick, deep inhale. “That's all. He can have everything else."

You immediately rise from the chair, oddly one of the most comfortable you've been in, especially considering the situation. Of course, this is the moment he looks up at you, with the most intense furrow of confusion plastered across his brow.

“YN.” Your lawyer whispers, causing you to look down to a face just as confused as the one sitting across from you.

“Just…” You shake your head, knowing that you'll only be encouraged to stay there longer, to continue with the torturous meeting, and dissect why something could mean so much to you. “Just send me the papers to sign.”

“Come on YN…” The sudden deep tone of that familiar British voice sends a shock through your system. With how little you've heard it lately, you'd almost forgotten what it sounded like. Almost. “There has to be something you want. I’m… I'm willing to negotiate.”

You drop your head and rest your palms against the wooden table in front of you. There's a lot that you want, but right the only thing you need is for this meeting to be over.

"Harry, I was never with you to get something from you, other than love.” The tightening in your chest begins, leaving you to feel as if words and air are both now difficult to find. “Now that's gone, so I don't really have anything to fight you for."

You stand back straighter, reaching into your purse and withdrawing the last thing you still had from him.

In your hand is a box, a small box, which you place on the table and glide across the wood, your heart almost questioning if you'll be able to let it go. You release it with a sigh and a full ache in your heart as you realize that this is it. This is the end.

Harry's gaze darts back and forth, never landing on your eyes or the object for more than a few seconds. There's a look on his face of potential disbelief. Maybe it's finally hitting him too, though neither of you should be surprised.

“It's my-”

“Wedding… ring...”

You aren't sure if either lawyer or the mediator heard the whispers of the short interaction, but the room suddenly becomes silent, the void paralleling what's left of your marriage.

What do you say now? What's an appropriate parting statement to give the man you never thought you would part from?

Then again, you've both said all that you needed to say. That's why you are there. So maybe it's best to leave it at that.

You allow yourself one last look at him, and your heart feels as if it's breaking all over again, seeing the same sentiment in his eyes. Those beautiful green eyes you wanted to look at forever.

Considering all the songs Harry's written about sweet fruit, you wish this moment didn't taste so sour.

Taglist: @watermelonsugacry @tw1nflamebruis3 @hopefulwastelandcreation @tenaciousperfectionunknown @queenmadi2 @runway-to-my-aid @theekyliepage @be-yourss @behindmygreyeyes @michellekstyles @a-strange-familiar @yousunshineyoutempter @buckybarnessimpp @msolbesg @sleutherclaw @katiebaxterrrrrr @percysaidnever @mrspeacem1nusone @thurhomish @itsbebeyyy @divalovesyou @bxbyysstuff @sunshinemoonsposts @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @boybands-baseball @austynparksandpizza @missmielyhoran @harryspirate @tiaamberxx @matildasatellite @cherryshouse @yatebe-kohayu @perfectzinenerdperson @babyiamperfectforyou @daphnesutton @around1302 @daydreamingofmatilda @swiftmendeshoran @one-sweet-gubler @jerseygirlinca @carey86 @lomlhstyles @vrittivsanghavi @fdl305 @sunflowersloverr @lemoncrushh @groovychaosavenue @justlemmeadoreyou @copiastricycle @lillefroe

[strawberrylabs]

I have FINALLY finished the raffle fic from ages ago!

the raffle winner was @stellas-starry-stories13

the 1k words was split into 3 seperate smaller fics about Lyney, Freminet and Cyno if their lover, who is cursed to be blunt and speak their mind, were to be kidnapped! I hope you enjoy!

TW: kidnapping, violence

Lyney(442):

Lyney was panicking.

He had run around your shared home 3 times now, calling your name near every nook and cranny he can think of– in the wardrobe, under the bed, heck even in the broom cupboard.

But he got no response, only a plume of dust kicked up by his hurried movements.

He sat on the end of the bed he had shared with you just a few hours prior, the warmth that was shared, sapped by the cold of night.

‘Where are you…’ 

The magician moved, forcing himself to continue searching– until something dropped from the sheets to his feet

A treasure hoarder insignia.

He knew where you were.

‘Bastards… I’ll find you. I promise.’

As Lyney made his way to the nearest treasure hoarder camp, his mind was bombarded with worries.

A particular thought swam higher than the rest; one regarding your curse. 

It wasn’t a secret– unfortunately– that you were cursed to always speak your mind. Literally.

You had done well to avoid giving out sensitive information.

If you were to be questioned about the Hearth’s whereabouts, you would instead say what else you were thinking about; in this situation, that would likely be how much you dislike your captors, or something else the hoarders would not like to hear.

Treasure Hoarders were not known for their patience, or their forgiveness. 

Whilst deep in thought, he had reached the nearest camp. 

Which luckily, was the right one.

Bow drawn, Lyney quietly approached…

He stopped when he heard voices.

‘For the last time, where do the Fatui keep their wealth in Fontaine?!’

‘Your breath really stinks. And you have something stuck in your teeth-’

A loud slap is heard. Lyney draws his bow tighter, string almost snapping.

‘For Archons’ sake! I thought you said it’d be easy to get information from her!’

Lyney finally peers around the corner to see the treasure hoarders arguing

He also sees you, covered in dirt and bruises.

Lyney lets his arrow fly.

It makes contact with the first man– the one who had questioned you.

The arrow explodes into fireworks, Rosseland appearing from the fire, effectively drawing the attention of the surrounding hoarders.

Lyney lets another arrow fly, feeling his health weaken with each charged attack.

By the 5th arrow, he calls back Rosseland-

Only to send him out in a flurry of fire.

Once the Treasure hoarders were dealt with, Lyney runs to you.

‘You took a while’

Despite your words, a tired, yet genuine smile met your lips.

‘I’m sorry- I’m here now.’

He picks you up.

‘Now, let’s get out of here and inform the Gardes of these heathens’ sad performance.’

Freminet(309):

‘Oh no..’

Freminet doesn’t know what to do.

Where were you? 

Had you finally left him?

No, you’d still be found at the Hearth, but you weren’t there either.

You weren’t anywhere.

No one knew where you were.

Freminet wasn’t panicked– not yet. But he was worried.

He didn’t want to assume the worst, but he was running out of options.

You’d been taken. Stolen from him.

Freminet had been good at finding things before, he would find you too.

He started searching known hilichurl camps– maybe there were too many, and you couldn’t take them?

He then searched areas with prominent amounts of rogue mechs. Perhaps you had been bested by a Recon Mec’s missiles?

Then, after not finding you previously, he started searching treasure hoarder camps.

He had searched 4 camps before he heard your familiar voice.

‘You look super ugly by the way. Not at all my type.’

‘That wasn't even what we asked!’

‘You don’t get to smart mouth us you bitch!’

Freminet’s world slows when he hears you cry out in pain.

Before he knew it, he was swinging his claymore at the perpetrators.

One by one, they fell to his cryo.

‘That was hot.’

Freminet is kicked out of his stupor by your comment, a blush settling over his face.

‘... Are you.. Alright?’ 

He kneels down to look at you better- slap marks and gashes littered your face and arms.

He sits back up and holds out his hand to you

‘Come on.. We need to get you patched up, then we can head back home and tell Father what happened.’

When you reach out to his hand, you can’t help but notice that he holds on just that little bit tighter.

‘Hey, Frem. I’m safe now. Thank you for saving me.’

His grip relaxes. 

‘..I’ll always protect you.’

‘I know.’

Cyno(380):

Cyno had been tracking a band of Treasure Hoarders that recently crossed into Sumeru from the Chasm.

There had been reports that their leader was more cunning than most other mindless groups.

This fact had been proven by the fact that they had managed to evade the Mahamatra all this time.

Every time an incident was reported, Cyno would arrive just too late.

Every attack was careful and calculated.

But this time, the Treasure Hoarders had made a mistake.

They tried to take you from your lover. 

Cyno has a feeling all day something was off. His instincts are never wrong.

He arrived at your home to see the door ajar, and the lock broken. After a quick, efficient search of the house, he concluded you had been taken.

It seemed that while Cyno was studying the Treasure Hoarders, they were studying him.

Cyno immediately set out tracking the group.

He wouldn’t let them get far.

While Treasure Hoarders would need to stop to rest, Cyno refused to stop.

He was after them. He was going to take you back.

It was late at night when Cyno spotted their camp.

As silent as the sand and as precise as the carvings in the ruins, Cyno snuck up on the Treasure Hoarders. He paused, however, as he heard a conversation.

‘You’re really stupid. Cyno will come for me, and he won’t let you live.’

‘Aha! You really think he’s going to catch up? We’re travelling at top speed and only taking minimum breaks. Not even the General Mahamatra can do that.’

‘Pfft you’re even more stupid than I thought.’

‘Shut it! You’re just a prisoner!’

Cyno’s spear had struck before the Treasure Hoarders hand could make contact with your skin.

Cyno’s fury could only be described as animalistic.

It wasn't long before all the enemies had been either knocked unconscious, or left to be covered by the moving dunes..

Cyno took a breath before untying you.

‘I am sorry. I should’ve known they would try to come for you.’

You hug him.

‘Don’t be sorry. I knew you’d come. Just like I told them.’

Cyno wraps an arm around your back and holds you tight.

‘My enemies had better think twice in future, before they even think about touching you.’

Hope you enjoyed, please point out any mistakes I may have made!

if you'd like to read more, check out my masterlist!

Strawberry<3

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass Chapter 7 Part 2/2

Masterpost

His hotel was 23 dollars-a-night. Air: stale. Carpet: faded. Receptionist: disliked all of them personally. 

“It’s extra to have guests!” He barked after them. He looked at Cass in particular when she came out from behind the men and he could see that she had a Black Bat face on. He paused.

“There is no fee,” Cass said, and glided past him.

The receptionist quietly cursed, but he didn’t say anything else.

“Damn,” Stinkyman RudeWizard said quietly to himself. “Maybe I oughta spend more time with Bats. You have a real talent for ending conversations.”

“I bite,” Cass said serenely. It wasn’t a threat. Just providing information. Not relevant information. She would not bite him. He was stinky.

Stinkyman was quiet until he unlocked the door. “Well, come in do-gooders and creeps of the night.” He somehow managed to flourish with with bare arm. Cass swept in underneath without touching him, just to flex. 

Captain Marvel waited politely for Stinkyman to move before he entered. “We ran into a situation the other day that we hope you can comment on.” Wow, business mode. So tall of him. Sudden professionalism. “We encountered an artifact that appeared to be scientific in design, in a location that was heavily contaminated with Death magic.”

Black Bat nodded agreement.

The wizard made a face. “And what did this artifact do?” He sounded exhausted.

“Electrocuted me,” Black Bat said, putting on her mission mind a little more firmly. No fear. No horror. “Had an involuntary transformation.”

“Tranformation into what?” stinkyman asked, reluctantly interested. “A normal bird?”

“She had a costume change and her physiological signs seemed to be altered for the duration of the transformation.” Marvel saved her. He lied a little by implication. She was grateful.

“What ended it?” He was looking her over carefully. He had gone through his own transformation into a responsible, thoughtful professional. Probably it was the money that did it. Cass mentally counted the bills she had left. She was more than willing to pay him to stop being annoying. 

“I was able to trigger the detransformation on purpose.” She had to sound that sentence out carefully so that the syllables didn’t turn into mush and tumble away, but this was important. 

Stinkyman nodded thoughtfully. “Try to trigger it the other way,” he suggested. He clamped his cigarette down on one side of his mouth. “I need to see what I’m working with before I can give you any assessment.”

Cass scrunkled up her face, unhappy like Alfred the cat when it was dry food. “I’ll try the inverse.” She closed her eyes and thought about what it had been to be White Bat. Her heart had been still and empty in her chest. Her body moved easily, no aches and pains. Lightning thrummed in her veins. 

She held the feeling in her mind and said, “White Bat,” under her breath.

Light flashed over the room. When it receded, she saw that Stinkyman was shading his face and scowling. “You’re an Infinite Realms being,” he diagnosed dryly. He let his cigarette drop carefully from his mouth and fall onto the shitty hotel carpet. Absently he stepped on it, as if this was a muscle habit.

“...What?” White Bat asked. 

The wizard shot her a lopsided grin that was almost handsome. “You’ve got ghosts in your blood. Want cocaine?”

“No one is going to be doing any drugs!” Marvel put his hands up and his tone high. “Haven’t you seen the PSAs about that? You do that and then your teeth fall out!” Genuine stress. Concern. Don’t hurt yourself!

“Thank you,” White Bat said. “Yes. No drugs.” She addressed that to Stinkyman. “Infinite Realms being?” she repeated. “I’m an earth being. Born and raised here.”

“And died here.” Constantine fished another cigarette out and lit it up. “You clearly have control over the transformation, so… might not be any repercussions if you avoid thinking about the metaphysical. Just go back to Black Bat and never think about it again. Or…” He appeared to have a new idea. He looked at her. Shifty. Curious. Could I benefit?

Died? Died here? Her brain skipped like Alfred’s records after Damian threw them for Titus to get revenge for the establishment of bedtime laws..

“What?” Cass said flatly. She crossed her arms. No blood moving in her veins. It was less upsetting the second time. At least it was not a surprise. 

Stinkyman looked sly. “If you want to look into it, we’ll have to go to the Infinite Realms. Hard for humans to get there, of course, but things like you are right now, well.” He gestured at her as if it was self-explanatory. “I’ll help you get there if you take me along with you. There’s something I’d like to pick up from hell.”

“From hell?” Marvel stressed. He thundered his face at the wizard. He looked intimidating. “We’re going. I’m not going to let you use Black Bat for whatever weird bet or gamble you have going on.” 

Cass blinked, impressed by his scaryface. She didn’t know he could do that. She inhaled through her nose and went back to Black Bat. It was… easy.

The wizard put his hands up in faux innocence and smirked. “It’s an offer, you can take or leave it. Anyway, you have my opinion,” he addressed Black Bat. “You died, Black Bird, I can only assume after touching something that clearly ought not have been fucked with. Can’t tell you offhand why you’re still walking the earth, but you’re not a revenant, ghoul, or other obvious fuckery that I care to banish. You look as human as me.” He flopped down on his motel bed. “Shut the door on the way out, that’s a love. But feel free to call me if you want to find out more.”

[louebel]

Hi! Can I request fluff Law x fem!reader where reader is feels sick but tries to ignore it/do things on her own (she’s not used to ask for help) but as a doctor law easily can tell by the signs and it happens during their sea journey on the polar tang? Hope I’m not asking too much love ya 🥺

Feel free to add angst or anything else to your writing ^•^

this is super old and the only request i'll ever do (atm) since i had a wip— ANON SORRY IT TOOK FOREVER <\3 reader is gn since i used the second person and no description.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: trafalgar law × gn!reader 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: 6,124 wc. a bit angsty, ends with fluff, emotional reader for the sickness, law is bad at emotions. this turned longer than expected, i hope it's decent xdd hit me up if there's any mistakes lol. supposed to be called windows of the soul,, divider by @ benkeibear my lord and saviour. 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: sickness overtook your body and worsened your already pitiful situation. law has been ignoring you and you have no idea why... but with how you felt, there was no way you could confront him at the moment.

scrub, scrub, scrub... 

"... phew ..." 

scrub... poof! 

"Oh! — damnit — aargh..." 

Cleaning today has been a nightmare. Never been so tedious. 

Like, it was already uninteresting compared to all the other things you could do, but today it was ten times worse. You could bear it, seeking to make dusting shelves fun by humming some random tune to yourself. It was okay, something you had to do every once in a while. You could do it. 

If only you weren't sick. 

"Achoo! Achoo! — urgh... Achooo..! Damn." 

You began feeling like this some days ago, or so you told yourself as you delicately hunched down to the floor, hoping to grasp the yellow sponge soaked in foam and water without experiencing excruciating pain. However, your hopes soon shattered as your back screamed in agony and your legs trembled with soreness, almost giving up on you. 

Just the flu, you insisted, it would go away. A couple of sneezes mean nothing. You would feel better and all would go back to the ordinary. 

... Oh, how wrong you were! And how stupid for not getting a day off. 

You were capable, though! You counted on your immune system (it sounded heroic the first time you thought of that). One night is all you needed. 

Or not. 

"Ow, ow..." 

You should've told your captain. Sure, it would cost your courage, pride, and dignity, but at least you'd be cured. You'd rather die than tell him you got sick because of the one herb he instructed everybody to avoid. 

What's worse is that he's been rather distant, and he's unquestionably avoiding you. The way he shoots daggers — no, whole machetes in your direction every time you do anything, smart or not, is so clear even the crew can see it. And the worst part? You do not know why. 

It had been like this for a while now, and you detested this whole plight with passion. Everything was okay between the two of you, you were sure of it! What did you do that spurred such a reaction? From one so dear to you? 

Those sweet memories... 

From new findings you excitedly presented him, to revealing himself, his past and adventures to you after almost a year of sailing. You knew everything about him. He knew everything about you. 

So why? Why stop so abruptly? You didn't mind when he digressed about his newfound coins. When he murmured under his breath while he pored over medical books or mulled about a particular topic. When he stressed over labor and called for a brief break, where you or the crew would attend to him by delivering him a meal or helping when he wasn’t looking. He's so stubborn.

"Uurgh..." 

From captain, to Law, to captain again. Not to mention how he deftly stopped you from hanging out with him. You thought he needed space at first. Maybe he was tired and had to rest for the next few days. That’s alright. However, your thoughts deteriorated as the days passed. But well, right now it's better if he doesn't see you at all. Nor the crew‌ — oh, the damn crew. Those two.

The "two" being the pair of nitwits that constantly stand by law's side and grin at you. Seriously... 

You do not understand what Penguin and Shachi find so amusing about your situation with him. It's a tragedy, not a comedy. You love them both, truly, the minute you stepped into the polar tang they were the first ones to get you to open up and all, but goodness, you wish you could beat them for sitting there, cackling and clapping their hands while confiding some mysterious comments to each other when la — the captain, showed up in the area and walked past you with an unreadable gaze. He'd constantly salute you and the others with a bow of his head or more, depending on his mood. 

Now? If he saw one inch of your form? 

Sigh. His face always went red. 

Why can't those two just tell you? Even Ikkaku seemed to know something you didn't. She was more subtle about it, though. Jean Bart wasn't slick either. You could see him smile from a mile away. Hakugan and Clione? Shachi and Penguin 2.0, except they hid behind Jean Bart. The rest pitied you instead, sometimes patting your back — sometimes shaking their head almost in disbelief. Oh, and Bepo gave you suspicious smiles! Every time he tried to say something to you, those two animal hat-wearing goblins silenced him. Did they just want you to suffer? 

And if they did want that then their curses were working because even after grabbing the sponge (almost losing your temper as it slipped through your gloved palm twice) and straightening back to an erect pose, your head was still banging with fervor, muscles barely reacting. 

If only you could snuggle with the fluffy, warm mink right now. A bitter sigh rushed past your lips at the thought. 

Those two were just so mean. But Law was much meaner — the captain, the captain... Yes, the captain. That... That dummy. 

You groaned and shook your head while forcing your wobbly arms to scrub the table, exhausted mentally with this never-ending train of thoughts and these fanciful fists leaving invisible bruises all over your poor body. Not to point out those hands pinching your brain like dough... 

Just — you... Goodness, what was it he suddenly despised so much? The submarine felt like home. It was home, especially when he joined you. Now when he does, he — the aura he emanates is intimidating, yet everyone is either unaware of it or not affected by it. 

What made him so resentful? You can barely say anything when he strides into the place, too panicked to learn how he would perceive you or talk to you if you go on. It's like you're back on step one, isolated, too scared to be yourself with your family. Because of one man who's supposed to be the head of it. 

