#An Exchange of Favors chapter

[thehangeddemon]

An Exchange of Favors || Xavier, January, & Ariel || July 26-27, 2023

Xavier: Even though the confirmation he'd needed to make this visit had come mere hours after his conversation with Rhys, Xavier chose to wait a bit before returning to January Embers. It was as Rhys had said; timing was everything. If he came too soon, he'd tip his hand. Too late, and there was every chance the visit would no longer be required. A misstep could not be afforded.

Regardless of if Rohan and his DJ ended up despising each other one day in the future--although Xavier didn't see that being the case--they'd formed a significant attachment in the here and now. As Rohan's friend and confidante, seeing to the witch's happiness was of the utmost importance to Xavier.

So, a little over a week but not quite two weeks later, the demon walked up the club door and greeted the bouncers with a nod.

"Good evening, gentlemen," he said pleasantly. "I am Mr. Rossmara. I would like to see Lady Dune if she's available. She should remember me, I came earlier this month with Mr. Mello."

January: Just as before, the pulse of the nightclub could be felt from a block away. The line at this hour curved around the building. The same two gentlemen in the same fine suits monitored the line, allowing those on a special list on their tablets through without question. The name Rossmara was enough to pull the velvet rope. A blue Jan Emb was stamped on the back of his hand, an ornate V beneath the square logo.

"Up the stairs to the left," said Lee.

Xavier: Xavier accepted the stamp and gave a second nod to the man who had spoken. “Thank you.”

The atmosphere inside the club was just as bone-rattlingly loud as he remembered but as he was here for business, he didn’t pay it any mind. Tried to, anyway. There was only so much he could tune out.

Following the bouncer’s directions, he went up the stairs to the familiar VIP area in search of his hostess. He was as impeccably dressed as the last time he’d been here, only this time he’d come armed with a gift.

January: Tonight Ariel Cassidy was not the point of interest on the stage. A woman with pink and white hair in a white dress was having the time of her life. Rosara written in elegant red font over her booth. A dubstep and K-pop blend that the crowd seemed to enjoy, matching the bubbly aura of their temporary disc jockey.

January would be found leaning against the polished metal and wood railing overlooking her little kingdom. Her pink dress with black applique matched the vibe of the evening.

She smiled at his approach and stretched backward like a cat.

"You left the priest at church tonight?"

Xavier: “Lady Dune.” Xavier inclined his head toward her and answered her smile with a charming one of his own. He braced himself because he knew that from this moment forward, he was going to be observed closely and that any conclusions arrived at as a result would likely be shared.

With Rhys especially.

“Good evening and yes, I did. How does the night find you? Well I hope.”

January: With or without Rhys, the demon was eyed up and down. There was no denying he had been undressed and redressed down to the last button.

"Mhm. I've wined, I've dined. Look what my new little treasure's given me." January kicked her foot back, showing off her glittering black stilettos. Her outfit matched from head to toe, down to her black and iridescent nails.

Showing off just to have those eyes on her. Something to tease Rhys with later.

She turned her back on her nightclub, leaning against the rail with both hands.

"What brings you back?"

Xavier: Her gaze was unmistakable and nostalgically familiar. He’d been the subject of such a gaze almost as often as he’d affected it himself.

Those eyes would most certainly be on her. To flatter and be flattered was its own delicate dance and in this case, he had to admire his own good judgement. The right ace had been placed up his sleeve.

“Lovely. And, if I may say, rather fortuitous.”

The demon reached into his suit jacket and produced a black velvet box which he proceeded to offer.

“Two things. Firstly, to give you this small token of my gratitude for your hospitality the other night. Secondly, to exchange a favor with you.”

January: She kicked off the rail and stepped closer. Breathed him in with a little hum lost over the chest-wrenching bass.

"Oh, honey," she gasped, offering the box back and turning, expecting him to know what to do next. "What blessing are you trying to earn? Rhys' hand in marriage? My god!"

Xavier: Ah, but of course. This was far from the first necklace he’d ever gifted, and it was lifted from its box and placed around her neck with delicate ease.

Xavier chuckled softly. “No, nothing to do with Mr. Mello. I actually came to talk about your Mr. Cassidy.”

The demon would wait until January turned to face him again before taking a deliberate step back to admire her. He’d chosen the perfect piece to give her.

“Beautiful.”

January: "Oh, now, don't go breaking Rhys' heart over a pretty ghoul." Gone were the days of her long hair, but her fingers ran through what she had anyway as she turned to face him, showing off his gift resting perfectly around her neck. Her outfit was now complete. Rosara will be jealous.

"Just tell me, is this business or pleasure?"

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. “I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing.” To either Rohan or to Rhys, although he doubted the vampire’s heart was his to break anyway. Things between them were as yet…somewhat nebulous.

“Business primarily, although the pleasure of looking at you while it’s conducted is a rather exceptional bonus.”

January: "You're very tactful with your words, like a gentleman." And she wanted him to know that she knew that.

"If it is business, then you'll follow me to my office where I can hear myself think." And she would take his arm for the trip, followed not so closely behind by one of her bodyguards.

Her office was a stark contrast to the nightclub surrounding it. Whitewashed exposed brick covered here and there by rectangular gray and black acoustic panels. Slate flooring to catch the click of her heels. Burgundy Monroe sofas faced each other, separated by a frosted glass table. Enormous glass figures hung from the ceiling at various heights and shapes beside her desk, creating a kind of maze playground.

What appeared to be a window behind her desk was in fact a floor-to-ceiling screen, set on a rooftop web cam somewhere in Brooklyn.

Her bodyguard planted himself outside of her office, giving them all the privacy they needed.

"Would you like something to drink, or straight to business?"

Xavier: “But of course.” Because Xavier was a gentleman, he inclined his head once again and held his arm out for her to take, feeling a strange sort of comfort in the gesture. There was a ceremony and formality to interactions like these that he found pleasing and…freeing.

Both parties knew where they stood and it made everything infinitely easier.

The office couldn’t have been more in contrast with the club and for that very reason, Xavier found he rather liked it. The glass and sofas caught his eye especially. They were exactly his color.

“I’m fine, Lady Dune, thank you.” He would wait until she sat before following suit.

January: January took her favorite place, the sofa nearest to her floating glass, crossing her leg over her knee. This was her territory, her home, her power. Though she didn't take up every inch of space where she sat, her presence was large enough. Elbow on her knee, chin in hand, she smiled at her guest.

"So, what do you want with my ghoul?"

Xavier: A fact that was very present in the demon’s mind as he smiled at his hostess. A sparkly little trinket and a gift for flattery could only get a person so far; in this world, respect and awareness kept you alive.

Respect, awareness, and knowing when you were at a disadvantage.

“Do you recall my associate Mr. Dalca? When we were here last, he made use of the card your Mr. Cassidy asked you to pass on to him. It seems they’ve taken a liking to each other and as Mr. Dalca is a good friend, I’d like him to have the opportunity to see where that leads.”

January: Rhys had not informed January of this visit, leaving this moment in the dark for Xavier to work his magic. He had faith in him, even if he was only a little amused by his reason. So long as the Toreador found a way to take full advantage would he not have an earful of her passive complaints about the upcoming games.

And those were steadily in her peripheral.

"I love my ghoul, but I'm not his mama. Mr. Dalca can play him with all he wants." She wasn't going to bite so readily.

Xavier: Independently of anything else, Xavier took January’s words to mean that she didn’t intend to interfere with whatever relationship Rohan had with the DJ. A small relief, and he’d take it on his friend’s behalf.

Xavier smiled and nodded. “Opportunity is a rare treasure, is it not?” he said, dropping his voice slightly. “Coveted by many but given to very few. And as a man who doesn’t enjoy leaving things to chance, I should like Mr. Dalca to be able to take full advantage of the opportunity he has to get to know Mr. Cassidy and I’m prepared to ensure that he does.”

January: Her smile was gentle, but losing something behind her lashes. Ostentatious displays sparked joy for her on many occasions; her love of foreplay, formalities, and blandishment bordered on problematic, but,

"We're in my office for business, darling, go ahead and spit it out. You haven't said anything that he can't do this very moment."

How wide had Rhys opened his mouth?

Xavier: “Very well.” Xavier gave a single nod and crossed his legs, leaning back in his seat.

“When we met, you told me it wasn’t every day that a demon came into your club. However, on that night, one did and there’s every chance that someday, another one might. A demon or something else with ill intent. In this world of ours, anything is liable to happen.

“But, as I’ve said, I am not a man who likes leaving things to chance. Mr. Dalca likes Mr. Cassidy and the only way he can explore that attraction to whatever lengths he likes is if Mr. Cassidy is around and whole.

“Therefore, my question to you is this: what would it cost to ensure Mr. Cassidy’s safety?”

January: She didn't want to budge on her belief that business should be a drop of the silly formalities. Clear and concise statements to move a project along. It was one of the reasons Rhys and Sapphira tolerated her at all. Security helped. Money certainly helped.

Was it any wonder the Lasombra enjoyed his company? A pirate priest didn't have many opportunities with a jewel such as this.

"Oh dear," she sighed, getting to her feet and around her desk. "Our beloved priest went and told you about that?"

Xavier: Xavier would neither confirm nor deny her suspicions. He didn’t need to. They both already knew the answer to her question.

“Threats are ever present, my lady. If my experiences are any indication, I daresay you might be familiar with the notion that if it isn’t one thing, it’s another. We don’t always know if something is going to come up or when, but occasionally we have a chance to preempt problems.

“As I said, I’m here to exchange favors. I realize my request isn’t a simple one but even if it were, everything has a price and I’m prepared to pay it.”

January: If only the demon knew. Had he been a part of her coterie a wine glass might have been thrown in his general direction. A tantrum, as Sapphira labeled them.

But she had said spit it out!

"So you've said something about a boon, something something opportunities, and speaking on behalf of your friend. Shouldn't he be the one in my office?"

Xavier: “He doesn’t know I’m in your office,” the demon sighed. And with damn good reason. “Or in the country for that matter. I’m here because I have chosen to be, not because I was asked to be.”

Xavier vaguely wished he’d taken her offer of a drink but his judgement maintained it was best he hadn’t.

“I want my friend to have what he wants and what he wants is your DJ. He can only have your DJ if something doesn’t happen to him. What would you like in exchange for ensuring that nothing happens to your DJ, Lady Dune?” He couldn’t put it any more plainly than that.

January: Despite the language tango they were having, January was already making plans. Her laptop powered on and opened to her calendar. Birthdays of every staff member. Every local DJ's schedule and birthday. Wedding anniversaries for her bodyguards, and every meeting she had ever had, in her own made-up shorthand.

"He will when we've concluded here. Unless you want Ariel to keep a secret." Those went well in relationships.

"I need to age him up a bit. He needs more practice. He has, mm, hasn't told me anything about September except a gig in a place called Inner City at the end of the month."

Her chin returned to her hand.

"I should be asking you that question, Ross. You're giving me a lot and asking for nothing."

Xavier: "Yes, he will," Xavier said with a nod. "I never intended to keep in the dark after the fact, only before." That way, Rohan wouldn't have a chance to talk him out of it and wouldn't have a reason to worry, or so Xavier hoped.

"Asking for nothing?" The demon smiled and shook his head. "My dear Lady Dune, I'm asking for quite a bit. Beyond asking you to make sure harm doesn't come to Mr. Cassidy, I'm asking you to help make someone happy. That hardly counts as nothing."

January: "That's a very sentimental way of looking at things. In what way are you even a demon?" The only similarity to those foul-smelling nightmares was the penchant for playing with words like a bag of Scrabble chips. Double meanings, hidden agendas, and a determined lack of concision.

"Do you realize you come off more threatening and vague than persuasive?"

Xavier: The demon heaved a long sigh, staring a hole into January’s coffee table for a few moments. What he wouldn’t give for July to end. This month simply hadn’t been his, although…had any month in the past two years been his?

“I’ve been told I come across that way, yes,” he said quietly. “I suppose that’s the hallmark of being a demon.”

January: Well now, that was genuine. Her eyes roamed up to his forehead, around his hair, looking at something he couldn't see.

She gave a sigh of her own.

"Explain what you said before. Are you trying to threaten my club with your ilk?"

Xavier: Xavier fought the urge to sigh again. If that’s how he was coming across then he was truly losing his touch.

“Forgive me, it was not my intent to threaten you or insinuate that I would. I was only speaking hypothetically. I do not associate with my demonic brethren, I find them insufferable.”

January: She would sigh for them both. His carefully crafted walls were gently crumbling, just the way she preferred. She needed that to gauge whether or not this man was trustworthy with her precious treasures.

Her phone was brought to her ear. Seeing no reason to explain herself, she smiled and said, "Ari, baby, hi. I need you to pay me a visit. I'll be in my office. No! Nothing wrong. I'll see you soon."

Xavier: The best laid plans, Xavier thought dismally, going back to staring a hole into the coffee table. He couldn’t say he hadn’t been warned. Rhys had warned him.

This was not his day, his month, or his year. A meteor was probably headed right for him as he sat here talking.

Why couldn’t she have just asked for something and sent him on his way? A favor. A bit of magic. A head on a pike. Anything.

January: No amount of money or jewels was going to keep her from hearing Ariel's opinion, whether she agreed or complied with it or not. Not so old as to treat her ghouls as slaves, but not so young as to pretend they were equals.

"You expect him to stay under your roof?"

Xavier: Xavier looked up at January again with a furrowed brow. “Under my roof? Why would—Lady Dune, do you mean to give him into my care?”

January: "What else are you asking for? For me to send him away and that's that?"

Xavier: “I do not presume to tell others how to conduct their affairs, but I did think that was what you would do, yes. Or something to that effect.”

January: "If I'm sending him away I'm sending him to improve. Not unsupervised and unchaperoned in a city belonging to the Ivory Tower. Not during the games."

Xavier: Unsupervised? Unchaperoned? The sudden flashbacks to Holden White made him yearn for a bottle of scotch.

But, this was for Rohan and Rohan’s happiness. If it was in Xavier’s power to do something to help make sure nothing happened to the man his dearest friend was willing to give his heart to, then Xavier couldn’t just do nothing.

“I can offer safe haven at my estate. It’s heavily warded and the surrounding area is free of Kindred presence and influence. He’ll want for nothing.”

January: "The nearest city?" she asked, fingers ready on her keyboard.

This was not blind trust. She had yet to explicitly agree. Another conversation would have to happen between her coterie before finalizing, but it was Rhys who kept Xavier in this room and not on the curb. The number of reasons not to trust this demon was vast, but only one reason to trust him.

If a priest had faith in a demon...

Xavier: “My estate is in California. The nearest town is named Paradise.” And yes, he did in fact see the irony of that. “The nearest major city is Chico, if one can call Chico a major city.”

Her agreement may not have been concrete yet, but her questions led Xavier to believe she was seriously considering it. That had to be worth something.

January: "We will need the address, obviously. Paradise... oh." The irony was certainly visible, but her concentration was elsewhere. Too busy looking on a map.

"Sacramento, good. Reno. San Fran - hmm."

Her laptop was pushed to the side.

"Mr. Dalca can have him until Halloween if he wants, but in exchange, he has to be trained. That is the deal I'm willing to make. I love my jewels, but they can't be brittle. If this happens again then what? Hope he's still infatuated with a do-gooder? That is my price."

Xavier: Xavier wondered how long the games lasted if January was thinking so many months in advance, but it hardly mattered. The point was to keep the DJ out of them and away from them.

“What sort of training do you have in mind?” Hamilton could teach the boy to be an excellent butler and Ramsay an excellent mechanic but somehow Xavier didn’t think that’s what his hostess wanted from this arrangement.

January: "Well, he's no bouncer, but he's no blade of grass. Those who have survived the games took a beating and were able to stand back up. It's the one ability everyone dreads empowering."

Xavier: Ah. That sort of training. He recalled MJ undertaking such training with Leon’s familiar some time back in order to make himself stronger.

“So, if I’m understanding correctly, you would like me to find someone to beat him to a pulp on a regular basis.”

January: "Well, when you put it like that, I sound like a wicked woman. I love him enough to hurt him, because the alternative is death."

Xavier: Xavier shook his head. “I pass no judgments. The things we have to do to survive aren’t always pleasant or even tolerable. Simply necessary. And if that is what you require, then so be it. I’ll find him someone to spar with.”

January: "I'll make a list of cities he may work, but I'll think ill of you if you leave him on his own. Other than that, my darling, I need to speak with our favorite priest, and I'll shake your hand tomorrow."

Xavier: “He won’t be on his own but in the interest of full disclosure I must tell you that I am currently not living at my estate. I do, however, make it a point to check in frequently if you would like status reports.”

January: "So you're telling me he can just leave whenever he pleases."

Xavier: “Certainly not. The wards I have on my estate are such that they can stop someone from leaving or coming in at my discretion.”

January: Ah, her smile returned. "Perfect."

Xavier: This was the first time Xavier could recall anyone referring to his chosen method of security as ‘perfect’. The general opinion seemed to be that his wards were too extreme and his paranoia too great so this was…novel.

The demon got to his feet. “Very well then. I shall call on you again tomorrow evening.”

January/Ariel: "Absolutely." She wasn't certain how she felt yet. Miffed at Rhys for opening his mouth, but without it she would still be wringing her hands in debate whether or not to force Ariel into an extended vacation, hiding him like a bad secret, or allowing him in the games against older more capable ghouls. It wasn't that Ariel couldn't travel, couldn't enjoy his freedoms. It was the timing. Right now it was absolutely shitty timing. The Camarilla, the Inquisition, damn near everyone seemed out for blood.

Only feet from January's office did the very subject of his visit crash into him. So focused on texting, he hadn't expected anyone near his domitor's door except her bodyguard.

Ariel's hands danced to catch his precious phone before losing yet another in the span of a month.

"Oh! Hey! Sorry I - oh."

Xavier: Xavier wanted to be annoyed but he was at just as much fault as the ghoul for not paying attention. The only difference was that he’d been lost in thought instead of looking at his phone.

“It’s quite all right, Mr. Cassidy,” the demon sighed, already walking away. He had things to do and no interest in lingering. “Don’t walk and text.”

As soon as he was outside and away from prying eyes, he’d be making his way to the other side of the country to talk to Rohan and then going back home until tomorrow’s meeting.

Ariel: Xavier had turned into a mirage. One moment he was there and then he wasn't. Why was he there, and did that mean Rohan was nearby? Only days into their relationship, but he knew him well enough to know he would have said something. Still, he looked back at his phone and the very reason for his clumsiness.

{Text} Baby you in Brooklyn?

{Text} Made it to her office ttyl

Xavier/Rohan: Rohan frowned at his phone. That was odd. Why would Ariel think he was in Brooklyn?

{Text} No? I’m at home

{Text} Okay

He would have only a moment to ponder the sudden question before there was a knock at his door and, upon opening it, was greeted with yet another surprise.

Or, as it turned out, several surprises.

As succinctly as he could, Xavier explained to Rohan why he was at the estate and what he’d been doing just before coming there. He told Rohan about the conversation he’d had with Rhys, about the games, about his conversation with January Dune.

And perhaps it was because the meeting with January hadn’t gone as smoothly as he’d been hoping or because nothing in his life for the past month or year had gone smoothly but for a moment, he’d been worried about Rohan’s reaction and braced for the worst. At least until he remembered that he was talking to one of the few people on this earth who didn’t automatically expect the worst from him and he allowed himself to relax.

Rohan was appalled, of course, though not entirely surprised. Why wouldn’t vampires amuse themselves by pitting ghouls against each other when the same had been done throughout history?

But, like Xavier, Rohan too was reminded of the situation with Holden White. Even though the circumstances were different, one couldn’t help but notice the parallels.

Rohan just hoped that Ariel wouldn’t hate him by the end of it.

January/Ariel: Usually, conversations in his domitor's office were discussed as equals. Sitting across from one another on either couch. Drinks, music, and the occasional dance. He had come into this knowing full well what she was and what she was capable of. Aware of what her blood would do to him. Aware of his strengths and the target on his head. One day a difficult decision would be made on whether or not to age or to join her. He knew his place, and for three years he had been perfectly content in that place. Life fast. Die young. Whatever.

Tonight he remained by the table, and she on the other side of her desk.

"Why can't I just stay with my grandparents in Seattle?"

"Seattle isn't safe right now. It's not going to be for the foreseeable future."

"I'm not out telling people what I am."

"Doesn't mean someone won't notice. You forget what I can do?"

"What if I just -"

"It's already been decided. You can still work. There are plenty of cities nearby. I'm going to give you a black and white list. Just call it a tour or something. You'll be back in time for the Blood Rave."

The look on his face left room for argument. The look on her face dared him to try.

"Darling, this is a blessing! It's either this or the games. Is that where you want to be? And you get to visit... what's his name? Rohan, is it?"

"Can I go now?"

"I'll see you tomorrow with the details. Oh and, just one more thing." Her smile faded as he refused to meet her eyes.

"Look at me." She waited. "You're cut off from blood."

"What?"

"How old were you when we first danced? And how old are you about to be? Just this once, I promise."

"But I don't - I don't know what I'll look like."

"I promise, you'll still be beautiful. You'll have plenty to take with you before you leave."

A glaze had washed over his golden eyes. Looking as drained as a fed kine.

"Go home, darling."

Xavier: Had Xavier been human, he would’ve been utterly done in by the havoc that traveling between opposite sides of the planet had wrought on his internal clock. Not to mention everything else that had happened this month.

He’d left Rohan and January in the night only to return to daylight in Bangkok and his normal life. The next day would bring more of the same as he departed the daylight and traveled once more into night and to January Embers.

At roughly the same hour as the previous day, Xavier gave his name at the door and inquired after January.

January/Ariel: January rather preferred Ariel in his current state. There was no doubt in her mind he would be beautiful with his current age, but the following night her ghoul had returned with a fresh argument. A vial of her blood danced between her fingers as she stared once more at her forest of glass.

As Xavier had warned, Ariel's phone remained in his pocket this time. No crashing into the demon as he passed him. Only to stop several feet away.

"You know, you could have just invited me."

Xavier: Xavier was far too mentally exhausted to argue with this ghoul but still managed what could pass as a polite tone when he responded.

“Good evening, Mr. Cassidy. I did not approach Lady Dune with the intent to house you at my estate, that is simply how the chips fell. And even if it had been my intent, I can assure you I still would have afforded her the respect of approaching her first.”

Ariel: Fucking Dracula. He'd face him head-on.

"I'm my own person," he insisted, both hands on his chest.

Xavier: “That has never been in question,” the demon said with surprising patience. “But we all have someone above our heads.”

Ariel: "You still coulda asked me first. It's Rohan. I woulda said yes!"

Xavier: “Once again, I must emphasize that I did not plan for you to stay at my estate. That is merely the agreement I arrived at with Lady Dune, which I’m sure she explained to you already or plans to explain right now.”

The demon sighed and gestured toward January’s office. “Shall we?”

Ariel: Ariel swallowed and shook his head. "We just talked. Going home to pack. Just... " The ghoul wanted to throw his anger outwards like a sun prominence, but Xavier would see he just didn't have it in him. Raw unbridled anger was a stranger to him.

"If it involves me, just come to me first, okay? Please?"

Xavier: It was just as well. Xavier had no desire to waste any more time arguing with the ghoul or taking the brunt of his displeasure. He was exhausted enough as it was.

“Very well,” he sighed. “If you’re concerned about cohabitating with me or enduring my presence, you needn’t be. I’m currently living elsewhere. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Xavier took the last few steps toward January’s office and knocked on her door.

January/Ariel: Ariel was bringing his phone to his ear by the time January's door opened. Her bodyguard stepped aside, taking his leave to stand in the hallway.

"You are a man of your word!" January greeted with a smile. His necklace was still around her throat. Tonight she wore gold and black. Her favorite for celebrations.

In such a good mood tonight, she crossed the room to kiss his cheek. Too classy with her choice of lipstick to leave a mark.

Xavier: However exhausted he might’ve been, seeing a beautiful woman would always lift his spirits. The same went for a beautiful man.

In this, he and her clan were of a mind.

“My dear Lady Dune,” Xavier said warmly, giving her a genuine smile and taking her hand to kiss it. “It would be unforgivably rude for me to stand you up. You look absolutely exquisite in my gift.”

January: "You like?" The collar of her shawl dress was pulled aside, followed by a twirl. However frustrated last night had become, no one would be the wiser. A clean slate and fresh eyes.

"I think I was a bit harsh with you last night," she purred, both hands coming to rest like feathers on his chest. "I tend to expect certain things in this room, and I let my expectations get the better of me."

Xavier: Xavier nodded. “Very much so, yes.”

He wouldn’t stop her from touching him but beyond kissing her hand, he would make no further move to touch her. His own way of putting distance between them while seemingly not putting distance between them at all.

“Please, don’t spare it another thought. It’s water under the bridge and despite any tension, we managed to come to an agreement that satisfies us both. But I will apologize once again for my lack of tact.”

January: "I'll keep this short and simple so we can enjoy the finer things. Will you spare him a room in a month's time? Say, the beginning of September? I still think our exchange is too strong in my favor, so I'm going to offer you something else. Myself. A boon. Before you argue with me, you need to understand how much he means to me. I feel I was callous last night. You're giving me a gift."