Being you felt like a sin when close to him, as if he preferred the private variant of who you are, and shunned your curious and spirited self. You could understand since he’s rather closed off and well, in a certain aspect you are too, but — did he not like you at all? Was it all an act to not offend you? He didn't seem to dislike your vivid reactions initially, or your foolish gestures when nearing a fresh island. You were often silent, smiling and listening to others converse, but when around your companions, you easily liked to open up since it was the only time you could do so. And they were more than just that. You entrusted all the members of the heart pirates. They meant everything to you. Even him, who stopped including you. 

Ugh... 

You wished it could all go back to normal. 

This disease enjoyed fumbling with your previously scrambled sentiments. Law did mention it brought a high fever and emotional susceptibility. You didn't consider it'd be this severe. 

"... Okay, I'm done." 

You certainly weren't, with your bed unmade and furniture still dusty; floor imploring for a good wash. However, with the croaky voice you had paired with your runny nose, you doubted you could do more. Even if you did, it'd be better not to. 

You peered down at the bucket full of water that probably smelled better than you at the moment, ignoring the small puddle beside it made by your poor handling sponges skills. Grimacing, you decided to leave it where it was in case carrying it back turns out to be a challenge. Hopefully, Ikkaku can provide you help later. 

Looking around, your droopy eyelids dimmed your perspective and further provoked you as both exasperation and exhaustion mixed and boiled in your gut, room so messy it mirrored your current state. You didn't know what was irritating you more: the light of the lamp or the disarray you resided in. 

Howling dejectedly, you turned and plodded to your bed, opening your arms, ready to throw yourself on the mattress. The more you sleep, the sooner you'll get better. Yeah, you're so brilliant. You closed your eyes and — 

knock knock. 

— reopened them a second after, remaining immobile for an extra few before glowering at your door, contemplating whether to go open it or linger to determine if they'd leave. Hmm. 

You waited. 

... knock knock. 

Fantastic.

You gritted your teeth, drawing a profound breath to settle your nerves, haywire thanks to the hellish illness. They didn’t deserve to withstand your rage, but who knows, maybe by seeing your shape, they'll show sympathy and tell you. That could work. 

Okay. 

You sluggishly trudged to the door, not bothering to adjust your unbuttoned pajamas and faking a cheerful facade. You hoped your face didn't look too awful, but you couldn't care less right now. 

Gripping and twisting the knob, you pushed it open, greeting them with the feeblest voice you've ever had, your sore nose making it unthinkable to inhale air. You rubbed the back of your head while doing so, eyelids closed to evade any light. 

"Yo, Penguin, Shachi, how can I—" the words automatically came out of your coarse and blazing throat, opening your eyes a bit to look at... them... 

Then you saw a tattoo. And more tattoos. No white, poofy boiler suits in sight. 

By barely seeing light before, you tried giving yourself mercy, but now you were only slaughtering yourself to make sure the person in front of you was, well. Him. 

Your jaw fell while your brows lifted in consternation, but shortly returned down thanks to your declining headache. Your pupils then scaled the mountain of mass before you and arrived at the peak. Another pair of eyes. 

Cool, gray eyes. The ones that just a week ago welcomed you with compassion and comfort. Now they drive you to wither away from this world. Even if you look up to them. (Hehe, get it? man, you're so silly, wow.) 

"—help … Captain. Uh, hello." and there goes your comfort zone. 

You tried swallowing down air but got pounds of mucus down your stomach instead, curved posture closing up even more in his presence, ashamed to be seen in such a weak state, instantly regretting not managing your appearance as his gaze scrutinized you from top to bottom, probably displeased with how you presented yourself.. 

You looked everywhere but at him. He only looked at you. 

Envy spurted from the plant’s toxins. How could he focus on one thing and have so much confidence to stare at someone without breaking eye contact at all? If you do the same for longer than two seconds, it feels like whoever looked at you has seen your entire personality, life, darkest secrets that you didn't really have, closest people to you — everything in poor words. The windows of your soul, perpetually agape.

How does he keep them closed? Why can't you seal them at all? Why?— 

"—so care to explain the meaning of this?" 

"Huh?" 

You stupidly stared at him, blinking and glancing at his shoulders, then back at him to break whatever spell he put on you, not able to concentrate at all. 

Barely could you see the annoyed expression on his face. You hoped he wasn't dealing with excessive stress. Making him feel worse was not your intention. 

"I said, care to explain what this is? You look... terrible—" you cringed at that, "—and you haven't come out of your room since this morning. Do you have any idea what time it is?" His scrutinizing tone made you want to crawl under your blankets and stay there forever, but his patronizing gaze didn't let you. 

You could merely fidget with your fingers and glance back at the floor to relieve your worries, which mixed with pain, fatigue, and dirtiness. You called for sleep so badly. 

"I'm—I'm sorry, Captain. I, uh, I didn't—" sniff, "—mean to skip my duties. Sorry." 

His brow creased in suspicion at your raspy voice and poor shape. 

"Is that so? Look at me while you say it." if his words weren't menacing enough, his tone was too. He knew you couldn't do that. Especially now. 

"Uh..." you unconvincingly whispered, continuing to play with your fists, until rubbing your nape once more, shuddering at how chilled your hands were compared to it. 

Your actions were, again, spotted by him, and if one more thing occurred, then he'll be correct. 

"Well? I'm waiting." 

"..." 

Sighing exasperated, you raised your head to look into his pupils once again.  

Unbeknownst to you, he already confirmed another of his impressions while taking a further view of your sullen visage. 

"I, uhm, overslept, Captain. That — that happens sometimes, yeah? Sorry about that. I'll—I'll..." stopping for a moment, you squinted your eyes and scrunched your nose while the man before you attentively fixated his stare on your frame and— 

"Achooo!" —covered half of your face whilst he recoiled back at the loud sneeze you let out, not expecting it at all. He blinked, then you sneezed again, and again. Streak of three. 

If your voice and glossy eyes already told everything to the doctor, the continuous sneezes only reinforced his thesis. 

You exhaled haplessly as he sternly said your name. 

"You're sick." his firm and coherent words could not be fooled. Your fate was sealed. 

"...Yeah." at this point, you didn't care. He was gonna scold you, nothing you could do about it. You could only hope he'll do that after you're cured because right now, you could barely stand still without shivering. You were sure if he wanted to do something he would have already, so he definitely will have a talk with you after you're healthy. 

"Why?" you've been proven wrong so many times this morning — afternoon. Evening? That you don't know what's gonna happen next. 

You stared at him numbly, almost done with everything. 

"What do you mean 'why'? I don't, I don't know. Probably our... Ugh, our last stop, isn't that obvious—" 

"Not that. Why didn't you say anything? To the others? To me?" 

If it wasn't for your head beating incessantly and the aching of your tendons ruining everything, you would think this was a dream. 

You kept gawking at him like a goldfish. His timbre wasn't as stern as it regularly was. It was a bit, just a tad bit lower. Like, barely. His eyes were softer, and if you met the man yesterday, you wouldn't be capable of identifying his mood. It's because you knew him for so long that you could distinguish it. 

"I..." you mumbled talks under your breath, awfully feeble to maintain the discussion, barring your eyes and hitching away when Law planted his freezing hand on your forehead. You fussed in protest, although it didn't last long. 

"You're cold... Off." 

"My hands are perfectly fine. You're burning," he interrupted you, stating the obvious. But you were far too deep to listen, fatigued. 

"Yeah... M'sorry." you nodded while deliberately looking down in shame, almost dropping to the ground out of fatigue. Everything seems hazy, the pressure in your skull fading, while the breaths you took were meager. 

Something skimmed over your shoulder and nape — ah, his fingertips — palm carefully tilting your head back up. Your mouth hung open, and you attempted to focus on your captain's facial features and the iconic hat to not fall asleep. 

"It's fine." But his gentle approach and mellow maneuvers set you in a soothing trance, where you couldn't do anything other than auscultate him. 

It’d be an exceptional moment to speak up about these last days, his odd actions. 

"It... It is? You, ah... You're not..." but you struggled to do so, chest too heavy to speak. He narrowed his eyes, striving to make out what you were saying, but it was all incomprehensible to him. 

"I'm not?" he urged you to proceed, getting closer — he felt warm. Wasn't he cold some seconds ago? Ah, he’s draping his coat over your shoulders, so, so cozy, — and holding you as if you were glass. Why was he holding you? It felt nice, undoubtedly nice. Oh, you were going to fall, you think. 

“Hey—hey. It’s okay. I got you. I got you.” 

Cradling you in his arms, Law cursed and crouched down, snaking an arm under your knees and sweeping you up, a short "there" slipping from his tongue, keeping you close to his breast. Naturally, you snuggled close to the source of heat, losing consciousness, unaware of your surroundings, his distress, and jogging to the infirmary. 

“Hey. Keep your eyes open. No, no, open—yes, yes, like that. Good job. A bit more, then you can go to sleep, alright?" 

While nodding lazily when he said your name again, you curled up for more warmth, and he mellowly followed your movement, hefting you up and pressing his lips upon your forehead, his frown deepening at how high the temperature was. He needed to administer medicine quickly. 

"Law …'m sorry if I smell." 

He scoffed. Thinking of such idiotic things was exactly like you, sputtering them out so bluntly. Rolling his eyes was natural at this point. 

"That's my last concern. We'll think of your scent and hygiene later. Don't speak. Shh." 

So stupid, so stupid. He should've confronted you ever since you left the island. He should've. It's been a recurring pattern these days. He couldn't see you because of his work but spoke with the others at breakfast, lunch, dinner... They all grew concerned about your distance. Uni shared that it began right after the departing... He knew something wasn't right with you, he could feel it.

Back in that inhabited location, he quickly took note of your drooping posture and fatigued breathing. He wanted to ask about it, but the following days, you acted normal, and Law thought you were queasy because of the heat.

Then he got busy checking on the crew's documents, medicine supply, the damn broken scope Hakugan sadly reported, bounties, news — and something else. He managed to give a check-up to everyone but you. It was mandatory after leaving an island.

With you evading him and him doing the same, this happened. Great. He could only hope it wasn't contagious.

... Wait.

He gritted his teeth in sour realization — Not once has he seen you in the halls or dining hall. No one mentioned you, either. Have you eaten anything at all? Oh, you imbecile.

He palmed your skin through your suit, easing your laments and whimpers, walking through the hallways of the Polar Tang and reaching the infirmary. Kicking the door open while lulling you a bit, shushing and fluttering his eyelids at your sick and quaking form. 

"There we go. Shh, I know, I know, it's awful." 

Uplifting the blankets, he quickly covered you and began searching for his equipment, rustling and metal clicks tangling with your whines. 

"U- uuh... W- where..?" 

"I'll be there in a second. I'm here." 

As he said that, he quickly came back to you, already stirring medicine in a cup. He had to give to you before you blacked out or fell asleep. Sliding a hand under your back, he carefully pushed you up, gaining a groan from you; you sounded so tired. Tipping your head forward, he brought the rim of the cup to your lips. You were delirious, could barely see or feel, but managed to follow his direct instruction to "open". The first glass was tasteless, fresh... water. 

The second tasted awful. 

"E—eugh..." 

"A couple more sips and we're done. Come on, you're doing good." 

Once you drank it all, with a small praise from Law, he gently laid you back down, about to check your vitals. He knew you were in no condition to do as he instructed, it would be all him. Idiot, idiot... 

Just looking at you made him guilty. He never saw you this awful. However, what truly pushed him were your next phrases. 

“Do you feel better now..?” 

Low and dry, they all were. He halted his movements, his hands in the bag, shifting his attention to you. 

Your question puzzled him. 

Feel better? Him? He was fine. Perhaps you thought the disease was contagious? No; you would've phrased that diversely. His forehead creased, slightly tilted to the side. 

"What?" 

“I … I missed you." 

And as clear drops cascaded down your cheeks, his limbs froze, a bittersweet ache striking his chest. 

"I—I thought I did something wrong … I’m sorry … Should've told you. 'M sorry ... really...” 

Shit. 

“No, no, don’t be. It’s alright, don't—don't speak. You did nothing. Shh...” 

And if you stayed conscious for some more seconds, you could've seen those severe pupils mitigate. The windows of his soul open up; the "stern" gaze he preserved for you withering in an instant at your vulnerability. 

All he wanted to do was clear that up. When, now..? 

“I—I’m the one that should’ve apologized, damn it…” 

"Aargh..." 

Warm. 

"Mmh..." 

It was very warm. Pleasant. 

"Hn..." 

The boilersuit felt different. Heavier, and not … poofy. Hm. 

The pillow was so nice, though... 

You sought a better position under the comforting and amiable regime of your blanket, squinting your glistening eyes as if sand had struck them; eyebrows knitting in distaste and discomfort, choler cramming up your insides — but not for long, extremely achy and sleepy to lament. 

Shouldn't it be easier to relax now that you are tired? Shifting left and right left your muscles throbbing. The peace you could achieve in your dreams was all you begged for. But no, you just had to rise two more times in the span of minutes or hours. 

When you woke up the third time, someone surprised you. He was perching on a chair near the infirmary's bed, head, presumably about to doze off. An encyclopedia of vegetation and exotic environs sat in his palms and dotted jeans, the cover made of green-coloured leather, firm to the touch. 

He looked peaceful. 

"... Law?" 

Your lashes fluttered at the fierce shudder that rocked his frame, the textbook about to fall, his eyes snapping open and rapidly darting up to you. 

"Oh. You woke up. Good. Good evening." 

You were mad at him. You were mad at him. 

His lips were indubitably moving. Whatever he was saying, you were not listening. Something about being out for hours, but you were too out of it to pay attention. 

And looking down at your body, your eyeballs almost popped out of your sockets at the sight of... Not your boilersuit. 

"I'm in my pajamas?" 

"And — hm? Oh. I changed you." Pause. "With my devil fruit, of course. Obviously. You were way too hot in it." 

"..." 

"..." 

Pause number two. 

"I'm hot?" You bluntly said,

"Not in that way." And he quickly retorted, bashful. You immediately got gloomy.

"Oh..." You and Bepo were alike. He couldn’t help but sweatdrop.

"No, no, no, don't — you look fine. That's not what I meant." 

A hoarse chuckle ripped from your sensible larynx, a noise that he hadn't heard in a while. His back loosened at your jovial note, the pressure applied on the envelope of the manual lessening. 

There was a superb illustration of the flora you accidentally whiffed. 

"You inhaled it, didn't you?" 

... Silence followed. Then a sigh.

"A simple allergy with a sore throat and emotional instability in the first phase caused by the pollen, weakened muscles and headache in the second, and heightened senses, nausea, and worsening of the body in the last one. You felt them all." 

Quick and precise, each symptom he mentioned appeared throughout the weeks you boarded on the Polar Tang. He hit the mark. Glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, you nodded sheepishly, feeling hot in your cheeks. 

"Y—Yeah." 

"I thought I mentioned dodging those peculiar red flowers. I don't expect you to recall the name, but to avoid it. Thankfully, you only inhaled its pollen, or else you would've been in this bed the moment we departed." 

"O—oh... That bad?" 

"No, not really. The symptoms would've developed quicker, but nothing dangerous. Perhaps you would have slept over two days, as all cases do when encountering this allergy," He narrows his eyes at you, shutting the book and crossing his long legs, his foot jouncing. "Not at all fatal, only worrying when the patient in question mentions nothing about the symptoms and overworks themselves.” 

“Hey—” 

“You're fine." 

A small huff left your lips, nodding lazily. Nothing was uttered after from both sides. Occasional groans from yours. Only then he spoke. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

"..." The answer was simple. He immediately found the illness yet couldn't pinpoint the cause of this? It was almost ironic. Your quietude wasn't taken well. 

"Well?" 

"... You ignored me. You made it clear." 

And he was faking ignorance. That glance, his attitude. You knew him too well, but had no energy to call him out. 

"I—I didn't." 

"Don't play coy, Law. Did I do something? Even the others know. Penguin and Shachi told me. I—" 

You paused when he raised his hand, glancing at it in confusion, then back at him, twice or more. He sighed and dropped it back on his thigh again, using his other one to rub his temple in distress. 

"You did nothing. I don't know what... Shachi and Penguin said," You tilted your head at his peculiar manner of quoting them. "But I've got nothing against you." 

He stopped rubbing and lifted his head to check on you again and you were unsure of what to say. His brows wrinkled the tender skin of his forehead, severity, and minor unease painting every fiber of his appearance. 

You just... didn't know. 

"Really? Then why those weird stares? Why leave the room the moment I come in? I mean." you flailed your hands around, looking everywhere as if you could find an explanation. "You never behaved this way, Law, not with anyone. I... It was fine before, right? Let me ask again, did I do something wrong?" 

"Of course not!" 

At his hasty exclamation, you blinked, uncertain why he became as rigid as stone. Palms back on the blanket, you awaited an elaboration of his thoughts, observing his adumbral face to detect any key to figure out what caused him to alter his ways with you. However, his hat, which you've always appreciated for its fluffiness, turned out to be an issue. Those eyes you've grown so fond of refused to meet yours. 

You just couldn't get it. The surrounding air grew an intoxicating no romance book would mention, one that did the contrary of setting your heart aflame, that poor muscle of yours. 

If he explained, it would've been easier. 

"Okay, 'of course not' ... Sure—" 

"We are not having this conversation. You need rest." 

He briskly cut you off, and your heart felt constricted. The words felt bitter upon both of your tongues, so bitter and revolting, they made his jaw clench and your eyes water. You weren't having it. Absolutely not. 

"I feel better now, thank you, and I say we're having this right here." You pushed, ignoring how he clenched his tattooed fist.

"No—" 

"Yes, Law! I don't know what I did, but if it bothers you, shouldn’t you tell me? There are things we can all miss." 

The pang in your brain was still active, and you had no patience nor strength to argue. Either he spoke up or you'd go straight to sleep. 

"I... You did nothing that bothers me." 

His speech was almost a whisper, a low rumble, and were you in your regular state, you'd feel sad to see him like this. Law had no trouble speaking up— perhaps with apologies, or admitting to be wrong when in the midst of a conversation. Maybe something genuinely bothered him. But he'd tell you, wouldn't he? He had to.

But you weren't the only one who had to consider the consequences. He also had to do his part. 

"... And?" you encouraged him, to gain something, something that would lead you both to that damned thing you were both chasing, that ounce of understanding. 

“And—and what?" alas, it served another wave of blistering dissatisfaction down upon the membranes of your boiling stomach. 

He couldn't be serious. 

"... Whatever. I'm going to sleep." 

"What?" 

You detested how you were feeling, a volcano of passions, the pounding in your skull, and the heat, and the ludicrous, nagging insecurity, all these wretched, gristly sensations shoved in your mouth and scraping your gullet, such a relucting and squalid dish, contaminating your palate and inflaming the gums of your teeth. 

But all Law could see was how your eyes moistened and reddened, the crinkles at the corners of your mouth, the contracted tissues above your nose. 

You couldn't feel how his heart plummeted, either. Again, he caused you to cry. 

"Hey... I—" 

"No, Law, no! I said leave! You ignored me for almost two weeks and now—now you're just..!" 

Perhaps you were being a bit too "dramatic" for something you could solve with a modest exchange, something that, compared to all the obstacles you and Law went through, was a sheer grain of dust in your shoes. Yet you erupted for the frustration, the plant's effects and that nameless thing you'll bring in your grave, for if he knew, he'd probably pity you. 

Maybe, just maybe, he should've kept ignoring you. If solely to dim that warmth. The glow in your eyes that only sparked with him. 

"I don't mind if you need time. I don't mind if you're busy or whatever, that's obviously fine! But can't you tell me? Is it that hard? Instead of treating me like a stranger? Just—just, just leave..." 

Your snotty voice seemed ridiculous, resounding through the infirmary alongside your sobs and sniffles. Vision tarnished by your tears, staring at the ceiling with resignation. It alarmed Law, whose emotions were already scattered; unnerved, anxious. 

He couldn't take seeing you like this. He couldn't. 

"That’s not it! I... I just — I..!" His broken explanations fell as your cries didn't stop; spasms traveling through your frazzled nerves. He swore under his breath, getting up and coming to you, standing close but so, so distant. His fingers jerked, impatient to wipe your tears, to calm you down, to assure you everything was alright, and this was all on him. 

"What..?" you meekly whimpered, gazing at him as he appeared in your sight. 

"I, I..!" if only he could express himself. You'd figure out. If only he could, without buckling and tearing apart at the weight of his own feelings. 

"... You what, Law?" 

It was tough to see with all those tears coating your scleras, but... His lips quivered. His jaw tensed. 

His hands craved yours. 

"I like—I like you!" 

... You wondered if illusions were part of the symptoms. Your eyelids were all but relaxed. Popeyed. 

"There. I said it. I mean it. Seriously. I—I think I love you." 

You could feel his frantic grip, slightly pulling the blankets in his direction, tense as him. You've never seen Law so … jittery with you. Perhaps when he slowly spoke of his past, or when his plan failed. 

"I—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I... I was confused. I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't... No, okay. I, I love you, but you don't have to reciprocate, really. ‌I just wanted to clarify that I wasn't—" 

This was different, however. Not the same vulnerability, nor agitation. That teetering edge coating his sayings, not at all close to those instances. 

"... Law." 

"—ignoring you, I mean, I was, but I just couldn't face you, you know? I didn't know how to act—" 

That glow, those feelings. The twinkle in his eyes Bepo mentioned when you spoke of something that fascinated you, that rare grin on his lips, and that sweetness, the swelling in his chest, and the red, and the breath of fresh air, and the intoxicating romance books loved to talk about... 

Those tints blooming in his cheeks. The faint relaxation of his defined brows. How he covered his pretty, vulnerable self. 

He's no different from you. Oh, oho ho, no, he wasn’t. Only now did you realize. 

"Law." 

"—but I missed you so much, I missed your presence, being with you, I—" 

Your heartbeats matched. 

"Law!" 

You understand now. The definitive yell induced him to quit his blabbering, and eventually, he found your gaze. Those windows were not locked at all. Not marginally, not halfway. They were fully open. You could see him. 

"It's... the same." 

It was all you could utter. His jaw loosened, and you could recognize his wide, stormy irises. 

"Huh? Wh — what?" 

"I feel the same way, Law. I—I love you too." 

Yours were open, too. They always were- yet he never acknowledged what dwelled inside. Two fools you both were. 

"... Oh..." and a breathless whisper was all he could offer. 

The silence dissipated. A delightful warmth occupied your rib cage. The pressure was gone. 

All is back to normal. 

"If... If you weren't sick. I'd kiss you." He mumbled, and his lips looked more luscious than ever. He shouldn't have said that. Now it was even harder. 

"P—pfft... Of course, of course. Can you come closer, at least?" you pouted, giving him the best puppy eyes you could muster. “Pretty please?”

"... Fine. It's — not contagious, anyway," he huffed, his cheeks a light pink, and he sat on the margin of the infirmary's bed, hustling just a tad bit closer... 

Closer... 

"Closer?" 

"Alright." 

His ears grew pink at your giggles. Your fingers graced each other, "DEATH" entwined with you. His hands were lukewarm. Long, slim, calloused in some places, but also tender to the contact. His metacarpals were partially discernible, defining the shadows. He took care of his nails, ensuring they were cut short, although they appeared slightly, just somewhat lengthier than usual. Not considerably, however; they were still short. 

How you missed holding it. 

"Sorry, by the way. About everything." Squeezing his hand, you attempted to show him what it meant to you. He squeezed it back, brushing the top of your hand with his thumb, a pensive and solemn look on his face. 

"No- I should apologize for not saying anything sooner. I neglected and avoided you. I … I don’t know what to do. You know I’m not the type for relationships.” 

You hummed in acknowledgement, but weren't as worried as Law. You'll wait. Nothing would change. 

“Mmm. I can wait for you, Law.” Saying it seemed to take him off guard, as if he hadn't thought about it. Or, rather, didn't expect you to propose it. In his head, it seemed silly because it's him. If you were to ask in his place, he'd also wait. 

He felt lighter. 

“… Truly?” 

“Yeah. We can figure it out together. Like we always did. I’ve loved you for years." He inhaled deeply, your words buttery and sweet. "I’m fine with waiting longer.” 

Thinking you wouldn't accept, if he asked, was stupid of him too. Of course you would. Of course. With another squeeze, he nodded, and turned his head away from you a bit. 

His eyes glistened. 

“I’d like that. Thank you.” 

You smiled, too, saying nothing in return. 

He can take all the time he needs. 

After some days, everything went back to the typical routine. The first thing you did was knock Shachi and Penguin's heads, (supported by Ikkaku) and since Hakugan and Clione were on duty, you couldn't do the same for them. 

You puffed your cheeks and enjoyed chewing the well-earned treat you snagged from the kitchen, reorganizing boxes since this morning. 

"Tired?" 

Peeking at the door, a smile adorned your mouth at the sight of your captain leaning on it. 

"Mm, there were a lot of them." 

"You could've asked for help. You know I don't want any of you to strain yourselves with tasks." 

"I had it. Don't worry. Although..." another bite. "I miss it." 

"Hm?" he crooned, tipping his head forward. "Miss what?" 

You gazed into his eyes, "Miss getting pampered by you when I was sick." lovingly observing how they enlarged a bit before returning to the stoic stare he always wore, swaying his head to dismiss your remarks. The chambré tint on his cheeks was as clear as day, like his light smile. Not that you'd tell him, he'd immediately disregard it. 

"... Meet me at my office once you're done." 

As he turned his back to you, his boots making clicky rumors with each step, your smirk amplified... After all, who could wait to get coddled by none other than their favorite captain?

[cobaltperun]

Eternal Flame (13) - Black Friday

Jenna Ortega x Female Reader

Summary: For her it’s a passion, for you it’s an accident. And as she continues shining brighter and brighter with each role you are left mesmerized, drawn to her flame and cherishing every time she lets herself be vulnerable with you.

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Word Count: 5.7k

-I wanna be happy, could you show me how it's done?-

When Hugh took you to Ethiopia you didn't think you would be spending half the day raking leaves with him. “I thought we were on a vacation,” you said roughly four hours into the manual labor he's been putting you through. Granted, he was right there with you, doing the same thing, so at least that made it fair to an extent. His kids and wife smartly avoided this activity and were in a warm house, drinking coffee and getting to know the locals.

“No harm in some work,” Hugh figured, getting up and wincing as he straightened his back. Oh yeah, he was several decades older than, you frankly you were almost sorry for him right now. “We'll sleep a lot better tonight.”

You did have troubles sleeping, so maybe that’s what he was trying to do.

“Yeah, that's right. Keep finding the positive in everything. I’ll ask you what you think tomorrow, when it turns out that your back is hurting, because you couldn't let a twenty-year-old do a better job than you,” and stupidly you got competitive as well. At least you did things a lot faster since you both wanted to see which one of you could do the job faster and better. As it turns out, being young did have advantages in this particular situation.

“I let you win,” he said as he leaned on the rake, but not too hard though, as you were both afraid that leaning on them properly might make them snap, and that would be an embarrassing way to fall to the ground.

You rolled your eyes, amused by his refusal to accept loss with grace. “So, what's really the point of all this? You've had me working, had me meditating, hell, nearly roped me into doing yoga with you. Come on, spill it,” you said once you began making your way back to the shed to leave the raked before going back to where Deb and Hugh’s kids were.

“You really should try yoga though,” he was trying to change the subject, to avoid answering your question and you just turned to face him, meeting his eyes and just studying him for a moment. And then he slumped slightly, giving in to your silent demand. “I'm trying to keep you occupied, I guess, not sure if that will do any good, but we might as well start somewhere.”

The expression on your face softened as Hugh said that. You could have figured as much. “You're being ridiculous, but I appreciate it,” the truth was that you probably didn't have any idea how to approach what you were feeling and going through either, and he was just scrambling to try and do something. He was making an effort while hoping that maybe one of those things would work for you, and some were actually working.

The first few days he had to pull you to sit down and meditate with him, but this morning you sat down next to him all on your own. For what it was worth you did appreciate spending ten minutes purely on yourself, being in no rush to do anything, feeling no pressure, having no deep thoughts plaguing your mind. It was just ten minutes, and in that brief period of time you could take a moment and relax. Somehow, starting the day like that was good for you, it was making you feel calm at the start of the day instead of tense as you usually were.

And despite the occasional joking complaints you made about the vacation turning into a glorified test of your stamina, you enjoyed yourself. You were gaining a new perspective on life in general, something to help you look at things from a different point of view. And throughout all of that the ring hanging from your neck brushed against your skin and reminded you that at the end of the day this all had to be worth it.

~X~

There has never been a January this miserable in Jenna's life, filled with so much despair and sorrow and exhausting conversations with her family. All of them, mostly her parents, but also her siblings, aside from Aliyah who saw how she was at the airport, were repeating that you weren't good for her. Repeating that she was like this because of you, that she was difficult to talk to, that she was miserable, that she had a short temper and wasn't pleasant to be around, all because of you.

Eventually she just packed her bag and went back to LA, cutting her family time short, because she could no longer take constantly hearing that. The worst thing about it was that it was getting to her head, and she feared that when, and if, she ever got the chance to see you again, that all those words her family kept repeating would end up reaching her. That the moment she saw you that she would start thinking whatever she had with you wasn't worth losing the support of her family.

And yet, as conflicted as she felt, she still often found herself with your shirt close to her and with your jacket around her shoulders as she went and did some small tasks all around her house. She couldn't quite wear it, the sleeves were too long for her, so she just tied the sleeves around her neck and went about her day. She was all alone so who cared if she looked a bit ridiculous.

From what Barbara told her, and she knew Barbara was only giving her the bare bones as far as the information went, you finished filming in Italy and went on a vacation with Hugh and his family. And despite everything Jenna almost felt bitter, thinking you moved on, that you decided to keep living your life with or without her in it, while she was here, having her world falling apart. If it turned out this between you couldn’t be fixed, then yeah, both of you had every right to move on. She just felt, in despair, that you did it way too quickly.

Her doorbell rang just as she finished washing the few dishes she used for her lunch, and she took your jacket off and hung it on the chair before going to her front door. Enrique said he would drop by, and this had to be him, and sure enough when she looked through the camera in front of her apartment building's front door she found him standing there. Jenna quickly opened the door and the front door of her apartment for him, and he came inside, meeting her in the hallway and she just hugged him soon as he was close enough.

“There, there, it's OK, you can cry,” he told her. By now he knew more or less what happened. He didn't know why you began fighting in the first place but he knew everything else. And while she could allow herself to cry in front of him Jenna honestly didn't have any tears left to shed, she spent so many nights crying herself to sleep that she was just tired of crying.

She let go of him and smiled a bit. “Let's just sit down. Do you want something to eat or drink? Anything?” Enrique just brushed her off, showing her he brought hot chocolate to go along, and Jenna was thankful for the a bit of thoughtfulness from someone who cared about her.

“Y/N’s jacket?” Enrique pointed at the jacket hanging from her chair as Jenna sat down.

She nodded. “I miss her,” she confessed softly. You weren’t talking and that was only making things worse right now. “But I don’t think my parents will ever accept her.”

Enrique leaned back in his chair. “Well, I'm here to fix that,” Enrique promised her, and somehow, she believed him. “So, how about you fill me in on the things I don't know,” he asked, and Jenna began. She told him everything she knew, that your parents were in an accident, were left in a coma and that you needed money. That you sold your apartment and that it still wasn't enough, so you went and got involved in a fight club. She told him all of that, and that it wasn't enough, that your parents couldn't be saved, and that you then, despite no longer having to fight, went and fought again, and Enrique just sat there listening taking it all in.

“You know, and this might just be me, but I think it's beautiful. You know, what she did,” his words took her by surprise, she had no idea how he could even come to that conclusion. You went and you hurt people, and you let others hurt you for money. How could that have been beautiful in any way? “Now, hear me out, I know how it sounds. But think about it. Y/N loved her parents so much that she didn't care what she had to endure to try and save them, she didn't get involved in that out of greed or a desire to hurt people, she went and fought because that was her only hope.”

Jenna just sat there, taking his words in. She hadn’t even thought about it that way, in her mind and in her entire family's opinion there was no excuse for what you did, there was nothing but violence in it, even if they understood the circumstances. Well, at least for the period while your parents were in a coma, and you were fighting for them.

“Just think about how much you would have to love someone to be sixteen and willingly go through so much pain, just for a slim chance that you could save that someone you love. Jenna, I've seen the way she looks at you, and you've seen it too. Your parents worry she would end up hurting you one day, but the way I see it there is a good chance she's the person you'll be safest with,” it felt like everything she thought she knew and everything she thought she felt was thrown on its head and changed in an instant. Like there was suddenly some kind of light shining through the clouds and making her see things differently.

“She went back, Enrique,” she fell back on repeating the arguments her parents kept making, afraid that if he convinced her, that she would only break. That she would ignore everything her parents wanted and do everything in her power to rebuild what the two of you had.

“Jenna, she was broken by grief. Y/N just lost her entire family, you said she fought for months to try and keep them alive, and she failed. So, she went and chose an unhealthy coping mechanism,” a lot like plenty of other people, and finally it all just made sense to Jenna, she understood what Enrique was trying to say. Yet it came too late, now it only made her feel worse that she didn't even consider these options, that she didn't even try to understand you and that she just pushed you away.

“I'm too late. I doubt she would ever want to see me again and I can't even blame her,” clearly not all of her tears were dried up, because here she was, crying once again. Enrique just pulled her into a hug, trying to console her and help her through this.

“You don't know that. Hey, we've both seen how she looks at you! I've spent just a couple of hours with her and even I can tell that girl unconditionally loves you!” and yet she went and risked it all over an impulsive reaction and her need to not go against her parents in that very moment.

The phone buzzed next to her, and her and Enrique saw it was from Barbara. “See what she sent,” Enrique encouraged her and Jenna unlocked her phone, and while making sure that Enrique could see it as well, she opened the message. Her eyes widened; Barbara had sent her a photo. It was you, in a place she couldn't recognize, drinking coffee it seemed, and just sitting by the fire with a small smile on your face, but what caught her eye wasn't your expression nor anything else about you, it was her ring clearly on display, hanging from the necklace around your neck.

“See, I told you,” Enrique patted her on the back and Jenna smiled as she spent who knows how long just silently staring at the picture. She stared, taking in the way the fire was reflected in your eyes, the smile on your face was honest, but there was a sense of sorrow in it, like you were constantly missing something. It wasn't the full smile you had when you were with her, and she studied every single detail about you, your hair, your clothes, the way light from the flames and shadows made your skin look, the way you held the coffee cup, firmly grasping it. She noticed the way you were slightly hunched forward, maybe leaning in to listen to whoever was talking to you, and she remembered how you leaned in to listen to her, you always leaned in closer than this. Your attention was always completely on her, and while you were paying attention to whoever you were talking to in this picture as well, she figured at least 10 to 15% of your attention was somewhere else.

And then she got another message from Barbara, and this time it was a video, perhaps taken only moments after the photo. You were silent, just listening and then it happened, you reached up and your thumb and finger brushed along her ring. You glanced down, the longing clear in your eyes, too lost in thoughts to notice you were being filmed.

“See, she loves you! She misses you, she wants you back in her life!” Enrique messed with her hair for a bit and the remark would have seemed like teasing to her a month ago, but now it was more than welcome.

“I still don't know what to do with my parents,” while she could probably convince her siblings that she would be fine, her parents were a whole other story.

“I'll handle them,” Enrique promised her and she trusted him, maybe he wouldn't be able to completely change their minds, but she believed that he would be able to at least make them willing to give the two of you a chance.

“Thanks,” Jenna said, not sure what else to say to show her gratitude. Then Barbara sent one last message for the day. ‘Just figured you should know that Y/N is trying her best. She’s trying to get better, and you are the biggest reason why she's doing that. As you can see by that ring that she refuses to take off unless she absolutely has to.’

And Jenna smiled, a sense of hope, from the conversation she had with Enrique, the video of you she got, and the message Barbara sent, filling her heart for the first time in roughly a month.

~X~

Even with all the energy you've been spending throughout the days, you still struggled to fall asleep, and you really shouldn't be, your days were packed. If it wasn't actually working and volunteering to help people out with Hugh, then it was sightseeing and long walks, and yet as tired as you were by the time you would say goodnight to Hugh and his family, that exhaustion would just vanish the moment you would lay down in your bed. You found yourself struggling to fall asleep each and every night.

You should have known long days of work or walking or some physically demanding activities wouldn't be enough to get you to easily fall asleep. After all, if there was one thing those fights gave you it was almost ridiculous stamina, and you had to admit you were hating that right now. Because no matter how tired or how calm you would be, you just couldn't fall asleep. You've tried meditating, you've tried doing a quick workout, you tried drinking chamomile tea, and yet none of that helped.

You knew exactly what was wrong, you glanced at your bedside table, at the ring Jenna gave you. You only took it off either when you were taking a shower or a bath, and when you were sleeping. You were afraid you could somehow grab the necklace and break it, and then lose the ring somewhere, so you would take it off. And it wasn't that you were missing the ring in particular, it was just that when you were on your own, your thoughts would just wander to the different places, and you had no control over them. You've been thinking about Jenna damn near constantly when you were alone.

Even when you were with other people you knew there was a sense of longing in everything you did, in every laugh, in every smile. You were there and you were happy. You really were doing better, but you just missed her. and you thought it would get better with time, but it didn't. It was just getting worse day by day. You turned in your bed once again for what felt like the hundredth time tonight alone, unable to quiet your mind.

The only thing you wanted was to just call her and see how she was doing, to just know that she was fine. Deep down you knew you left her at potentially the worst possible moment. You saw the desire to reach out to you, and to touch you in her eyes, back when you last saw her. You knew you were leaving her with the family that despised you right now, and you couldn't even begin to imagine just how hard it would be for her to go through all of that on her own. Living alone was in your mind one of the worst ways one could live, but constantly being surrounded by people who disapproved of something you cared about and put you through emotional pain while saying it was for your sake, was way worse than that.

And you despised yourself for leaving Jenna like that, because in the worst-case scenario she wanted to talk to you, but her family wouldn't agree with it no matter what she said. Yet you couldn't do anything about it, you hurt her, you betrayed her trust and you no longer had the right to reach out first. It had to be her, you couldn't force your way into her life, no matter how desperate you were to just know that she was fine.

And deep down maybe you were afraid of what you would do if she wasn’t fine.

And those thoughts plagued your mind. You constantly worried about how she was, how she slept, if she ate enough. Being alone made those thoughts a dozen time louder, and it was almost unbearable.

You glanced at your phone to check the time and tried to figure out what time it would be in Denver, eventually, you figured Barbara would be off work right now, so you went and called her, hoping her voice could calm down your nerves a bit. Besides, you missed your best friend, as much as this vacation helped you, you still wished she could have experienced some of this as well.

As you waited for her to pick up you promised yourself that when you finally come back and when you finished filming with Hugh that you would go and reconcile with her family.

“Babe?” of course she greeted you like that, that dumbass.

“Sure, sure, Babe,” you rolled your eyes. You found it somewhat funny how different things were the last time you called Barbara ‘babe’ back then Jenna heard it, and you had to explain yourself. Now it was much different, and those were just good old times before you went and fucked up.

“I can hear you rolling your eyes,” Barbara laughed, and you were going to take that, because she needed a laugh after helping you pull through those first couple of days after Jenna left. Barbara deserved every chance to laugh and if anyone were to hurt her you would raise hell until she was fine again, which was also part of the reason why you were adamant on sooner rather than later reconciling with her family.

It would also be very strange to suddenly, for example, appear at a celebration of something important happening in Barbara's life and surprise her parents by showing them you were still in Barbara's life. “Yeah, because eyerolls make sounds,” still, it was a bit strange, it sounded like Barbara had you on speaker. “How was your day?”