Xavier: “Yes, of course. September works perfectly well.” Plus, it would give his staff time to open up the parts of the house that had been shuttered with him absent.

Not that he really expected the DJ to want to stay in the main house but one never knew.

A boon? Now that was certainly unexpected. He’d been fully prepared to offer her the same and instead, he was the one on the receiving end. Was it good fortune or good timing? Perhaps both.

“Hardly, Lady Dune. This agreement is mutually beneficial and although I don’t want you to feel it is necessary to make me such an offer, I am grateful for the gesture.”

January: He seemed to understand the gravity of her offer, and that was enough to satisfy her.

"Well then, now we can shake hands," she smiled.

Xavier: “We can indeed,” he said, offering his hand and feeling relieved in at least one aspect of his life.

Rohan’s DJ would be safe and alive and Rohan would be happy. That was all he wanted.

“A pleasure doing business with you, Lady Dune.”

January: "Mm, don't tell me you're leaving so soon. When I said we can enjoy the finer things, that included you. I don't have a priest on hand, but I have champagne, wine, music, and your choice of a beautiful face." With one exclusion, it seemed.

Xavier: “I can spare some time. Far be it from me to turn down an offer of wine,” he added with a smile. His duties were waiting for him back in Bangkok but a glass or two wouldn’t hamper his work, far from it. He’d barely feel them.

[sakuravalelp]

Don't eat anything else - Part 2 - DP X DC

Previous part

Masterpost

This is the only chapter where I'll tag people. Please, if you want to follow the story from this point on, follow the master post :).

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"You both should stop eating the food." Came Babs voice through the comms. "Danny asked Tim to not eat anything else. We suspect the food may content poison."

Bruce subtly shared a look with Cass before returning to nodding at Masters' proud rambling about his latest contract. They had both stopped eating long ago. The soup was good; Masters’ words about Danny being a good cook weren’t a lie. However, Bruce couldn’t identify the chunks of meat in the soup.

He initially thought it was pork, though the texture seemed somewhat similar to veal. By the fourth piece of meat he ate, he could confidently say he didn't recognize it. When he looked at Cass, he saw her using her spoon to play with one of the pieces of meat on the edge of the plate, a frown hidden behind her polite smile. He was sure then that the meat couldn't be one they had tasted before.

Bruce has tasted every kind of meat that should be available to Masters. He has even tasted exotic meats that Masters would probably never encounter, having represented humanity in intergalactic meetings as Batman. Not being able to identify the meat discouraged Bruce from eating more, and it seemed to have had the same effect on Cass. They had kept their food mostly untouched, using the excuse of waiting for Tim and Danny to return before eating. It was a good call; the meat being poisoned could be the reason it was unrecognizable.

"If any of you feel any symptoms, turn off your comm." None of them made a move to do so, and after a couple of minutes Babs continued, "I'll call Bruce in 10 minutes to create an excuse for you guys to leave."

Bruce would have liked to think that they had not yet consumed enough poison for it to affect them, but there's always the possibility of it being a delayed-effect poison. If Masters' plan with the poison was to kill them, then a delayed-effect poison would allow Masters to avoid being immediately connected to their deaths.

However, Masters shouldn’t have a reason to kill Bruce Wayne and his wards. Unless the man had discovered that they were investigating his contracts, which Bruce doubted. It was more likely that the poison was some sort of chemical restraint or chemical submissive, which would explain why Masters' contracts always seemed to end ridiculously in his favor. It would be easy to make such deals with someone who was drugged to be more agreeable with you.

Not that Bruce would be willing to take the risk to find out, especially with Cass having also ingested the tainted meat. He was glad he had brought the poison antidote kit with him. Despite this, Bruce wasn't sure about cutting the visit short, at least not for all of them. Tim had been gone with Danny for a while now, and if Danny had informed Tim about the food, they were probably exchanging information at the moment. Maybe Tim was in the process of offering Danny help, and Bruce didn't want to interrupt that.

"Renovations will be starting next week, and I'm sure the place will end up being quite popular," Masters finally finished his rambling.

"It sure sounds like it will. You certainly got yourself a great deal with Kensington, Mr. Masters. I'm curious, what is your negotiation method?" Bruce asked, hoping to gather more information.

Masters had been surprisingly adept at avoiding any conversation about the negotiations themselves, always sidetracking the discussion or giving half-answers. Drugs in the food was a good hypothesis and would be the best outcome for them, as such substances usually shouldn’t take too long to get out of their system.

Yet, it didn't explain how Masters' business partners seemed to stay committed to their contracts long after they were made. The furthest they had gotten from them was confusion about how they had reached the point where they accepted the contract's conditions. However, they all seemed convinced they had gotten the best outcome possible, despite obviously getting the short end of the stick.

It pointed to something besides drug usage. Maybe Masters got blackmail material from them while they were drugged? It would be easier to draw conclusions if Masters had even the smallest slip about it.

Masters smiled, taking a sip from his wine. "Ah, it takes years of practice, Wayne. It isn't something one can learn in a day, and only those with the capacity can master it," he said. Then, before Bruce could ask any follow-up questions, he continued, "Now, Daniel and young Mr. Drake sure seem to be taking their time."

"Oh, that doesn't surprise me," Bruce said, shaking his head with a fond smile, playing farther into his "Brucie" persona while lamenting the lost opportunities to get more leads on what Masters was doing. "They're around the same age. Surely they got distracted talking about whatever is of interest to kids their age these days."

"I would be glad if my godson got along so well with your son, Mr. Wayne," Masters said with a practiced smile, though a hint of calculation flickered in his eyes. He gestured vaguely with his wine glass, his tone deceptively sympathetic. "The loss of his family hasn't been easy for him, and building a connection with someone like Mr. Drake could be beneficial. However, it is quite rude to leave the guests waiting. As his guardian, I must address this. I’ll go search for them." Masters stated, standing up from his seat.

Luckily, Bruce didn't need to interject to stop Masters from interrupting his son's conversation with Danny, since the two boys appeared by the door as if summoned by Masters' comment. Danny visibly tensed the moment he spotted Masters standing in his place.

"Daniel, it's good you're finally back. I was about to go search for you," Masters said, throwing Danny a stern look.

Danny opened his mouth, probably about to apologize for the wait, but Tim beat him to it.

"So sorry, Mr. Masters. I had to take a shower before changing clothes."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Mr. Drake," Masters said as he looked Tim up and down, evaluating if what Tim was saying was true. His eyes lingered on Tim's wet hair for a moment, and the tension in his eyes relaxed a bit. "It is Daniel's fault for throwing the soup on you. Now, shall we continue with the dinner?" Masters sat once more on his chair.

"Should—" Danny started, slightly stuttering when Masters' eyes returned to him. "Should I serve new portions? Since the ones on the table are probably cold by now?" the intensity of Masters gaze increased with every word Danny said. In response, Danny lowered his gaze to the floor, and shifted nervously.

Danny's voice was way too small by the end of his sentence, but Bruce could sense some hidden urgency in his tone. Remembering that Danny was the one who had warned them about the food, Bruce could infer that he was trying to further prevent them from eating it. It gave Bruce the impression that Masters had also caught onto that fact, given how tense the man was.

He was grateful for the kid doing their best to protect them, but lamented putting them in a position where they had to risk confronting their abuser. Bruce really hoped Tim had convinced Danny to leave with them. It shouldn't be difficult to create a reasonable invitation for Danny after Masters' comment about how he was isolating himself.

"Good idea," Cass said with a gentle smile directed at Danny before Masters could make any move.

Masters' eyes narrowed slightly, but then he nodded. "Very well. Daniel, go ahead."

As Danny hurried to the kitchen, Bruce shared a subtle glance with Tim, who was retaking his seat beside Cass. Unfortunately, instead of the nod indicating that they could get Danny to leave with them if they created the opportunity, Tim just shrugged. It wasn't the sign for Danny refusing help, but the one for things being more complicated than they seemed. Bruce sighed, and before Danny returned from the kitchen, his phone rang. He excused himself to answer Babs' call, lamenting not being able to take Danny with them.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Bruce came back from his brief call with Babs with a worried face that Cass knew wasn't the one he made when actual "family emergencies" happened. It was exagerated and dramatic, it screamed "something terrible had happened," and was perfect for this kind of situations. Bruce quickly ushered Cass and Tim out, apologizing to Masters for the hasty departure. They barely had time to say goodbye to Danny, who had hurried back from the kitchen after Masters had shouted about seeing off the guests.

Cass noticed a subtle shift in Danny’s demeanor as they prepared to leave. His shoulders dropped slightly, and there was a fleeting look of relief in his eyes. However, that relief was overshadowed by the palpable fear that clung to him; his tense posture betrayed the anxiety he was trying to hide. It was hard to leave him behind, and Cass almost ran back when she caught sight of Vlad’s possessive hand on Danny’s shoulder and his venomous, angry eyes as she was walking out the door.

As soon as they were in the car, Tim immediately began checking the vehicle and himself for hidden microphones, with Bruce and Cass following his lead with little more than a raised eyebrow. Tim’s decision to search for bugs made sense once he explained that Danny’s room had been bugged,

"Honestly, Danny's so careful with his actions and words everywhere, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole property is bugged."

The drive back to the house they had rented was tense, the atmosphere in the car thick with unspoken concerns. Tim decided to use the ride home to update them on what he had seen. In turn, Bruce spoke about the dinner with Masters, detailing their regrettable failure to extract any additional information from the man. The evening ultimately boiled down to the suspicion that the food had been poisoned. Cass remained silent, not feeling up to talking.

She had her doubts about the food being poisoned; even if the poison hadn't shown any symptoms, her past training should have allowed her to identify it if she had consumed it. It seemed unlikely that Masters possessed a poison so sophisticated that she couldn’t detect it, and the thought only deepened her unease. She though back to how their hosts acted at the start of the dinner.

Danny looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes darted nervously between them and Masters, his hands trembling slightly as he served the food. The guilt and fear radiating from him were almost palpable, as if he believed he was committing an unforgivable sin by offering them the meal.

Masters, however, didn’t seem like he was planning to poison them. He behaved more like Damian’s classmates had when they once tried to trick him into eating non-vegan food at a gala. His smile was too easy, his gestures too casual, like someone who thought they were pulling off a harmless but cruel prank. It felt like he was purposely feeding them something he knew was outside their comfort zone and ethical beliefs, testing their reactions with a detached amusement.

From the very beginning, Cass had felt a deep discomfort about the food. The way Masters and Danny acted around it had set off her internal alarms. When she took the first bite of the meat, something immediately felt off. The texture was unfamiliar, and the taste was oddly unsettling—not in a way that clearly indicated poison, but in a manner that was subtly disturbing, she didn't know what she was eating. It made her skin crawl, and she couldn’t bring herself to take another bite.

The car coming to a stop in the house’s garage jolted Cass out of her thoughts. They all exited the vehicle, and Jason’s motorcycle was parked beside them as he opened the door. tightly clenched jaw. Like the rest of them, he was frustrated by their inability to take Danny with them, but he wasn’t vocalizing it because he was also worried about what they had eaten.

Once the door was opened, Bruce was ready to rush into his bedroom to get the poison antidote kit, but Jason stopped him,

"Hold on old man, I want to know what the note the kid gave Tim says. It may even say what poison was used; save us time."

"Mnn" Bruce said with a slight nod, and Tim started unfolding the paper in response.

The folded paper was as small as a pinky, but once unfolded, it revealed a full letter-sized sheet, and the text filled at least half of it. Tim skimmed the text as he usually did before reading aloud, but his face quickly drained of color. His eyes widened in horror and disgust. Instead of reading aloud, he kept running his eyes over the first line repeatedly, his gaze darting between Bruce and Cass. His jaw was clenched tightly, and he struggled to keep his composure, fighting against the bile rising in his throat. Cass couldn’t help but frown deeply, a growing sense of dread settling in as she wondered what the paper could possibly contain.

"Forgot how to read, replacement?" Jason said, his tone lacking its usual edge. He stood beside Tim, his expression a mix of uncertainty and concern, unsure whether to reach for the paper or not.

Tim takes a shudering breath, and Cass herself can't help but shift in her place, her anxiety growing, as they all wait for Tim to gain back his voice and finally read what Danny's note says.

"The meat on the food is human meat." Tim finally says with a strained voice.

There's a moment of silence in the room. Cass keeps her eyes on Tim, hoping, pleading, to find any signs that what she heard is wrong, but Tim only repeats the sentence. Her stomach churns violently as bile rises in her throat. Without effort, she sinks to the ground, her legs giving out as she begins to vomit. The pounding of her heart fills her ears, as black dots fill her sight and her hands tremble uncontrollably. She is dimly aware of Bruce doubling over beside her, and the sound of Jason hitting the wall.

She ate human meat. It may have just been a bite, but she ate human meat. The dinner had been made from human meat. Her mind recoiled at the abhorrent thought. The thought of the soup they were served makes her vomit once more. She gasps for air, her body shaking as she fights against the rising tide of revulsion, desperately trying to rid herself of the lingering taste and the horrifying realization of what they ingested. She feels Tims hand doing smalls circles in her back and realizes that tears had been falling from her face.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Danny's hands trembled as he injected himself with another dose of ectoplasm. The shaking made the syringe jab painfully as he withdrew it, causing drops of blood and ectoplasm to fall to the floor while the injury quickly healed. Ten minutes of continuous electrical shocks wasn’t the worst punishment he had received from Vlad, but it had the most severe drawbacks. His body had a harder time recovering from electrical damage than from any other kind of harm, and Vlad often exploited this weakness.

He took a deep breath as the last of the Lichenberg marks disappeared from his legs and arms, leaving only the ones he’d gotten from his death. He sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the ceiling, his legs and arms still trembling. He wasn’t sure if the tremors were from the electrical aftershocks or his own anxiety. Vlad had been furious about his little stunt with the soup and had once again reminded him that they weren't eating Danny’s friends because he was such a "compassionate guardian."

The reminder had thrown Danny into a couple of panic attacks once he was allowed to return to his room. He thanks he's advanced dissociative abilities for not having those panics attacks in front of Vlad. He doesn't wan't to know how the man would try to exploit that.

But even as his whole body trembles and aches, he doesn’t regret his decisions. This is his only chance for things to change. The Waynes are a powerful family with connections to the Justice League. While the League has not interfered with what has happened in Amity Park up till now, they might get involved if the Waynes reach out to them. It’s wishful thinking, and he’s risking a lot, but this gut-wrenching dinner has become the first glimmer of hope he’s had since his family’s death, and he’ll hold onto it with his half-life.

Once he's body stops trembling and he's head feels a bit clearer, he needs to text Sam and Tucker. He'll depend on them for this to not backfire on all denizens.

[smutoperator]

A Horny Hostage

Lalisa Manoban (Lisa) x Male Reader

Kinkvember Chapter 1

Main kinks: kidnapping, golden shower, interracial (BWC), car sex

Word count: 3239.

New York City, United States, October 15th, 2024

What a day it has been for Lisa. Never in her wildest dreams when she started her idol career, she thought she would become a Victoria's Secret angel. She was as happy as ever.

"Come here, let's take some pictures," a photographer oriented her, bringing Lisa close to a van with its right side door open, where you took some pics of her, with her liking the best the one where she flaunts her cute ass.

"Good, let's take some more pics," you say to her after she looks at the ones captured in your camera and approves them. However, all that was just a trap to lure the (not so) innocent Thai girl into your plan.

A pair of masked dudes emerges from the side and shoves Lisa inside the van; you follow them, getting yourself on the backseat of the van while your two partners drive it away from the show. The newly crowned Victoria's Secret Angel is now just a hostage.

Lisa panics a bit; she screams for help at first, but no help is about to come. "So, let's blackmail her billionaire boyfriend into dropping some good money for the new woman we got with us," you say to your partners in crime. Despite the crowded traffic of New York City, your van quickly passes through Brooklyn, then Queens, and soon reaches the wilderness of Long Island.

Lisa is tied up, but you slowly calm her down. "We are going to free you in exchange for some favors," you tell her. "What kind of favors?" she asks. "You'll find out soon," it's all you can say for now.

You untie Lisa and start touching her body parts. Her long legs, her dark hair, and then hovers your hands around her pussy. "Careful, boy, you're looking for something that you can't handle," Lisa says to you. But you quickly shut her down. "I'm pretty sure I can handle you fairly easily; if your ugly ass boyfriend can do that and all he's got is money, I can do it too," you tell her.

"So you think you can handle this?" Lisa says, flaunting her ass for you. That arrogant brat is starting to get on your nerves. You then play with the dark wings from her outfit, which were stored inside the fan as well. "Fallen angel, I want to see you turning into a wild devil," you tell her. "If you say so, then I'll show you something," Lisa says.

"Then show me what kind of badass you are," you tell her, reaching with your hands to touch her pussy. "You have a nice pussy out there, you tell her, taking off the bottom parties of her outfit and leaving just her panties on. "Those bare legs are so sexy," you say, running your hands over them. "Take it off; I want to see you with just a bra and panties, the way I bet your boyfriend does every day," you tell Lisa, who obliges and takes the piece of fabric covering her bra.

"You really like to flaunt how much of a hottie you are since leaving idol life," you say to Lisa. "Well, if you let me, I'll do it even more," Lisa says, reaching towards your crotch and noticing your cock is already throbbing for her and ready to burst off those pants. But you slow her down, grabbing her neck and kissing her. "You're a bad bitch, aren't you?" you ask her.

"You're hot as fuck; now come suck my cock," you tell Lisa, unzipping your pants and showing off that big white cock to her. "Bet it's much bigger than your boyfriend's," you tell her. Lisa strokes it, then bends over to get a taste of your cock, allowing you to see her great ass from above as her sexy mouth gets it wet.

"Hmmmm, it tastes so good," Lisa says. "Fuck yeah, it does," you reply, letting her take the initiative and blow that pipe off while you caress her ass. You push your balls closer to her mouth, challenging her as she deepthroats you. But you quickly put a halt to her fun, pulling her top down and sucking her little tits.

"Hmmm, you like my cute little boobies," Lalisa says to you. "Yes, they are cute, but your mouth full of my cock is hotter," you say, dunking her head against your massive shaft and making her take it. "Fuck, that booty is so hot; I didn't know Asian girls could be so thicc at the bottom," you compliment her ass. "Well, it's definitely good; I bet you want to put that big fat cock in it later," she says.

"Give those fucking balls some love too," you tell Lisa, letting her lick it. But what she likes the most about sucking cock is the ability to deepthroat it, so Lisa just gets back up and takes your whole shaft in her mouth shortly after.

"Ohhhh shit, you suck my cock so good," you say to Lisa. "It's because it's so big and perfect for my little mouth," she answers as you just let her take it and give her butt a little spanking. "Now I want you to lick it like ice cream," you say to Lisa.

Lisa obliges and licks that shaft like the good whore she is. "Perfect, keep licking it and look at me when you do it," you tell her as she giggles. "Come on, show me you're a bad bitch; it's just you and me in the back seat of this car," you continue.

You pull Lisa's panties down, giving her sexy ass a few spankings. "Get them all the way down; I'll keep them as a souvernir," you say to her. "Now get on the floor and spread those legs," you give her another command.

You reach your hands and start toying with Lisa's fuckholes. Her pussy gets some fingering while your thumb goes straight into her butthole. You enjoy watching her moans just get muffled by your massive cock stretching her mouth.

"Perfect cocksucker, let me reward you for that," you say to her. "OUCH FUCK YES," Lisa screams as you start repeatedly hitting her ass hard. "Good girl," you say after, patting her head too and pushing it deeper down your shaft.

"You want that dick in your Thai pussy?" you ask Lisa. "Of course I do," she answers. "Then let's go for a ride," you say. "Bro, she is indeed the bad bitch you claimed; I'm jealous," the guy driving the van says, sliding the window down to check it a bit.

"Let's go, baby," Lisa says as she gets your cock wet with a few more suckings. You take her top off and then finally manage to grab her panties as a souvenir like you wanted, pulling it down once again and this time for good. Lisa is now butt naked as she prepares to sit her cunt on your cock.

"OHHHHH FUCKKKK," Lisa gets surprised by the size of your big white manhood in her pussy. Even her boyfriend's can't match. As a big white cock whore, she's truly having the time of her life. You make sure to use your hands to reach and push your shaft as deep as you can in her cunt. "OH MY GODDDD, UHHHHH," she moans as your tip is already reaching her cervix, the 10 inches of your massive pale pole stratching her out and bulging under Lalisa's long torso.

Lisa tries to bounce on your big cock, but her fun is short-lived. As soon as you get fully inside her, you start pumping it upwards. "UHHHH, UHHHHH," she says, getting caught off guard by your thrusts. "OH FUCK ME," she moans as you grab her butt and take full control of her body, your hips clapping fast against her cheeks as you destroy her cunt.

"UHHHHHH, UHHHHH, UHHHHH," Lisa keeps moaning as your cock attacks her pussy relentlessly, her body swinging as the car makes a sharp turn. "OHHHHHH MY GODDDD, JUST LIKE THAT, YEAHHHH," she screams with no fear of getting heard by anyone besides your crew. She clings to any support she can find in the van, as you only increase the pace of your pumps.

You thurst so hard against Lisa's Thai pussy that her pink anus is already winking. "DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, USE ME," Lisa begs. And indeed, you won't stop, moving Lisa's body to the side and keep pumping her pussy hard, treating her like the fucktoy her boyfriend had too much respect for to use her like that, unlike you, who has none for this whore.

"FUCKKKKKK," Lisa keeps screaming, her voice cracking at all points. She probably used it more already by moaning like a bitch than in any of her performances as a soloist. "Oh, it's so good; oh, it's so fucking good; keeps using that pussy; oh my GODDDDDDD," she moans. "Uh uh, uh uh, uh uh," she moans as even her little tits are managing to bounce, given the intensity of your thrusts against her.

"OH YEAH, OH YEAH, SPANK MY ASS," Lisa says as you add extra hit to her already intense punishment, slapping her butt nonstop without losing any speed as you continue to fuck her pussy like a madman. "Come closer," you tell Lisa, who is so numb already she doesn't even notice the roof of the van, hitting her head against it.

"That's so good, so good, so good," Lisa repeats as you push her skinny body close to yours. Lisa stares at the window, the cary flying fast towards the roads of Long Island while your cock does your work in her cunt. Her spatial awareness is completely gone as her head keeps hitting the roof, and your cock hitting her cervix at all moments doesn't help.

"OHHHHHH GODDDDDDD," Lisa screams as she clings onto you, barely avoiding a hit against the glass as you keep attacking her pussy. A police helicopter flies close to your car, making you wonder if they are coming to rescue her. But you just don't care; her pussy is too good and worth getting arrested for.

You finally come to a stop, giving a little tap on Lisa's ass. "Good girl," you praise her abilities to take your white cock in such a confined space. But that's no surprise, given her flexibility acquired from years of dancing. You give her pussy a few extra pumps. "Oh my God, you fuck me so good, ah, ah, ah ah, ah," Lisa moans as your balls hit all the way up to her winking butthole.

Lisa climbs out of your cock, moving cautiously to avoid hitting the roof. She twists sideways and tells you to put your cock back in her pussy, starting a reverse cowgirl ride where the guys driving the fan will have a privileged and distracting view of her hot body bouncing on your cock.

Well, so she thought. You aren't keen on changing your ways, pumping your cock once again hard against her pussy. "OH MY GOD, PLEASE," Lisa begs, trying not to fall down as your cock pumps deep inside her. She opens her legs and moves them around, trying to get better support, but you just don't stop, grabbing her thigh and continuing to thrust like a madman. "OH MY GOD, IT'S SO GOOD," Lisa moans as your balls hit right at her clit.

You fuck Lisa so fast her head now uncontrollably hits the roof of the car. You lean her body against yours, pumping her pussy at a pearly gates position, her Thai pussy just getting used by your big white cock. "FUCKKKKK, AHHHHHH, YOUR COCK IS SO GOOD," Lisa screams, getting out of breath as you just can't stop leveling her cunt. "OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," Lisa says as your cock hits her cervix constantly, you push her up, and her head hammers the roof once again.

You pull out of Lisa and pick up one of the folded seats of the van, pushing it back up. Lisa sits on it and spreads her long legs. You dive to eat the pussy you just obliterated for long minutes, licking her wet and used-up folds. "Looks like my big cock wrecked it good," you say to her.

"And I want it to wreck it again, uhhhh, ahhhhh," she tells you, interrupting herself with moans as your licking is too good for her to resist. You don't need much to put her on the verge of orgasm, as her pussy is already throbbing after so much pounding, and soon Lisa's long legs start shaking.

"Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ohhh yeah, eat my pussy good" she moans as you tongue her folds. You kiss Lisa's pussy and move into thumbing her anus. "Hmmm, it's so tight, I wonder if my cock can fit in it," you say. "I guess you should try it, baby," she replies.

But first, you have to get your cock a bit slicker to slide on Lisa's sexy ass, giving a few pumps to her pussy instead as her wet folds lube up your shaft. You grab Lisa's leg and fuck her sideways, pinning her against the seat of the van. "Oh my God, oh my God, ahhhhh," Lisa moans.

You finally switch to fuck Lisa's ass, but your cock is so massive you struggle to get in at first. Lisa gasps with just your tip inside. "It's too fucking big for my tiny little ass," she moans. "Well, let's see," you reply.

You thrust your cock against Lisa's ass, her now coping with her butthole getting stretched out by fingering herself. "FUCK THAT ASS, YEAH," she moans. "God damn it, why do you have to be so big?" she asks as your cock digs deeper and deeper.

"Keep going; I need you all the way deep in my fucking ass, uh huh, uh huh," Lisa says as your cock slowly disappears inside it. You twist your fingers inside Lisa's pussy while your cock stays buried inside her asshole, making her scream even further. From time to time, you switch to her pussy to get some extra lube from her juices onto your cock.

Lisa's legs are so long the fingers in her right foot are now what's hitting the roof of the car while you keep fucking her ass. She opens her legs further, hitting the glass that separates the backseat of the van from the cabin. "DON'T STOP FUCKING MY ASS, PLEASE," she begs.

And who said you ever planned to stop? You push the pace and the depth of your cock inside her butt, rubbing your hands against Lisa's little tits as well while she moans like a good slut. You started choking her. "I love that baby, getting shocked while you fuck me in the ass; keep going," she says.

"Come here, let's try a different position, get on your knees, slut," you say to Lisa, who follows your orders, getting herself on all fours and clinging to the backseat of the van as you stay fucking her ass this time from behind. "AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHH, OH YEAH, FUCK FUCK FUCK," she moans hard as your cock stretches her tight butthole out while your big hands reach to keep choking her.

"What the FUCK FUCK FUCK," Lisa says as you suddenly change the pace, grabbing her waist and giving her ass fast and hard poundings. "Fuck, I love stretching your tiny little ass, Lisa; your cute, sexy butt looks so good with my cock deep inside it," you say to her.

You stay grabbing Lisa's waist, not letting her get out of your grasp at any second as you fuck her ass. "YEAH FUCK THAT ASS, YEAH, OH MY GOD," she moans. You grab her arms from behind and thrust hard up her butt, using the motion of the van in your favor. "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SO GOOD IN MY ASS," she says.

"Spread those legs wide," you command to Lisa, enjoying the way your cock just disappears inside her tight butthole. You then slide Lisa's body on the car's floor. "Wow," she says, as you get ready to get on top of her and pound her tasty ass even harder.

"Get that ass all the way up," you tell Lisa, who obliges, gaping her tight butthole as you slide inside it at a prone bone position. Lisa spreads her ass, trying to ease off the pressure of her tight hole, but it's to no avail; you just pound her relentlessly. "FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, OHHHHH, IT'S SO GOOOD," Lisa moans as you stretch her tight asshole hard, hitting her in the face and mounting on top of her like a raging bull, your hips clapping hard against her cheeks.

"OHHH, DON'T STOP BABY," Lisa begs as you impose on her a hard anal destruction; her body shakes with the insensity of your fucking. Your big white cock sends her to the heavens in a way her boyfriend's never could. She moans like a good whore, pleading to God. 

"Are you ready for that cum?" you ask her. "OH YEAH, BABY, I'M MORE THAN READY, OHHHHHHH," Lisa answers as you grab her waist and push your cock deeper and deeper in her ass. "Shit, Lalisa, your butthole is too tight; you're going to make me cum at any second," you say to her, clapping her cheeks hard.

"FUCK YEAH, GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE ME THAT CUM," Lisa begs. "Then come here, get that ass up," you tell her, pulling out of Lisa and jerking your cock off until your seeds coat her sexy butt. You pick your phone up and take a picture of Lisa's cum-covered ass, giving it a little taps aftwards. " "Send it to Fred," you tell her.

Lisa messages her boyfriend as you stay starting at her butt and appreciating your white sperm all over it. You enjoy looking at her body, but one of the guys on the cabin suddenly interrupts you.

"Bro, we need to pee," he tells you.

"Alright, let's find someplace," you say to him.

"We are too far from the city; we'll need to pee at those woods," he replies.

"Wait, I think I have a better plan; stop the van," you answer him.

You slide the van's door open and bring a completely naked Lisa to the outside. It's freezing cold out there, but your cock is still throbbing. "Guys, I think I found the perfect place for us to pee," you tell them.

The three big white cocks start bursting hot piss all over Lisa's sexy body. To their surprise, she fully embraces it, opening her mouth when the pee gets close to it and loving the way you guys turn her into a walking urinal and cover her entire body full of that dirty liquid.

"Wow, that's so hot," Lisa says after you three finish pissing on her.

"Glad you liked," you say to her.

"Bro, looks like Fred paid the rescue money; should we just leave her there and tell him the location?" one dude asks.

You look at an abandoned cabin hidden in the woods and sense Lisa is still horny and wants more.

"I think we can wait until dawn; let's fuck that bitch airtight at the cabin first," you say.

"Done deal."

[bbina]

alone together masterlist

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 synopsis ── taking comfort in the thought that you are together in aloneness through late night talks, heartfelt confessions, and a genuine connection. with your shared experience of recent heartbreaks, you wonder if getting together would be all worth it. in which you find solace in each other's company, that you are alone together.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 pairing ── park wonbin x reader.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 genre ── college!au, fluff, angst | ☾ - written portions

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 status ── ongoing.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 taglist ── open

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 notes ── the second wb smau i was telling y'all about while btl was still going on... tackles life and struggles in finding love in college so maybe this will be a bit more serious than lighthearted.. will contain mature content. somewhat based on a true story so minors do take note on what you consume on this hellsite. will take my time with this btw lol.. hopefully bbina will deliver... enjoy! + let's save our time together by making sure your blogs are visible for me to be able to tag you!

p.s if you came from my main blog saeist, this used to be nagi's fic :x

chapters . . . ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 𖡎 introduction 𖡎 one . . . ghosted 𖡎 two . . . he's hot 𖡎 three . . . close friends 𖡎 four . . . you're drunk 𖡎 five . . . K.O 𖡎 six . . . new me 𖡎 seven . . . boys night 𖡎 eight . . . speak of the devil 𖡎 nine . . . love sucks ☾ 𖡎 ten . . . seunghan's friend 𖡎 eleven . . . close 𖡎 twelve . . . intrigued 𖡎 thirteen . . . don't shoot the messenger ☾ 𖡎 fourteen . . . pinky promise ☾ 𖡎 fifteen . . . see you later 𖡎 sixteen . . . take a hit ☾ 𖡎 seventeen . . . exchange numbers 𖡎 eighteen . . . boundaries 𖡎 nineteen . . . deal 𖡎 twenty . . . someone 𖡎 twenty one . . . yearning ☾ 𖡎 twenty two . . . lullaby 𖡎 twenty three . . . big favor 𖡎 twenty four . . . blind date ☾ 𖡎 twenty five . . . muse 𖡎 twenty six . . . fell asleep 𖡎 twenty seven . . . ponyo 𖡎 twenty eight . . . happy birthday seunghan 𖡎 twenty nine . . . different ☾ 𖡎 thirty . . . worse 𖡎 thirty one . . . make things weird 𖡎 thirty two . . . dispatch sideline 𖡎 thirty three . . . just a friend 𖡎 thirty four . . . chismosavirus 𖡎 thirty five . . . location 𖡎 thirty six . . . keychain ☾ 𖡎 thirty seven . . . proof of life 𖡎 thirty eight . . . safe space 𖡎 thirty nine . . . just in case 𖡎 forty . . . stay ☾

⋆｡꩜˚ asks | lore | official playlist ˖𖤐

[witchywithwhiskey]

a gift for the bar owner

pairings: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader, soft!dark bar owner!curtis everett x female reader

summary: for curtis's birthday, ari gives you to him for the night.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, drunk sex, intoxication, rough sex, oral object insertion (f receiving), masturbation (m), cumshot, exhibitionism, sadism/masochism, painplay, rough body play, biting, free use, heavy objectification, heavy degradation, humiliation kink, salirophilia (kink for ruining someone's appearance/dirtying them up), somnophilia, cock warming, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink (only with ari), pet names (bambi, baby, kiddo), possessive behavior, aftercare, a couple mean hot men—let me know if i missed anything!!!

word count: 7.9k

a/n: ok so i have no excuse for this except i saw a gif of a girl getting wine poured over her face/chest and i wondered who of my characters would do that. and apparently the answer is dive bar owner curtis. so here we are. also please note that this little fic takes place after the chapter of trucker king where curtis and lloyd will be properly introduced so no, you're not supposed to know what exactly reader's tattoo is and yes, i will be revealing that in due time.

trucker king masterlist ● trucker au masterlist

Since Curtis Everett was one of Ari Levinson’s oldest friends—and one of the few people he trusted—your trucker decided that the perfect gift to give his friend for his birthday was you. A whole night where you were nothing more than Curtis’s free use fuck toy. 

The only condition was that Curtis had to follow the same rules Ari had set the last time he’d let his friend use you—no kissing, no permanent marks, and no coming inside you. Curtis had quickly agreed, and the plans were set.

Ari hadn’t asked you whether you wanted to be gifted to Curtis for his birthday, but you still thought it was a great idea. 

After all, Curtis worked so hard running Everett’s Roadhouse, the dive bar just off the highway that was frequented by Ari and plenty of other truckers, and he deserved a night of having his own personal fuck toy to use however he wanted. It was his birthday, and he didn’t have a girl of his own, so you didn’t mind stepping in for the night.

In fact, after the evening you’d spent with Curtis and Ari’s other oldest friend, Lloyd Hansen—when your trucker had given them permission to use you however they wanted in exchange for some favors—you were excited to be Curtis’s birthday gift. You’d liked the big, grumbling bar owner, and you wanted to make his birthday special. 

As part of his gift, Ari had let Curtis pick out what you’d wear. So you strolled into Everett’s Roadhouse on the night of Curtis’s birthday wearing the sweetest little sundress you owned—and nothing else besides the shoes on your feet. 

The dress was a bright white cotton with little flowers dotted all over it, and short enough to swirl around your upper thighs. The sweet little garment was at odds with your surroundings in the dive bar, which were grimy and dirty, lit by dim lightbulbs and flickering neon beer signs. It made you stand out immediately.

As soon as you entered the bar, every man in the establishment turned to look at you, their gazes ranging from drunken interest to greedy hunger. Even with Ari at your side, his posessive hand on your lower back, they couldn’t seem to drag their covetous eyes away from you, like you were an oasis in the desert.  

It took you a moment to understand the attention, but when you did, a delicious tremor of excitement raced down your spine—you were the only woman in the whole building. The bar was closed for Curtis’s private party, and the only people in attendance were his friends, who were all rough-looking men that you presumed were mostly truckers or old friends like Ari. 

You wondered, not for the first time since Ari had told you his plans for his friend’s birthday, what exactly Curtis would do with you. You knew Ari’s rules would save you from anything too unpleasant, but there was so much they didn’t cover. The possibilities of how Curtis might use you made your pussy tingle with anticipation.

Ari’s hand was firm on your lower back as he guided you further into the bar, your wedge sandals sticking slightly to the filthy wooden floors of the roadhouse. The gazes of all the men you walked past slid over your bare skin like oil, the sensation settling heavily between your thighs, where a sensual warmth bloomed. 

That warmth only grew the closer you got to Curtis, who stood half a head taller than any man in the bar. The imposing bear of a man was leaning against the bartop, talking with someone about something, his broad shoulders and thick biceps stretching the limits of his black t-shirt. Curtis’s blue eyes were bright in the dingy lights of the bar, contrasting against his pale skin, dark beard and shorn hair. 

When you finally arrived at the circle of men gathered around Curtis, Ari gave you a shove through the crowd and you stumbled toward the bar owner. It was only when Curtis fumbled to catch you in his arms—the stench of beer thick on his breath—that you realized he was already so drunk, he could barely stand, and that was why he’d been leaning against the bar. 

“Hey there, bambi,” he slurred, his arms loosely circling your waist. His hands slid down to grope your ass, but Curtis must’ve forgotten he was still holding a beer, because you felt it tip. A second later, cold liquid spilled over the plush curves of your ass.

Instinctively, you squealed his name, “Curtis!” The cold beer was running down the valley between your cheeks, making you squirm in his arms. You tried to get away from the spilling liquid, but you ended up pressing closer to Curtis’s massive, burly chest, practically climbing the tall man with your fingers fisting in his t-shirt and your body plastering to his.

Thankfully, Curtis didn’t mind in the least. He managed to right his beer and chuckled, looking down at you fondly, his mouth curled in a devastating smirk even as his eyes were hazy with drink. The alcohol seemed to have softened Curtis’s rough edges, and he appeared almost warm—nothing like the grumbling man you’d met previously.

“Damn, bambi, ya just got here,” he said, loud enough for the men closest to him to hear. “And yer already trying to jump on my dick like some kind of slut, huh?” He chuckled darkly and his friends joined in, making heat creep up your neck and fill your cheeks. 

But you didn’t deny it.

Instead, you recovered yourself quickly, forgetting the beer still plastering your dress to your ass and pressed closer to Curtis. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your tits against his broad chest, you enjoyed the way his eyes dipped lazily down to your low-cut neckline. 

“I’m yours for the night, big man,” you purred, your body warming and responding to being pressed so tight against Curtis’s muscled chest. It wasn’t difficult to let a seductive smile curl your lips. “You can do anything you want with me.” 

A grin spread slowly across Curtis’s face, the expression lecherous on his handsome features as he leered down at you. 

Before he responded, though, his gaze shifted over your shoulder, and he gave a quick nod. You knew without looking the gesture was meant for Ari—an acknowledgement that Curtis remembered your trucker’s rules and understood he couldn’t do anything. But close enough. 

Curtis’s free hand groped your ass hard as he turned to the crowd, taking a swig of his beer before calling out to his friends.

“Didja hear that fellas?” he crowed, his excited energy riling up the throng of men, all of whom seemed to be as drunk or drunker than Curtis. “Ari’s little cock slut said I get to do anything I want with her tonight!” 

A cheer rose up from the crowd, men all around you raising their glasses in the air while they yelled so loud it felt like a physical cloud of excitement. The energy was infectious, an eager grin curving your lips as you looked around at all the truckers and degenerates who were celebrating your objectification as a free use fuck toy.

Out of curiosity, you turned to look for Ari among them. You found your trucker standing still and quiet, watching you, a glass of amber liquid in one hand. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and he wore a devious little smirk on his face that had your body warming with arousal. Even though he wasn’t joining in on the deafening cheer, you knew he was just as excited by the prospect of seeing you used by Curtis as everyone else.

Before Ari could direct you to look back at Curtis, the big man you were plastered against got your attention with his next words, shouted to the crowd.

Curtis had waited until the cheering died down a little to ask, “So what should I do with her first?”  

Obscene suggestions were hurled at you and Curtis, men’s voices blending into a cacophony of depravity. The things the crowd wanted Curtis to do to you ranged so wildly from nearly tame to absolutely vile that it made your head spin. Ari’s rules would prevent the worst of the suggestions, but not everything that Curtis’s friends were calling out, and you wondered with a twisted shiver of excitement what your trucker’s friend would pick to do to you.

“POUR YOUR BEER ON HER!”

Curtis’s whole body turned to the voice that had called out that last suggestion, dragging you along with him since your arms were still looped around his neck, his hand still holding your ass. Curtis pointed at his friend with his beer, some of it sloshing onto the floor with the fervor of the gesture.

“Now that’s an idea,” he shouted to the man in the crowd you couldn’t see. Curtis tipped his beer in his friend’s direction then took a swig. He looked down at where you were still pressed against his chest, your body hanging from where your arms were holding onto him. “Get on your knees, bambi.” His voice was rolling thunder, so deep and dark, it sent tiny, pleasurable zaps of lightning through your nervous system. 

The speed with which you detached yourself from Curtis and dropped to your knees had the men all around you whistling in appreciation. You heard more than a few of them mutter things like, “What a good, well-trained slut,” and “Gotta get me a girl like that.”

You preened and beamed with pride at the praise, finding Ari in the crowd again and hoping your behavior reflected well on him. He’d been the one to train you to follow orders so well, after all.

Your trucker gave you a small nod of recognition that made happiness burst in your chest, and you turned back to Curtis with a happy bounce of your hips. You couldn’t help but notice the low groans that came as a result of the little movement and you smiled wider.

The wooden floor was sticky beneath your bare knees, but you paid it no mind. You suspected—and you’d turn out to be right—that you’d be dirtier and filthier than even the floor of Everett’s Roadhouse before the night was through. The excitement you felt made you bounce again, making your sweet little sundress flutter around your thighs.

Curtis’s eyes watched the hem of your dress hungrily, seemingly distracted by the movement until he shook himself and remembered what he was doing. Raising his beer, Curtis let the crowd cheer for a moment while you waited with anticipation. From your spot on the floor, Curtis looked even bigger and more intimidating, which made something low in your belly quiver with excitement, heat gathering between your thighs as your thoughts skated away.

A growled question from your trucker’s friend brought you back to the moment.

“Ya ready, bambi?” 

Your hands were laying lightly on your thighs, your knees spread on the floor. You were more than ready, and at Curtis’s question, you tossed your head back and pushed your tits out, giving him a challenging smirk as you purred, “Gimme what ya got, big man.”

A half feral grin spread across Curtis’s face, and then he was tipping his bottle toward you, cold beer splashing over your face mere seconds after you shut your eyes. The pungent liquid rolled down your cheeks and slid down your neck, soaking the front of your white dress. 

You could feel the fabric clinging to your skin, the white cotton no doubt becoming see-through as it was soaked in beer. Your nipples puckered and hardened against the flimsy material, putting on a show for Curtis and the crowd of men around you.

The bar owner emptied the bottle over your face and the front of your body, the beer getting in your mouth and nose, rivulets streaming down over your tits and between your spread thighs. It dripped to the floor beneath you, creating a small puddle on the sticky wooden boards. 

All around you, men cheered loudly and lewdly, urging Curtis to degrade you as the filthy slut you were. You grinned at the attention, loving every second of it and knowing that the men were only allowed to witness what Curtis was doing because Ari allowed it. Because Ari had given you to his friend for his birthday, and this was what Curtis had decided to do with you.

When the beer stopped flowing, you fluttered your eyes open, blinking the alcohol from your vision as you stared up into Curtis’s darkened blue eyes. You knew you must look a mess. You’d worn makeup that wouldn’t hold up to such an onslaught, and you had no doubt that your black mascara was streaming down your cheeks and adding to the wreckage of your face. But the way Curtis looked at you made you think he liked it—a lot.

“Edgar, gimme another beer!” Curtis called, keeping his gaze locked on you, his blue eyes dipping down to take in the sight of your beer-stained dress. 

The slip of fabric was sticking to your skin and it had become see-through where it had gotten wet. But it wasn’t drenched yet, and you could tell from the glint in Curtis’s eye that he wouldn’t stop until it bared you entirely. Excitement fizzed through you, and you bounced your hips while you waited impatiently for Curtis’s command to be met.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of the bartenders open a new bottle of beer and pass it into Curtis’s big, waiting hand. Neither you nor the bar owner took your eyes off each other, and it made the moment all the more intense. For all that you had an audience to your degradation, in that moment, you were there for Curtis, and only Curtis. You were his, if only temporarily, and he seemed to relish that knowledge just as much as you did.

“Ya thirsty, bambi?” he asked, some of the drunken slurring leeching out of his tone as he grinned lecherously down at you. His gaze broke away from you and he looked around at the men gathered close but not touching you, his eyes sparkling with depravity when he met yours again. “Ya want some more?’

Your heart was racing with excitement, the awareness of having so many men watching you thrumming deliciously beneath your skin; you couldn’t help the way your hips bounced with eagerness as you nodded quickly. “Yes, please,” you said sweetly, biting your lip to stop from grinning too wide up at your trucker’s friend.

Curtis’s eyes darkened with sinful intent and you felt yourself growing wet. But the dampness between your thighs had nothing to do with the beer Curtis had poured on you, and everything to do with the fact that you were so turned on by the way he was treating you. And all the while, you could feel your trucker’s eyes on you, a reminder that you were Ari’s and he’d given you to Curtis as a gift. 

“Stick your tongue out,” Curtis rumbled, a thread of steel in his voice that made you shiver. In that moment, he reminded you of the grumbling man you’d met when Ari first introduced you to his friends, and you realized you’d missed that side of him. “Show all my friends what a good little slut you are.”

If you could’ve followed the order and smiled at the same time, you would’ve. Instead, you had to settle for submitting to Curtis’s command, sticking your tongue out as far as possible and tipping your head back, letting him see down your throat.

It was an invitation for him to give you more, to give you all he had, and the entire bar knew it. The men surrounding you roared their approval while Curtis offered you a pleased little smirk. It was the nicest he’d ever looked and it nearly made you smile, but you held your position.

“That’s it, open wide, slut,” Curtis encouraged in a low, roughened voice, depraved delight sparking in his blue gaze as he degraded you on the floor of his bar.

The look in his eye and the tenor of his tone made you quiver. Your pussy throbbed more insistently with need the longer you stayed on your knees and submitted to the degradation the bar owner offered. But you channeled that desire into opening your mouth wider, sticking your tongue out a little bit further, catching the approving smirk that flickered at the corners of Curtis’s mouth.

The bar owner nodded at you, took a sip of his new beer, and then, with no other preamble, he tipped the brown bottle over your face, showering you in the bitter liquid. 

With your lips open and tongue out, plenty of the beer splashed into your mouth and you swallowed it down as best you could. Despite your best efforts, you choked and gagged a little, tears slipping from your eyes to join the rest of the mess on your face as you endured Curtis’s treatment.

The men in the crowd jeered as you struggled beneath the degrading pour of Curtis’s beer, but he shifted his hand, the cold liquid moving to pour down the front of your body. The stream seemed endless and you could feel the beer soaking into your dress until the entire front of the garment was drenched.

By the time the bottle was empty, you felt half drowned, gulping down air as the beer you’d swallowed sloshed around in your belly. Your head was a little dizzy, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the lack of air, but you swayed a little on your knees, glancing down to find that the entire front of your dress was see-through, your tits and puckered nipples on full display for everyone to see.

At the sight of yourself, your pussy throbbed, your inner walls clenching pathetically around nothing as desire blazed through your body. When you looked up at Curtis, you were certain he could see your arousal in every line of your expression, and he smirked, the expression sharp on his handsome face.

“Y’know, bambi, your dress is a little dirty,” Curtis rumbled, as if he hadn’t been the one to sully it in the first place. But you didn’t care about that, you only cared about the anticipation building in your body. You knew Curtis was leading somewhere and you couldn’t wait for him to get there. “I can’t let you walk around my bar like that, dripping beer everywhere.” 

It escaped no one that Curtis’s dive bar was plenty dirty already and a few drops of beer wouldn’t make it much worse, but a cheer rose from the crowd as they caught on to the fact that Curtis was planning something. You bounced slightly on your knees, pouting up at the bar owner and trying to look abashed, biting your lip against a grin. 

“What’re you gonna do about it, big man?” you asked sweetly. 

Curtis gave you a half-feral grin, the expression more snarl than anything else, and it was your only warning. 

Faster than you would’ve thought possible for the big, drunk man, Curtis stooped down and slipped his hands into the neck of your dress, his rough fingers grazing your soft flesh. You let out a quiet little moan that you were certain only Curtis could hear, making him pause for a brief second, his eyes fluttering closed. But then his hands were moving again, yanking on your dress.

In a split second, Curtis ripped your dress right down the center. You gasped loudly as your tits were bared to the crowd of men in the bar, the sound loud in the moment of stunned silence. Your breasts bounced free of their confines, your nipples hardening and revealing to the whole room how much you were enjoying Curtis’s rough treatment.

The cheer that broke out at your nakedness was so loud, it made your ears ring. It also drowned out the sound of rending fabric as Curtis tore the shredded garment from your body, flinging it into the crowd. His eyes were heavy as they trailed down your body, your skin prickling everywhere he looked—your nipples tightening into desperate peaks and your pussy weeping from where it was nestled between your parted thighs.

Curtis’s eyes flared at the sight of the tattoo just above your slit, a reminder of who you belonged to. But you hoped it also reminded Curtis of the first night you’d met him—the night Ari had given you to both Curtis and Lloyd to use how they wanted. Your pussy dripped at the memory, and it seemed Curtis was just as affected, the big man pausing for a moment before he shook himself. 

“That’s better,” Curtis muttered, his gaze lingering on your weeping pussy like he wanted to bury his bearded face against your soft cunt. Instead, he dragged his eyes back up your body, the blue of his irises darkened to the color of the midnight sky as he murmured for your ears only, “Look so fucking pretty, bambi.”

You smiled and ducked your head at the compliment, which meant more to you than the obscene catcalls and lewd cries from the crowd around you. It was a reminder of the friendship that you and Curtis shared. You may have met because he was one of your trucker’s oldest friends, but you hoped Curtis knew you thought of him as your friend too.

“Thank you,” you whispered, looking up at the bar owner from under your lashes. “Are you enjoying your birthday?”

Something resembling a grin curved the edges of Curtis’s mouth, the expression nearly hidden in his beard. His eyes slid away and looked up, and you knew without having to check that he was looking at Ari again. Before you could discern what the glance meant, though, Curtis was chucking you under the chin and saying, “I am, thanks to you, bambi.” 

Your heart gave a happy little flutter, but before you could respond, Curtis was standing up and waving his arms to get the crowd to quiet down. “What d’ya think fellas, is Ari’s little cock slut dirty enough yet?” 