“Uh, just the usual, you know. Went to work and now I'm just lying around, bored. About to turn on the cheesiest love songs in history,” that was not good news, that meant only one thing, another heartbreak, well sort of, Barbara never took it too close to heart when something like this happened. Especially since she hasn’t really been serious with anyone over the past year.

“Which guy who asked you out ended up being in the closet now?” you would still humor her.

“James,” and that meant nothing to you. You didn't even know the guy existed; this was the first time you were hearing about him.

“How long ago was this again?” you asked, maybe you just forgot since your mind was damn near always on Jenna these days.

“A few months ago, you were filming Scream, meeting the love of your life while I was at the store, meeting James, who, as it turns out, only wanted a girlfriend so his mom would be happy,” she jokingly ranted. “Didn't even get to the first date point, so no harm done,” she may have been complaining, but you were well aware that Barbara didn’t care one bit about it. When someone right shows up he’ll show up, she used to say, and she still believed that. And she was still twenty, she mostly just dated to meet people and if it ended up becoming serious than so be it.

As for you, despite everything you still smiled at the love of your life comment, almost welcoming the teasing.

“I guess that will keep happening, minus finding the love of my life again, doubt that's happening, but you meeting guys while I’m somewhere filming,” considering you were serious about acting now that scenario was fairly plausible. How many things in Barbara and Hugh’s life would you miss with this job? How many times would you only be able to comfort Barbara over the phone? That was the sad reality of your work.

“About that, I think you won't need to find another one,” she said and you sat up abruptly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest at those words.

“What do you mean?” but she just laughed and for a moment you naively thought that she wasn't laughing at you, that maybe there was another reason she laughed. “Barbara, what do you mean?!”

“Oh, nothing, nothing! Don't worry about it! Oh, by the way, I need to go and get,” she paused as if she was thinking of an excuse. “A pizza, yeah, a pizza. I ordered a pizza and it's just about to arrive!” what the hell was going on over there?

“Barbara, you know I know when you are lying!” but she was already saying ‘bye!’ “You come back here and explain yourself, Barbara!” but she just hung up and you stared at your phone, baffled by what just happened. What did you miss?

~X~

Barbara was laughing her ass off and she just sank into the sofa. Your sofa by the way, because of course Barbara would take her to your apartment.

“See, you've got nothing to worry about. You're the love of her life,” Barbara told her with the almost infuriatingly wide grin on her face and Jenna just looked down, her face about as red as a tomato, and she couldn't stop the smile on her face.

For the first time since the end of last year she was actually at peace, and it was almost ironic that it was in your apartment. It was like deep down she could feel your presence around her, even if the apartment was fairly barren from anything personal in it. She could still feel like you were almost right there with her.

“She sounded,” she began, but she couldn't even find the correct word to describe what she noticed. But there was a change in your voice that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

“Like she was struggling, for the lack of a better word,” Barbara offered, and Jenna supposed that would be the most fitting description, though it wasn't quite the word she would use. It was more like you were on the precipice of finally reaching something that she couldn't define, yet she knew it would be important for you.

“I guess,” but she accepted the description Barbara offered.

Barbara gave her a small smile “So, you are going away for filming, right? That's why you wanted to talk.”

This time next week she would already be in New Zealand, about to start filming X, so that would mean she couldn't see you anytime soon. It was a harsh blow to know that she wouldn’t be able to see you for at least a month and a half from now. She didn't think she would be hearing your voice, and while it felt so good while it lasted, it just reopened that wound on her heart, caused by all the longing within her. She missed you so much, but she still wanted your first contact again to be face to face, and in a way she was afraid of your reaction; even if Barbara and Enrique have been telling her that it would be fine, that you still loved her.

“Well at least you’ll both be free after that and then you can figure out when and how to meet up,” that was a comforting thought, that after the filming was done for both of you, you would have the time and space and could actually talk things through. Maybe even find a way to get back to the way things were before because she desperately needed you back in her life.

“How should I approach it?” Jenna asked timidly.

Barbara put a finger on her chin, seemingly thinking about it. “Well, first of all you need to book an entire restaurant, and you have to arrange for a car to come and pick her up, and make sure there are flowers and cookies, and a good movie and some music. Y/N just adores heartbreaking love songs, they need to have soul crushingly depressing lyrics, by the way,” and then she burst out laughing because Jenna was seriously listening to her. “I'm messing with you, Jenna. Just show up. Just like you told me: ‘Hey, can we meet up, I want to talk,’ do the same thing with her. Or if you really don't want to send that message and you want the first thing you tell her to be face to face, then you tell me and I'll bring her somewhere so you can do that. That’s all Y/N wants, just you.”

And that comforted her a lot, that at the end of the day it didn't matter how she would show up, in front of you as long as she did come to talk. “Can we actually fix this?” Jenna asked because Barbara was the only one who knew you enough to give her that answer.

“12 hours,” Barbara said and then just completely stopped. Jenna just raised an eyebrow, not getting what that mean, so Barbara sighed and continued. “That's how long it'll take the two of you to end up in her bed naked, and very thankful the walls of this apartment are thick, not that you'll notice, because you'll be in the throes of passion. I'm telling you right now, that's gonna happen,” she said it with a completely blank face and somehow Jenna got even redder than before, unable to actually respond to that claim in any way.

~X~

With the vacation over, it was time to go back to work, and that meant going straight from Japan to New York to start filming The Daughter, and the first thing you did would perhaps make or break the rest of the process. Everything in the movie rested on the chemistry between you and Hugh, and the first scene had to start building that.

“Action!” you heard from behind the doors. You relaxed your posture, hung your head a bit and made it seem like you had the weight of the world on top of your shoulders, and you were just tired of it. And it wasn't difficult to get into that mental state. You opened the doors with an unscripted sigh, giving away how tired your character must be feeling as you tossed the bag onto the floor and just kicked your sneakers off, not even bothering to put them away properly. Your character was supposed to think she would come back home to an empty apartment, and you already made your way to your character's bedroom instead of at least glancing in the kitchen and the living room.

“Nicole!” you heard Laura's voice from the living room and froze momentarily, almost stumbling over your feet as you scrambled back to put your sneakers away properly and grab your bag. You let the panic in your eyes show well enough without overplaying it.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, and then took a deep breath as if pumping yourself up to put on a façade. “Hey mom, shouldn't you be at work?” you asked as you leaned into the living room, showcasing the distance between the characters with a wide shot of the living room, with just your head and fingers of your left hand visible, as well as the hint of your bag hanging from your shoulder.

“I came early,” Laura smiled at you, and the smile was perfect, the pain and uneasiness hidden behind the unconditional love of a parent, it was all there in that quick moment that she would be in the focus.

“You arrived,” you tightened your grip on to the doorframe and flinched as if you were about to fall, and then you looked back to see Hugh coming out of the bathroom. You looked back at the hall, where his shoes were and then just looked at him again, as if trying to make sure he was actually there. “Dad?” you said in disbelief, and Hugh looked like he was stuck between being happy to see you and unsure what to expect from you. You leaned away from the doorframe, guarder, tense as you studied him, just as unsure of what to expect as he was.

“Your mom told me you've been skipping school, and I figured we could talk,” he said, and your entire demeanor changed as you glared at him. “Nicole,” Hugh called your character's name, and you tighten your jaw, starting to open your mouth to speak several times, before just giving up and relaxing.

“Sure, come on in,” you said motioning toward your room, there was no bounce to your steps and just for a moment you met Laura's eyes, and she just looked away as if silently saying sorry to you. You just closed your eyes for a moment, briefly letting the pain show on your face while neither Hugh nor Laura could see. As you let Hugh into the room you went and tossed the bag on your bed, not caring when you slightly missed, and it fell to the floor. You didn’t even wince at the slight mess in the room.

Hugh turned on the lights and walked by you, then he just picked your bag up, placing it on the bed with care, while you slumped into your chair. “You should keep your room tidy, when I was your age everything had to be spotless,” Hugh said and picked up an empty bottle of juice your character left lying there at some point.

“You should remember you have a daughter a bit more often, and yet here we are,” you fired back and Hugh’s eyes immediately met yours, only for you to look away and mumble a ‘Sorry’ under your breath.

Hugh sat down on your bed, and you just leaned back, not even looking at him. “I know we haven't spent a lot of time together lately, and I've been thinking that maybe you would like to spend some time with me, meet your baby brother. We can catch up and see how it works out?” he suggested and you looked at him for a moment.

“What about school?” you asked, sure your character didn't go to school for the past month, but it was still the middle of the year.

“We'll figure something out, enroll you in another school. Have you start over,” Hugh said and you nodded not really caring either way.

“Cut!” the director yelled and you and Hugh visibly relaxed. “That's what I wanted! Great job you two! You as well Laura!” he approached you and Hugh. “Hugh, you were right, Y/N can pull this off!” Florian patted you and Hugh on the shoulders and called you over to go over the next scene because the approach he took was to talk to both of you, or the actors involved in the scene, through it and try to explain all the emotions involved in it, as well as let you give him any input you might have as well.

Overall, even though the subject of the movie would be rather heavy, you wouldn't want to do this with anyone else. And from the look in Hugh’s eyes, you figured he felt the same.

Taglist: @lilbitdepressed27 @freakshow2501 @osnapitzmel1 @belatrixdragon @ijustlovemaths

@niqmandu @justspance @mirage018 @godamnityess

Masterlist / First Part / Previous part / Next Part

[dolliethv]

Into you.

summary: English is not my first language, so if you notice any mistakes I'm sorry!! story inspired by the song "Into You" by Ariana Grande, I hope you enjoy it xoxo!

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem reader!!

Word count: about 3,6k

The deafening sound of the crowd at Wembley still echoed in your ears as the lights went out, marking the end of your final performance on tour. It had been a resounding success. There’s no better feeling than hearing thousands of people singing along to your songs, feeling that genuine connection that only true artists experience on stage. However, as the music faded, the reality behind the curtain pulled you back into a world where freedom was nothing but an illusion.

Adrenaline still coursed through your body as the crew surrounded you, congratulating you on the show. But amidst the laughter and praise, your personal assistant quickly approached with a serious look and a tablet in hand.

“You were amazing, as always,” your assistant began, though the tone of their voice hinted that the compliment came with bad news. “But there’s something you can’t avoid. Tonight’s event. Your team needs you to attend.”

You take a deep breath. There’s always something. A red carpet, a charity event, a fashion show... something that reminds you that your public life never rests. But this particular event makes you more uncomfortable than others. You know that your team has arranged for you to attend with a model, one of the men the tabloids have been pairing you with for weeks. Perfect photos for the paparazzi, fabricated rumors to feed the public's curiosity.

“Does it have to be tonight?” you ask, though you already know the answer.

“It’s important for the brand, to maintain the narrative... You know how it is,” your assistant replies with an apologetic grimace.

With a resigned sigh, you nod. You know it all too well. This isn’t the first time you’ve been trapped in this kind of situation, and it probably won’t be the last.

Hours later, with the glow of Wembley still fresh in your mind, you find yourself inside a black limousine, on your way to the event. You’re dressed in an elegant purple silk outfit, characterized by its shine and smooth texture. The outfit has a sensual and glamorous style, with a cross-cut top that reveals part of your abdomen and a long, high-waisted skirt. The dark purple color adds a touch of luxury and sophistication. Your makeup and delicate jewelry, along with the violet bow tied at the back, complement the atmosphere and make you stand out at the presentation. Beside you, the model assigned to you for the night—a tall, attractive man—means absolutely nothing to you. Everything is a show. And although your face shows a perfect smile, inside, you feel more and more empty.

Upon arrival, the flashes begin to light up every corner. The cameras don’t stop firing. You pose hand in hand with the model, your bodies close together, simulating the intimacy that doesn’t exist between you. Your laughs are rehearsed, your gestures, calculated. It’s just another performance, but this time, the discomfort in your chest is more palpable than ever.

What people don’t know, what the cameras don’t show, is that Jude Bellingham is also at the event, dressed in a modern, high-fashion ensemble. The outfit includes a black suit with embroidered rose details and brand patterns. The avant-garde touch comes from the jacket he wears open, with no shirt underneath, and a white scarf wrapped around his neck. White sunglasses and sturdy black shoes complete the look, giving him an air of sophistication and modernity. Somewhere in the room, he watches the scene, battling his own instincts.

For months now, the connection between the two of you has been undeniable. Stolen moments at previous events, clandestine conversations in the shadows. There’s something between you that can’t be faked or forced. And although both of you are trapped in the fame game, your relationship has grown in secret. Jude loves you. More than he’s willing to admit out loud.

But tonight, seeing you so close to another man, smiling for the cameras as if you’re really enjoying it, makes his stomach turn. Trent Alexander-Arnold, his teammate and friend, notices the tension in Jude as they both watch from a discreet corner.

“Man, don’t get like this,” Trent whispers, trying to calm him down. “You know how this game works. It’s just marketing. Nothing more.”

Jude clenches his fists. He knows. He understands. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

And then it happens.

As you pose for the cameras, you try to subtly pull away from the model, wanting to break the contact and end the photo session. But the man, following the marketing team’s instructions, grabs your arm roughly, pulling you back to continue posing. The gesture is quick, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. The expression of discomfort on your face is clear, and though you try to hide it, the damage is already done.

From his position, Jude feels his blood start to boil. That jerk touched you in a way he shouldn’t have. Too rough. Too disrespectful.

“Did you just see that?” Jude asks through clenched teeth, staring at the model still holding your arm.

Trent notices it too and knows he has to intervene quickly.

“Jude, calm down,” he says, stepping between him and the scene. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

But Jude barely hears him. Every muscle in his body is tense, ready to disfigure that idiot's face. Rage blinds him, and all he can think about is protecting you. How dare he treat you like that in front of everyone?

Jude takes a step forward, but Trent grabs his arm firmly.

“No, Jude. Not here. Not now. This will only make things worse,” his friend insists. “Think about what will happen if you cause a scene. You know it won’t end well for either of you.”

Jude breathes heavily, but little by little, reason returns to his mind. Trent is right. Causing a scene here, in the middle of all those photographers and cameras, would only complicate things further. But that doesn’t mean he accepts it.

From a distance, his eyes meet yours. And in that instant, he understands that you’re fed up too. He can see it in your gaze, in the way your lips tremble slightly, holding back your frustration. Both of you are trapped in this game, and neither of you can take it anymore.

When the model finally lets go of you, you discreetly step away, walking toward a more secluded corner, pretending you need a break. Jude, still furious, watches you, making sure you’re okay.

“I promise this won’t last much longer,” Jude mutters through clenched teeth as Trent looks at him with determination. “I’ll find a way to get us out of this.”

Trent nods, understanding that his friend is serious. And although the situation is complicated, Jude has always been someone who gets what he wants.

As the event’s lights continue to shine and the cameras keep capturing perfect images, deep down, both of you know you can’t keep pretending much longer.

The vibrant music and murmurs of the crowd still echo in the air, but all you can think about is the scene you just lived through. When the model grabbed your arm with that unrestrained force, a flood of emotions washed over you. You feel trapped, as if your voice, once confident, is on the verge of being drowned by the pressure of the show. As you walk away from the cameras, a desperate desire to escape the world you’ve created pushes you forward.

Looking for refuge, you find an empty room at the end of a hallway. The walls are elegantly adorned, but the opulence can’t distract you from your vulnerability. You sink into a chair, feeling the tears start to well up in your eyes.

“Calm down, don’t cry...” you whisper to yourself, trying to keep your composure. “You can’t let this affect you.”

But the pressure of fame, the expectations, and the pain of being treated like an object overwhelm you. You hug yourself, recalling moments when you’ve felt strong and secure. That image the tabloids show of you, the perfect woman, is nothing but a mirage. It’s a constant performance, and tonight, the game has crossed a line you’re not willing to accept.

Meanwhile, Jude is elsewhere at the event, feeling his heart tighten. The anger still bubbles inside him, and despite Trent’s efforts to calm him, he can’t ignore the distress he saw on your face. The protective instinct he’s always had drives him to act.

“I’m going to find her,” he announces, his voice low but firm.

Trent gives him a warning look, but Jude is already in motion, his determination pulling him toward where he knows you’ve gone. Every step he takes is a reminder that he’s not going to let anyone treat you like that. The thought that any man, whoever he may be, could lay a hand on you and make you feel uncomfortable is unbearable to him.

When he finally finds you, the scene before him breaks his heart. You’re sitting, head bowed, trying to hold back tears. Jude can’t help but feel a wave of compassion wash over him. He approaches slowly, and when you look up, your eyes are filled with sadness.

“Baby...” he whispers, making his way toward you and wrapping you in his arms. “I’m here.”

The embrace is instantly comforting, a bubble of safety that seems to shield you from the outside world. You sink into his chest, feeling his warmth surround you. The pressure of your emotions begins to fade, at least a little. Jude holds you tighter, as if with that simple gesture he could erase your pain.

“I won’t let anyone treat you like that, ever,” he says, his voice thick with anger.

You feel your heart tighten in a strange way. Jude’s protective instinct is one of the things you love most about him, but it also makes you feel vulnerable. Still, at that moment, you need it. You wipe away a tear and smile weakly.

“I know... I just... I feel so overwhelmed sometimes,” you confess, your voice barely a whisper.

“You need a break,” Jude said, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “This world can be overwhelming, but you don’t have to face it alone. I’m here with you, and I’ll always be by your side. Always.”

You take a deep breath, feeling how his words wrap you in a warmth you haven’t experienced in a long time. Fame, the spectacle—it can all be suffocating, but Jude is there, always ready to remind you of your true worth. In that embrace, you realize you’re not alone. You have someone who understands you and who’s willing to protect you, even in a world that often seems so hostile.

“Thank you, Jude,” you murmur, and your eyes shimmer with the tears you’ve been holding back. “Sometimes I feel like I can’t take it anymore.”

“You can always handle more than you think,” Jude says, leaning in toward you, his gaze intense. “You’re not alone in this. You never will be.”

Jude steps back slightly, making sure you’re looking at him. His expression is serious, but there’s a spark of determination in his eyes.

“I’m not going to let anyone make you feel like that again. I promise.”

You nod, feeling the weight on your shoulders lighten, if only a little. Jude has been your refuge, and in your heart, you know that together, you can face any storm fame throws at you.

“We need to escape,” he says, his dark eyes shining with a mix of determination and tenderness.

You look at him, still feeling the echo of your vulnerability, but a spark of excitement runs through your body. You nod, feeling that in his company, you could find the courage to leave everything behind.

As you walk together, Jude firmly takes your hand, guiding you toward the parking lot. But when you reach a luxurious black car, you stop in your tracks.

"Hey big guy, hold on a second, I can't keep up with you in these heels!" you said with fake frustration.

"Come on baby, you have to use those heels to your advantage, with those on we can finally have a face to face conversation, even though I'm still two heads taller than you" He said in a mocking tone trying to annoy you.

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to surprise me! You finally learned to drive, Mr. Twenty-one-year-old, sir? “ you ask, smiling playfully trying to divert the conversation a little by trying to make fun of him.

Jude looks at you, a little embarrassed.

“Uh... no. But I can try,” he responds, with a mix of confidence and nervousness.

You get in the car, and Jude takes the wheel, his hands steady but a little shaky. When he starts the engine, the car roars to life, and he takes a turn, but the car jerks violently, making both of you burst into laughter.

“Damn it!” Jude exclaims, trying to correct the movement.

You laugh uncontrollably, feeling the tension dissipate in the atmosphere of the backseat.

“In this context, the prince is supposed to rescue the princess by riding his horse, but...” you say, pretending to be deep in thought. “What happens if your ‘horse’ jerks around?”

Jude grins mischievously.

“I’m supposed to be the hero here, not the princess. I’m going to learn how to drive!”

Finally, after several laughs and a couple of attempts, he gives up.

“You drive!” he declares with frustration.