The beer that had already been poured on you was starting to dry into a sticky, tacky layer on your skin, but your pussy dripped at the thought of Curtis wanting to make you even filthier. And it seemed his friends liked the idea as well, because they cheered so loud, it felt like the floor was shaking beneath your knees. 

Edgar the bartender already had a beer open and waiting for Curtis when the big man turned to grab one. That time, the bar owner didn’t even need to command you to open your mouth and stick out your tongue—you did that all on your own. Curtis’s smirk was pleased and his blue eyes glimmered with fondness as he tipped the beer over your face, pouring the liquid down your throat and over your body to the cheers of all his friends.

For the better part of the next hour, Curtis took his time defiling you while you sat, naked and on your knees, in the center of his bar, enduring it willingly as the free use toy he’d been given for his birthday. A good amount of the alcohol that didn’t run down over your tits and splash over your pussy went down your throat, and it wasn’t long before your head began to swim. 

Still, your body felt heavy with desire, your nipples tight and desperate to be played with, your cunt pulsing and aching to be filled. It was only because Curtis seemed to be having so much fun, his friends urging him on to make you dirtier and filthier, that you didn’t break down and beg him to fuck you. 

But you couldn’t help the way your body was responding, your mouth falling slack at the teasing slide of liquid over your puckered nipples. If you arched your body just right, and spread your thighs wide enough, you could feel the trickle of beer over you clit, and it made a low moan slip from your mouth as your eyes fluttered closed in pleasure.

Curtis’s dark chuckle from above was your only warning. At that moment, he shoved the neck of his beer bottle into your mouth, pushing your lips wide and making you gag as your eyes flew open in surprise. 

“That needy little mouth is begging to be fucked, bambi,” the bar owner growled, quickly unzipping his fly and wedging the bottom of the beer between the zipper’s teeth so he could hold your head in both hands and fuck you with the glass bottle. “Take it, cock slut, fucking take it,” he grunted obscenely. 

All you could do was choke and struggle, the remainder of the beer sloshing down your throat and joining the rest in your belly. Your fingers fisted in the denim jeans encasing Curtis’s thick thighs, but you didn’t push him away. It felt good to finally have one of your holes used, even if you were being fucked by Curtis’s beer bottle instead of his cock like you’d wanted. 

Your jaw hurt by the time he pulled away, your lips swollen from being wrapped around the wide glass. Your body swayed unsteadily on your knees, arousal dripping down between your thighs and joining the mess of beer on the floor. The cheers of the crowd had faded into a constant rumble, and you smile dazedly when they urged Curtis on. 

Suddenly, a big bear paw of a hand was wrapping around your upper arm and you were being hauled to your feet. Blood rushed to your legs, your head swimming and lolling to the side as you tried to find your footing. But standing seemed impossible—and unimportant as arousal burned through you, making you whimper and whine desperately. You hoped someone would fuck you soon.

Curtis chuckled at your pathetic noises, the husky sound sending shivers down your spine as his lips grazed your ear. “You’re not too drunk to fuck, are ya, bambi?” he asked in a low, growly voice as he pressed his hips against you, his hard bulge digging into your belly. 

When you’d first walked into Everett’s Roadhouse that night and saw the state of the bar owner, you’d thought there was no way he’d be able to fuck you with how drunk he was. But the hour spent pouring so many bottles of beer over your body instead of drinking them had sobered Curtis up enough to get hard. He was stiff and twitching and pressing into you through his jeans and you wanted him to bury his cock in you.

Your dazed smile widened into a giddy grin and you tipped your head back, blinking your eyes a few times to get your vision to focus enough to see Curtis’s face. “It’s your birfday, big man,” you said, your voice more slurring than sultry, a hiccup interrupting you and making you pause. “I’m use to yours.” Your expression scrunched into a confused pout, knowing your words weren’t right, and tried again. “I’m yours to fuck.”

Curtis was laughing as he hauled you over to one of the pool tables off to the side of the bar, and tossed you down on the green felt. You lay limply on your back, staring up at your trucker’s tall friend while he glared at the guys who’d been playing a game on the table. Their grumbling quickly cut off and Curtis returned his attention to you. 

The crowd shifted to gather around the pool table while Curtis pulled out his cock, which was just as massive as the rest of him. The thick length lay against your mound, the girth covering much of the tattoo there, the tip nearly reaching your belly button. Your inner walls clenched in anticipation of taking Curtis inside you—you couldn’t wait.

“Gimme, gimme,” you mumbled, spreading your thighs wide and pushing your pussy up against the stiff, velvet-wrapped steel of Curtis’s cock. It twitched against your mound, precum dripping onto your belly and joining the mess on your skin. 

Curtis chuckled at your antics, rumbling, “Alright, bambi.” The bar owner grabbed your thighs, pushing you wide as he pulled his hips back, lining up the tip of his big cock with your entrance. Without any warning or preparation, Curtis barreled into your cunt, burying his big cock to the hilt with one thrust. 

Instantly, stinging pain and scorching pleasure cut white-hot through the core of you, overwhelming your mind and leaving your body to react however it wanted. Your head was thrown back, and your lips parted to let out a piercing scream that shattered through the noise of the dive bar.

“Fuck yeah, bambi, scream for me,” Curtis groaned, his big hands kneading your thighs, fingers digging into your plush softness hard enough to hurt. He pulled your body into his, managing to grind his cock even deeper into your pussy, wrenching another, surprised shriek from your lips.

You felt like you were being split in half, pain and pleasure ricocheting through your body fast enough to make you dizzy, your drunken mind unable to tell the difference between the two. All you knew was that it was so much, so overwhelming, and your hands reached out above your head, searching for something to cling to as your mind splintered and your body trembled from the sensation of being split open on Curtis’s cock.

Two warm hands wrapped firmly around your wrists, pinning them to the rough felt of the pool table, leaving you powerless to Curtis’s massive cock. He was rocking his hips in tiny little thrusts, the tip of his length battering against your cervix and wringing helpless little whimpers from your lips as your hazy eyes searched above you for the man pinning you down—somehow knowing before your gaze collided with the familiar blue of your trucker’s eyes that it was Ari.

His face was hovering above you, upside down as he leaned over the table to catch your gaze. The edges of Ari’s features were blurred, but you would’ve recognized your trucker even if you were blackout drunk—even if you were so intoxicated you were more unconscious than not. 

Ari’s face was like a star, familiar and steady, and you smiled happily up at him, your heart warming when you noticed the pride in his gaze. 

“You’re doing well, baby,” Ari rumbled, his features sharp and his expression hard. But deep in the blue depths of his eyes, you could see the affection you knew he felt for you. “You’re being such a good fuck toy for daddy’s friend on his birthday.”

You giggled, squirming happily on the pool table, your face upturned to your trucker, your attention completely diverted from Curtis and his cock, even as he still fucked you. You were having fun with the bar owner, but nothing and no one would ever be able to come between you and Ari. You were his, always, and he knew it.

Ari leaned down, and you thought for a moment he was going to kiss you, but you should’ve known better. Ari’s teeth nipped the soft lobe of your ear, making you moan, before he spoke words meant only for you.

“When Curtis is done, I’m gonna fuck your filthy little cunt, kiddo, so don’t pass out,” he rumbled, the twisted promise making your cunt clench around his friend’s cock. “Or do, it doesn’t matter to me.” Ari sank his teeth into the bone at the corner of your jaw, biting you hard enough to make you cry out. “I’m gonna use your holes whether you’re awake or not.”

A helpless moan slipped from your lips, your legs spreading wider instinctively at the thought of your trucker using your cunt to get off while you lay unconscious in his bed. You smiled adoringly up at Ari, blinking your eyes slowly. It took you a moment before your swimming vision could focus on Ari’s face, and when he saw he had your attention, he jerked his chin sharply at his friend, commanding you wordlessly to look back at Curtis.

You did, following your trucker’s order immediately, finding the massive bar owner watching you and Ari with a look on his face you couldn’t quite identify. The only way you could describe it was…openly gluttonous. Curtis looked like he wasn’t merely jealous of what you and Ari had, he looked like he would’ve stolen you away from his friend if there was any chance in the universe you’d look at him the same way.

But there wasn’t, and Curtis’s expression shifted as he resigned himself for having the piece of you that Ari had given him for his birthday. It would have to be enough, because even though his cock was inside you, you were still Ari’s and Ari’s alone. 

Curtis grabbed a beer off the edge of the pool table and chugged half of it. As he set it back down, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and leaned over you, his big hands grabbing your thighs again, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise. 

The pain only made your arousal flare hotter and you smiled up at your trucker’s friend, murmuring, “Happy birthday, big man.”

“Thank you, bambi,” he muttered, low enough that you knew it was just for you. Then a smirk spread across Curtis’s face, his eyes lighting with filthy desire. “Now, scream if my dick’s too big for your tight little cunt, ya filthy slut.”

With that, Curtis pulled out until only the tip of his cock remained in your grasping channel, then he slammed inside you. Even with your body having adjusted to the sheer size of him, his hard, brutal thrust pulled a scream from your throat, your back arching up off the table and your wrists pulling against Ari’s hold. 

Curtis laughed loudly as the crowd cheered, the big bar owner setting a ferocious pace as he fucked you hard enough that you knew you were going to be sore for days. But you loved it. You loved the pain and the pleasure and the roaring of the crowd as Curtis fucked you in front of all his friends. 

You loved the way Ari’s hands held your arms pinned above your head, how it bared your tits to Curtis, who bent over your body to finally suck on your aching nipples. You loved the way Curtis’s beard rasped against your skin, making you shiver as your pussy clenched hard around his thick cock.

Your mind floated deliriously through the waves of pleasure and pain crashing over your body. You felt drunk on cock and alcohol, not knowing how much time passed as Curtis fucked you, but it seemed to go on forever. Your body was wound so tight for so long, you reached a point where you didn’t know if you were even going to come, or if you were simply going to hover on the edge for the rest of eternity.

“Look at me, bambi,” Curtis growled, dragging your attention back to his handsome face. 

It was only then that you realized you’d been staring up unseeingly at the ceiling of the bar, the golden and neon lights swimming through your vision as you lay limply beneath your trucker’s friend. 

Curtis’s blue eyes were dark and his mouth was twisted into a desirous snarl, his beard making him look like a feral beast as he pounded into you. 

“You’re gonna come on my cock, d’you hear me?” 

Words escaped you, your tongue simply lolling out over your bottom lip when you opened your mouth to respond. All you could manage was a frantic whine as you bobbed your head in a nod. 

“Good slut,” Curtis grunted, one of his hands falling to your lower belly, his thumb finding your clit between your slippery folds. “Come on my cock, bambi, c’mon, come on my big dick like a good little cock slut.” The rough pad of his thumb rubbed your slick, puffy clit unrelentingly, and suddenly, you were tipping over the edge.

Your mouth fell open wider and your spine arched up off the pool table as you screamed, your release crashing over you, wave after wave of pleasure hurtling you closer and closer to a darkness that wanted to claim you. But you clung to consciousness, your scream turning into a high, keening whine that could’ve been a sign of pain or pleasure. 

Your release seemed to spur on Curtis and he rutted into you, fucking your clenching pussy as he watched pleasure contort your face and body. Then, with a final grunt, Curtis pulled himself free from your body. He jerked his cock in a big fist until he spilled all over your belly, making sure none of his come fell anywhere near your pussy or the tattoo there.

Curtis’s chest heaved, his eyes distant and dazed with pleasure as he wrung every last drop of come from his cock, and you watched him with the satisfied smile of a job well done. 

When the last rope of his come had splattered, warm and sticky, against your belly, Curtis finally sucked in a deep breath and grabbed the beer handed to him from the crowd. He took a deep swig while he tucked his cock away with the other hand. 

“Thanks, Levinson,” Curtis rasped, tipping his bottle to your trucker, who just nodded. Ari’s hands were idly massaging your wrists and you melted onto the rough felt of the pool table, knowing your trucker would take care of you. Curtis turned his blue eyes on you, and he tipped his bottle to you as well. “Always a pleasure, bambi,” he said, a genuine look of appreciation on his face. 

You were about to respond, but then Curtis turned his beer over and he used the alcohol to wash his come from your skin. You squealed loudly when the cold liquid rushed over your heated skin, instinctively bringing up your legs to curl into yourself, making the crowd laugh and jeer. 

When the beer was empty and his spend was cleaned from your skin, Curtis stumbled away into the crowd, the big man being swallowed up by the well-wishers and revelers congratulating him on fucking you good. Since you knew Curtis was done with you, you looked up at Ari, twisting your hands to wrap your fingers around his arms.

“Can we go now, daddy?” you asked softly.

Ari nodded and gathered you up from the pool table, setting you down on the edge while he pulled off the flannel shirt he’d worn over a white t-shirt. He tugged it over your head and helped you get your trembling arms in the sleeves, then ducked down to brush a kiss to your lips. The events of the night were catching up to you, and you were drunk and exhausted, but you sighed into your trucker’s mouth.

“You did good tonight, baby,” Ari murmured against your lips, and your heart felt like it was suffused in the warmest sunlight. Ari’s praise made you feel lighter than air, even as he pulled away.

You smiled up at your trucker as he straightened, staring at Ari like he was your whole world, which he was. His eyes were the softest you’d ever seen them as he stared right back at you, the tiniest smile curling the corners of his mouth. 

Just then, Lloyd materialized out of the crowd and Ari finally looked away from you to exchange a loaded glance with his other oldest friend. Lloyd seemed to be much more sober than Curtis, and he helped your trucker lead you to the bathroom, where Ari cleaned you up a little and let you relieve yourself after all that you’d had to drink that night. 

Then, Lloyd cleared a path through the drunken crowd while you and Ari followed. Between the two men, no one dared to try to touch you, and you sank into Ari’s side, feeling safe with your trucker as you looped your arms loosely around his waist. He smelled familiar and wonderful and you didn’t even try to hold yourself back from burying your face in his chest even as you kept on walking.

Lloyd pushed open the door of Everett’s Roadhouse and you sighed happily when the cool night air brushed against your heated, still slightly sticky cheeks. Gravel crunched beneath the soles of your sandals, and you blinked your eyes in the darkness until they focused enough to see Ari’s big, black truck looming in packed parking lot surrounded by other long-haul rigs.

“Drysdale’s gonna have a lot of business tonight after that show your girl put on,” Lloyd commented, casting his gaze across the expanse between Everett’s Roadhouse and Diesel Dolls, the strip club on the other side of the parking lot. Lloyd snorted and adjusted the front of his pants, and it was only then that you noticed the sizable bulge there. “Including me,” he muttered.

Your hazy thoughts strayed to the strip club, and you couldn’t help but imagine Lloyd getting a lap dance from a beautiful stripper. The tattoo artist sitting back on a plush couch while a gorgeous woman gyrated on his lap, his fingers twitching to grab her and touch her and defile her the way you knew Lloyd liked.

You didn’t even think to picture yourself as the stripper. Instead, in this little fantasy, you were sitting on Ari’s lap, your trucker’s cock buried in your cunt. Maybe he’d even let you get your own lap dance from Lloyd’s stripper, your body pressed between Ari’s and the other woman…

Your body lurched forward and if it wasn’t for Ari’s firm grip on your waist, you would’ve gone sprawling across the parking lot. For the rest of the walk to Ari’s rig, you tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and not let your mind wander so you wouldn’t end up feeling more sore than you already were. 

When the three of you came to a stop beside the driver’s side door of Ari’s truck, Lloyd let his eyes slide to you before moving quickly to your trucker. 

“I hope you had a similar gift in mind for my birthday, Levinson,” Lloyd said with his usual oily charm, his mouth curling into a smirk beneath his well-groomed mustache. 

“We’ll see,” Ari rumbled, but his tone was good-natured. You couldn’t help the way your body clenched at the salacious, and somewhat victorious smile Lloyd shot your way.

But the events of the night were weighing heavily on your shoulders, exhaustion creeping into your bones, and you didn’t have the brainpower to wonder what Lloyd might do with you if you were gifted to him on his birthday. Even if you knew you’d have just as much fun with Ari’s other friend as you’d had with Curtis.

“Daddy,” you whined softly, burying your face against Ari’s beefy chest. His hand squeezed your hip possessively and he said his goodbyes to Lloyd, then helped you into the truck, making sure he was the only one who could see the way your pussy flashed as you climbed into the cab.

Ari followed you up and locked the door behind him while you crawled into the cot in the back, laying down on top of his soft blankets despite the sticky residue still clinging to most of your body. Ari pulled off his t-shirt and kicked off his pants, then joined you in the narrow bed. 

Your body melted at the familiar comfort of his weight behind you, and you began to relax as sleep tugged at the edges of your awareness. But when Ari’s cock pressed hot and hard against your bare ass, you remembered his promise from inside the bar, how he said he was going to fuck you whether you were awake or not. You moaned softly while he bunched up the flannel shirt you still wore around your waist. 

Your face was already pressing into the soft pillow on Ari’s bed, your eyes closed, but you arched your back and pushed your ass against Ari’s hard length, inviting him to slide inside your slick cunt. You were sore from Curtis’s fucking, but wet again for your trucker. You were always wet for him, your body craving the feeling of his cock filling you up in the perfect way that only he could. 

“Ya gonna stay awake for me while I use your messy cunt, cock whore?” Ari rumbled into the back of your neck. The flat of his tongue swiped up the column of your throat, wringing a soft whine from you as he licked the beer from your skin. It felt so good, sending shivers down your spine and raising goosebumps all over your body. “Or did my friend wear you out?”

All you could manage was an unintelligible mumble, the sound muffled by the pillow crushed beneath your face, as sleep pushed more insistently into the border of your wakefulness. Ari’s deep chuckle rumbled against your spine, making you even wetter for your filthy, perfect trucker.

“Go to sleep, kiddo,” Ari murmured in your ear, his hand sliding over your hip to press against your lower belly, his fingertips grazing the tattoo that was branded into the skin of your mound, just above your pussy. His touch moved your body slightly, arching you enough for the head of his cock to find the slit of your cunt. “Let daddy use your tight little hole while you get some rest.” 

Ari slid inside your pussy slowly, pressing the air from your lungs as he took his time impaling you on his cock. Your aching inner walls clenched around him desperately, pain and pleasure flaring to life and zinging through your exhausted limbs. A rough, greedy grunt rumbled in Ari’s chest, the sound softening into a warm, satisfied groan once he was fully seated inside you.

It hurt a little to be stretched out around Ari’s cock so soon after taking Curtis’s pounding, but when your trucker wrapped his arms around you, holding you cocooned in the cage of his broad chest while he rocked his hips almost gently against your ass, you felt yourself melting into him. Ari’s lips and tongue worked against your neck, licking sticky beer from your skin, his beard deliciously familiar while he set an almost soothing pace as he fucked you.

Despite the soreness between your thighs, and the tiny zings of pleasure thrumming through your body from Ari’s cock rocking into you, your exhaustion was too great and it wasn’t long before you were slipping into the warm comfort of sleep. That night in Ari’s truck, you fell asleep with a blissed out, cock drunk smile on your face, happy as could be to be in your trucker’s arms.

You may have spent much of the night as a gift for the bar owner your trucker called a friend, and you were glad you could be part of making Curtis’s birthday special, but you would always belong to Ari. And you would always end your nights in his arms, because that was where you wanted to be and where you belonged—with your trucker, Ari Levinson.

trucker king masterlist ● trucker au masterlist

[chvoswxtch]

a favor

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank's true intentions behind getting you a lawyer are revealed.

warnings: swearing, a lil angst, sassy lawyer matty, instigating frankie

word count: 5.7k

a/n: happy one year of the bodyguard! again, I can't thank y'all enough for the love and support y'all have shown this series for the past year. i'm eternally grateful. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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“Frank.”

“Red.”

The two men exchanged curt nods in greeting while the nickname Frank used for the man who had introduced himself as Matthew further added to your growing puzzlement. There was clearly a history between the two of them that you weren’t aware of. Frank hadn’t been lying when he said he had a lawyer, but it only fanned the flame of curiosity burning within you.

What could Frank have possibly needed a lawyer for?

Frank had assured you that according to Madani, Steven didn’t have anything on you, but Matthew’s presence had a wave of newfound anxiety beginning to crest steadily. If Steven didn’t have anything, why did you need a lawyer? Turning your attention towards Frank, you lightly clenched your fists at your sides to keep them from betraying how nervous you actually were in that moment. 

“I thought you said he didn’t have a case?”

“He don’t.”

Frank said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world with a careless shrug of his broad shoulders, but it didn’t put you at ease. Behind you, Matthew cleared his throat to capture your attention, and when you turned around to face him, you noticed he had taken a step towards you. His plump lips were stretched into a charming smile that had your nerves suddenly calming of their own accord.

“Miss Y/L/N, you have nothing to worry about. I’m here as a formality more than anything, and a favor to Frank. I’m familiar with men like Price. He’s going to try and scare you, like he did with the letter of intent, and try to manipulate you to get his way. I’m not gonna let that happen.”

Matthew spoke with such conviction that it was hard for you not to believe him. You didn’t know how good of a lawyer Matthew was, or if he was a match for Steven, but Frank clearly trusted him enough to involve him, and you trusted Frank with your life.

“He’s a real asshole.”

Matthew’s thick brows lifted slightly above the rim of his crimson tinted glasses when you suddenly blurted that out, and an amused chuckle quickly sounded from deep within his chest. His lips parted to reveal a dazzling row of teeth complimented by deep indentations in each of his cheeks.

“So I’ve been told. Shall we?”

Glancing at Frank over your shoulder, he motioned towards the room with his head, an expression of pure annoyance painted on his sharp features. If his face didn’t give away how he felt about the current situation, the dissatisfied grunt that preceded Frank’s gruff voice certainly did.

“Let’s get this over with.”

»»———　　———««

Orange was not Steven’s color. It contrasted sharply against his stupid blonde hair that had grown shaggy and appeared unkempt, much to your satisfaction. He was the only guy you ever dated that took more time getting ready than you, and knowing how meticulous he was about his looks, it filled you with a sense of enjoyment seeing his golden tan faded to pasty ivory, darkness blooming under his dull blue eyes, and a sour scowl on his mouth.

He wasn’t considered a violent threat, so he wasn’t handcuffed to the table. Steven had chosen to “represent himself” in his make believe case, so there wasn’t anyone else in the room but him. A guard was stationed outside the door, not so much for protection, but to let all of you in and out. 

The whole thing made you almost laugh.

Steven had handcrafted one of the most violent homegrown terrorist groups that had been the biggest threat New York had seen in decades, and the prison still didn’t consider him a danger. Surely that had to be a huge blow to his ego.

As soon as the three of you stepped through the door of the meeting room, Steven was quick to let out a dry scoff, crossing his arms over his chest in visible disapproval. 

“Well that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Confusion weaved between your brows at his statement.

“What?”

“Two bodyguards? You’re not in any ‘danger’ anymore.”

The way he spit out the word danger had your blood already simmering in your bloodstream, like he was implying that you never truly were. To him, you had been overreacting; playing the part of a victim instead of actually being one. It was bad enough he invalidated your feelings throughout your entire previous relationship, but eight years later, you were still dealing with his bullshit.

The mention of two bodyguards only muddled your confusion further. Glancing up at Frank, you were met with the familiar sight of him standing as still as a statue right by your side, his right hand clasped over his left wrist, and an intense broody expression on his features. Steven knew that Frank was your bodyguard, but why did he think that Matthew was also? Turning your attention to Matthew, your brows raised slightly in surprise.

Matthew was standing just as close to you as Frank was, and in a similar protective stature. His full lips were pressed together in a firm line that highlighted his sharp jawline. You hadn’t realized just how large he was before when he introduced himself, mainly because he didn’t look as menacing as Frank normally did. He wasn’t quite as big and bulky as Frank was. He had more of a slim and lean build, and appeared to be maybe an inch or two shorter than Frank, but your eyes caught the way his suit jacket seemed to be straining around his shoulders and arms. From an outsider perspective, he did look like a second bodyguard. 

“Or, one and a half I guess. Is Russo struggling that bad he has to hire a blind guy?”

That comment completely caught you off guard. You’d briefly noticed the crimson tinted glasses that Matthew wore, but for some reason you had immediately assumed that they were transition lenses adjusting from being out in the sunlight. It was only when you glanced down at the red and white cane he held in his left hand that it all of a sudden clicked in your brain, and you realized for the first time that Matthew was blind.

Before you could think too hard about how you had missed that, Steven’s abrasive comment echoed in your ears, and your blood went from simmering to scorching as you whipped your head in his direction. Taking a bold step forward, your features were twisted up in raw outrage as you prepared to hurl verbal assaults in his direction.

“You fucking-”

Abruptly, two arms shot out to stop your rampage before it could begin. Dropping your gaze downward, you saw Frank’s arm was flush against your ribcage, while Matthew’s was directly underneath, hovering a respectful inch away from your lower stomach. Flickering your eyes upwards to look at Matthew, a mixture of perplexity and curiosity lingered in your stare as you wondered how he had known that you’d taken a step forward. But before you could ask, he cleared his throat and moved his arm away, beginning to fold up his cane with both of his hands.

“Mr. Price, my name is Matthew Murdock. I’m Miss Y/L/N’s attorney.”

“And what firm do you work for?”

“My own. Nelson, Murdock, and Page.”

Steven narrowed his eyes while he sized Matthew up and down, making it obvious he clearly was not impressed, which was incredibly stupid on his part now that you were aware Matthew couldn’t see it. Smacking his lips, Steven shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in the metal chair he sat in.

“Never heard of you.”

“You follow the Kingpin trial?”

Frank had been silent up until that point, which made you nervous. You weren’t used to men that were quiet about their rage, and it felt as if you had only seen a fraction of what Frank was capable of when he was angry. But the mention of the Fisk case caught your attention. What did that have to do with anything?

“Of course I did. That was one of the biggest criminal cases this city has seen in years.”

Steven made it sound like Frank had asked the most ignorant question in the world. As much as you hated to admit it, he had a point. That case was huge. The only part of it that left a sour taste in your mouth was the fact that Fisk was never charged for Ben’s murder. Deep down you knew it couldn’t be proven, there simply wasn’t any evidence, and you should’ve been happy Fisk would never get out with everything he had been charged with, but it wasn’t enough. Not for you, and not for Ben.

“Then you’re not only a dumbass, you’re a fuckin’ liar too. His firm was the one that put that shitbag away.”

That piece of information had your head swiveling to stare at Matthew almost in awe. You had been so focused on the charges of the case that you hadn’t actually paid attention to who was running the case against Fisk. It made you wonder if he had known about Ben.

“Anyone could’ve won that case. That devil guy practically handed Fisk over to the police wrapped neatly in a bow.”

You could’ve sworn you saw Matthew stiffen at the mention of Daredevil, but he swiftly recovered. Tossing his folded cane onto the table with surprising accuracy, he adjusted his glasses on the bride of his nose and slipped his hands into his pockets nonchalantly. 

“That’s true. But unlike you, I don’t have to tamper with evidence, threaten witnesses, or buy off judges and juries to win my cases. Now, do you want to discuss the multiple charges that are currently pending against you for malpractice and wrongful conviction on top of domestic terrorism, or can we skip the pleasantries and get to the point of this meeting.”

Steven was not at all prepared for Matthew’s sharp retort, and you couldn’t stop the way your jaw dropped in astonishment at how smoothly he had called him out. Steven was the only lawyer you really had any experience with, but in the five minutes you’d known Matthew, he made one fact abundantly clear; Steven had been pretending to be a skilled lawyer. Matthew actually was one.

You could always tell when Steven was flustered or upset by how red his face became. He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable but trying to play it off like he wasn’t, while a faint flush of scarlet was beginning to creep up along the column of his throat. 

“Fine. Let’s discuss the case. My demands were-”

“You have no authority to make demands, because you have no case. Now you’re ridiculously ignorant, but you aren’t that stupid. So, why don’t we discuss why you really asked my client here.”

“Excuse me? You can’t talk to me like that. Do you have any idea who I am?”

Matthew let out a slow and deep exhale through his nose and took a step further towards the table, his hands still nestled comfortably in his pockets, a layer of boredom coveted on his features.

“Yeah, you’re the guy facing twenty-five to life without the possibility of parole. I didn’t think we needed to state the obvious.”

Frank let out a quiet snicker beside you, and when you snuck a glance up at him, you noticed he had the faintest of smirks tugging at the corner of his mouth. His deep brown eyes seemed to be almost shining with merriment under the harsh fluorescents of the lights above. 

He was enjoying this.

It hadn’t occurred to you before that Frank might have invited Matthew simply just to humiliate Steven and intellectually torment him for the hell of it. Narrowing your eyes in half-hearted suspicion, you leaned closer and whispered lowly to him.

“Did you do this on purpose?”

Turning his head to look down at you, Frank didn’t even bother trying to play innocent. He flashed you a playful wink before turning his attention back to Matthew and Steven, crossing his arms over his chest in a relaxed manner. A bubble of childlike laughter almost escaped from your mouth at the sudden epiphany.

Frank had asked Matthew to come strictly to fuck with your ex-boyfriend. 

Steven’s “case” was bullshit. Frank knew that Steven was afraid of him because Steven couldn’t take him physically, and Frank had proved on several occasions that Steven wasn’t as untouchable as he thought he was. But Steven always thought he was the smartest person in the room, and he probably thought he had outsmarted you and Frank with the letter of intent. 

Until Frank had purposefully brought someone that he knew could talk circles around Steven and make him feel as small as he had made you feel. 

That thought brought a grin to your lips, and it made you wonder if Matthew was in on it.

“Clearly you aren’t as good of a lawyer as you think you are, or maybe you just didn’t do your homework, but I am getting out of here. Do you know who my father is? I can-”

“Yes, Mr. Price, I’m well aware of who your family is, and I’m sure your father’s status is what gives you the luxury of ignorance to think that you’re invincible, but if that were case then you wouldn’t be sitting here in federal prison, would you?”

Steven immediately clenched his jaw tightly and his chest started to rise and fall a little faster while his nostrils angrily flared. His irritation was written clearly across his face. He wasn’t used to not being the most intelligent and powerful person in the room. He wasn’t used to people not kissing his ass just because of who he thought he was and the family name he carried. He wasn’t used to being challenged, and that’s exactly what Matthew was.

A challenge. 

Matthew was getting to Steven, and it seemed like he knew it. Matthew took another casual step forward and reached for the metal chair, pulling it out slowly and stepping around to leisurely take a seat in front of Steven. He clasped his hands together and rested them on the metal table. While there was a look of neutrality on his face, the low voice he spoke in and his razor sharp words betrayed his true feelings towards Steven.

“Daddy’s money can’t buy you out of this one. You have nothing, you’re grasping at straws, and you’re wasting everyone’s time. Now I realize that you have plenty of that here considering you’re facing at least twenty five years on the domestic terrorism charges alone, but the rest of us have lives to return to outside of this room. So, did you call us here just to throw an entitled tantrum? Or is there something of value you’d like to discuss?”

“I want her to pay for what she’s done!”

“What I’ve done?”

A look of incredulity and anger was painted across your face at Steven’s outburst. His blue eyes snapped up to meet yours, wild with rage, and he glared at you while pointing his index finger stiffly in your direction.

“You ruined my life.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Frank attempted to pull you back when you took a frustrated step forward, but you yanked your wrist away forcefully from his large hand. 

“You lazy, arrogant, selfish dick! You hired a bunch of psychos to blow up New York because you weren’t good enough to win an election and that’s my fault? Fuck you!”

“Sweetheart, let’s take it easy.”

Frank was standing right behind you, his large hand splayed on your lower back as he attempted to rein you in. Matthew was supposed to be the one handling Steven, that’s why he was here. But you couldn’t handle listening to another second of his privileged pity party while he still refused to take some goddamn accountability for what he did.

Stepping forward until you were directly in front of the table, you gripped onto the edge of it tightly until the blood flow around your knuckles was restricted. Wrath was burning vividly in your eyes and Steven abruptly backed away in his chair as if he were afraid of you. Even though you were seething, you kept your voice low and calm, wanting him to hear every venomous syllable that had been building on your tongue for the past ten years.

“You are fucking pathetic. You had every privilege at your fingertips and you still couldn’t make something real of yourself. You chose to cut corners, buy your way in and out of everything, and even resorted to murder just to get ahead because deep down, you knew you couldn’t fucking cut it. Daddy didn’t love his fucked up protege enough so the rest of us had to suffer your waste of an existence. The only reason you sent me that ridiculous letter is because for whatever idiotic reason, you think you still own me-”

Leaning in across the table, your face was mere inches away from Steven’s as you spoke in an even more merciless tone.

“-even though the moment I held a gun to your head should’ve made it very fucking clear that you never did.”

Steven’s eyes went wide, and his mouth hung open in shock before he snapped his head to look at Matthew in bewilderment, stammering over his words.

“She admitted it!”

“That’s hearsay.”

“Bullshit! She just confessed-”

“Technically she didn’t explicitly state when or where she held you at gunpoint, and as her lawyer, anything my client says in my presence is protected under client confidentiality, so I can’t act as a witness. Good luck getting Frank on your side.”

“Looks like you still got nothin’ asshole.”

Steven was frantically looking between the three of you in complete disbelief like a gaping fish out of water flopping around on a dock. 

“This…this is insane! You can’t do this! I made a statement-”

“Neither Frank nor Mr. Russo corroborated that claim.”

“Of course they didn’t! Russo tried to get her to shoot me, for Christ’s sake! She assaulted me, and so did he.”

Steven was getting hysterical, his face nearly ripening to the shade of a freshly grown tomato, his desperate glare fixated on Frank. But Frank and Matthew didn’t visibly react at all, which only set Steven off even further.

“Frank’s job was to protect Y/N from any and all threats. You presented yourself as a threat, which resulted in him taking action.”

Matthew lightly shrugged his shoulders, speaking as if he were explaining a simple concept to a child.

“He broke my nose! And that slimy bastard Russo recorded me without my consent. That’s illegal! I was coerced-”

“Actually, it wasn’t illegal. Mr. Russo’s company was hired by Homeland Security to keep Y/N safe, thus by extension, Mr. Russo and Frank were acting as employees of Homeland. They had the right to record any and all conversations involving a person of interest, and due to Y/N being clever enough to get your men to confess and mention you by name on tape, you became a person of interest. That recording was perfectly legal, and even if it had been coerced, you were arrested with evidence in your pocket linking you directly to the Defenders of Freedom, including proof that it was your operation. Now Mr. Price, I don't enjoy repeating myself, but since you seem to be struggling to comprehend just how fucked you are, let me simplify this: you are staying in prison. There is no negotiating, no price tag, and no favor that can prevent it. So get to the goddamn point. Why are we here?”

“He’s mad.”

Looking up at Frank, one of your brows raised in curiosity as you noticed that he was grinning from ear to ear. Matthew’s head perked up, slightly cocking to the side. Steven focused his incessant glare on Frank, letting out a dry scoff.

“And what am I mad about, Frank? I could own this prison with the change in my pocket. Might even turn into a kingpin myself in here.”

Frank instantly let out a deep howl of laughter, which only pissed Steven off that much more.

“I doubt that. Money don’t make you a man, and that ain’t the currency in here. Respect is, and you’re too much of a pussy to fight for it. I bet you’re already someone’s bitch, ain’t ya? That why you sent the letter? You hoped she’d feel sorry for your ass, yeah? Help you outta here? Cause you’re still fuckin’ stupid enough to think she would lift a goddamn finger in your favor.”

You didn’t notice when Matthew had silently slipped out of the chair in front of the table, but as Frank took a few bold steps towards Steven, suddenly Matthew had extended his arm across your stomach and was gently guiding you behind himself. Grabbing onto Matthew’s bicep lightly with both hands, you peered around him to see what was happening. Steven had leaned all the way back in his seat, and when Frank started to round the table, pure fear shined in the baby blue of his irises.

“You’re mad she didn’t come alone. You’re mad she ain’t helpin’ you. You’re mad Red’s right, and you are fucked. You’re mad you’re a fuckin’ embarrassment to daddy and your entire goddamn stuck up family. I bet he ain’t called you once, huh? Ain’t checked on ya? Cause he don’t wanna be associated with such a fuckin’ disappointment of a son, yeah? You dug your fuckin’ grave, and instead of helpin’ you outta it, he’s shovelin’ that dirt right on top to bury you.”

The closer Frank got to Steven, the louder the alarms started going off in your head. You tightened your grip on Matthew’s arm, feeling more and more nervous about what Frank was about to do. It wasn’t beneath him to start a fight in a Federal prison if he thought it was warranted. But if he started swinging, would Matthew be able to step in? Would Frank go to prison because of it? You weren’t sure what the law was, but you were pretty sure there were serious repercussions that would follow what Frank was about to do.

As if he could somehow sense your growing anxiety, Matthew subtly reached behind himself and placed his hand on your hip, giving it a light squeeze. He turned his head faintly in your direction and whispered only loud enough for you to hear. 

“Relax. He won’t hurt him.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Matthew’s lips parted, and then abruptly closed. After a moment, he gave your hip another light squeeze and whispered lowly again with a hint of a  smile on his lips.

“Mostly.”

Before you could explain how Frank nearly beat the life out of Steven last time they were in the same room together, Frank’s deep voice captured your attention.

“But that ain’t the biggest reason why you’re mad, is it?”

When you looked around Matthew again to stare at Frank, you saw that he had grabbed the arms of Steven’s chair and had leaned down so that they were face to face. Something about Frank’s expression in that moment had you completely puzzled. He didn’t look as angry as he sounded.

He was smirking. 

“You’re jealous.”

Steven was trying hard to hide how terrified he was of Frank. His hands were clenched into tight fists in his lap, the skin so taught over his knuckles they turned stark white, and they were visibly trembling. But not because he was mad; because he was scared. He attempted to look unimpressed as he let out a dry laugh that shook as much as his hands.

“Jealous of what?”

“That I’m the one fuckin’ her now.”

As soon as those words left Frank’s lips, your eyes widened to the size of moons and your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. Steven appeared to be just as shocked by Frank’s shameless boast as you were, while Matthew on the other hand had a devilish grin stretching over his full lips that was accompanied by a dark chuckle.

“Oh, so that’s why he’s so pissed off.”

Matthew wasn’t at all uncomfortable by Frank’s admission. He seemed to be completely amused by it which was evident by the taunting tone dripping from his velvet voice. Swallowing thickly, heat burned in your cheeks as you snuck a glance up at Matthew. You still had a vice grip on his arm, and his hand was still resting comfortably on your hip. You weren’t sure if he could feel you looking at him, but he subtly turned his head in your direction and arched one of his thick brows while his smirk stretched further across his lips to display his dimples. Meanwhile, Steven was glaring across the room at you in a concoction of betrayal and resentment.

“Do you really have no self respect that you’d whore yourself out for your bodyguard? What, you let him and Russo take turns? You gonna slut yourself out to Murdock, next?”

For some reason that comment set you off. Any feelings of embarrassment you might have felt that Frank just revealed to everyone in that room that the two of you were fucking suddenly flew out the window. Finally letting go of Matthew’s arm, he removed his hand from your hip when you stepped forward towards the table. 

“That’s not really any of your business, but if you’re lacking entertainment in here, feel free to picture me sharing a bed with all three of them tonight when you’re sleeping in your cell.”

The bold confidence you spoke with surprised you and everyone else in that room. A dusty layer of pink instantly covered Matthew’s cheeks, and he quickly cleared his throat while trying to hide the playful smile that threatened to take over his entire mouth. Frank was clearly caught off guard by your response, his thick brows lifting considerably up his forehead. When he caught the smile on Matthew’s lips however, he rose to his full height and squared his shoulders, tapering his gaze in Matthew’s direction with a deep scowl. Steven looked completely dumbfounded and horrified, and that filled you with an intense feeling of satisfaction.

Standing up a little straighter, you crossed your arms over your chest and let out an exasperated sigh.

“If you’re finished throwing your fit, I’d like to take my boyfriend and Matt to lunch. Matt, you don’t have any plans, do you?”

“He does.”

Frank grumbled as he walked around the table to stand next to you, wrapping one of his arms around your waist in a possessive manner, leaving Steven behind to watch the display of affection in clear anguish and disgust. Reaching for his folded cane on the table, Matthew’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip before his mouth stretched into a satisfied grin.

“I can spare an hour for good company.”

Frank glowered at Matthew as he unfolded his cane and walked towards the door, knocking twice against it to signal for the guard to open it. You couldn’t help but laugh at the look on his face, and you leaned up to press a gentle kiss to his jaw, which immediately softened his hardened features.

“Come on, big guy. Let me treat you to some Italian.”

“I’d rather take you to the parkin’ lot and treat you to somethin’ else.”

Frank reached down and grabbed a large handful of your ass, speaking loudly enough for Steven to hear. A noise of surprise left your lips at the sudden gesture, and you laughed while looking up at him with widened eyes.

“Frank!”

A boyish grin split across Frank’s lips as he snickered, wrapping his arm around your waist to guide you towards the open door. Neither of you spared so much as a final glance back in Steven’s direction.

Once you were out in the hallway, Frank gently grabbed your arm to pull you aside while Matt walked ahead. He cocked his head to the side while looking down at you with a pensive look melting in his warm brown eyes.

“Boyfriend, huh?”

The question made your confidence falter slightly, but you tried not to let it show. Instead, you crossed your arms over your chest in a defensive manner and arched one of your brows in a silent challenge.

“Did you want to be demoted back to bodyguard?”

“Hell no.”

Frank almost looked offended by the question, and it caused an amused laugh to quickly escape your mouth. Reaching out to cradle your face in both of his large hands, Frank leaned in and planted a soft kiss on your lips that nearly took your breath away. When he reluctantly pulled away, his thumbs were delicately brushing over your cheekbones.

“You know I always will be though, right?”

“Always be what?”

“Your bodyguard.”

A content smile covered your lips as you nodded, staring up into his eyes lovingly.

“I can live with that.”

Frank tore his gaze away from you for a moment. When he looked to his left, a furrow formed between his thick brows and a faint pout pursed on his soft lips.

“Does he have to come?”

You didn’t have to turn around to know who he was talking about. Rolling your eyes playfully, you gave him a pointed look.

“Frank.”

Letting out a grunt, he reached down to take one of your hands, lacing your fingers together.

“Fine. But if he gets handsy with you again, I’m gonna throw his ass in the Hudson.”

A look of shock crossed your features at that, and when he began to tug you towards the exit, you smacked your hand against his chest.

“Frank!”

Without missing a beat, Matt quickly retorted over his shoulder.

“I can swim, Frank.”

“Yeah? See how good you do with cinder blocks chained to your ankles.”

“You’d try to drown a blind man?”

“Don’t start your shit, Red.”

»»———　　———««

Matt and Frank argued like an old married couple, and it was extremely entertaining to witness. The only friend you had ever seen Frank interact with was Billy, and their dynamic was far different than his was with Matt. It was intriguing to watch them go back and forth with one another so effortlessly. Matt had a naturally sharp wit, one that Steven had been no match for, but Frank easily kept up with him. It made you wonder how long they had known each other.

“Ain’t you got somewhere else to be other than here bustin’ my balls?”

“Nope.”

“Bullshit. I heard you swear at least four times earlier. Ain’t that grounds for confession, altar boy?”

“It’s Wednesday, not Sunday. But while we’re on the topic of confession-”

“Ah, kiss my ass.”

A laugh erupted from your mouth at the way Frank waved his hand dismissively in Matt’s direction, leaning back in his seat while turning his head to glance out the window he was sitting next to. The spot the three of you had come to for lunch was a cozy little family owned Italian place that made the best pizza in all of New York, in your humble opinion. 

Looking across the table at Matt curiously, you tilted your head to the side with a soft smile.

“Are you Catholic?”

That signature charming grin stretched over his lips as he gave a nod of his head.

“Guilt and all.”

Before you could speak again, a thought unexpectedly popped into your head. When Frank was teaching you how to shoot a few weeks ago, he had joked that he knew a blind man that had better aim than you, only he hadn’t been joking. He hadn’t said anything else about the mysterious blind man with good aim other than that he was Catholic. Your brain was slowly putting two and two together, and you suddenly realized Frank had been talking about Matt.

Your eyes immediately lit up with excitement and your lips subsequently stretched into an enraptured grin. When you’d asked Frank how a blind man had such good aim, he’d told you to ask him yourself, which was exactly what you were about to do.

“So, I hear you have good aim.”

Matt nearly choked on his drink, covering his mouth with his palm and coughing while he set his glass of water down. His thick brows shot up above the rim of his glasses when he attempted to compose himself.

“I’m sorry?”

“Frank was teaching me how to shoot recently, and he said he knew a blind guy with better aim than me. I’m assuming that’s you. I asked him how you did it, and he said to ask you myself. So, tell me, Matthew. How does a blind man have such good aim?”

While you leaned forward earnestly and rested your chin on the knuckles of your clasped hands, Matt subtly tilted his head in Frank’s direction, a faint look of annoyance on his face. Beside you, Frank was snickering, lifting another slice of pizza to his mouth, his eyes glimmering with mirth.

“Yeah Red, explain it to us.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re the Devil.”

Matt’s full lips pursed into a firm line as he focused his attention in Frank’s direction. He seemed completely unamused by Frank’s comment. Turning your head to look at Frank, you noticed he was giving Matt a knowing look which had confusion settling between your brows as you glanced back at Matt.

“Am I missing something?”

“I’m afraid Frank has overexaggerated. I don’t use guns-”

“Because you’re Catholic?”

Frank busted out laughing at your innocent question, and you could see Matt’s glare of irritation even behind the deep crimson lenses of his glasses. 

“Because I don’t believe in them, and also because I’m blind. Frank, what the hell did you tell her, exactly?”

Frank lightly shrugged his broad shoulders as he took another large bite of the slice of pizza in his hand, looking over at Matt with a pleased smirk.

“That you’re a really good lawyer.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

[drunk-person]

Study Session

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x classmate!reader

Summary: Aemond is assigned to a college work with Y/n, an absent-minded art student who doesn't give a damn about philosophy. Things don't go well since she doesn't help him at all, until the two come to an unorthodox agreement that ends the impasse.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! secret crush, semi-nudity, voyeurism, breast fetish, exchange of academic favors for "sex", modern au, no description for reader.

Word cont: 3.200k

Author's note: This just came to my mind while doing some really boring work and I ended up writing it. The Rosby house is close to Kings Landing so I chose this surname for the reader, I hope you like it.

Dedicated to the poor readers of The Gossip who read chapter 7 and are in need of some comfort for their souls after all that mess hahaha I love you all! English is not my first language 💕💕🥰

Y/n was so frustrated. That class was absolutely hellish and if it wasn't mandatory in her schedule she would certainly never even pass in front of the door. The only reasonable side to all of this was the fact that Aemond Targaryen sat in front of her during this unbearable class. He could be as arrogant as he wanted if he continued to be so hot.

The girl bit her lip as she stared at the back of his pale neck that was exposed to her eyes since his long silver hair was tied in a bun due to the heat wave. The two had never exchanged more than a few words, but Y/n couldn't help it, he was too handsome and intelligent for his own good.

She didn't know how he could understand that subject and answer all the questions the teacher asked as if they were obvious to him. Y/n did her best to hide her crush, but whenever no one was looking she couldn't help but sigh lightly as she looked at him.

She was barely in the same reality as the rest of the class when she heard her name being called harshly by the professor, pulling her out of her deep thoughts and back to real life.

-I'm sorry, professor, I was distracted. - She looked down, blushing when she realized that the whole class was looking at her while letting out light giggles.

-Which seems to be a very common occurrence with you, doesn't it? - The man spoke in an irritated voice and Y/n felt her face heat up even more.

-If you're interested in knowing, Miss Rosby, we're holding a draw for pairs of work for the semester. - The professor was still looking at Y/n as he spoke and reaching into the jar, he pulled out a new piece of paper.

-Aemond Targaryen.

Y/n felt her heart stop momentarily when she heard that name. Would her semester partner be Aemond Targaryen? The gods must have wanted to play with her.

-Good luck, Mr Targaryen, you will need it. - The man said, making the whole class laugh, except for Aemond, who, without Y/n noticing, glared at the teacher when he heard the mean joke.

After the class ended, the room gradually emptied, while the few remaining students put their books and notebooks in their backpacks. Aemond finished writing some notes in his notebook under the watchful eye of Y/n, who was anxiously waiting to talk to him.

And when he turned towards her with that serious look and that sculpted face, Y/n smiled and pretended to be disinterested.

-I don't understand half of what that man says. - She shrugged, staring at him while Aemond frowned. - I hope it won't be a problem for you to be my partner.

-Maybe you would understand if you spent more time paying attention in class and less time drawing. - Aemond rolled his good eye, putting away his own books while Y/n felt her belly heat up.

How did he know she was drawing in class if he had his back to her the whole time?

-I don't like studying boring things that guys who died centuries ago said and that don't make any sense.

-But do you like studying works that boring guys who died centuries ago painted and that don't make any sense? - He raised his eyebrows ironically, looking at her and Y/n's mouth slightly opened, not knowing what to say.

-That… That's not the point.

-Mmmm… if you say so. - The irony was poignant in his voice and expression and Y/n slightly narrowed her eyes, feeling the urge to argue more without knowing what to answer.

-They… They're not meaningless! - She snorted in annoyance and Aemond just let out a nasal laugh while raising his eyebrows.

-Most of them are just a bunch of meaningless scribbles. - He rolled his eyes, putting his backpack on his back.

-The name is surrealism, and perhaps underdeveloped minds don't understand it very well! - Y/n lifted her chin, pulled her own bag onto her shoulder and pressed the sketchbook against her chest, leaving before Aemond, leaving him with a mischievous smile on his lips as he watched her leave.

Y/n rolled her eyes, irritated with herself as she walked towards the open courtyard of the college, sitting at a stone table and throwing her bag on it, seriously considering diverting her idiotic crush on Aemond Targaryen to another guy.

Unfortunately for her, at the same moment the thought crossed her mind, his soft voice called her from behind and the hairs on the back of the girl's neck stood on end at the same moment, making her snort.

-We need to decide where and when we're going to meet to start the work. - He murmured and Y/n turned to look at him, snorting when she saw that he looked even more attractive with the sunlight shining through his silver hair.