You take the wheel between laughs, enjoying the feeling of freedom as you drive away from the event and the crowd. As the city fades behind you, a new emotion takes over: the adrenaline of escape.

When you arrive at the motel, you and Jude exchange nervous glances, holding back laughter from the adventure. As you get out of the car, a biting cold greets you, and Jude, with a protective smile, drapes his coat over your shoulders.

“I don’t want you to get cold, okay?” he says, his voice soft.

You’re overwhelmed by the gesture and smile at him, though you blush when you notice he’s left standing bare-chested, showing off his muscles in the cold London night. Jude’s tanned skin glows under the motel lights, making him look even more attractive.

“Jude, that’s not necessary,” you murmur, laughing softly.

He smiles, a mischievous spark in his eyes.

“You think I’m going to let you freeze while I’m standing here ‘shirtless’? It’s a matter of principle.”

You laugh, enjoying his boldness and the absurdity of the situation.

“You look like a Ken doll,” you say, looking him up and down.

“A black, sexier Ken doll,” Jude replies, laughing as you wrap yourself in his oversized coat.

As you approach the reception, Jude frowns, remembering they need to keep a low profile.

“Wait a second, we need to come up with something,” he says, searching through the car.

As you both rummage, Jude finds a hat he had forgotten about.

“Look!” he exclaims, pulling it out and putting it on his head. “This should help.”

You laugh at how ridiculous he looks in the hat, but you can’t resist the idea.

“And I’ll wear your sunglasses,” you say, searching the car and finding a pair of sunglasses Jude had left behind.

When you finally make it to the reception desk, a man in his seventies looks at you with curiosity. Jude tries to keep his composure, though he blushes a little at how ridiculous you both look.

“Hi, we have a reservation…” he stammers.

The receptionist, with playful smile, looks at them over closely.

“I won’t say anything about you, I knew you guys were a couple!” he assures them with a wink. His eyes gleam with complicity, as if he knows exactly who you are.

You exchange glances with Jude, trying to hold back laughter at how absurd you must seem.

“Thanks, we appreciate it,” Jude says, relieved.

As you head to your room, laughing and running, the receptionist calls out again.

“By the way, you two look adorable together. Have fun!” he says with a warm smile.

When you enter the room, Jude turns to you, a mischievous smile on his face.

“You know what? This is way better than the party. Now we’re in ‘our bubble,’” he says, spreading his arms as if inviting you into a world that belongs only to the two of you.

You walk over, laughing as you savor the moment.

“Sure, as long as you don’t try to drive the car again.”

The motel room is small, but its atmosphere is filled with a vibrant energy that hums in the air. You find yourself in a space that feels far removed from the world, where the worries of the outside fade away. The soft light filtering through the windows highlights your face, reflecting the smile you share with Jude, a smile born from the growing bond between you.

Jude falls onto the bed, his gaze fixed on you, while you snuggle up, keeping warm in his coat.

“How about we do something fun?” he asks, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Like what, a tickle fight?” you reply.

“No, something more intimate,” he says, moving a little closer.

You feel the heat rise between you, a mix of laughter and nerves. Jude tilts his head toward you, getting close enough to whisper in your ear:

“Do you have any idea how much I love being here with you?”

His voice is soft, like velvet, sending a shiver down your spine. When you look at him, his eyes lock with yours, and in that moment, nothing else exists but the two of you. Jude brushes his hand across your face, gently caressing your cheek.

“Every moment with you is special.” you murmur softly.

The romantic tension in the air intensifies as Jude smiles, savoring the closeness. He leans in a little more, and you cradle his cheeks in both hands, his lips nearly brushing your skin, but instead of a kiss, it’s a soft touch, a hint of what could be.

You both let yourselves be carried by the current of your connection. You play with the edge of the coat you’re still wearing, moving a little closer to him, feeling his warm body near yours. Jude smiles, his eyes twinkling with understanding.

“Did you know hugs are my favorite form of communication?” he says with a playful smile.

“And what if I give you one?” you ask, wrapping your arms around him.

Jude lets out a soft laugh, enjoying the warmth of your embrace. The way you're lying, with Jude almost on top of you but without crushing you, makes you feel completely wrapped in that hug. However, the laughter soon turns into something deeper; your bodies come closer in an embrace that feels like it could last forever. You can feel his heartbeat, and your own breathing quickens.

Suddenly, you start laughing, breaking the tension, and Jude joins in. You both sit up on the bed, still laughing, enjoying the lightness of the moment. He gently pushes you back, making you fall onto the bed, and out of nowhere, Jude bends down and starts giving quick kisses on your stomach, tickling you lightly.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” you say, still laughing as you readjust yourself.

“I never said I was a fair hero,” Jude replies, looking at you with that mix of tenderness and mischief that always makes you smile.

Then, he leans toward you, his face so close you can feel his breath. His gaze intensifies, and the outside world fades away. Jude strokes your hair gently, and you feel lost in those small gestures, those moments of intimacy that speak louder than any words.

“Do you want to play a game?” Jude suggests, breaking the silence.

“What kind of game?” you ask, intrigued.

“We could play a whisper game. The first one to laugh loses,” he says, smiling mischievously.

“I accept the challenge,” you respond, smiling back.

Jude leans in, his lips almost brushing your skin, and begins whispering in your ear, soft words that make your heart race.

“Bread with tomato and ham,” he says, just loud enough for only you to hear.

You try to keep a straight face, but you can’t help but smile; it’s so bad that it’s funny.

“You can’t do that to me,” you say, trying to hold back your laughter.

“What? You don’t like what you’re hearing?” Jude replies, moving even closer, his voice dripping with provocation.

“You’re such an idiot,” you exclaim, bursting into laughter.

Jude smiles triumphantly, and the two of you dive into a sea of laughter and games. You push each other playfully, trying to keep a straight face while having fun on the bed.

Amid the laughter, Jude leans in toward you again, this time more serious, and whispers:

“Sometimes, I wonder how it’s possible that we have this intense connection.”

You feel the weight of his words, and your gaze deepens.

“Maybe we’re meant to be together in some way,” you respond, feeling your heart race.

Jude smiles, knowing the night has evolved in a way neither of you had anticipated.

“It’ll always be our little bubble,” he says, his eyes full of promises. "I love you with my life" He looked into your eyes in such a sincere way.

"I love you babe thank you for absolutely everything" you said kissing his nose, a very intimate gesture that meant a lot.

You both look at each other, feeling like this moment belongs to just the two of you. The touch of hands, the shared whispers, and the echoing laughter are evidence of a connection that goes beyond the physical; it’s a bond that promises something special in every gesture, every laugh, every glance. The night continues, and in your world, anything is possible.

You spend the night in soft laughter that fills the room with genuine closeness, interspersed with slow kisses and touches that say more than words ever could. You draw closer to one another, letting the silence and the rhythm of your breathing blend with the sounds of the night, as intimacy wraps around you both completely, melting into a space where time seems to stand still. Without rush or hurry, you let your bodies and gazes connect, diving into a deep, warm closeness, as if the outside world no longer existed.

[magicalbats]

Kinktober Day 23: Boothill x Reader

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 4976

Warnings: Afab!reader, age difference, gunplay, a tiny bit of coercion on readers part, gun in mouth, dry humping

A/N: Okay, so I'm officially a day behind but! This one was a bit of a challenge for me, both because I've never really written any gunplay scenarios before but also because it was a bit of a brain twister trying to lock down his old west mannerisms with the silly potty word substitutes 🤭 Hopefully I didn't do too bad on either front!

⭐

The Galaxy Rangers were somewhat infamous for enjoying reckless games. The sort that more often than not ended in disastrous results, particularly when more than one of them had been taken out of commission by an unlucky Russian Roulette bullet. But like moths to the flame, those of you who lived by the creed of the Hunt were inexorably drawn to high adrenaline situations and the kind of fast paced excitement that made most others shy away for fear of life and limb. 

You were no different in this regard, and neither was Boothill. 

He’d mentored you for a very short while, back when you first took up Lan’s bow and set out into the vast cosmos to bring about some form of justice in a largely unjust universe. Treated you much like a daughter, in fact. 

And that just made the current situation of having his revolver shoved in your face all the more thrilling. 

“Fudging hell, girl! I almost blew your darned brains out! You can’t go around sneaking up on people like that. It’s not smart and it’s not safe!”

“Sorry.” You murmur, tipping your head just enough to peer around the barrel of his gun so you can pin him with a wholly innocent smile. “I just wanted to surprise you. It’s been a long time since we last saw each other.” 

“Well, ya’ certainly surprised me.” Sighing out a terse, mildly bothered huff, Boothill fluidly relaxes out of his practiced shooting stance and gives his pistol a quick twirl before holstering it at his hip. The nervous people standing around the two of you who had backed up into a loose circle at the first sight of his pistol visibly relax but still quickly go about their business to avoid getting caught up in whatever trouble was brewing here on this particular street of Penacony’s Golden Hour. 

He doesn’t even seem to notice though, perfectly calm and casual now as he looks you up and down with a considering glance. “Glad to see you’re still kicking, I suppose. You didn’t exactly fill me with an overwhelming sense of confidence when I first met ya’, you know?” 

You can’t help but laugh at that, eagerly rocking up on your toes to lessen the height difference by a small margin. “Is that why you took me under your wing? To improve my chances of survival.”

He scoffs at that, metal hand coming up to brace along his equally metal hip. “I ain’t that fudging kindhearted so don’t get it twisted now. I just happened to see a little cowgirl who couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag if it was soaked through, and I couldn’t abide by that. Didn’t want you to go giving the Galaxy Rangers a bad name or nothing.” 

A certain, naively hopeful part of you sinks at that. You knew how he’d treated you before, of course, but that was a few years in the past now … “Is that really all you see me as? A little girl?” 

“And what pray tell am I supposed to see you as if not that?” 

“I’m not a kid, for starters.” 

“Tch. I can see that. That cute lil’ dress you got on isn’t gonna’ make me forget about the first time I ran into ya’ though. You weren’t no better than a fool headed little brat trying to shoot yer daddy’s gun out in that field.” 

You warm slightly at that, completely ignoring everything else he’d said in favor of focusing on the important bit. “You really think my dress is cute?” 

“Bah! Enough of this. I ain’t got time for it.” 

Turning on his heel, Boothill decisively starts to make his way further down the road on a straight course for the looming facade of the hotel up ahead. And you just push into motion to trot right along after him, having to work your legs double time to keep pace with his long strides. 

It takes him a prolonged beat to realize you’re following him and when he does, he snaps his head in your direction with a low growl of warning. “What do you think you’re doing, girl? I said I ain’t got time for it!” 

“I just wanted to catch up, that’s all.”

“Catch up!” He echoes you loudly enough to make some of the passersby glance over with varying degrees of confused and indignant looks. “What is there even to catch up on, huh? I’ve just been putting bullet holes in bad guys for the last some odd years and I reckon you’ve been doing the same since you’re still standing here. Can’t you see I’m busy?” 

The two of you reach the sloping stairs at that point and start to make your way up together. It does not escape your notice that he seems to be far too focused on chiding you to give his purposeful strides any further thought and he was likely just retracing the same path he’d taken before. It was probably best to keep him talking then. 

“Aren’t you even the least bit curious about me? After all, you did take the time to teach me how to handle a gun. I’d think you’d be more interested to know how that’s panned out in the long run. I promise I’m a much better shot now.” 

Boothill lifts a dark brow at the playful lilt in your voice, allowing a sharp toothed grin to tug at his mouth now. “Is that so? You must think you’re something real slick if you’re trying to brag. Think you’re big enough to beat me in a quick draw, little missy?” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of taking you on in this lifetime.” You murmur, smiling to yourself when he beats you to one of the front entrance doors by a single step so he can yank it open to grant you entry. Evidently his gruff manner of a chivalrous gunslinger was so deeply ingrained in his subconscious that he doesn’t even give it a second thought now and you certainly weren’t going to question it. 

Slipping into the hotel lobby, he comes in after you with a big, boisterous laugh, his boot spurs rattling with each step. “Well, at least you understand the pecking order. You’re still a few decades too early to go up against me and hope to win, but don’t let that discourage ya’. You must be good enough to have survived this long.” 

“It’s really only thanks to you, Mr. Boothill. I had no idea what I was doing until you came along!” 

“Aww, shucks. Stop it, darling. You’ll have this old dog blushing here in a minute if you keep that up.” 

You wonder if cyborgs that are more machine than man could actually blush as you totter along next to him. Through the lobby, up an elevator, into one of many hotel lounge bars and then up another set of stairs until you find yourself wandering down a long corridor together. He still hasn’t quite figured out your angle while you keep layering compliments and feeding just enough of a line to keep him talking about something or another to distract him. It clearly works too, and Boothill doesn’t even hesitate to unlock his room's door nor does he seem to stop long enough to realize you’re slipping inside with him, right on his heels and just as unobtrusive as any shadow. 

His gruff laughter dying off to a slow, drawling chuckle, the Galaxy Ranger turns towards the little coffee table just inside the spacious room and moves to unholster his pistol so he could set it down. But he freezes halfway through the motion as if suddenly realizing he hadn’t made the trip up here alone. For a harrowing stretch of moments he doesn’t move so much as a finger before all at once rounding on you with an aggressive bark

“You! What do you think you’re - -“

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Mr. Boothill.” You tell him sweetly, batting your lashes for extra effect. “You let me in here, remember?” 

“Like hell I did! I never gave you an invitation to come sashaying in here, you little - -“

Quickly ducking under his reaching hand, you dance back to keep at least an arms length between you and him, giggling the whole time. “Hey, don’t be mean to me! I’m your precious junior, aren’t I?” 

“Muddle-fudger!” 

The next handful of seconds feel like they go by in a torturous, slow motion blur. 

You’d underestimated the full scope of his reach and now that he knows you’re playing games with him, he doesn’t hold back. 

His hand strikes out at you like a snapping serpent, full force and quicker than you can conceivably react. You were good, all things considered, but not quite as good as him. 

Your neck is suddenly caught between the cool, pinching metal of his bionic fingers, his palm slamming into your throat hard enough to make you gag. 

Winded and startled, Boothill drags you stumbling towards the table where he shoves you back against it, half picking you up by the neck to get you on top of the shuddering surface. 

Then he’s slamming you down to lay flat out, the force of the impact dislodging a disgruntled sound from your aching chest. 

And he finally leans over you, pinning you there with his hand locked against your throat so he can shove the barrel of his gun right in your face again. 

It’s over in the time it takes you to blink, leaving you dazed and panting as you stare up along the dark iron muzzle to look into his face. You’re not the least bit surprised to find he isn’t even breathing any harder after all of that and you let out a threadbare, groaning laugh, unable to help yourself even when you were staring death right in the eyes. 

“What is so funny, huh?” He dangerously snarls, nudging his pistol at you for emphasis. “Fork me, I don’t remember you being crazy but it looks like you knocked a few screws loose somewhere along the way. Are you looking for me to remedy that for you?” 

His thumb curls up at that to pointedly flick the safety off with a click that sounds deafening from this close up. 

You have to bite down on your bottom lip to stopper the moan that tries to rattle its way up your constricting throat, carefully shifting against him to feel the solid weight of his narrow hips between your legs. Although pissing him off hadn’t exactly been your goal when you’d first approached him, this was still very much turning out as you’d hoped it would. 

“I’m afraid it’s not my head that needs fixing, Mr. Boothill.” 

A genuinely perplexed look crosses his face at that. “Son of a nice — what the hell are you even saying, you little brat? You don’t make a lick of sense, you know that?” 

Drawing a slow breath to steady yourself, you cautiously bring your hand up to grasp at the metal wrist pinning your neck down. That he allows it instead of pumping you full of lead right then and there seems as good a sign as any to keep going, so you do. 

“Do you want the truth?” 

“If you value your life, you’d better start talking quick.” 

“It’s you, Mr. Boothill. You’re what’s wrong with me. And it’s not my head that’s the problem. It’s down here.” Stiffly, you roll your hips upward to deliberately grind your cunt against the front of him. It’s hard to say if he can feel anything at all with so much of his body being metal, but he sees the shuddering motion and trails his attention down to the spot where he’s standing between your legs. 

His mouth drops open to reveal that razor sharp row of teeth again, gun hand wavering slightly in your face. “Huh?” 

“Do you remember when you were teaching me how to track and take down bad guys? I thought you were so cool, Mr. Boothill … I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all this time either. I was hoping I’d run into you again someday even if the chances were slim to none, so when I saw you on the street it felt a little bit like fate.” 

“Wha — fate? Girl, have you lost your gosh darned mind? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in possession of a flesh and blood body. What the fudge do you expect me to do with you?” Irritably clicking tongue, he angles his pistol skyward in a smooth, well practiced motion and eases back just enough to pin you with a hard look. “Maybe if you’d caught me before I had to sell my soul to the reaper then we could have talked, but I’ve got too much to do to be messing around with you like that. I ain’t got nothing for you I’m afraid.” 

You see the grim resignation in his expression for what it is, understanding that he was going to pull away from you before he actually moves to do it. He only makes it so far as letting up on your neck though before you manage to rouse yourself enough to bring your legs up and wrap them around his deceptively dainty waist to lock him there. 

Stiffening slightly, Boothill glances down at the lurid spread of your thighs, soft and form fitted to the sharp contours of his hips. Your dress had ridden up in all the excitement and now seemed dangerously close to flashing your lacy underwear at him but not quite yet. All it would take is a simple nudge of your hand though, and you hold the breath in your lungs as you watch him mentally process through that fact. 

“You little hussy - -“ 

“Please, Mr. Boothill.” You beg, tightening your legs around him. “I know this probably isn't what you would have had in mind otherwise but … there is something you could give me. An extension of you that would make me just as happy as anything else would.” 

He seems to go still for the stretch of a single heartbeat, and then another when he slowly brings his shuttered gaze up to look you in the face again. You’re not entirely sure what’s going through his head in that moment, but he seems less angry with you now and a bit more interested in what you had to say. 

Finally, he almost thoughtfully tips his head to one side. “What do you mean?” 

You send the pistol in his hand a pointed glance, making him suck in a stilted breath. Evidently he’d never thought about it or truly considered this as an option before, or maybe he simply hadn’t thought anyone would ever be fool enough to want that. But for better or worse, as a Galaxy Range or perhaps as a follower of Lan’s hunt, you weren’t scared of a little risk to go with the pleasure. 

“You’re fudgin’ serious.” He murmurs, sounding equal parts impressed and appropriately cowed. 

A brief laugh huffs out of him as he shakes his head, and you slowly reach one of your hands down to just pinch at the front of your dress so you can tug it up. “I’ve been thinking about this since the day we parted ways, Mr. Boothill. I always knew your body wasn’t whole anymore so I guess I just kind of naturally started thinking about potential substitutes.” 

“And now here you are.” 

You smile at that. “Yes, here I am. Offering myself to you, if you’ll have me.” 

You feel the first cool waft of air against your silk and lace panties then, shuddering ever so softly as you inch the fabric higher still to give him a good look at you. Running into him like this had been the very definition of an unexpected encounter so you weren’t wearing anything overly sexy or revealing, but they were still cute. They also showed off the pudgy seam of your cunt where the material was lightly moulded to you, thanks to the damp slick starting to gather along the crease as much as from the nudge of his pelvis when he’d pinned you down. 

He just stares at you for an uncertain beat though, looking at your pussy with a clear note of wanting reflected in his one visible eye but quickly concealed with a quiet scoff. Turning his head to focus on something else, he raises his gun to thumb the safety back on before somewhat warily bringing it down to waist level where he hesitates. 

“I could really hurt you doing something like this, darling.” 

“You won’t. I trust you.”

Your breath is coming a little quicker now, sped up by the onset of anticipation and quick mounting excitement. He was tempted, that much was obvious. Either because the lack of a working, fleshy cock made encounters like this unnecessary and redundant for him, an exceedingly rare indulgence he didn’t often have a chance to participate in anymore, or perhaps it was simply because he was just as much of a thrill seeker as you were. Maybe even some deadly combination of the two. 