In the natural light, the prosthetic eye was more visible than indoors, as was the thin scar that ran from the eye to the forehead and cheek. Y/n didn't give a shit, she just thought he looked even hotter if that was possible.

-Rosby? - Aemond called her, his voice miles away from taking her out of her self-imposed trance.

-I'm sorry, I got a bit distracted. - She shook her head, trying to focus on the conversation, and Aemond turned his face to the side, smiling discreetly at the action. - What did you say?

-We'll meet to start work.

-Oh, yes, yes. - She nodded thoughtfully. - How about the library?

-I don't study in the library, there are always idiots who go there to make a mess and interfere with concentration. - Aemond rolled his eyes with a frown, making her rack her brain to remember if she had ever messed up in the library.

-Yeah. They're all idiots! - She agreed, rolling her eyes when she came to the conclusion that she hadn't done anything wrong in the college library.

-We can go to my dorm. - Y/n shrugged, trying to be casual. - But my roommate is always there and never turns off the TV.

-Don't you have your own room? - He looked at her confused and Y/n laughed.

-Not all of us can own the campus. - She grimaced and Aemond rolled his eyes.

-Your family has money too.

-Having money is different from being a filthy rich Targaryen. - She grumbled as she gestured lightly with her hands, arching her eyebrows, and Aemond didn't contest her.

-Whatever, let's meet in my dorm, it's empty there and no one will disturb us.

Y/n nodded, subtly biting her lower lip at the idea that she would go to Aemond's room.

-Where is it? - She came back to reality, remembering to ask, and asking her for a pen, Aemond wrote down the number and the floor on the last page of the sketchbook that was on the table.

-See you on Friday. - He murmured, turning around and leaving her as soon as he finished writing, making her sigh once more at hearing that voice so close to her.

♤♡

Y/n did her best to look beautiful in the most disinterested way possible. Just a gray blouse with black denim shorts and a thin black coat on top, her hair tied with a simple clip and just a bit of lipstick. It was almost how she looked every day, except for the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, but with the coat on top he probably wouldn't even notice that fact.

Apart from the fact that when she got there she discovered that they were fixing the cooling system in Aemond's building and now she was without the coat and wearing only the thin blouse, attracting Aemond's discreet glance at her from time to time.

The two spread their materials across the table in the living room connected to the bedroom and sat on the floor to study. Unfortunately, Aemond was having more trouble concentrating in his own room than in the library, with the sight of Y/n in that blouse in front of him, scribbling drawings on her philosophy book while pretending to read something.

When he finally managed to read a few words, he could hear her melodious laughter from the other side of the table.

-What is it? - He murmured almost in a growl making her become serious.

-It's just that I'm watching and I think my shared dorm room would fit inside yours.- She shrugged and Aemond rolled his eyes without giving a verbal response.

Minutes later, when he went back to reading focused and taking some important notes, her voice rang out once again, distracting him.

-I'm so lazy. - Y/n threw herself onto the philosophy books open on the coffee table in Aemond's dorm room, and he slightly arched his eyebrows.

-You haven't done anything so far. - He grumbled as he took note of an important quote that he would probably use in the future during the work.

-Because this subject is totally boring. - The girl mumbled with her head still lying on the books but now with her face turned towards Aemond looking at him while slowly blinking her eyes feeling a little sleepy. Until now, nothing interesting had happened outside of her imagination.

-Boredom or not, I think it's better to start working on your part, because there's no way I'm going to give you credit for something you didn't do. - Aemond looked at her very seriously while Y/n sulked, crossing her arms under her breasts, slightly drawing the older man's attention there again.

-Are you always this boring, Targaryen? - Y/n snorted, making one of the loose strands of hair fly out of her pretty face.

-This isn't boring, this is justice. - His eyes were still discreetly fixed on the subtle neckline of the gray blouse that Y/n was wearing, except that now she noticed it, feeling her stomach tingle with the idea that Aemond Targaryen was looking at her.

-Talking about justice and being a total pervert. - She slightly pressed her eyes to him while tightening her arms under her breasts, making them more prominent, making Aemond cough with a subtle choke, looking away.

-Mmmm, I wasn't looking at your breasts. - He grunted looking in another direction.

-Ah, you certainly were. - She arched her eyebrows laughing. - If you want to know, women always know when you're looking.

-What's that? A weird sixth sense? - Aemond raised his eyebrows in disbelief, still a little embarrassed for having been caught.

-Something like that. - Y/n shrugged with a slight grimace, but then an idea popped into her head making her subtly bite her lower lip, staring at him as she gathered her courage.

-How about we make a deal? - Y/n was still biting her lower lip without believing she was actually going to say that to him.

-What kind of deal? - Aemond tilted his forehead, confused but interested, while his eyes inadvertently fell once again on her breasts.

-I'll let you be a perv and look at my boobs, and you do my part in this stupid job. - She suggested, slowly poking the hem of her own thin blouse under the attentive gaze of Aemond, who felt his own mouth drying up.

-Mmmm. - He mocked her with an ironic smile. - No deal. This work is almost 30 pages long, I want to at least be able to touch them.

-What? - She narrowed her eyes slightly while arching her right eyebrow now, not believing what he was saying.

-That's right, and you'll be topless while i writing the work. It's that or nothing. - He smiled maliciously as he arched his eyebrows, waiting for her answer, being almost certain that she would give up on the idea.

-Gods, you're more perv than I thought. - She grumbled, staring at him with a frown as she tried to process the fact that Aemond Targaryen really had asked to touch her boobs.

-Do we have a deal? - Aemond asked, still with a dirty smile on his face, and Y/n rolled her eyes at him, mumbling something to herself, unable to call him an idiot since she had given him the idea.

-We have a deal. - She spoke firmly, feeling soft shivers down her thighs as she said this, making Aemond subtly widen his eyes in shock at her accepting. - But… I don't want to read a single sentence about this subject, I don't want to know about these idiot philosophers and much less about their silly theories.

-These aren't silly theories… - Aemond rolled his eyes condescendingly at the girl's lack of understanding on such an important subject, it almost affected the crush he had on her… almost.

-Ah. - She cut him off instantly. - I don't want to know. Deal?

-Deal. - He grimaced in slight disgust, if she weren't so hot it wouldn't be worth all the effort, Aemond thought rolling his eyes.

With a sigh Y/n pulled the gray blouse of thin fabric over her head leaving her bare breasts exposed to Aemond's hungry and raw gaze that made her skin crawl almost instantly.

The moment she took off her blouse, Aemond took away his previous thought. She was certainly worth the effort and he would definitely do a thousand jobs like that just to take a look at those breasts.

Feeling confident under his gaze Y/n sat on the two-seater sofa and once again crossed her arms under her now bare breasts while looking at him with one of her eyebrows raised.

Taking a deep breath, Aemond sat down next to her, staring at that beautiful pair of breasts that he could say for sure were the most beautiful he had ever laid eyes on in his life.

-Can I? - He reached out his hands to her breasts, but stopped just before touching them, wanting her to be one hundred percent sure of what she was doing. And when the girl nodded positively while biting her lower lip and subtly pressing her legs together, he touched his palms, feeling her soft breasts and almost moaning at the soft sensation.

Little by little he moved his hands while looking at her with a very serious look, and with the tips of his thin fingers he began to massage her erect nipples with increasing dedication, observing the responses her body gave him. Every soft tremor, every subtle gasp, every press and rub of her thighs against each other.

-They're perfect. - He praised softly as he stimulated them, eliciting a soft moan from Y/n who bent down even more offering her own breasts to Aemond.

She was lost in his touches, so gentle yet so demanding. No one had ever given her so much pleasure just by touching her breasts, and Y/n wanted to moan with pleasure but was holding herself back so as not to seem so given. She pressed her eyes tightly, feeling the shocks of pleasure running through her body and going straight down to her completely soaked pussy.

Suddenly, with her eyes still closed, Y/n felt Aemond's warm breath close to her skin, and opened her eyes at the same moment, looking at him.

-What are you doing? - She gasped, looking directly into that blue eye that had left her fascinated since the first time she saw it and that now looking so closely she thought it contained some violet reflections.

-I said I wanted to touch, you didn't specify just using of hands. - He murmured dirtyly, lowering his mouth over Y/n's breasts and sucking deeply on her excited nipple, which curved her back against the couch, finally moaning loudly in pure contentment.

-Oh Aemond please more. - She whimpered, writhing and pressing her thighs together. - So good... so good.

From that moment on, it was impossible for her to contain her own moans, his mouth felt so incredible against her already sensitive nipples. With each suction she trembled and tightened her thighs while gripping the sofa tightly, almost digging her nails into the upholstery.

-By the gods, you have the tastiest tits I've ever tasted in my life. - Aemond moaned between the hungry sucks and firm, desperate caresses, sending a new wave of pleasure over her as she heard those words. And without control over her own body, Y/n put her hands in Aemond's hair, tangling her fingers there and holding her head against herself as she moaned his name in despair.

Her pulling on his hair did something almost wild to Aemond, he usually didn't like it when people pulled his hair, but at that moment… Fuck, it really felt good. And when she started moaning his name in a completely lacking way while rubbing her pussy on the couch like a desperate bitch in heat, he felt himself on the edge.

While he sucked and licked her left nipple, caressing the right one with his hand, drawing waves and waves of pleasure from her, he guided his vacant hand inside the gray sweatpants he was wearing and finally paid attention to his cock, which was leaking and making a mess against the fabric of his boxers.

He violently fucked his cock against the left hand while still inside his pants while inevitably moaning against Y/n's nipple, making her rub even harder against the sofa.

-Aemond. - Came Y/n's broken voice in a moan that was almost a whimper as she shuddered without control over her own body, writhing on the couch, feeling the unbridled pleasure of the orgasm taking over her.

And hearing her beg for his name as she writhed in the midst of orgasm, Aemond reached his own peak of pleasure, spurting against his own hand in thick, strong jets, moaning with contentment against Y/n's sensitive, reddened nipples.

The two remained motionless for a few moments, just trying to regain their senses completely taken over by the debilitating pleasure. Y/n's mind went completely blank as she laid her head on the back of the sofa, still panting, completely shocked since she had never cum just by stimulating her nipples. And Aemond, in turn, tried to regain his composure with his head still buried between his classmate's delicious breasts.

And when he finally raised his head, he couldn't resist the temptation to suck her nipple once more, making her gasp with overstimulation.

-Oh, Aemond. - She sighed complainingly, lightly pushing his head away with the palm of her right hand. - They're sensitive.

-Mmmm. - He murmured caressing her naked waist. -I could suck your tits for hours if you let me.

-I could let you. - She gasped, pretending to be uncertain about the subject even though she was still sensitive to his touch, feeling the inside of her thighs tingling amid the scandalous moisture in her panties.

-Well, it's 30 pages. - He shrugged, moving his caresses up and down her waist. - And as far as I know, the pairs that Hayford assigned are until the end of the semester.

-We'll have plenty of time. - He kissed her nipple once more, making her sigh.

[simplyraeblue]

hunter and hunted (jjk)

college (summer) break au: a fic in which y/n is pining over Yuji's older brother Sukuna, while unbeknownst to her, Choso is doing the same thing for her. contents: sukuna x reader, choso x reader, modern college AU, yuji and choso are brothers, sukuna and yuji are brothers, smut warning, fem reader

chapter warning/tags: choso confesses his feelings, lil bit of angst, mention of sex, mentions of prior trauma, suggestive themes, I have subconsciously picked a side, oops I don’t know when this will end A/N: little later than I intened to post, but here it is! I hope you all enjoy, I'll be diving deeper into choso x reader with more slight sukuna x reader in the background (one sided on his part). I'm currently over 2,000 miles away from home visiting my boyfriend so I'm not sure if an update will come this week or not, we shall see! (｡- .•)

index part nine | part eleven

part ten word count: 3,446

the next morning, a surprising calm settled over the cabin: Sukuna was gone. Yuji gathered everyone together, sharing the news that Sukuna had packed up and slipped away early, leaving only a brief text for his brother: a simple “see you at home”. you felt a twing of guilt, but it was overshadowed by the sense of relief that washed over you. 

Without Sukuna’s chaotic energy looming, the last day at the cabin unfolded exactly as you had hoped. more hiking, more fun, and more drinking around the campfire.

as the day came to a close, a bittersweet feeling settled in. you didn’t want it to end; the thought of returning home meant facing Sukuna again, and it also marked the approach of summer’s end. after a long, well-deserved hot shower, you tackled the last of your packing. finally, you slipped into bed, cozying up with a book while soft lofi music played in the background – Choso had rubbed off on you. 

just as you were getting lost in your story, a gentle knock interrupted your peace. you placed your bookmark and got up to answer the door. when you opened it, Choso stood there, dressed in gray sweatpants and an oversized black tee. his dark hair was half tied back, the rest falling messily around his neck. 

“can I come in?” he asked softly, and you nodded, stepping aside to let him in.

“what’s up? can’t sleep?” concern creased your brow as you studied him – it was unusual for him to seek you out like this.

“something like that.” he replied, offering a lopsided smile that made you feel a little lighter.

“well, come in and hang out then.” you motioned for him to sit on the bed, the comforting scent of his cologne wrapping around you as he passed. “I can’t sleep either. I’m not sure I want to go back tomorrow.”

“wanting to stay away from Sukuna a little longer, I assume?” he asked, settling into a comfortable spot. you nodded, and he chuckled softly. “can’t say I disagree with you there.”

you settled back onto the bed, the atmosphere in the room shifting slightly as the two of you exchanged glances. an unspoken tension hung in the air, a mix of comfort and something deeper that neither of you dared to acknowledge. 

Choso leaned back on his hands, his eyes wandering to the window, where rays of moonlight peeked through the blinds. “it’s been nice here, hasn’t it.” he said, his voice almost reflective. “I wish we could just stay forever.” 

“yeah, it really has been.” you smiled, heart fluttering at the thought of the moments you’ve spent with everyone. “no worries, no responsibilities… just us.”

he turned to look at you, his expression earnest. “you know, I think you’ve made this trip a lot more fun.”

your cheeks warmed at his words, and you shrugged playfully, trying to keep the mood light. “you call punching Sukuna in my favor fun?” the corners of your mouth curled into a teasing smile, but underneath, a flicker of tension lingered.

the air thickened with unspoken thoughts, and you both shifted slightly, a moment of hesitation hanging between you. Choso broke the silence, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I don’t want to push you to talk about it – but do you know why he was saying those things?”

you wished you could tell him everything – the truth behind Sukuna’s words, the confusion and hurt that tangled inside you. but while you were staying in their house, sharing their space, the words stuck in your throat.

“ah, you know how he can be.” you replied nonchalantly, trying to brush it off. “always trying to get under someone’s skin.”

Choso’s brows furrowed slightly, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race. “I just can’t seem to figure out why he seemed to be targeting you all weekend.” his eyes roamed your face, searching for any hint of the emotions swirling beneath the surface. he wasn’t blind; he felt the shift in dynamics, but the reasons escaped him.

you let out a nervous chuckle, the sound shaky as you tried to swallow the feelings building up inside. “maybe he’s jealous that I’m hanging out with you more than him.” you joked, but it was a half-truth. lately, you had found yourself gravitating towards Choso in a way that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

Choso hummed in agreement, a knowing look in his eyes. “he did seem annoyed that you and I were together.”

“I don’t know why, but we’ll never be able to figure out his thoughts.” you shrugged, but as Choso glanced at you, a mixture of surprise and amusement flickered across his face. “what? did I say something funny?”

suddenly Choso burst out laughing, his cheeks tinged with pink as his head fell back. “y’know, I thought you might’ve noticed and just never said a word – but now I know you really haven’t realized.”

embarrassment crept over you like a warm tide. “realized what?” you asked, your mind racing to piece together some hidden meaning behind his laughter.

Choso’s laughter faded, replaced by a serious expression as he reached for your hand. his skin was warm against your palm, maybe even slightly clammy with nerves, as he held your hand gently in his. your heart started to pound in your chest – were you even really breathing at this point?

“man, even Yuji had realized. I’ll have to tell him he beat you to it.”

“what are you talking about?” your voice came out as a whisper, tinged with confusion as you tried to calm your breathing.

“why do you think I don’t seem to leave your side?” Choso asked softly, one of his fingers brushing your knuckles gently, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

the weight of his words hung in the air, each syllable loaded with meaning. your heart raced, and for a moment, the world outside faded into a blur. you could see it now, the way his eyes lingered on you, the way he seemed to draw strength from your presence.

“Choso…” you breathed, caught between hope and fear, your heart yearning for something you both seemed to want but were too afraid to voice. 

 “do you really not see it?” he asked, his tone soft but insistent. “I mean, I thought it was obvious.” he squeezed your hand gently, his thumb brushing over your knuckles with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. 

you felt a flutter in your stomach. “see what, exactly?” you managed, your pulse quickening.

Choso took a breath, his eyes steady as he searched yours. “how we – I mean, how I feel about you.” the confession hung between you, heavy with meaning, and the realization struck you like lightning. 

memories came rushing back, little moments you shared with him that should have set off some sort of alarm. he had a crush on you. but for how long? 

your heart raced as you processed his words, a wave of warmth spreading through you. “you… you like me?” you stammered, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze.

“yeah.” he replied, a shy smile breaking across his face. “I’ve liked you for a while now. it’s just… easier to be around you. you make everything feel lighter.”

you felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks. “I had no idea.” you admitted, your voice shaky yet filled with wonder. he liked you… he really liked you? 

Choso looked thoughtful for a moment, his fingers still entwined with yours, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through you. “well, I never really had much of a chance to show you how I felt. between you attached at the hip with Yuji and your long-term crush on Sukuna, it never felt right.”

you groaned in annoyance, rolling your eyes, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “ugh, don’t remind me. that’s done and over with, in the past.” the mere mention of Sukuna brought back memories you’d rather forget, and you felt a wave of frustration wash over you.

Choso shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting away for a brief moment before returning to yours, a mix of shyness and determination flickering in his gaze. he desperately wanted to ask what had changed, but he held back. now wasn’t the time to dig into the shadows of your past; he was finally getting you to open up, to see what had been right in front of you all along, and he didn’t want to jeopardize that. 

“I hate to ask, but do you… do you maybe feel the same way?” his voice was barely above a whisper, almost timid as if he feared the answer.

your thoughts spun, pulled from the depths of uncertainty back to the warmth radiating from him. you looked at him, seeing the vulnerability in his eyes, almost pleading with you to let him down gently if you needed to.

“to be honest… yes. maybe.” you bit your lip, searching for the right words. “I feel something, I know that much. I guess I haven’t allowed myself to think on it. I mean, I’m living with you and your brother, who also happens to be my best friend.”

the reminder of Sukuna weighed heavily on your thoughts, already tainting the idea of “best friend’s brother”.

taking a deep breath, you watched as hurt flickered across Choso’s face, and a pang of regret tugged at your heart. “but, I’m willing to think about it. is that okay?”

a spark of hope ignited within Choso, and a tentative smile broke through his shyness, lighting up his features. “of course, take all the time you need.” his voice was soft but firm, as if he wanted to reassure you that there was no pressure.

“just know that I don’t want you to wait for me.” you continued, nudging your shoulder playfully against his. “I’m sure there are plenty of women out there vying for your attention.

Choso’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink, and he shifted, his gaze dropping to the ground for a moment before he met your eyes again. “none that compare to you.” his words were simple, yet caused a flutter in your stomach. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

just like last time, you were nestled in the backseat between Yuji and Choso for the drive home. and as promised Choso passed his earbuds over to you, smiling warmly when you offered him one to share. 

since your conversation last night, you’d been watching him carefully, taking notice of his actions that used to seem so normal and now showed his true feelings. you’d have to corner Yuji and interrogate him when you got home. but it was nice – the feeling you got around Choso. 

Sukuna hadn’t ever really pursued you, not like this, and everything had mostly felt one-sided until that fateful night. 

you had a lot of thinking to do; you’d pursued one brother already, what kind of person would you be if you went after the other? then again, no one knew about what had happened between you and Sukuna, so only you would have to answer to yourself. 

besides, you knew Choso was different from his not-really-brother.  

you fell asleep on Choso shoulder on the drive home again, this time not worried about any awkwardness that might arise when you woke up. his presence comforted you, along with the lofi he’d recommended for the ride. because of him, you hadn’t thought about what might happen when you made it home.

but you should’ve known better. not all peace can last.

you were mortified – no scarred – to be the first one in the door of the house to find Sukuna and another woman… fornicating… on the couch in the living room. Yuji and Choso bumped into your back, almost protesting your sudden stop until they too saw what you were witnessing.

Yuji grabbed your hand, yanking you back outside and slamming the door behind him to alert Sukuna of your presence. 

“did you not tell him we were on the way back?” Choso demanded of Yuji, his face contorted in with annoyance.

“I swear I did! I even gave him out eta!” Yuji exclaimed with bright red cheeks. you could only stand, frozen, staring at the wooden door in front of you as if you could still see what was going on behind it. Yuji’s hands came down on your shoulders, concern crossing his features. “are you okay? jesus, I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I think I might throw up.” Choso groaned and rubbed his face. 

before you could respond to Yuji, the front door opened again, revealing Sukuna with at least his pants now on. he didn’t show any remorse, or embarrassment, as he merely smiled directly at you and ignored the other two. 

“didn’t hear you come in.” Sukuna told you, his smirk causing you to grit your teeth in frustration. “or, didn’t really care is more accurate.”

“you couldn’t have warned us?” Yuji questioned.

Sukuna ignored Yuji, stepping down one stair to get closer to you. “did ya like what ya saw?” you felt Choso’s body still next to you, probably fighting the urge to punch him again.

with the confession you’d received from Choso last night, you felt a surge of sudden confidence course through you. you wanted to wipe that smug look off of Sukuna’s face. “not really, it was kind of small.” you managed to bite out.

you might not have held it together, had Yuji not burst into laughter at your words. Choso felt an extreme sense of pride in you as he heard your old self resurface to take Sukuna down a peg. but Sukuna, however, only felt frustrated, maybe hurt, and surprisingly embarrassed.

the eldest brother merely tsked at you, turning on his heel to retreat into the house. Yuji and Choso both congratulated you for handling yourself, but you only felt hot all over – you knew you’d lied, Sukuna knew it, so why didn’t he push back? 

the three of you waited outside for a bit longer, only entering when you deemed it safe. there was no sign of the white-haired woman from earlier, and you assumed that Sukuna had taken her upstairs to his bedroom. 

you had always known Sukuna to be a bit of a player… so why did you now feel sick to your stomach at the thought of him with another woman?

throughout the afternoon and well into the night, your mind was a relentless whirlwind, circling back to that infuriating smirk he wore when you caught him in the act. why was it bugging you so damn much?

after Choso and Yuji had gone to bed, you quietly slipped into the kitchen, seeking solace in a pint of double fudge ice cream. you had nearly devoured half a pint when you heard the unmistakable sound of a door creaking open and shutting upstairs, followed by heavy footsteps descending. 

“eating your feelings, huh?” Sukuna’s voice broke through the stillness as he rounded the corner, catching sight of you in your pajamas, chocolate smudged all over your mouth.

you swallowed the mouthful you had just taken, frantically wiping at the mess with a napkin. “I don’t have feelings to eat away, actually. are you projecting your issues onto me, Sukuna.” you were taken aback by your own defiance; it felt strange to stand your ground against him again.

he chuckled, plucking a spoon from the drawer before leaning over and stealing a bite of your ice cream. you shot him a glare, surprised by his audacity. did he really think things could back to how they once were?

“nope. just ran out of stamina earlier and needed a boost.” there it was again – his infuriatingly arrogant demeanor, as if he thrived on getting under your skin.

“what, did your girlfriend leave already?” you shot back, attempting to keep your voice steady.

Sukuna paused, holding up his index finger as if to half the insults swirling in your mind. “first, she’s not a girlfriend. probably won’t see her again. second, she left while you were hiding in your room.”

the thought struck you like a lightning bolt: did you hurt her the way you hurt me?

it wasn’t until you caught the stunned expression on Sukuna’s face that you realized the words had slipped out before you could reign them in. the shock in his wide eyes mirrored the warmth creeping up your cheeks. there was no taking it back now. with the house quiet and your heart racing, a surge of courage rose within you, pushing you to confront the truth.

“did you hurt her the way you hurt me? did you leave bruises, bleeding bite marks, everything that you made me deal with after you kicked me out?” oh god, it was word vomiting out of you at this point – everything you’d held back, shoved so deep into your soul and fought to conceal surfaced in a fit of rage you could no longer contain.

you pressed on, your voice rising slightly. “did you toss a towel at her and tell her to leave too? did you show her any sign of care or emotion, or was I the only one denied that kindness?”

“Now wait a minute-”

“did you ever ask what she wanted?” you shouted, fists clenched at your side, the ice cream forgotten as it topped off the counter and began to drip and melt into a puddle. the mess mirrored your internal chaos, but you were too consumed by anger to care.

Sukuna only stared. that was all he could do, and it pissed you off more than if he’d said something else. his eyes were wide – you assumed from surprise that you were fighting back. 

unbeknownst to you, you were wrong. that glimmer of surprise you saw was Sukuna trying to replay that night, searching his memories for what he’d done wrong. had you not enjoyed it? had he not… done it right? done right by you? 

as he finally opened his mouth to say something, you held up your hand to stop him. “y’know, I don’t really want to hear it. you’ve been an ass ever since then; I almost gave you the benefit of the doubt, but you fell off the face of the earth around me. I’m going to bed – finish that ice cream if you want.”

you stomped off to your room, leaving a stunned Sukuna standing frozen in the kitchen, his brain fighting to comprehend the words you’d just hurled at him. it wasn’t until your door had slammed shut that he snapped out of it. he shook his head, trying to recollect himself before going back to his room, deserting the mess of ice cream on the counter. 

he’d only done what others had enjoyed in the past. in the moment, he thought you enjoyed it too. was he supposed to do something different? is that why you’ve been so angry with him? he’d chalked it up to you wanting to put on a front in the eyes of everyone else, but this past weekend had proven him wrong.

when he had seen how comfortably you leaned into Choso, how you seemed to pull away in favor of the younger brother, it had struck a nerve deep within Sukuna. it felt like a dagger twisting in his chest, and the realization that you might have tossed his aside sent a surge of jealousy through him. 

that’s why he had exploded in anger this weekend, lashing out with hurtful words that hung in the air like smoke. he couldn’t shake the feeling that you had chosen someone else over him.

as his thoughts spiraled into chaos, he climbed the stairs, each step heavy with conflicting emotions. reaching the top, he found the other half of the problem standing in the doorway opposite of his. when Sukuna’s eyes locked with Choso’s, he was met with a look of darkness, an unsettling mix of disappointment and anger that spoke volumes without a word.

“so, you heard all that, huh?” Sukuna managed to say, his voice barely a whisper, the pain evident in each syllable. it was a simple question, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid.

in response, Choso simply slammed his door, the force reverberating through the hallway and rattling the walls.

down in your room, completely unaware of the storm brewing above, you assumed it was Sukuna who had slammed his door in frustration. little did you know, the tension had escalated to a point where your carefully guarded secret was on the brink of being blown wide open.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . taglist: @nighttwingg @sweetsformysoul @casualpoetrytaco @lvingd3adg0rl @haikomaiko @csolya @deathlypink @sad-darksoul @elisedylandy @jinxiewritings @aldebrana @ravester @futuristiccurlyhair @san-it-is-i-guess @marie-is-in-the-dark I hope I got everyone, and I hope the tagging worked for all of you! thank you so much for liking this enough to be tagged, it means the world to me! xoxo if you'd like to be added to the taglist let me know! ♡ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ .

[venusdandy]

God's Rival [Part 2]

[Hazbin Hotel x GN!Reader] [Platonic]

Story Summary: The Demiurge is what they decided to call you. You aren't human, angel, or demon. You're something else entirely—an enigma in each realm. The only being who had ever shown you kindness was the fallen angel Lucifer since he freed you from Heaven's prison by offering Eve the apple from your tree. You promised him a fruitful favor in exchange, but he has not asked anything from you. Until now, that is.

Chapter Summary: In the back garden area of the Hazbin Hotel, you're summoned to Hell by Lucifer's and Charlie's combined magic. You finally meet the human souls—your spiritual children, who you sensed were saying your name last evening. You're delighted to be able to aid your dear friend Lucifer in protecting his family and home from Heaven.

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader (they/them pronouns). No use of (y/n). The reader is genderless and AroAce—platonic relationships with the characters only.

A/N: I wanted to let everyone know this story is now on AO3 (VenusDandy)! I also have a tag list here if you'd like to be added.

Part 1 Part 2 (here)

Your eyes are closed as you relax in your hammock and feel the sunlight warm your soul. You're humming a song you heard from your last visit to Earth that's been unable to leave your head. The birds in the trees above you had begun to sing along.

A sudden strong gust of wind nearly knocks you off, but you're quick to grasp the sides of the hammock to help balance. You quietly laugh to yourself as you peek an eye open. One of your creations, a pteranodon, landed a few feet away from you at the lake's edge to eat some fish.

For this reason, you keep the lake closest to your palace filled with life. The amount of happiness you receive when you see your creations eating gives your soul well-needed peace. You love seeing your children happy!

Speaking of your children, you feel that familiar vibration in your soul telling you a human has mentioned your name. A side effect after Eve ate the apple from your tree was that it forever connected your soul to humankind—your spiritual children.

Four deceased humans that have become demons, a fallen angel, and the Princess and King of Hell themselves are discussing you. You feel honored that they are considering asking for your help. You mainly use your energy and time to maintain the mortal realm's chaos and observe alive human souls. You pay less attention once they pass into the afterlife since it is not your domain.

Another chuckle escapes your lips. You have been wondering when Lucifer would cash in the favor you owe him. You were beginning to believe he had forgotten. Although you would prefer to continue staying out of Hell's and Heaven's pissing contest, if Lucifer requests for you to aid him, you have no objections to that. You respect the eldest Morningstar greatly after all he has done for you and humanity.

A content sigh leaves your lips as you go back to humming. You'll indeed be summoned to Hell by Lucifer soon, so you'll use your remaining time in the mortal realm to relax.

.

One last time, Lucifer scrambles around the immense sigil engraved in the dirt of the Hazbin Hotel's abandoned garden. He's pretty sure he's drawn your sigil correctly; he's only ever seen it once when you emerged from the apple tree in Eden, so it's entirely from memory.

"Okay," Lucifer semi-confidently says, "Okay, I think I got it."

Alastor has a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he hums, "Hmm, try walking around it ten more times to make sure."

Lucifer huffs with a glare. "Why are you even here? There's no reason for you to be here right now!"

"Who am I not to greet our guest who will aid us in war?" Alastor says with a twirl of his cane, "As the manager of this Hotel, that is my duty!"

Vaggie quickly stands in front of everyone with her hands on her hips. "Alright, let's go over this again!"

Vaggie points to Angel, "No flirting with the Demiurge!"-then to Husk-"No sarcastic remarks that can piss them off!"-then to Niffty, "No knives or sharp things that would threaten them!"-Then to Alastor "And no making deals with the Demiurge! Got it?"

Varying agreements ring out, some more irritated than others, but it satisfies Vaggie nonetheless.

Charlie is excited and slightly nervous as she stands next to her father. Lucifer had said he'd need her assistance for the summoning ritual since it requires powerful Celestial magic. Not just anyone can summon the Demiurge.

Lucifer lets out a breath of anxiety and rubs his bare hands together. "Ready, Charlie? Do you remember what we rehearsed?" He asks with a nervous smile.

Charlie nods firmly. "Ready!"

Lucifer and Charlie then shift into their more demonic forms to channel more of their magic before twirling their arms in graceful mannerisms. Lucifer begins chanting in the ancient Celestial language, which causes the sigil in the dirt to glow golden.

Vaggie anxiously clutches herself as her gaze never leaves Charlie's form. She knows her lover is powerful and capable of protecting herself, but Vaggie can't help but worry about her. A gentle, clawed hand rests on her shoulder, causing her to shift her gaze to her left, seeing Alastor grinning down at her. He doesn't say a word, but his eyes share a confident reassurance that strangely makes her feel a bit better.

The ground beneath them all began to rumble as if an Earthquake was happening. Niffty laughs as she uncontrollably falls to the ground, but Angel quickly swoops in and holds her tightly.

Once Lucifer and Charlie finish the ritual, they take a few careful steps back to join the others.

The sigil's golden glow brightens, then dims to nothing just as quickly. The ground beneath them stills once again. Everyone doesn't move as they wait for what will happen next. . .

Before Lucifer could question if he performed the ritual incorrectly, a large blaze of golden flames twists above the sigil, causing a few surprised gasps. Within the fire, a silhouette could be seen taking form.

Strong gusts of wind swirling around nearly blow the habitants of the Hazbin Hotel off their feet. They're quick to grasp onto each other for stability, other than Alastor, who uses his tendrils of shadow to ground himself.

Once the wind finally puts the fire out, it gradually falls into a light breeze. At the center of the sigil is a deity that stands at 120 meters. A golden-scaled serpent with the head of a mighty golden-brown lion. Their eyes glow brightly and shine into Hell's eerie red sky, and their sharp teeth are a perfect white—the Demiurge's true form.

You stare down at the beings who summoned you. Your eyes land on Lucifer, who stares up at you with a nervous smile. He looks more tired than how you remember him. He slowly waves, and you roar to greet him a bit too loudly since some of the beings below clutch their ears.

You then close your eyes as you shift into your humanoid form so you can speak eye-to-eye with everyone—the sounds of bones breaking and reshaping echo around everyone grossly.

Once you take your desired form, you eagerly reopen your eyes with a giant smile. You're very excited! "Lucifer Morningstar, how have you been, my dear friend?"

Although Lucifer was surprised you called him a friend, it eased his anxiety about you being here. He clears his throat awkwardly before greeting you properly with your name. "I've been uh- I've certainly been better, but I'm still kicking. Heh."

"Happiness is not a destination; it is a neverending journey." You remark with a hum, "I hope after we deal with Heaven's aggression toward Hell that it will ease your worries and bring happiness to you all."

The fact you already know why you've been summoned surprises everyone. You were in another realm far away from them, weren't you? How could you possibly know why Lucifer summoned you? Now Lucifer's anxiety peaks again. You're far too knowledgeable, and it makes him feel you're at least 100 steps ahead of him. It could be good or bad, depending on the context of your aspirations.

You shift your attention to the Princess and send her a kind smile. "Princess Charlie, it is a pleasure to meet you finally! I've heard wonderful things about you along the grapevine, child." You reach a hand out to greet her, noticing the younger fallen angel beside her tense up.

Charlie nervously smiles back as she shakes your hand. "Oh? It's lovely to meet you as well! I've heard things- good things about you from my dad."

Your eyes crinkle in amusement. You then glance amongst the four human souls staring at you intensely; you can sense their bubbling emotions. "I thought I heard my title being said last evening."

The look of regret is visible as Angel pales. The way you phrased it doesn't sound very good, as if you knew every word discussed about you last night—or rather ever. And Angel said some crude remarks about you! Husk is a bit nervous, too, since he straight-up said you have mommy issues. Your mommy issues got you locked away for millions of years because you lashed out at Heaven! And Husk does not want to be on the receiving end of your chaos! Niffty wouldn't mind your chaos, though.

"So, that means you're aware I'd like to ask that favor of you finally?" Lucifer asks uncertainly, "I'll admit I was hesitant to call upon you since I don't know how you feel about Heaven these days."

You hum in acknowledgment. "A fair judgment, although I have no qualms about protecting Hell from Heaven. You all fought in self-defense against the exorcists." You smile at each soul, "I shall do everything in my power to aid you all, although I must warn you, Heaven will not be pleased that the Demiurge will be fighting against them once again."

With her golden heart, Charlie grabs your hands with a much calmer smile. "We won't force you to do anything you aren't comfortable with! We all will understand if fighting against Heaven isn't safe for you."

Your old heart beats with bittersweet happiness at Charlie's words. You've heard about her kind-hearted personality, but witnessing it firsthand puts it in perspective. You see so much of her father in her.

You squeeze her hands reassuringly. "I appreciate your kindness greatly, child."-you gently release her hands-"I'm afraid that once it is known that I am aiding Hell, Heaven will send their most powerful Celestial beings, ones that only Lucifer and I have fought against."

Alastor quietly hums at that. He's a lot bit egotistical, but even he must admit that sounds rather dramatic. Your eyes then meet his, making his ears twitch back slightly. You're difficult to read. Much like him, your smile hasn't faltered, though yours is more genuine than his stitched grin.

"Alastor the Radio Demon," your amused voice rings out, "Did you want to say something, my child?"

Slight unease is bubbling inside Alastor, causing his claws to tap the top of his microphone cane. He doesn't like feeling this way. Masking his nerves, he tilts his head and keeps his smile strong. "The Demiurge has heard of me? Why, I'm quite honored my broadcasts have reached your ears!"

Your eyes squint with a lighthearted gleam. "I remember your radio broadcasts from when you were alive, too, my child."

The unexpected words cause Alastor's eyes to blow wide. Alive? How much does the Demiurge know about him, exactly? He doesn't like being this much in the unknown or having this much lack of control. . .

Your attention shifts to the other three human souls. "And here we have Anthony or Angel Dust, as you prefer. Then, the former Gambling Demon Husk. And Niffty, the demon who slaughtered the first man, Adam." You smile warmly, "It is a pleasure to meet you all, my children."

Niffty giggles at the memory, not bothered by you or your information on her or her friends. "I did do that!"

On the other hand, Angel is frowning because he has a clue that you don't know him because of his career here in Hell. That you know his darkest secrets and hidden emotions from when he was alive. Now he's starting to get why Lucifer was hesitant to summon you. . .

Husk's brows are furrowed. Clearly, from just witnessing your natural form that could rival Godzilla, you're not the average soul. You already know them all, even hinting that you know of their lives as humans. Was this basic knowledge the Demiurge already had, or did you do research beforehand? Husk isn't sure, but he plans to monitor you closely.

Charlie nervously clasps her hands in front of her. She's a bit unnerved you already know everyone, but then again, for a deity like you, that knowledge is probably easily accessible.

Vaggie, not about to let your creepy knowledge of them slide, asks with a threatening undertone, "How exactly do you already know why Lucifer and Charlie summoned you? And care to explain why you know a little too much about everyone?"

Lucifer snaps his worried eyes to Maggie Vaggie. He had the same questions, but he wasn't about to go and ask them! What if you get irritated?! What if you leave?!

You smile warmly at the young fallen angel, hoping to calm her protective soul, "You must be Vaggie; it is a pleasure to meet you, child."

Her eyes squint with suspicion, and if Charlie weren't holding onto her waist so tightly, she'd have waltzed on over to you. You dodged her question!

Lucifer loudly claps his hands, bringing everyone's attention back to him. With a nervous chuckle, he says, "I know how much being summoned to another realm can zap your energy, so how about we take a moment to rest inside and get better acquainted? What'd you say?"

You nod in agreement. "I would greatly appreciate that, friend."

You look back to Vaggie, "Then I will answer your questions, child." That brings some relief to Vaggie. At least you're willing to give answers. . .

With the others following close behind, Lucifer leads you into the Hazbin Hotel, asking if you are hungry or thirsty and listing too many options. He doesn't know how posh you are and is trying his best to please you. He's so afraid of you lashing out.

You understand why Lucifer is nervous about your presence; you would also be if you were in his position. Lucifer was one of the many angels from Heaven sent to investigate your existence. He witnessed your absolute most destructive moment when you lashed out at Heaven with all you had. You don't look back on the memory of your younger self fondly, but you do not regret your choices. You witnessed Heaven slaughter your children, and you couldn't save them back then.

You want Lucifer to know he is your friend, and you will never hurt him or his family. He never hurt you or your children; you remember him protecting them.

With a whisper of a touch on his shoulder, Lucifer interrupts himself and instead looks to you. You don't say a word, but the empathetic glow in your eyes calms every worry Lucifer has about you.

Lucifer can see in your eyes that you are genuinely here to help them, to help him and his family.

With a more comfortable smile resting on his lips, Lucifer tells you, "I'll make us all pancakes!"

If Heaven plans to slaughter your children here in Hell, well, you'll just have to slaughter the angels first.

.

Tag List: @paastaboi @gasoline-eater @rabioa @m00nd0v3

[ichatake]

SECOND CHANCE PT.2

Request are open! Request rules here!

Part. 1, Part. 2

Pairing: Obito x reader x Kakashi

Summary: Obito, after surviving the war was allowed back into the village. You made it your mission to make sure he gets completely rehabilitated. However, a certain someone gets jealous at the loss of attention.

Warning: mentions of blood, slight violence.

A/N: Finally the long awaited part. 2 has come out! I really focused on making this a better chapter than the first one, and was written a little less rushed. I really enjoy how I've developed the story, and I hope you guys do too! Thank you so much for all of your support, and I hope you enjoy! (Also I reread this a few times but there still might be a few mistakes here and there, sorry!!)

The atmosphere was oppressive and thick, the heavy rain showing no signs of ceasing as you trudged forward on the muddy path. Your two students followed close behind you, tired and worn out after so much non-stop walking. Their feet got stuck in the thick mud, feeling heavy and wet as it stuck to their shoes and weighed them down relentlessly. Yet you seemed restless and preoccupied—a far-off look on your face that they had never seen before. It suggested that your mind had wandered elsewhere; somewhere far from where the mission demanded it to be. 

Toko’s voice had been the one breaking your train of thought for only a moment, his words carrying a hint of concern as he spoke. “Sensei, it’s been hours—the weather isn’t getting any better, and we can barely see through this fog. We should take shelter,” he suggested tiredly, noticing that you were already a fair distance ahead of them. 

“Seek shelter where, idiot? We’re stranded—stuck in the middle of nowhere, this damn rain isn’t doing us any favors, and we can barely see anyone who might be standing a good few feet away from us. You’re just wishing that we get ambushed by rogue ninjas, aren’t you?” Kenji blurts out irritably, his mood further battered by the horrible weather. He hated being tired—more than he already was. However, despite the bickering, you didn’t slow down. It seems as if you hadn’t even heard their small exchange, which they noticed immediately. Has something happened? You hadn’t muttered a word since you left the village—so something was obviously wrong with their teacher who showed this uncharacteristic behavior. 

Toko quickened his pace, catching up to you and running in front of you, forcing you to halt before you could collide with him. “Sensei?” He called out to you, concern evident on his expression as he scanned your face. 

“Huh?” You blink, “What are you doing? We still have a long way to go, we need to keep moving,” you reply as you look at your map. It was… drenched and torn in some places, making it difficult to make out its content. Nonetheless, you refused to stop now, despite the mist obscuring your path and vision. 

As if things couldn’t possibly get worse, it began thundering, prompting all the three of you to look up at the gray sky. The fact that the weather wouldn’t improve any time soon had you release an annoyed sigh, leading you to fold your damp map and stuff it inside your pocket. Toko’s facial expression seemed to relax slightly, a glimmer of relief evident on his face. “So,” you exclaim, arms crossing over your chest as your eyes fixed on the dark haired boy standing before you. “What do you propose we do—better yet, where do you suggest we stay?”

“Well, I’ve seen a few lamps here and there—fences as well. So we aren’t in a completely secluded area,” he observes, scanning his surroundings, only to find gray mist obstructing his vision. “So, you want to stray from the path to find a shelter?” you ask once more, rubbing your throbbing head with the palm of your hand. “We couldn’t possibly be near a place to stay, we’re—,” 

“Look, right there,” Kenji suddenly pointed in another direction. As both you and Toko shifted your attention towards the direction pointed, you saw a faint glow cutting through the dense fog. You were cautious at first, hesitating and wondering if it was worth pursuing. For all you knew, it might be someone following you. However, as you closed the distance between the light and the three of you, a small cabin surrounded by low wooden fences came into view. They seemed more decorative than practical, in all honesty, considering their height made them ineffective to keep anyone out. 

“Be careful,” you caution your students as you approach the door. The thunder was getting worse, so if whatever—or whoever stayed here had the heart to give refuge to three Konoha shinobi, you’d deeply appreciate it. 

You firmly knock on the door—the cabin’s exterior is made out of the same dark-hued wood, while the roof was constructed from heavy metal. You heard shuffling from the inside, and finally, the door opened. An elderly lady, short and plump, gazed up at you, a hint of concern falling onto her features as she noticed your weary state. “Oh dear,” she mutters in concern as she examines all three of you. You were drenched and covered in mud, in need of assistance. In other words, you looked horrible and helpless. With one glance at your headband, she instantly recognizes the familiar leaf symbol, her eyes darting to your face as though she’d seen you before. 

“I’m sorry to bother ma’am,” you begin, your voice laced with the chill of the cold weather, your cheeks cold and red, “But would you be willing to provide us refuge until the weather gets any better?” the lady gazes downwards, contemplating your request before nodding in agreement. She opens the door wider, signaling for you and your students to enter. She certainly wouldn’t like being outside in this weather. “Come, come. Hurry,” she beckons, her hospitality reaching you.

You, Toko, and Kenji step inside hurriedly, muddy shoes leaving messy footprints on the floor, turning the wood into a mess. You looked down at your mess, opening your mouth to apologize, but the elderly lady swiftly reassures you. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll clean it up later,” She takes the heavy bags from your back,  placing them near the fireplace to dry. “You must be freezing, I’ll get you some nice, warm clothes and—,”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you begin, waving your hands in front of you, “You don’t have to go through the trouble—,” 

“Oh shush, this is no trouble at all, dear,” she reassures you as she disappears into another room, briefly leaving the three of you standing awkwardly at the door as you wait. You take the initiative to remove your dirty shoes, before glancing at your students tentatively. “Take your shoes off,” you swiftly say, considering it impolite to wear shoes indoors. They comply, placing them at the doorway where yours were placed neatly, “I’m guessing this two day mission is going to take a little longer than expected,” Toko complains, only straightening up when he sees the lady coming back carrying some nice traditional-looking robes. 

“Here, these will fit perfectly. You two are about the same size as my grandsons,” she smiles, pinching Toko’s cheek affectionately and handing him the robe, repeating her actions with Kenji, causing him to become a little flustered. 

“And this is for you,” she kindly hands you a robe in a deep shade of purple, “This was my daughter’s, but it hasn’t been in use in a long time,” Grateful for her actions, you take the piece of clothing and bow respectfully, showing your deep gratitude, “Thank you, I appreciate this a lot ma’am. How can I ever repay you—,” you start, only to be interrupted by the lady.

“Don't be silly, dear. There’s no need for that,” she smiles, patting your cheek while dismissing your offer of repayment. “Come, I’ll show you where you can get changed into these warm clothes,” she guides you three down the hallways of her home, leading the boys to a room, while you are taken to another. “Here you are,” she smiles, opening the door for you. “I’ll prepare some soup for you, make yourself at home,” she closes the door behind you, leaving you to change into the clothes she had provided you with.

The room was empty, with clear signs that someone had previously lived there before your intrusion. Photographs of a young woman and a few more family members decorated the walls, making you slightly uncomfortable at the thought that you were intruding on a family home. However, you pushed the thoughts away as you began peeling off your soaked clothes.

‘Just know that I’m sorry’

Kakashi’s words still echoed softly through your head like a faint lullaby. ‘I should’ve said something’ you thought, releasing a heavy sigh you had been holding in you ever since you left the village. A pang of regret tugged at you as you sat on the edge of the bed, draped in the silk robes that fit you like a glove. ‘He apologized and I didn’t even say anything,’ you rub your temple, your head throbbing in pain. It was a constant companion since you’d left the village, and now It seemed that you finally had time to dwell on the events that occurred these past few weeks. Now that you were away from both Obito and Kakashi, there was space to think clearly, undisturbed by their presence.

Your heart squeezed at the thought of Kakashi—a bright blush staining your cheeks. He had confessed his feelings for you—Kakashi Hatake—the man whom everyone believed would remain lonely throughout the remainder of his life. The man that never seemed to fall for anyone. He let himself become vulnerable for you, a side of him you had never witnessed, and you had shut him out. You gently smack yourself on the cheek, reprimanding yourself for your actions, “I’m such an idiot,” you murmur. You had potentially ruined a once-in-a-lifetime relationship with the man you had feelings for! You’ve liked this man for years, and you rejected him—technically rejected him—over a man who you barely knew.

In that moment, you realized the fault in your actions. You had been blinded by a foolish crush that you failed to recognize the differences between the two men. Kakashi was right, Obito wasn’t the same boy he once was. He was a man who had altered ideals, someone bent on reshaping reality as he pleased. He was a broken man that changed all throughout those lonesome years. You didn’t know him; you had a painted image of who he could possibly be. In contrast, your relationship with Kakashi was built with shared experiences and vulnerabilities. You two taught together, fought together, cried together. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable state and you’ve seen him in his. And that’s what you pushed aside? For someone who could be considered a stranger? Because Obito had not cried with you, had not fought with you, had not been there for you when you were hurt. All you knew about Obito was what he wanted you to know. You knew what he told you. You knew what you saw.

You rubbed your temple, attempting to dispel the thoughts from running your mind. Dwelling on them would only amplify the growing stress you had. There was no point in thinking about this now, considering how the mission demanded your full attention. Finally standing up, you opened the sliding door and stepped out, hearing the faint voices coming from the direction you had come from before. They were your students. The floorboards creaked under your feet as you approached them, their heads turning towards you when you finally got there. They had been sitting down on the floor at the table—waiting for something, you assumed.

“Hey sensei,” Toko grins, “Take a look at these,” He stands up and shows off his clothing, “They fit perfectly,” he strikes a pose, ultimately leading to Kenji pulling him down to sit, “Sit down and be quiet will you? (Y/N) sensei already looks tired enough for you to wear her out any more,” he rolls his eyes as Toko began to protest, “What’s your deal Kenji, I’m trying to show off these cool robes!” he exclaims, plopping down cross-legged, sulking playfully.

You can’t help but let out a chuckle at their banter, taking a moment to glance around the cabin, “They look fine,”you say, and as you gazed at the home, you noticed the lady was inside of what you assumed to be the kitchen. You approach the table and sit down, getting comfortable on the small cushion that was beneath you.