But you could tell in his confident, hot headed swagger as much as his face, the only part of his original body that was still left, that he was not actually the old dog he sometimes fashioned himself to be. He’d likely been approaching his mid twenties when he underwent the full transition to a bionic body and was in truth only a few years older than you. That he’d chosen this path over keeping his cock, something most men centered their whole identity around, spoke volumes of his true nature.

That is what had stuck with you all this time and what kept you awake on many a lonely night. There was something so uniquely charming about him in a rugged, old west kind of way that you couldn’t help but want him as you do. 

So you slowly inch your legs further apart, letting them settle into a wide spread that leaves your pantied cunt vulnerable and plainly offered up to him. Boothill’s gaze wanders down to regard you at the shift, his yearning for the warmth of your body settling across his face in a pained grimace. There was very likely some part of him that missed his old skin and you were all too happy to give him the chance to feel even a small fraction of what it was like to be human again. 

“Right here.” You prod, fingers slipping back down to just feel over the apex of your mound. 

Listlessly rousing himself, Boothill lifts his gun to nudge it into the space between your thighs where he lightly runs the cool metal barrel over your underwear. It’s a featherlight and fleeting sensation, but so monumentally heavy in its implication that your chest hitches with a little gasp. 

He seems to settle into the idea quickly enough at the threadbare whimper you let out and he presses the hard contour into you a bit more firmly to trace over the outline of your labia. You draw in a faintly shuddering breath in an attempt to steady yourself somewhat as your hips twitch up into the sensation, encouraging him on. 

“If I would have known this was the kind of hairbrained stunt you were going to pull later on,” He drawls in a gruff voice. “I never would have gone out of my way to help you out back then. You’re nothing but fudging trouble, girl.” 

“I only learned from the best.” 

That earns you a quiet, scoffing laugh, but Boothill keeps the motion of his gun steady and light even when you roll your cunt against it in search of more of that gratifying pressure. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling unbearably antsy like this when you've thought of and fantasized about this exact moment too many times to count, so you reach down a little further to catch the side of your panties with a finger. 

Slowly pulling it to the side for him, you carefully watch Boothill’s face to see the mild flash of surprise that crosses his expression. It’s gone in an instant though, replaced by a hungry, masculine edge as he peers down at the invitingly soft seam of your body, the vaguely damp curls that frame the tight, warm clutch where he would have happily buried himself in a past life. That’s not feasible now though, and he makes do with simply inching his pistol closer to just barely touch cold iron to your labia. 

Your reaction is physical as much as it is mental, sharply pulling in a breath at the firm nudge against the most tender part of you. His gun is hard and unrelenting, something that registers in your mind as innately dangerous despite the exceedingly gentle way he touches you with it. Caressing over creases and folds with a fleshy drag to part the lips and expose more of your cunt to his voracious sights. 

“Well I’ll be darned. You’re already getting wetter than a cucumber in a women’s prison, you little trollop.” 

A rattling sound of confusion slips out of you at that but you’re a little too focused on what he’s doing to you to focus on his strange turns of phrase right now. 

Shuddering faintly, you push up on your elbow so you can glance down and get a better view of the tarnished gold barrel prodding at you. The simple visual alone is so much better than you could have envisioned it would be, especially when he was standing over you like this in reality and not in your dreams. A quiet, needy mewl slips out of you then as you redirect the fingers between your legs inward to pull your labia open for him. 

Boothill issues a low whistle into the static charged air, directing the pistol upward to tease over your clit which weakly clings to the iron muzzle. The resulting meaty jostle makes you seethe and eagerly jut your hips up in search of more, feeling very nearly delirious now with the potent rush of arousal. You already felt like you were going to cum but you didn’t want it to be over just yet. 

“Please.” You rattle, starting to fidget on top of the table. “I want you, Mr. Boothill.” 

“Well, you can want it all you want but that don’t mean I’m gonna’ give it to ya’.” 

He starts to pull back then, pistol sliding away from your cunt, and you noise a frantic sound of confusion at him. 

That’s about all you manage before he’s suddenly leaning over you with a decisive motion, his open hand bracing on the table next to you while his narrow waist slots into the squeeze of your inner thighs again. You full on tremble at the sudden proximity of him as much as the not so subtle push of his front against your pussy. He’s just as hard and unrelenting, and cool to the touch as his gun is, but that doesn’t deter you half as much as it excites you. 

You feel wild and frenzied now, half crazed with the fast pumping sear of adrenaline working through your system as you tip your head back to look up at him. There’s a grumpy frown tugging at his mouth, grudging acceptance written across his face, and you shudder fiercely when he brings the pistol up to draw it across your lips to let you taste yourself on the barrel. 

“Open up that pretty little mouth of yours, darling.”

Unhesitatingly, you do exactly that, tongue flicking out to trace a suggestive line over the muzzle. Your mouth is immediately overwhelmed with the taste of oil, bitter residue and such a blinding, overwhelming sense of danger that your eyes immediately start to roll back in your head. You felt like you were moments away from cumming completely untouched, so worked up and excited that your pussy involuntarily clenches tight around nothing. 

It makes your head spin alarmingly fast and you don’t even think to fight it when he angles the gun to slip it past your open lips and just wedge the end of the barrel between your teeth. Groaning a delirious sound around the intrusion, you flex your mouth to find a comfortable position but it’s no use. It’s too wide and sharply edged for your jaw, and copious sheets of drool quickly begin to pool in the back of your throat while you choke on the cold, bitter taste. 

Rumbling a low sound that is suspiciously reminiscent of a pleasured groan, Boothill tentatively rolls his metal hips into you, grinding himself against your cunt to make you spasm on top of the table. With your mouth mercilessly wedged open like this all you can do is plaintively mewl and groan increasingly strained noises while he finds a rhythm to settle into. And it just makes your pussy impotently throb, the pressure of his bionic waist pushing against you so exquisite it just serves to wind you up even tighter until you’re all but vibrating underneath him. 

“Holy Wubbaboo.” He breathes out, awed and a little taken aback as he starts to work his hips faster. Harder. Driving the front of his body against you vigorously enough now that your tits begin to shift under your clothes. “Wasn’t thinking you’d actually like this so darned much. You really are out of your mind.” 

Even though he says that he doesn’t stop fucking into you much the way he would have with a cock, the almost hypnotic pace coupled with the constant application of pressure on your cunt quickly making you slip into a dreamy haze. You were soaked and only getting wetter, and likely leaving sticky slick all over the front of his skin tight pants. But that doesn’t seem to deter him in the slightest, his breathy grunts of effort mingling with the tremor of your muffled groans. 

And as the seconds bleed into minutes, the powerful flex of his hips driving into you soon starts up a tiny, sticky wet click where your drooling cunt was clinging to him. It’s just as if he was really fucking you and sound makes you positively writhe in place, so turned on and desperate to be touched that you bring your hands up to blindly fumble with the top of your dress. Your tits spill out with a fleshy bounce and Boothill mutters a particularly colorful curse under his breath when you latch onto them, needily tugging at your own nipples. 

Your jaw hurts from having it wedged open for so long but you barely even notice it now, or the bubbling threads of spit that start to run down your cheeks as he shifts the gun to sedately nudge it towards the back of your throat. Even when you uncontrollably shake and judder there on the table, back bowing into a dramatic arch at the first, pulsing onset of your orgasm, he just follows you with his hand to keep your lips stretched uncomfortably wide around the barrel. 

That’s how you finally cum, wailing an incomprehensibly shrill sound that’s almost entirely smothered by the pistol, fingers frantically pulling at your teats. Your pussy almost hurts from all the hard, unrelenting pressure of his metal frame but release still registers as a great relief somewhere in the back of your cotton stuffed head which bonelessly lolls back in a stupor while you pitifully twitch through the spasms. 

It’s over much too fast, just as you’d known it would be when you realized how quickly you were climbing that peak, and a deeply frazzled sound slips out of you when he at last moves to ease the gun out of your mouth. Left raggedly panting and trying to swallow down the lingering bitter taste of iron, you simply lie there while he straightens up to stand over you. The fact he does not immediately move from his spot between your legs catches your attention only in so much as a dreamy, far away thought, but you don’t quite have the power to act on it or even speak about it. 

And then his hand comes up to unexpectedly slip under your chin, forcing your face back around to make you look at him. For a long moment the two of you just stare at one another, you trying to steady your breathing while he just seems to thoughtfully study you with a little wrinkle of deliberation forming between his knitted brows. 

Finally, Boothill clicks his tongue and readjusts his grip to hold along your jaw so he can keep you still when he leans down to hover just short of your nose. “I’m surprised you haven’t gotten yourself fudging killed yet if this is how you get your rocks off.” 

“Only when it comes to you.” You murmur back, smiling a pleased, self satisfied grin up at him. There was no denying you felt incredibly good on a physical level, yes, but even more than that … the fact he’d neither sent you away or shot you dead for the insult makes your chest feel helium light. Oh, but you could have stayed here with him for a lifetime just like this. 

“Well, darling. I’ll admit, you’ve managed to pique my interest. I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to keep you alive, especially with the way you like to carry on, but it might still be fun for a while. Whaddya’ say? Want to tag along with me again for a while?” 

As if you had to even think about your answer.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[ashestoashes7]

8. “Who did this to you?” with neil and aaron? 💜

who did this to you? - ao3 version

Aaron had a hand-shaped bruise wrapped around his wrist. Neil shouldn't be the one asking hard questions.

cw: implied/referenced child abuse

Aaron Minyard was no stranger to bruises. Being a backliner on a Class 1 Exy team known for their willingness to fight opponents and each other meant an errant elbow was never a surprise, but this particular circumstance hadn’t happened in a while.

The purple wrapping around his wrist wasn’t the result of a particularly unruly stick check or a pair of handcuffs, but he wished it was. If either was the case, the probability of Andrew seeking an early morning murder charge would be lower. Probably.

Aaron tilted his arm to catch the bright area of the broken streetlight and made out the shape of the warped handprint encircling his wrist. Familiar, he thought. And then, Andrew can never know.

It wasn’t that big of a deal. The other student-athletes at Palmetto had never been their biggest fans and this wasn’t the first time Aaron had a less-than-pleasant interaction with one of them. This was just the first time they got physical. First didn’t mean last, but Aaron could hope.

The knuckles on his other hand were swollen from his retaliation, but that wouldn’t be enough for Andrew. Whatever ‘some number of strikes and you’re out’ policy PSU was operating on wouldn’t be good forever. Aaron had yet to get ahold of the most recently revised version, but he doubted Andrew’s response would be by the book.

Andrew didn’t take kindly to hands being laid on Aaron and had never been known for his subtlety. His warnings were broken bones or a blade spilling rivulets of red onto his adversary’s shirt. While effective, the source of the wounds could easily be pointed out and punished which was the very circumstance Aaron was trying to avoid. Andrew didn’t do subtle things and Aaron wasn’t willing to lose him over something like this. Not again.

Besides, he had it handled. Matt had been more than willing to show him a few self-defense moves when he expressed interest, and Aaron was a quick study. Darius’s broken nose would be evidence of Matt’s successful stint as a teacher once he gathered up the courage and the excuses to get it checked out.

Though upon first glance the mark was similar, the imprint wrapped around the skin of his wrist was nothing like his mother’s. Her hand was smaller.

He pressed down lightly and winced at the dull ache that arose. It wouldn’t be enjoyable to deal with, but no one would ever have to know. Despite what most of the Foxes would say if asked, Aaron was a good secret keeper when he wanted to be. Aaron had cared about Katelyn too much to do her the disservice of pushing her aside harshly enough that there was no chance Andrew would know of her. But Andrew found out and eventually their deal snapped like the broken ends of a pencil Andrew tossed at his head while studying.

Sometimes, he wondered if in a world where Aaron had not broken it first Andrew's shadow would have been the final piece to shatter their deal. After a longer than usual period of watching the natural light of Betsy’s room rather than catch physical proof of his twin’s ephemeral dissatisfaction, he had almost asked Andrew that very question—Aaron or Neil—but he didn’t want to know the answer.

Andrew might not hate Josten the way his tone around such words would imply, but Aaron could do it for him. Mutual loathing was their preferred and silently agreed upon situation which was why when Josten trailed out in full running gear Aaron didn’t spare him more than a glance.

What a shame Josten couldn’t say the same.

Josten didn’t speak at first, but his worn-in shoes came to a halt only a few feet from the piece of pavement Aaron was directing his gaze at. The cracks and scuff marks could only hold his attention for so long before Josten’s lack of movement edged him even closer to intolerable than usual.

“Go away,” Aaron said, too exhausted to come up with something more poignant.

A shadow fell over his sitting form. When Aaron moved to place his hands behind his back to force himself up, Josten caught his wrist gently. His thumb traced over the marks distinctly shaped like fingers and something dangerous lay beneath his tone. “Who did this to you?”

“Wrong twin,” Aaron critiqued, pulling his arm free with more force than necessary.

“Aaron,” Josten stated, unimpressed. “What happened?”

Aaron stood up and met Josten’s emotionless blue eyes with an entirely warranted mound of surprise. “Like you care.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t.” Josten tapped his foot on the ground as if he had the right to be impatient. By all means Josten could continue ahead and never speak to him again. Aaron would be immensely grateful, had even suggested the option many times to his face and whatever messenger pigeon came bearing Josten’s words. Aaron wasn’t blocking his path or magically removing his ability to run but upon hearing that Josten just frowned. “Give me a name.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and laughed humorlessly. “What? So you can kill him?”

“Him,” Josten repeated, eyes still locked in a one-sided staring battle with Aaron’s wrist.

A Palmetto Fox midnight conversation was never predictable, but Aaron had somehow managed to forget that when dealing with Neil ‘son of a mobster’ Josten murder was very firmly not off the table. “You can’t just kill people!”

Josten looked at him like he was stupid and asked, with genuine intrigue, “What does it matter if I don’t get caught?”

Aaron considered him for a long moment, a thousand words shuffling across his tongue, but couldn’t find anything to appropriately convey his incredulity. It was almost sweet in a morbid sort of way. The presence of such a despicable thought told Aaron the past week spent surviving off almost only energy drinks and whatever protein-filled monstrosity Kevin shoved in his hands once his taste buds had fucked off was truly screwing with him. He could deal with that later. Josten was a much more present and bloodthirsty issue.

“I have it handled,” Aaron said. To his immense dissatisfaction, Josten still didn’t leave. “Don’t worry, I’ll tell Andrew you pretended to care if he ever finds out. I’m sure your lies will be appreciated elsewhere. Very far from here. You’ll need some practice if you think that’s fooling anyone.”

Josten’s eyebrows scrunched up making him look almost confused. “You think I’m pretending to care out of some sort of supposed obligation?”

“I can play Exy with a few bruises, no need to have a little freakout. I’m fine—see, that’s what those words actually mean. Andrew currently tolerates you for reasons beyond my comprehension, but he isn’t about to buy you a cheap plastic ring for feigned concern. I’m calling it as I see it, and I don’t want to look at your face any more than I already have to. Fuck off!”

“I’m not pretending.” Josten tilted his head slightly, not rising to Aaron’s attempts at driving him off. “If you let me take care of it, it won’t happen again.”

“What do you mean by again? And cut the movie villain shit it just sounds weird. Wait I thought you were stalking Kevin and he hasn’t bothered—”

“So I’m right.” Josten snapped his fingers and nodded to himself. “Darius Smith. Baseball—” Josten’s face contorted like he had encountered a bad smell “—pitcher. Six feet even. Brown hair. Green eyes.”

“That’s creepy,” Aaron said, but he didn’t deny it.

Josten started walking off, calculations swirling behind his eyes when Aaron realized the gravity of what Josten was planning out. What he had just inadvertently sent Josten out to do. Could he be charged for conspiracy to commit murder over this? Was this coercion? Josten would probably find some way to talk at least one of them out of chains for the sake of Exy, but would it be Aaron?

This was the moment when he was supposed to call Wymack or campus security or someone who would be inclined and able to stop Andrew’s menace from committing what at the very least would be a minor felony. But Josten already knew who it was and Aaron didn’t really feel like chasing after him.

If Aaron got Josten in containment—knowing the FBI they’d pull some shit like that—Kevin would be a mess and Andrew would be insufferable. Again.

Aaron was the first person Darius had taken a swing at, there was no guarantee he would be the last. He watched Josten walk away and felt the weight of his silence like handcuffs covering up the remains of blood spatter he would never really be able to regret. Next could be Nicky or Andrew or, as the man had threatened before Aaron broke his nose, Katelyn. Josten might just prove himself useful after all.

“No killing!” Aaron called out before the man steadily vanishing into darkness could go out of hearing range.

“Maiming?” Josten shot back, voice loud enough Aaron winced. He couldn’t tell because of a conglomeration of factors that could be summed up to lighting and distance, but the fucker was probably smiling.

“What? Are you planning to give him a stern talking to?” Aaron wasn’t sure which option would be preferable.

Whenever he was given cause for anger—a strange thing to think of in Aaron's favor rather than wielded against him—Josten was vicious. Removing his filter created a different beast entirely. Josten always went for the throat, words or a borrowed blade would strive for the same typically disastrous outcome.

Aaron should be horrified; he didn't know what to think about all the ways in which he wasn't. Violence wasn't endearing, it was a fact.

Josten shrugged emphatically enough that Aaron could see it. Then, he held up his hand in the air. It took a few moments for Aaron to realize his fingers were crossed. “No promises!”

“Asshole,” Aaron murmured under his breath.

He was thankful there was no one around to make the egregious and mistaken claim that he sounded almost fond. Aaron said Josten’s name again, drenched it in as much loathing as he could muster, and then let it vanish into the night air.

It wouldn’t be the first time Josten proved himself a liar.

The next morning, Darius Smith was not in his Hal seat or mingling around about the edges of the room. He wasn’t in the hallway or lurking within a doorway. Darius Smith was abruptly gone, and Aaron knew why.

It seemed the most prolific of liars could dabble in honesty once in a while for unpredictability’s sake. That was the only reason Aaron dared to consider.

When the professor landed on ‘Darius Smith’ in the attendance record Aaron didn’t say a word. The clock ticked on closer to the start time, and no familiar flower awaited him through the small windowpane placed in the entrance. His suspicions were confirmed when moments before the bell the empty seat in his physical chemistry class was filled by a redhead who had vehemently sworn off any iteration of the subject.

Neil met Aaron’s eyes immediately and with an intensity that wouldn’t be out of place speckled in blood. He drew a finger across his neck slowly and took enjoyment in Aaron’s brief hesitancy to return his enthusiasm

Andrew didn’t have taste by any means, but perhaps Neil wasn’t the worst person he could have chosen. Second worst, perhaps.

No, that was too generous. Definitely the worst. Andrew would probably agree with that, and might have even said it in their weird pseudo-flirting that sounded more like threats than foreplay. In Aaron’s voice. Oh f—

Aaron was not going to head down that particular train of thought. That momentary lapse in judgment would never leave the secrecy of his head.

“I hate you,” Aaron reminded them both.

Neil’s eyes lit up like it was the greatest compliment Aaron could have ever offered him. “We should do this more often.”

“No. If I wanted a terminal annoyance, I’d ask Nicky about how Erik finds all of his games. Or Kevin about the Greco-Roman wars.”

“I did that once,” Neil said, mouth downturned in remembrance.

“I know.”

Neil peered at him curiously. “You know, you’re not so bad.”

“Wrong twin,” Aaron reminded him.

Neil’s face turned into a mockup of a glare and he pushed out of his seat sharply, interrupting the lecturer’s chalk etchings with a high-pitched squeal. “Numbers shouldn’t work like that.”

Aaron stuck his foot out so Neil tripped as he moved to shuffle by him. Neil caught himself on the edge of Aaron’s desk and not-so-incidentally tipped over his pencil case.

Neil flipped him off once he reached the doorway in plain view of the rest of the class. Aaron stared pointedly forward until Neil gave up and the wave of whispers commenced.

Aaron would rather jump out of a moving car than call them anything close to friends.

[faebaex]

Tangled in Wonderland - Library Liaison

author note: Winner of the first 1000 follower event poll was Riddle! every time I write Riddle, I forget how much I enjoy writing him (≧◡≦) he’s such an interesting, complex character. I hope I do him justice, I think he deserves it. Next up is Leona, who won the second poll and the Octavinelle poll is currently running, so go check it out if you haven’t seen it already! Enjoy~

characters: Riddle Rosehearts x GN!Reader

You sat, staring into space in the Ramshackle dorm lounge. The ruined interior really helped you zone out, your mind still reeling after the odd situation that you found yourself in.

Despite your best endeavours, your life in Twisted Wonderland had so far proceeded exactly as it had for the main character. The chandelier still ended up breaking, you still ended up going to the dwarf mine and getting attacked by the overblot monster and, in the end, you ended up becoming a joint student with Grim. You had developed a rocky friendship with both Ace and Deuce, despite how you tried to distance yourself from them. It wasn’t anything personal, you just sort of hoped that the events in the game wouldn’t occur if you kept yourself low profile and didn’t get close to any of the game’s named characters.

Unfortunately, so far that plan hadn’t worked out.

Ace still ended up coming to your dorm, collar and all, complaining about his housewarden. You had attempted to slow the inevitable ride to disaster, even suggesting that Ace and Deuce transfer and become students of Ramshackle dorm in an attempt to cool the tensions. But your suggestions fell on deaf ears, and Ace and Deuce ended up challenging Riddle to the housewarden duel that ended up resulting in his overblot. Safe to say, your attempts at laying low and floating undetected through the student body weren’t going well so far.

And to top it all off, Crowley had been avoiding you, as you had been using any opportunity to ambush him and ask him if he had made any progress on finding a way home for you. If Crowley’s monumental negligence in the game was anything to go by, he likely wasn’t even looking into it, so the least you could do was make his life as miserable as possible. When you weren’t accosting Crowley, you spent every spare moment you had in the library.

Every day, you’d comb the library for any material that even had a hint of information about your situation. You were always surrounded by books, piled high around you as you poured over the often-dry material. You’d entirely absconded from any of your schoolwork, leaving that particular gambit to Grim. Whilst diligence wasn’t Grim’s strong point, there was nothing bribery with a can of premium tuna couldn’t solve. So from after classes to when you could barely keep your eyes open any longer, you were huddled in a discreet spot in the library, an agreement with one of the library ghosts meaning that this table was basically reserved for you.

It was just another day for you at the library, surrounded by dusty tomes that obviously hadn’t been touched in who knows how long. You were currently absorbed in a publication about summoning magic, so absorbed in fact that you didn’t notice the figure who had approached your table until they cleared their throat.

“Hello prefect. I see you are in the library again today.”

You froze in your seat, reluctantly looking up to see Riddle standing at the opposite side of your desk. With a purse of your lips, you nodded once before lowering your eyes back down to your book. “Yup.” You responded flatly, turning to the next page, not seeing Riddle fidget awkwardly in front of you.

“You are very studious, prefect. I’ve seen you in the library every day for the past two weeks, Ace and Deuce could stand to learn a thing from you,” Riddle remarked, reaching out and settling a hand on the chair opposite yours, readying to pull it out, “may I?”

“Um… I’d rather you didn’t, actually.” You responded, looking up from your textbook again with a neutral expression. Riddle’s hand froze on the chair and for a moment he looked like a deer caught in lamplights, before his grip tightened on the back of the chair.

“I… See…” Riddle mumbled, and an awkward silence settled between you. You gave a small, cold smile, hoping that Riddle would get the hint and leave, and he did turn, but hesitated and turned back to you, a conflicted frown on his face. “Have I… Offended you in some way, prefect?” Riddle broached and internally you sighed, wishing the pile of books surrounding you would tumble down and hide you from this awkward situation.

“Well… When you throw a tree at someone, its hard not to take it personally.” You quipped coolly, turning your eyes back down to your book and trying to find the line you were on, hoping that Riddle would finally leave you alone. But as ever since you had gotten into this world, luck was not on your side.

Riddle looked absolutely mortified by your comment, and to your chagrin, he pulled out the chair opposite you and sat down, leaning forward in an attempt to keep your conversation as private as possible. “I-I’m sorry if I’ve given you a negative impression… I’m aware that my behaviour was unacceptable and—”

“Look, Riddle,” you sighed, grabbing a spare bookmark so that you didn’t lose your place, considering Riddle seemed to have no intention of leaving you in peace anytime soon, “it’s nothing personal. Really, it isn’t. I just…” You sighed again, putting your head in your hands and rubbing your temples for a moment, “its hard for me adjusting to life here, so I prefer to spend my time alone. I hope you understand.” Once again, silence fell between you and you found yourself shifting impatiently in your chair. You didn’t hate Riddle, not at all. How could you? Riddle had very compelling reasons to be the way he was, and you knew that after his overblot incident, he did make deliberate steps to change and accept his flaws. But… You had your own world to get back to and if being cold and unwelcoming was what it took for you to get back there, then so be it.

“I- I’m sorry, Y/N. I had no idea that you were feeling that way… I should have realised that given your situation…” Riddle trailed off, and the two of you once again lapsed into silence. You shifted in your chair uncomfortably again, exhaling heavily before you began to speak again, “Riddle, its fine—”

“You’re welcome in Heartslabyul, anytime. I would offer you a dorm room but we are at full capacity and I don’t expect that to change anytime soon.” Riddle stated, with the same air of finality that he spoke most things with, and you ended up blinking at him in surprise. “O-oh, that’s really not necessary—”

“I… I may not be the best person to preach about family but…” Riddle’s cheeks dusted slightly red as he continued, “I would like it if you were able to seek some solace within Heartlabyul, to help you feel more comfortable and adjust to your circumstances.” You stared at Riddle, your expression blank and hiding the turmoil of emotions that you felt inside. You were really trying your best to put on a cold front and keep distant, but Riddle just had to be so… Endearing.

“That’s… That’s really kind, Riddle. Thank you…” You mumbled, before you sighed and collapsed onto the book you were reading. “But I don’t want to adjust, I want to go home…” You complained, your voice muffled by the pages of the book. Despite finally complaining aloud about the issue that had been on your mind since you got here, it felt oddly cathartic to vent. Until you felt a tap on your head.

“Don’t lay on the book like that, Y/N, you’ll crumple the pages.” Riddle scolded, and just like that he was back to being the Heartslabyul housewarden that you knew. He tapped your head again until you leaned up, shooting him an unimpressed look as he pulled the book towards him, smoothing the pages and checking for any damage before looking over the book itself. “I thought the headmage was looking into your situation?” Riddle queried, flipping through the pages of your book with a judging eye. You resisted the urge to glower at the mention of the headmage.

“Does it seem like he’s looking into my situation?” Riddle’s eyes looked towards you briefly at your tone, but he nodded shortly once, “no comment.” Suddenly, he slammed the book in his hands shut, and you opened your mouth to complain at him for losing your page before he pushed his chair back and stood up. “There are better books on summoning magic than this one in this library, wait here a moment.” Without waiting for you to respond, Riddle was gone.

Over the next hour, Riddle had systematically gone through all the books in your ‘to read’ pile, replacing several books with other ones that he personally ferreted out himself, claiming that they would be much more appropriate for your needs than the one you currently had. You could only stare on in amazement, having no idea that he had such a breadth of knowledge about the books contained in the library. Sure, you were aware that at a young age when you were still reading picture books, he was reading hefty tomes, but watching him so easily sort through your mish mash research pile really did hammer home a respect for his character that you’d never appreciated when you’d played the game.

“Y/N are you listening? I said I’ve made you a list of the order I recommend you read in. I know you are eager to find some information that could lead you home, but if you walk before you can run, you might miss a vital clue.” Riddle lectured as he passed you a crisp white piece of paper, with his elegant script looped throughout it, “I’ve colour coded the list by subject, so you shouldn’t get anything mixed up—”

“Thank you, Riddle. Really. I truly appreciate this.” For the first time since you ended up in Twisted Wonderland, you found yourself genuinely smiling. Riddle blinked in surprise, before a red hue burst forth onto his cheeks, and he rose his hand in an attempt to hide it. “W-well, its nothing. I consider you an honorary member of Heartslabyul now, and I-i’d do this for any of the students under my leadership.” Riddle stuttered, before clearing his throat and trying to get a hold of himself, “but of course, don’t expect this to happen often. I have my own study schedule to adhere to, and its important that you develop these research skills for yourself. For your future assignments, of course.” Riddle said sternly, his usual strict demeanour starting to fall back into place. “But… If you have any questions, or need to use someone as a sounding board then… I’d be happy to lend my services.” Riddle mumbled softly, almost quiet enough for you not to catch, “b-but only if my schedule allows for it, o-of course!” He quickly added, a fresh wave of blush tinting his cheeks.

You found yourself charmed by Riddle’s generosity, your mood feeling genuinely lifted for the first time since you’d thrown yourself out of the coffin. It was odd, the warm feeling in your heart as you watched Riddle fluster, but it wasn’t unpleasant.

“Thank you, Riddle. I think I might take you up on that, sometime.”

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!reader

Word Count: 1493

Chapter 35:

Jen helped keep Lilia focused on the present and not let her mind wander or get distracted by anything that might slow them down.

Those swords were still hanging above, and everyone doubted would remain there if you kept losing time.

As if the room had heard your thoughts, the ceiling slowly started to go down; bringing the swords closer and closer to you.

"We didn't even put any cards down!" Agatha shouted, glaring at practically anything.

The road was starting to get on her nerves.

"Maybe no cards are as bad as the wrong ones." Billy suggested.

You looked at Lilia again, who seemed for a moment to be lost somewhere else; her mid wandering off to a different memory of the past.

You grabbed both her shoulders and shook her faintly. "Lilia! Focus on me!" You shouted, trying to bring her back to the present. You were not sure what was going on, but now it was neither the time nor the place to question her. "We need your Tarot Expertise"

Wasting no time, Lilia walked towards the table; her eyes immediately falling on the cards both Billy and Agatha had put down.

"Who massacred this spread?" The old witch questioned, making the two culprits point a finger at one another.

You held back a chuckle at the scene, and if you were not racing against time to avoid impalement; you would have definitely enjoyed the moment more.

But alas, your time was ticking, and there wasn't exactly any true indication of how long you had before the trial was over.

"Who's the querent?" Lilia asked next, looking at her coven.

Billy looked around at the women for a moment. "You mean the subject? Me. I guess I'm the queer-ent." He was amused by his own bad joke, but the smile disappeared as quick as it came the moment you slapped the back of his head.

He turned to look at you, one hand placed against the spot you had smacked him; lips parted in a theatrical hurtful expression.

"Now it's not the time for pun jokes," you reminded him, surprising the teenager with the fact that you knew what a pun was in the first place. "Just get your reading so we can get out of here,"

You almost pushed him towards one of the chairs and forced him to sit, as Lilia took the seat across and grabbed the deck before passing it to him.

"The querent shuffles and cuts." She informed as the coven gathered around.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Lilia, we don't have time for this."

"Shuffles and cuts," she repeated stubbornly. Billy immediately obliged. "Now, please ask your question."

Of course, nothing could go smoothly as Jen and Agatha started to argue again; honestly making you wonder if they also had some sort of former romantic relationship.

Their arguments were not helping with the situation, pressuring Billy more and taking time from the reading.

The two witches continued and dragged Lilia with as tried to defend the rules of the Tarot to Agatha; who clearly had no respect for this particular witchy art.

It was only you who noticed the swords coming down once again, the roof slowly approaching as your end was getting nearer and nearer with each passing second.

"Ladies," you called then out, hoping to stop them while refusing to take your eyes off the swords; fearing if you did, one would kill you in the next second. "Ladies!" You called louder, hoping to be heard above their arguing and the mechanism pulling down the sword covered roof.

Billy was watching all this time, seeing the swords coming down and no one able to help; cause this was on him. At that moment of thrill and worry, at the face of certain death; he dared to ask the one question he had deep within his heart.

The very same question he feared to even think feared to get any answers to.

"Am I William, or am I Billy?" He asked, practically shouting above the noise.

"That's a very good question," Lilia said with a gentle smile, knowing in most detail of his feelings on the topic; considering he did take over the body ofna dead boy and pretended to be someone else's son. "This is the Safe Passage spread," she continued explaining and pulled out the first card. "The first card is you, the Traveller. Next comes What's Missing, the reason for your quest. Here is the Path Behind, wounds suffered, lessons learned. Here is the Path Ahead, a space for growth and discovery. Of course, you will face obstacles preceding a potential windfall. Uou must overcome all to reach your destination."

As Llia explained each card placement on the spread and what would represent depending on the card, Jen, you, and even Agatha were listening intensely; equally drawn by Lilia's words.

Jen was the first to notice that Agatha was actually paying attention for once and did not seem ready to comment, which was odd for her.

"What, no snide remarks?" Jen teased, always in the mood to try and rub some salt on Agatha's wounds and prove her wrong.

Of course, Agatha was not going to make it any easier for her. She kept her chin up. "Made sense to me."

You rolled your eyes, cleared your throat, and moved to stand between the two women. "If you two are done. Time is ticking, and this is Billy's reading, not yours. "

Being called out like that and realizing you were making a valid point, they just mumbled under their breaths, but the two witches did not dare to continue their little quarell.

You looked at Lilia, who nodded faintly in appreciation for stopping the noisy duo from interrupting any further. You replied with a head nod of your own, though you could still not shKs the feeling that something was off.

The Tarot Cards were definitely Lilia's trial, and yet the questions were about Billy's Path. It just didn't click right in your mind, simply because this was not how the trials worked.

Each trial circled around a deep fear for each member, a fear they had to face, and a challenge that needed to be overcome as a coven.

So, if it was Lilia's trial, why was there nothing about her journey in the cards? Why the sudden focus on Billy?

While you were contemplating those questions in your mind, Lilia proceeded to draw two cards for Billy; the Magician and the Sun.

Yet both those cards did not seem to please the trial, for the swords changed and one landed top close to Jen; causing her to grab your upper arm subconsciously as she moved more into your personal space.

That was not something that Agatha liked, evident by her hard glare towards the Potions Witch; envy and jealousy flashing in her blue eyes... when she noticed.

The swords shaking and as she dared to focus on one, she saw it detaching from whatever invisible string was held; heading straight for Lilia.

In a surprising act of selflessness, Agatha tackled Lilia off the chair and to the ground; just as the sword pierced her chair.

An involuntary gasp left your lips, and your hands covered your mouth, eyes wide at the near death experience that you just witnessed. If Agatha had been a second slower or if she hadn't managed to push Lilia down with the first try...

You shook your head, trying not to think about the outcome.

Instead, you simply stood there and watched as Agatha was forced off; Lilia clearly fought her despite the magicless witch trying to explain that she had just saved her life.

Once both women were up again, you passed a hand over your hair; having almost forgotten the odd but rather unique crown of ice on your head.

"Something we did was wrong... there is no other explanation, " you commented, trying to ease your beating heart.

Jen looked at you. "Yeah, but what are we doing wrong?!" She asked, her tone elevated as she was getting equally stressed. "We followed damn Tarot Rules, Lilia doing the reading as is her trial. So what do we do wrong?"

Jen's words seemed to trigger something within Lilia's mind as she started to realise everything. Her time slips, the random flashes she would get a those years... it all slowly started to make sense.

And she finally had an answer.

"Because he is not the Querent," she suddenly said as she sat at the edge of the chair; unbothered by the sword that had almost impaled her and made her one Vlad the Impaler victims. "I am. This is my reading"

And with those words, she stopped shuffling and cut. Her fingers touched the first card, and her mind's eye immediately got a time flash; the name of the card was known to her before she even turned it.

"The Queen of Cups"

Chapter 36

[famousstatesmanbearroad]

SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY PART 3 (CODY RHODES WWE)

• Summary: You made many enemies throughout your career in World Wrestling Entertainment. Some of which you despise so much it makes you sick to your stomach. But the more you two hate each other, the more the sexual tension becomes too intense to ignore.

• Parings: Cody Rhodes X Fem Reader

Warning- Language, 18+ only (minors DNI), Dirty Talk, Smut, Pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex, dom!Cody dom!Y/N, smutter than the last two part. (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Word count: 5.2k

Your eyes landed on a particular person sitting next to Becky, causing you to smirk of accomplishment.

Sami. He's been avoiding you for a couple of days only because you told him when he saw him you were going to kill him for giving Cody your number. And he thought that maybe if he could avoid it for a whole week till the next show, you'll give over it. But that was him letting his hopes get the best of him.

He knew you held grudges, and deep down, a part of him knew you wouldn't let what he did slide.

You slowly walked up to Sami, who was laughing at whatever Becky said. Becky's eyes landed on you but quickly looked away when she saw you bringing your finger to your lips, telling her to remain quiet.

Sami's face then went from a smile with a bit of laughter to straight fear as he felt a hand on his shoulders, followed by your voice.

"Hey Sami," You spoke; Sami stared at Becky, who butted herself out by taking a step back. He then let out a nervous laugh.

"Oh, hey, Y/N," He said. "Oh, look, time to get ready for my match, gotta go."

"No, no, no!" You pull Sami right back as he tries to pull you back. You then had your finger directly pointed at his face. "Were you thinking about your life, Sami, when you gave Cody my number!?"

Becky immediately butted herself back into the situation with a smile on her face. "Way to go, Sami!" She applauded, causing you to glare at her.

"No! He shouldn't have done that!" You shook your head, looking from Becky to Sami.

Sami raised his hands in defense. "He told me he wanted to apologize for the rumor he spread; I thought he was being nice!"

"It's Cody; when is he ever nice to me!?" You scoffed.

"He's been more than nice to you," Becky muttered, causing you to again glare at her. All she did was stand there, smiling at you.

There are apparent differences between Sami and Becky; Sami was afraid of you, and Becky was not.

But what Becky said made Sami look between you and her—finally, pushing his cluelessness aside and catching on to something he hadn't seen before.

"Wait, did I miss something?" He asked. You looked at Becky, who looked at you. You then sighed and looked at Sami, explaining to him everything from the night he called you about the rumor, then said to Sami and now Becky the night Sami gave Cody your number. You questioned at the moment if you should kill them. They knew too much.

Sami stood in shock, digesting the information you gave him, while Becky shook her head, scoffing.

"I didn't see then, but I now see it," She said, smiling at you. "That man is in love with you!"

"What!?" You said in disbelief before laughing, thinking she was joking.

But she wasn't.

"Yeah, Y/N, I hate to break it to you, but I think he broke Cody, and he probably did too; otherwise, it would just have been a one-time thing," Sami said, agreeing with Becky.

However, Becky shook her head at Sami. "Well, I don't think He broke her; she is still talking to Damian,"

You were momentarily hesitant before that "Well.." slipped out your mouth. Sami and Becky turned back to you. "I ended things with Damian the next after Cody was in my room. I don't know, hearing that morning him telling me how much he liked me, I didn't feel the same and didn't want to lead the man on,"

"So what about Cody?" Sami asked. "From the time you gave Damian a chance, I honestly thought you would end up having feelings for him, but it's like Cody stopped you from doing that."

You remained silent, hearing what Sami said. Since last week, you and Cody got into that argument. You couldn't stop thinking about him, and it was worse than usual.

You end up staring at his number from time to time. It is saved as an unknown number as if you were going to call him. It wasn't hard avoiding him because you haven't seen him since that night. His words replayed in your head multiple times, and it was so bad you felt your dignity start to lack late at night, in bed, letting your pleasure out while thinking about the man you truly despise. And never have you done anything like that, let alone while thinking about a man.

And as much as you hate to admit it, everything Cody argued to you made him right.

He was right, which holds you back from even talking to him. You could see that smile of his while telling him he was right; that's not something you want happening.

"There's nothing with Cody. I haven't spoken to him, and I like to keep it that way," You said. "This whole situation is dead, so can we please not talk about it anymore?"

You notice Becky glancing over at Sami, who gives her a shrug as they both agree to stop talking about it. Neither one of them wanted to push your buttons.

"You're going to McMahon's party tomorrow night?" Becky asked.

McMahon's party. It is a party that now Stephanie McMahon and her husband, the COO of the company, host every year as a way of celebrating us Wrestlers and our achievements. This year, they're celebrating at the hotel where all the wrestlers stayed for the next few days. You find it complete bullshit, especially when some of the Wrestlers don't get enough attention on TV, let alone this company.

But you still go, only because of the respect you earned from Stephanie herself, despite her no longer working in WWE. But the minute you do go, you wind up leaving five minutes later.

"Yeah, we don't have a choice, though," You spoke. "Adam keeps telling me I must be there and can't leave like last time." Sami sighed. "I have to drag Kevin down tomorrow; Adam told him the same." He said. "You know how stubborn he gets."

"Don't let him hear you say that," You told him as you and Becky chuckled a bit.

Sami was going to speak, responding to your comment, you assumed. When loud yells from a distance caused you three to look in the direction where it was coming from.

Your heart immediately dropped, seeing Damian and Cody in each other faces as yell at one another. Sami takes off, pushing Cody back, while Finn appears out of nowhere with Rhea, pulling Damian back.

"Say one more word about her, and I'll fucking kill you!" The venom in Cody's voice caught your attention. You've seen him angry; hell, you made him angry multiple times. But never in your years of knowing him have you seen him this angry.

Damian, however, laughed at Cody. "Honestly, Cody, I hope two end up together," He said. "You two deserve each other!"

"Come on, Priest, let's go," Rhea smirked as her eyes landed on you. Damian glanced at Cody again before he, Finn, and Rhea walked away in your direction.

You looked at Damian, who didn't even look in your direction. Though, you knew he knew you were watching him. But you were suddenly caught off by Rhea, pushing past you, almost knocking you down.

You laughed as you grabbed Rhea and turned around as you got in her face. The yelling was now coming from you two.

"Is there a problem, Rhea!? Because if there is, I'm more than glad to handle the problem!"

"You know exactly what the problem is!" Rhea spoke. "I warned Damian about you, and guess what? I was right! So stay away from him!"

"Whatever he told you was probably lies!" You spoke before looking up at Damian and then back at her. "He and I are on good terms, so I don't understand where this all coming from!"

Rhea laughed at you before shaking her head. "Not Damian, sweetheart," She said. "Asked Cody over there!"

Rhea then walked off. Damian looked at you, then Cody, who you assume was still there, before walking off alongside Finn.

You turned around and saw Cody standing there. He looked at you. You haven't seen him in weeks, and despite knowing you may and may be angry by the question you would ask him.

Your mind began wandering off. He was shirtless, in his gear. He looked highly sexy when he was mad.

"What was that all about?" You asked him, confused. Cody looked at you. "What do you think, Y/N?"

He told Damian everything. And Damian probably said something that caused him to react aggressively. But you were confused again.

Why did he get so offensive and protective over you? You had people in the past called every name in the book; even Cody himself has called you names. But for him to get this angry over someone calling you a name that you don't know what it was surprised you.

Cody held his hand up, telling Sami he was okay as Sami let him go. Cody looked over at you once more before walking off.

Sami and Becky looked at you, confused about what the hell even happened. Sami spoke and sighed. "The situation is dead, huh?"

———

The more time went by, the less you were looking forward to the party. It was already the next day, and the party had already started. You looked at yourself in the mirror as your hair and makeup were set, as well as your dress, as it fits perfectly on top of your body.

It wasn't short; it laid just about your knee. It had a split from the side of the dress to show enough skin. Your breasts were shaped perfectly against the top part, and your hair and makeup were perfect to how you wanted it.

But it didn't make you want to go even more. However, after minutes of debating, you finally took your purse and went down to the party.

Upon arrival, you notice the amount of people already there, which makes you want to turn around and head back to your room.

"Drink?" A male walked up to you, holding a tray of drinks. You smiled at the male and took a drink, then another.

You knew it was going to be a long night.

"Y/N?" Becky called out as she approached you. She sees the two glasses in your hand and can't help but shake her head.

"Don't lose me, Y/N," she said.

"Well, if I don't have a drink or two, you will lose me." You said as you took a sip of your drink.

Your eyes wander around, seeing familiar faces. Some you are friends with, others you aren't. And most that you genuinely hate.

The last time you were at this party, you didn't even last 10 minutes and made the excuse that you were sick.

However, Adam Pearce was telling everyone how it's mandatory to stay the entire night. Everyone enjoyed the party, except you.

Becky wonders off, leaving you alone again as she joins her husband's side. You gulped down your first drink as you went for the second one in your hand, placing the first glass on an empty tray and finding another server, taking another drink.

Two drinks went from four to six. You sat down, drank your drinking, and ate a cup of fruit they had also at the party? You ran into a few people along the way of your drinking: Sami, Kevin, Adam, who had to remind her that she needed to stay, even The Judgement Day, whom Rhea and Damian glared at you.

You were still confused about what exactly happened last night other than the fact that Cody told Damian everything. You didn't know how much he told Damian, but you knew Damian said a comment about you that caused Cody to get riled up.

Cody. You haven't seen him at all tonight. You wanted to see him, though deep down, you wouldn't admit that to yourself.

But you and Cody had a lot to talk about. And you were tired of waiting for the right time or nothing.

And you weren't sure if it was the alcohol getting into your system, but you pulled yourself off your seat, finding anyone who might know Cody's whereabouts.

You stumbled upon Jey, Sami, and Kevin conversing about something, causing them waves of laughter.

"Have any of you seen Cody?" You whispered to them. You didn't want to make it evident that you were looking for him.

Kevin shook his head. "Not since leaving our rooms; why?"

You quickly shook your head. "No reason,"

"Y/N, are you drunk?" Sami asked, looking at you. You were going to deny it at first by shaking your head. But the laugh got to you, making you cover your mouth to stop yourself.

"A little," you admit. "You three enjoy the party." You quickly walked off and went onto Seth and Becky, who had said the same thing that they hadn't seen Cody.

"Don't you have his number? Try calling him," Becky reminds you. Seth was taken aback. "Number, since when have you and Cody been friends?"

"Friends!? No! Never!" You deny offensively. Becky, however, gave you a look along with a smirk, causing you to glare at her. "Shh!" You tell her, then walk off. "Did I miss something," You heard Seth asked his wife.

You looked around the party, seeing no sight of Cody, which made you consider taking Becky's idea of calling him.

"But what if he doesn't answer?" You thought to yourself. You pulled your phone, scrolling to his unsaved number as you debated whether or not you should call him. After minutes of discussing, your finger pressed the call button as you placed the phone on your ear, hearing it ring.

"He's not going to answer you," You thought once again. "You desperate, Y/N, the man still hates you. There's no way-"

"Hello?"

You stood silent for a moment, panicking on the inside as you realized he had answered.

"Y/N?" Cody asked, checking if you were there.

"Hi," you quickly responded, letting me know you were there. "I accidentally called you; my bad,"

"Really?" He asked. Even though you were drunk right now, you could still tell that his smile appeared on his face. "Because I swore I just saw you pull your phone out and call me," So he is here

Your eyes wander around, trying to look for Cody. "On your left, Princess,"

You turned to your left, seeing a figure from afar looking in your direction. Cody sat down, staring at you while you were still on the phone.

"Has anyone told me how sexy you look in that dress," Cody spoke. "If we weren't at this party, I would absolutely ruin you in that dress."

"I thought you were mad at me," You spoke, ignoring the response you received in between your thighs as he said. Cody smirked at you.

"I could say the same thing to you," Cody said. "Is there a reason why you called me princess?"

You bit your lips while looking at him. You then scanned around the room. There is no sign of Adam or anyone you could run into.

"Second floor, room D." You spoke before hanging up. You glanced at Cody again before walking towards the elevator and sneaking out of the party. You thought you should have done that sooner if you knew it would be easy.

The elevator opens again as you walk to your room and open the door, leaving it open for Cody to come in.

You took off your heels, tossing them to the side as you sat in front of your mirror, taking off any jewelry you had on.

Your eyes landed on the door through your mirror once you noticed it opened, seeing Cody standing in front of your door as he shut it shut.

You turned around and looked at him as you bit your lips.

"Hi," you spoke, looking at him. You couldn't help but think how handsome he was looking. You have been thinking about that a lot lately.

He wore a typical suit, which he wore usually. However, it only made sense that he wore it since others also wore suits.

But you notice the hesitation in him as he eyes you. "Are you drunk?" He asked you. You brought your fingers up, holding them close together, indicating that you were a little drunk.

"I can handle my liquor, Cody. I'll be fine if that's what you're worried about." You said. Cody shook his head. "That's the least of my worries right now." He said and took a step towards you.

You two weren't close. But to you, you felt extremely close to one another. The height difference made you feel small compared to him.

"Why did you call me up here?" He asked curiously. You looked at him. "I wanted to talk about last night."

Cody sucked his teeth as you reminded him about last night's events. "I want to know what Damian said that made you so angry,"

Cody shook his head. "It was nothing." He lied. You rolled your eyes.

"Stop lying!" You said. Cody, from just that, was getting even more mad. You couldn't help but wonder where the sudden anger was coming from. You knew it wasn't just from mentioning his and Damian's fight.

"He said the most out-of-pocket thing about you, princess, that I don't even want to repeat," He admitted. You couldn't help but laugh a little after a moment of silence. "Where did this you getting defensive about me come from? You hate me, remember,"

Cody stepped forward, causing you to part your lips a bit accidentally. Cody noticed it as he licked his lips. The sexual tension was already forming.

"What about you, huh?" Cody asked. "Why did I find out from him that you were the one who ended things with him the day after I was in your room?"

You were silent as you remembered why it took you so long to talk to him. Telling him the truth meant telling him he was right.

And you'd rather die than tell him he's right.

"I didn't feel anything for him," You simply told him.

"And why's that?" Cody's voice went low as he looked down at you. You felt his hands on the skin of your thighs, brushing upwards, causing you to feel goosebumps on you.

"I'm not going to say it, Cody," You tell him. You already felt yourself getting turned on by how close you two are. But you also felt frustrated because of how easily he knew that he was right.

"Say it, princess," he said. "Say I'm right."

"No!" You argued. You gasped when you felt Cody's hand around your neck, pulling you closer.

"Say it," he demanded it. Your mouth was open, allowing Cody to be ready for you to say those two words he was desperate to hear.

"Never," you said, followed by a smirk.

Something in you sparked up by Cody's actions, causing you to push him onto the couch that sat in your hotel room. This took Cody back as he looked at you.

His eyes watched you straddled his lap, feeling how warm you were in between your thighs.

"I hate you, Cody," you spoke. "Nothing will change that, and nothing will make me say those words." You whispered to him.

Cody growled, grabbing the side of your cheeks and kissing you.

You missed everything about him. His touch, his kiss, the way he made you feel. You couldn't help but grind your hips against him as the two of you made out with each other.

"I miss those pretty noises of yours, baby, thought all this week," Cody spoke as you couldn't help but whimper at the pleasure you were feeling grinding against him. Cody watched you, hands on your waist, as you made the most pretty face and precious moans and whimpers out of your mouth.

And you noticed this: Cody sitting there, with his hands on your waist. You took one of his hands and brought it up to your breast, biting your lips as his eye landed straight at them, playing with them.

"So fucking gorgeous," He said, groaning a bit. You can feel his member joint a bit, causing you to moan. You pulled back a bit, pulling his tucked shirt out of his pants and unbuckling pants before pulling it down, showing his boxers. You noticed him pulling off his shoes before kicking his pants off. He was eager to feel more of you.

You straddled him once more, letting out a loud moan, feeling the layers now thin between you two.

"Oh my god, Cody," you moaned, tugging his hair. Cody's breathing was unsteady as the two of them started panting. You couldn't help but smirk, however, thinking about something.

"What are you smirking for?" Cody asked. You debated telling Cody; however, you knew it would turn you on.

"I have a confession to make," you said. Cody chuckled, "You finally gonna admit I was right?"

"No!" You spoke. You then brought your lips to his ears, saying something that just might have driven Cody insane. "I had touched myself thinking about you."

"Fuck, Y/N," Cody cursed under his breath. You looked at him as he struggled underneath you. "I couldn't help myself; I moaned your name and everything."

"Y/N, shut up," Cody said, groaning. You laughed and kissed all over his neck, grinding a little harder on top of him. You two were moaning a mess.

Cody lifts your dress, letting his hands trail up your dress. You wore a lace underneath that hardly covered anything. "Look at that pretty pussy."

You moaned, throwing your head back as you felt yourself approaching your second organism.

"Let me see you touch yourself for me, princess," Cody spoke. You moaned, doing precisely what he said by bringing your hands down to your clit, rubbing it in circles while grinding on him.

Cody watched in awe, as you were an absolute mess watching you. He didn't think you could get this beautiful.

"Cody, baby," You spoke. "I'm close."

As your orgasm appeared, it quickly went away, Cody pulling your hand away from yourself and stopping you from grinding by holding you in place.

He looks up at you and shakes his head. "You will not finish till you tell me I'm right." He said, causing you to suck your teeth.

"I'm not saying that," You tell him. Cody looks at you and lays back, smirking. You looked at him as he smiled even more at you. What alarmed you was the hint of devilish in it. "What?" You asked.

Cody doesn't say anything at first as he leans in and kisses you, and you immediately kiss him back. He pulls back and looks up at you.

"Sit on my face," he speaks, licking his lips.

Your eyes went wide. Never in your entire lifetime have you done that. It brought a little fear in you.

"Cody-"

"I'm not taking no for an answer," Cody's eyes went dark as he spoke. He was dead serious.

Before you could even say anything, Cody had already lifted you off the couch and onto the bed.  He takes pulls off your dress, not enough to rip it, and takes your panties off before he takes off his jacket, pulls his tie off, and unbuttons his shit till he was shirtless in nothing but his boxers and lays on the bed.

"Come on, princess, sit on my face," Cody demands. You hesitate for a moment before getting on top of Cody, hovering over his face as you slightly lower yourself.

Cody grew frustrated and immediately wrapped his arms around your thighs, pushing you down on his face until you were fully sat on him.

Despite the fact you're thinking that you're probably crushing Cody, you moaned at the feeling of Cody's touching tasting your clit. "Fuck" You let out.

It felt different. You never had someone make you straddle their face to eat you out. And as you looked down at Cody, you noticed him eyeing you, your Body. Just seeing you like this turned Cody.

And you were tired; you really tried not to buck your hips as you gripped the headboard of the bed. But the way his tongue lapped on your clit, tasting every inch of you, you accidentally buckled, causing your eyes to widen a bit.

"Sorry," You apologized, looking down at Cody. His eyes said otherwise; he wanted you to do that again. And it didn't take long for him to have you buckling your hips again, followed by a long moan.

You knew Cody was enjoying this, which made you care less about being scared in the first place. Your hands reached from behind as your hand slipped into his boxers, pulling out his cock and stroking it.

You buckled again, feeling Cody moan against your clit. "Yes, Cody, don't stop!" You moaned. At this point, you didn't care who could hear you. You swore you were a lot louder than the last time you two had sex.

Both hands were now on the headboard as you felt your orgasm. Your head threw back as it approached within seconds.

But you didn't cum.

Cody immediately grabbed your waist, pulled you up, and held you in place as you were still hovering over him. You let out a needy whine.

"Say I'm right!" Cody demanded. You use every strength to hold your ground as you look down at him.

"I said no!" You yelled.

In just a blink of an eye, Cody now had you lying on the bed. A part of you knew if he kept doing that, pulling away every time you were about to cum, you were going have to want to.

However, you were still stubborn. That was until he immediately attached his tongue to your pussy, his head vigorously shaking in between your legs as he led you back into your orgasm.

Your hand found his head, tugging it down as your moan grew louder before. Cody was way strong, however, and pulled back, causing you to whine once more.

"Fuck!" You scream. "Okay, you're right! Please, Cody!"

You felt that stupid smile on his back on his lips as he went back on your clit. Your legs shook as you clenched on your bedsheets, letting a cry of moans and enjoying the orgasm that you had been craving for what seemed like forever.

You lay there as Cody's head appeared from between your legs, panting as he looked down at you.

"That was fucking hot," he said, then hovering over you. "You're so fucking hot, so beautiful."

Cody kisses you. You can taste yourself on his tongue as the two of you fought with each other. However, you let him win. You were too deep in that aura stage, just by Cody simply giving oral sex, that you were weak to do anything.

But suddenly, you let out a gasp as you felt Cody's dick touch your clit. He watches you as he rubs himself against you.

"Cody," you whine. "I don't think I can handle more."

Cody shook his head, however, and kissed all over you. "Baby, yes, you can," he cooed. "I know you handle my dick, be a good girl to daddy."

You moaned at Cody's voice as he grinds himself against you for pleasure. You needed him inside of you; you desperately needed him. But it was more of the joy than anything you were worried about. You weren't sure if you could handle so much pleasure.

"Tell me what you want, baby," Cody said. "I know want this dick. I can feel you clenching, and I'm not inside you."

Your hands fell on his massive arms, feeling every muscle as he whimpered. "Fuck me, Cody,"

"Mmm, so sexy," Cody muttered to himself as he adjusted the length of his cock, lining it up against your clit and slowly inserting himself in you. "Fuck," he breathes out as he closes his eyes.

He forgot how good you felt, and every single bone in his body was holding back from fucking you so hard on this bed. But he wants you to feel him, take his dick as much as possible, cum as much as you need to.

He wanted to take care of you.

Cody, slowly but surely, rolled his hips, making sure he was fully pulled out till you only felt the tip, then sank back in. You moan, hands above your head as the two watch each other. It was like heaven, what he felt. Seeing you laying there as he allows his cock to enjoy you.

"That's it, princess." He whispered in your ears, patiently waiting to give you to go faster. "Take my cock, baby. You're doing so well, baby girl."

"Keep going," your breath heavily. "Keep talking; go faster, please."

Cody groans a little, speeding up the pace. "You're so wonderful, baby, taking my dick." He said. "No one has ever fucked you this good before, have they."

You shook your head, whimpers and moans talking over your mouth.

"Be a good girl and use your words," Cody demanded. You started to realize you had a kink for that.

"No," You moaned out. "No one- fuck- no one has fucked me this good."

Your hips started to move again his dick, causing him to hold down your hips and deepen his length into you. "That's it, baby- I can feel you." He moans. "You're gonna cum are you."

Cody was now at a pace where he was fucking you harder, faster, and you two were moaning uncontrollably. One of his hands was on your neck, choking you.

"Oh, Daddy, don't stop." You moaned. Cody growls. "Fuck, you going to make me come! Oh fuck!"

You reach your climax, having yet another orgasm. Your moans grew louder as Cody pushed himself deep, letting out his cum as his head fell in between your neck.

The two now lay in bed as you processed what happened. Cody smiled as he clenched his hands, thinking about the fantastic sex they just had and trying his hardest not to get riled up again. "This was a lot better than last time." He spoke.

You nodded, agreeing with Cody as you bit your lips, holding back a smile. Cody looked at you, grabbing your chin and making you turn to him.

"No more bullshit," He said. "I don't care how much you hate me. You're mine, got it?"

Something in felt butterflies in your stomach, which made you absolutely sick to your stomach. He's right; you do still hate him, which is why you hated the way he was giving you these butterflies in your stomach. But there's no way you can back yourself out or avoid him after this night. You slowly nodded, agreeing to Cody as if you were making a deal with the devil.

"Got it."