“Say, how’s Obito? I haven’t heard from him in a while,” Toko questions, leaning back and putting all his weight on his hands. The question makes you gaze up at him, and you shrug, “He’s been fine. He just hasn’t gone out lately. He’s used to being indoors all the time, so I don't blame him for always wanting to stay in the house,” Toko groans, pouting, “Oh man, I really wanna see him again. He’s so cool,” he says, straightening up, “Even if he was part of what happened… you know,” he adds, referring to the war, while glancing down at his legs, “I think he just needed someone to talk to,”

You observe Toko with soft eyes, watching how he spoke so empathetically. The boy has always had a gentle heart, sometimes too gentle. His empathy towards others was part of who he was. “I think so too,” you nod slowly in agreement while giving him a smile, Kenji looking away moments after, “It’s sad, you know?” Kenji mumbles, suddenly fixated on the floorboards as he tried to find the right words, “I remember what he said during the war. His reasons for the infinite Tsukuyomi,” he frowns, continuing “A person can be so lonely to the point where they need to distort reality,”

Your eyes fell on his expression, noticing the deep sadness etched on his face. “I understand why he did it,” he whispers, sighing and shrugging his shoulders, “But you know, it doesn’t mean what he did was okay,” You nod in agreement when he says this, replying “However, we shouldn’t focus on the past. Sure, it’s important to know what he did, but what matters is that he accepted change,” you smile warmly, “And he is willing to take another chance at life,”

“As he should, he would’ve been an awesome sensei,” Toko grins, making you playfully raise a brow at him, “Now hold on a second Toko, you’re not liking him better than me, are you?” you ask as you lean forward to look at him, making him shake his head furiously, “No! Of course not!” he chuckles nervously, his eyes darting around the room before insisting “You’ll always be the best teacher,” a soft hum of contentment escapes you, pleased with his answer.

“Alrighty kids, supper is ready,” the elderly lady suddenly approached the table with a gentle smile, carrying a heavy-looking metal pot brimming with soup. The smell was absolutely enticing, leaving you with a rumbling stomach and great anticipation. Toko eagerly rises, offering his assistance, “Let me help you,” he says, carefully taking the steaming pot and setting it down on the table, “Oh, thank you dear, could you be so kind and help me with the bowls as well?” She asks and without a moment’s hesitation, he nods and strides towards the kitchen to look for the wooden bowls she had pointed him to.

“I hope you like the soup, it’s my special recipe,” the old lady smiles as Toko sets down the bowls. She diligently pours the warm, flavorful broth into each bowl, her smile growing. “This was my grandsons’ favorite meal. They would beg for me to cook them some soup late at night,” a hearty chuckle escapes her, “Dig in,” 

All three of you exchange glances before turning your attention towards the lady, sincere gratitude etched on each of your faces, “Thank you for this wonderful meal,” you express your appreciation, giving respect for her before digging in. All of you begin to eat, and the moment the warm liquid envelopes your tongue, your soul leaves your body. You had never tasted soup this good. 

Toko’s eyes light up at the taste as well, “Oh man, this is amazing!” he exclaims and sips down the warm soup savagely, causing Kenji to snarl and smack Toko on the back of his head, scowling at him, “Stop eating like a pig,” he snarls, making Toko glare at him. “I’m not! You’re just so used to eating like a little prince, you don’t know what enjoying a delicious meal actually looks like,” he argues, setting the bowl down. They once again started bickering, which made your brow twitch in annoyance. They seemed to never stop bickering, not even when they’re tired. “You better stop it before I knock some sense into both of you,” you warned, making them stop momentarily, exchanging glares before they continue eating. 

You exhale deeply, shifting your gaze down to the soup in front of you. The lady sits across from you, her warm presence a comforting sight. “Thank you so much for taking us in, and I’m sorry about the boys and their bickering. I promise they’re better behaved than this” you thanked her, bowing your head in appreciation. “If it weren’t for you ma’am, we would’ve been freezing out there,” 

“It’s nothing, my dear,” she reassures you, her hands gently wrapping around a clay mug filled with steaming tea, “I could never leave you out there. Not when you’re from the leaf village,” Her statement hangs in the air as she takes a slow sip of her tea before examining your face intently. “Huh?” you respond, furrowing your brows in curiosity at what she means. The lady chuckles at your reaction before she sets the mug down. 

“My husband was a leaf ninja, such a nice man he was. May he rest in peace,” she places a hand on her chest, “I welcome Ninja from anywhere. I help anyone who needs it,” she looks at you as her gaze softens, “And you certainly needed it,” 

You chuckle sheepishly, humbled by her kindness, “Well regardless, I appreciate what you’ve done for us,” The lady waves her hand, “No need to thank me,”

After the meal, the atmosphere in the room relaxes as Toko and Kenji seem to die down. The persistent harsh weather outside was still going, and it was clearly draining their energy. The lady offered them a room so they could sleep in, and they immediately accepted her offer. They bid you goodnight and went to bed, leaving you sitting on the floor. The old lady was recounting to you some of her life stories, and you politely listened to her. You were glad, because it kept your mind away from Kakashi and Obito. 

“You know, I didn’t know if it was really you, but now that I see you up close, it’s definitely you,” the lady smiles widely, making you raise a brow, “What?” you ask and the lady gives you a nod, “I know you. I saw you when you were just a little teen,” she pours you a warm cup of tea, “You had been wounded, and a young boy brought you here,” 

You listened intently as she recounted the story, a puzzling frown decorating your face. You never recalled being here, even though you have gone to the mist village before, “I’m… sorry? I don’t recall that happening…,” you respond, meeting her gaze with uncertainty as she shook her head, “Well of course not, you were unconscious. The boy had brought you here because you needed medical attention. Nothing bad happened to you, just a few cuts here and there, but you were exhausted and fell unconscious,” the statement lingered in the air for a few seconds before you spoke up. 

“So you’re saying you saved my life before? Who was the boy?” 

“A silver haired boy, with a mask. Such a sweet boy. He never let go of your hand while I patched you up,” she chuckles, “He was very worried about you,” 

A flicker of realization crossed your face as the lady’s description reminded you of Kakashi. The memory of an old mission to the Mist village surfaced in your mind. You recalled the long and exhausting battle that led to your loss of consciousness. However, when you had awakened, you were already in the Konoha hospital. Kakashi had carried you all the way there, and you had been left with only hazy fragments of what happened. 

“So that’s…” a grateful smile tugs at your lips, “I never got to thank you,”

“Don’t worry, the boy had already thanked me enough,” she grins, “Do you still speak to that young man? Because a boy like that would’ve had me swooning,” your cheeks flushed at her comment, the corner of her lips raised in a smirk as she awaited your reply, “We still talk, but it’s nothing like that,” you clear your throat, “Well that’s just a waste,” she huffs in feigned disappointment, “You young people and your complicated feelings,”

“We just aren’t… well, we haven’t talked about it,” your cheeks flared with embarrassment as the conversation shifted to your love life. You found it pitiful that you were speaking about this with a woman you just met. But hey, they say old people know better than younglings, and you could definitely use some wisdom and understanding from someone like her. “Is that so? Then there must be another man in the picture,” shock flickered across your features as your eyes widened. Was she some sort of witch or something? How’d she know?

“Oh don’t look at me like that, I’ve lived in this world long enough to know what’s going on,” she laughs, “So, who’s the other man,”

“I uh… well…,” you sigh, looking at your hands, “This boy you mentioned, the silver haired boy, he and another boy were friends. I was friends with them too. We would’ve grown up together, but… things happened and the other boy and I… drifted apart,” you explain, trying to be as specific as possible without giving too much detail. 

“Then what’s the hard choice?” the woman inquired, her brow raised in curiosity as she tried to understand your situation, “Well, me and the silver haired boy drifted apart as well, but when I became a teacher, we kinda began speaking a lot again. Then the other boy came back into my life, and now the silver haired man is starting to drift apart from me again,” you explained yourself, but in all honesty, you were barely making any sense. 

“Drift away this, drift away that,” the woman rolls her eyes, her voice previously laced with sarcasm. “Honey, what you’re saying is making no sense at all,” she shakes her head “So, let me ask you,” she leans in, her eyes locking with yours to find pure honesty, “Who has been there for you the most?” 

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, reflecting deeply on her question. You wanted to be honest with your response, not wanting to inadvertently deceive her. “Well… Kakashi,” you spoke after a few moments of contemplation, your voice soft but earnest. The name left your lips with a certain vulnerability, a mix of emotions attached to it. 

The amused glint in the woman's eyes made your cheeks burn with embarrassment, “I don’t know who Kakahsi is, dear,” she teased playfully. 

You quickly corrected yourself, “The silver haired boy,”

“Then what’s the point of liking the other boy, if the person who has always been with you should be your first choice,” you look down and at your hands, absorbed in her words “I didn’t waste any time. When my husband saved my life, I made sure I married him,” she hums and slowly stands up, “But, it is your choice. What does an old lady like myself know anyways?” she shrugs with a smile, “You should get some rest, you still haven’t completed your mission, and you’ll need all that energy for tomorrow”

Obito peered at the ninja standing in front of him, sizing them up with a thoughtful gaze. He paused for a brief moment before clearing his throat and responding, "A summoning? Urgent?" A glint of curiosity flickered in his eyes as he feigned nonchalance. "I’m guessing this must be really important then?" he mused, noticing the confused expressions on the faces of the ninjas before him. "Naturally, given the Hokage's busy schedule, any meeting he initiates is bound to be of utmost importance," the men responded, avoiding any unnecessary conversation.

Obito sighed, stepping outside and addressing the ninja with a hint of irritation, "Very well, let's not keep your precious Hokage waiting any longer," Despite his attempt to conceal his feelings, a tinge of bitterness laced his voice. He wasn't apprehensive or troubled; he was simply curious. After so long without exchanging words, what could be so important that the Hokage had summoned him in such haste? It was suspicious to him. Nonetheless, he followed the men closely, "Any idea why he would want to see me all of a sudden?" His question was met with pure silence. 

Obito walked quietly, his eyes taking in the changes that had swept over the village since his absence. New buildings had appeared, old shops had vanished, and even the places he used to visit with Kakashi and Rin were nowhere to be found. The realization of all he had missed out on weighed heavily on him. As the Hokage building loomed into view, he looked up at the window where he suspected Kakashi might be, feeling the weight of his gaze boring into him. Climbing the stairs and reaching the Hokage's door, the ninja escorting him left him there all by himself.

Obito's eyes closed for a moment as he readied himself for the impending encounter. With a firm pull, he opened the door, his gaze falling upon the silver-haired man who stood by the window, engrossed in thought and clutching a stack of paperwork. Something within Obito stirred the moment his gaze fixated upon that white Hokage robe that Kakashi wore, a pang of realization hitting him. Kakashi was living the dream that Obito had envisioned for himself, or at least what his dreams had been before life took unexpected turns. Turns he took by his own resolve. 

Obito stood there, his voice carrying a hint of statement rather than question. "You called for me," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, causing Kakashi to turn his attention towards him. With a deliberate motion, Kakashi set the papers he held onto his desk before sliding into his seat and replying, “Yes, we need to talk,”

Obito crossed his arms defiantly and stood a few feet away from Kakashi's desk, the silence between them weighed down by his sardonic tone. "Well I assumed so," he replied, his sarcasm hanging heavily in the air. "I suppose you didn’t just summon me here to jump rope," there was a moment of silence once he spoke, Kakashi’s eyes burning into him. 

"I'd appreciate it if you could reserve your sarcasm for a later occasion." Kakashi responded with a weary sigh, his annoyance evident as he spoke. Frustration was etched on his face, a clear indication of the stress and irritation he was experiencing. 

Obito uncrossed his arms in a display of carelessness, his gaze shifting away from Kakashi. “Yeah, whatever,” There was a moment of impatient silence as he waited for Kakashi to speak, fidgeting and shuffling on his feet expectantly.

Kakashi paused briefly, his gaze skimming over several reports scattered on his desk. With a glance raised towards Obito, his eyes met his, "As I was saying," he continued, "I've observed that your interactions with (Y/N) have yielded positive results. Her reports on you have been consistently favorable, and your acts of kindness towards others in the village haven't gone unnoticed." He paused once more, briefly glancing back down at the reports before returning his gaze to Obito.

It was remarkable how much the human body could endure, Kakashi thought to himself. Obito’s own body bore testament to that—scarred, battered, and permanently marked from the aftermath of war. Tsunade, in her medical prowess, had managed to restore parts of his body using his own cells, but the scars that had ingrained themselves on his skin stayed, indomitable, a constant reminder of his battles.

Obito's gaze traveled from the bookshelf to Kakashi, his stomach flipping at the revelation that you had been speaking highly of him. It filled him with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that his efforts had not gone unnoticed. Despite his own self-doubt, the knowledge that you found improvement within him gave him a sense of validation and contentment.

Kakashi's tone turned more serious as he continued, "Based on (Y/N)'s reports and my trust in her words, I've decided to offer you a position within the Anbu. You'll work under my direct supervision," he stated, his gaze remaining steady, anticipating a look of surprise on Obito's face.

Just as stated, Obito's expression twisted into a bewildered frown as the words left Kakashi's mouth. "You must be joking," he exclaimed, his disbelief evident. He was aware of his own capabilities, but the suddenness of this offer left him taken aback. The idea seemed ludicrous, especially since some within the village still harbored distrust towards him. Was Kakashi truly expecting him to become his personal assassin?

"You want me to become one of your assassin dogs?" He let out scoff, disbelief evident in his tone. "I thought the purpose of rehabilitating me was to prevent me from harming anyone else, given what I've already done," He paused, his expression filled with skepticism.

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. He observed Obito intently, "Yes," he acknowledged, "But I've had a change of mind. You possess the potential for greatness," he said, a hint of conviction in his voice. He paused for a moment before continuing, "It might even be beneficial for you. It'll keep you occupied, you'll earn your own income, and you'll get to experience the life of a shinobi once again," Kakashi explained, his gaze never leaving Obito.

Obito stared at Kakashi in shock, trying to process his words before speaking again, “What are you trying to say?”

Kakashi's tone remained firm and authoritative as he clarified his words. "What I'm trying to say is that by joining the Anbu, you'll earn my trust and secure yourself a decent position within the village. To be clear, I'm not asking for your permission. It's not a request," he reiterated, emphasizing the gravity of his demand.

“Right, you’re demanding I join,” Obito’s lip curls up in a slight snarl.

"You're free to refuse my offer, of course," Kakashi said in a condescending tone. "But doing so will deem you untrustworthy," he continued, his gaze fixed on Obito. "Keep in mind that you're here because I allow it. You're not exactly in a position to say no to anything I propose," he affirmed.

Obito's eye widened momentarily as a bitter chuckle threatened to escape his lips. It was a stark reminder that he was at Kakashi's mercy, alive only because the Hokage allowed it. The feeling of being bound and controlled by someone else's authority was not something he had yet forgotten. With a forced smile, he finally responded, "Ah, how could I ever forget," his voice was dripping with sarcasm and resignation.

“Glad to know you wouldn’t,” Kakashi smiled beneath his mask, his eye forming a crescent moon shape in response to Obito's sarcastic remark. He pulled out a bag from under his desk, revealing a familiar grayish-black uniform neatly folded inside. With a steady hand, he placed it on top of the desk. Next, Kakashi pulled out another object, a pristine white porcelain mask, molded into the shape of a bird. Obito recognized it as an Anbu mask; he had seen them before, or rather, he had once worn one alongside Itachi. Yet, the eeriness of this particular mask sent a chill down his spine.

Instead of the usual frown associated with the animal masks, this one possessed a unique feature: the red lines that adorned it curved upwards into a sinister smile, stretching nearly from ear to ear. The expression seemed far from natural, as if it was designed for intimidation rather than mere concealment. Furthermore, there was only one eye hole, while the other side was veiled and painted red, where his left eye should have been.

"So, you've been planning this for a while," Obito remarked, his tone containing a hint of sarcasm. "I'm assuming you don't have a spare Anbu mask with only one eye hole," Obito observed, causing Kakashi to chuckle. "I suppose so,"

Obito accepted the mask and uniform, his gaze fixated on the plastic bag as if he was contemplating the decision. However, deep down, he knew he had no choice in the matter. As if to add to the already less-than-ideal news, Kakashi spoke up again, "With this new job, you'll have to move out of (Y/N)'s house." He paused before continuing, "No one can know your identity as an Anbu member. Only a select few will be privileged enough to be privy to that information, and (Y/N) will not be among them."

Obito started to open his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by Kakashi's silencing gesture, his words cutting him off before he could speak. "I've already found a nice apartment for you, temporarily," Kakashi informed him, "You'll move out of her house while she's on her mission. That gives you about two to three days, maybe four if things get complicated and they get delayed due to the bad weather." Obito stayed quiet, considering the situation, realizing the reality: he had little choice in the matter. To further solidify his point, Kakashi added a crucial detail, a small nudge that might persuade Obito to comply. Depending on how Obito perceived it, it could either be seen as a subtle manipulation or merely a necessary precaution. "And just to be clear," Kakashi began, his voice firm but not unkind. "The primary reason why you're moving out is to protect (Y/N). You've shown a clear concern for her well-being, and to ensure nothing happens to her, she must remain ignorant of your new role in the Anbu."

"And what does that have to do with me moving out?" Obito asked, his tone laced with hesitation. Kakashi chuckled at his question, "Think about it," he replied, his eyes fixed on the dark haired man. "If word gets out about your identity, and they learn you're living with a woman, she'll instantly become a prime target for other dangerous ninjas." He paused, shrugging his shoulders. "Unless, of course, you want her to end up as rogue ninja bait. Whatever case it is, I suggest you start packing."

Obito's frustration bubbled up inside him, his lips pressing tightly together. He shouldn't feel this way; after all, he was simply moving out. Yet, a pang of disappointment and unease tugged at his heart. He'd lived with you since he returned to the village, and there was no denying that you'd positively influenced him. Your presence had helped him transform in unforeseen ways. He felt comfortable with you, like an old friend. You didn't hold anything against him, only offering care and compassion.

With a resigned sigh, Obito accepted the situation. No point in arguing further. After all, it's not like he wouldn't get to see you anymore. Sure, maybe he'd be busy with his new Anbu duties, but there was no way he'd be swamped 24/7, right? "Fine, I'll move out and join your assassin club. It’s not like I haven’t killed thousands before anyway," he mutters, his arms tensing as he tries to quell the burning feeling in his chest. A nagging anxiety crept inside him, "Is there anything else you'd like to say before I leave?"

Kakashi's brows furrowed, "Just remember that my main intention is to safeguard the village," he said, his voice steady. "You have immense potential that shouldn't be wasted, so try not to hold these circumstances too deeply against me," he added, his expression almost complimentary. 

"Are you trying to flatter me?" Obito almost laughed in amusement, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice. "You, of all people, dishing out compliments? I never saw that coming." He observed Kakashi's hands as they lowered to his lap with a cold stare, Kakashi's response following quickly, "Take it however you want. Ultimately, I'm making decisions that benefit the village. That's all that matters."

With a slight sense of defeat, Obito picked up the bag containing his new uniform. He couldn't help but let out a bitter chuckle as he held it in his hands. This wasn't the life he'd envisioned for himself as a child, nor was he thrilled to be stepping back into the role of an assassin. But the past couldn't be changed, and here he was. He finally tore his gaze away from the uniform and posed his question, "So, when do I start?"

“I’ll give you your first assignment once you’ve moved out. Come to my office and I’ll present to you your new comrades,”

It was the morning after the storm had passed, and the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly, almost as if there had been no storm the day before. Despite the sunlight, though, the path was still damp and muddy, causing Toko to grumble and complain again. Before leaving, the old lady had packed some meals, bandages, and medical herbs for you and the boys, insisting that you take them. "You don't have to—" you started to protest, only to be cut off by her firm and gentle nudge.

"Oh, hush now," she insisted, continuing to pack your belongings. She filled your bags with supplies, making sure you were well-prepared. "It never hurts to be prepared," she added with a smile. "You don't know when you might need them." As you prepared to set off, the old lady stood in the doorway and waved you a warm goodbye, her expression filled with motherly affection.

Toko waved enthusiastically, a wide grin on his face. "Bye, granny!" he exclaimed, eagerly walking behind you. "I like her," he continued, his voice filled with cheerfulness. "She's just like my grandma." Kenji, who seemed well-rested, walked beside Toko, his expression one of contentment. However, it was suddenly cut short when Toko continued his loud ramblings.

"Keep it down, will you? It's too early for this racket." Kenji grumbled, his tone weary. He shoved his hands into his pockets, obviously not quite fully awake yet. Toko was ready to respond, but your intervention cut him off. "Let's keep the squabbling to a minimum," you advised, peering at the map in your hands with a frown. "We're about to enter dangerous territory, so let's stay focused." You mention, furrowing your brows as you tried to make out the direction you were supposed to head towards. “There’s so many paths… but not a single one connects to the city…,”

Toko's curiosity got the better of him as he peeked over your shoulder, his head tilted to the side as his gaze darted across the map. Confusion etched on his face as he examined the symbols and drawings that adorned the scroll. "Why bother with a map if it won't even guide you to where you need to go?" he questioned, genuinely baffled.

"It's a hidden village, idiot," Kenji interrupted with an exasperated sigh. "If the village was easily found on a map, it would defeat the purpose of being 'hidden.'" He rolled his eyes, continuing his explanation. "They've been kind enough to give us a basic layout of where they are located, so it's better than having nothing at all." You added with a sigh.

Toko opened his mouth to retort, but you quickly hushed him, lowering the map and bringing the group to a halt. You had walked for a good amount of time, and the old lady's house had long vanished from sight. Time had passed faster than you realized, and now you stood before a colossal forest, its towering trees casting a shadowy canopy over the path ahead. As you observed the towering trees that loomed overhead, a nervous churning settled in your stomach. There was an inexplicable unease that gnawed at your senses, even though no foreign chakra presences threatened you at the moment. Perhaps it was the imposing shadows cast by the trees, or the dense mist that engulfed the forest, which left you feeling queasy. Whatever the cause, the feeling was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

As you struggle with the inexplicable feeling, Toko's voice breaks the silence, tinged with concern. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and asks, "Are you okay, sensei?" With a forced composure, you respond, "I'm fine, we have to go through here,” You take a deep breath, attempting to ease your tensed shoulders. "We should be cautious," you advise, your voice steady as you speak. "There's likely to be traps. We won't be able to see much inside either, so we need to focus." Your hand tightens around the straps of your bag, a comforting reassurance against the uncertainty that lies ahead. “If anything happens, leave your bags and evacuate. If you manage to split up, use paper bombs to find each other. If you can’t find me, leave me behind and forget the mission—,”

“You know we’re not going to do that, sensei,” Toko cuts you off with unwavering worry.

"It's not a request. This is an order. You will follow my instructions, understand?" Your eyes narrow as you address him. "You're both Chunin now, but don't overestimate yourselves. You have limits, and you need to know them." You take a moment to gather yourself, steadying your breath and grip on your kunai. Despite being well-rested, your body felt heavy, and a cloudiness lingered in your mind, despite your attempts to stay focused. "Let's move,"

As you journeyed deeper into the forest, the path became increasingly obscured, shrouded in a dense gray mist that blanketed the ground. Seeing no other option, you curse under your breath, peering up at the towering trees that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. "Dammit," you muttered. "Looks like I'll have to climb up there and see if we can find a way out of this forest." With a decisive movement, you buckled your bag tightly on your back, ensuring it was secure before preparing to scale the trees. “I’ll be quick, so you two stay where you are,”

Toko adjusted the straps of his bag, nodding earnestly in agreement. "No worries, sensei," he chimed in, his eyes fixed on you with a confident smile. "We'll keep a watchful eye out for anything suspicious." With a silent understanding between them, Kenji bobbed his head in agreement. The boys had observed your uneasiness since leaving Konoha, and they were trying to ease it. A glimmer of relief washed over you as their reassurance eased the tension in your shoulders, even if just momentarily. You centered your chakra in your feet, preparing to scale the towering trees before you. Sensing that reaching the top of the trees would take you at least five minutes, you mentally steeled yourself to be as swift and efficient as possible.

Despite your best efforts to maintain focus, the unsettling feeling in your stomach persisted, growing more intense with every passing moment. Not being a sensory ninja, you questioned the source of this unease, attributing it to your stress. Was it the conversation that you had with the lady back at the cabin that was making you nervous? Or maybe you were becoming paranoid with each passing second thanks to this mission. As you immerse yourself in your thoughts, your footing falters, and your foot slips on the bark of the tree. You would’ve fallen down, but thankfully your chakra was strong enough to maintain your weight. However, the extra weight of your bag pulled you downward, and a sense of panic surged through you. In a desperate attempt to regain balance, you hastily let your bag fall off your shoulders as you propelled yourself forward, managing to regain your position on the tree trunk once more. The unexpected scare left you panting, your breath coming in ragged gasps. A cold sweat trickled down your forehead as adrenaline coursed through your burning veins. That was a close one, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself out. There was a slight delay, and then the loud thump of your bag hitting the ground echoed through the air, reverberating through the forest.

Craning your neck to look over your shoulder, your eyes widened as the dense mist obscured any view of the ground below. The realization of your position set in, and the thought of plummeting headfirst down to that unseen abyss sent a shiver down your spine. "What the hell is wrong with me?" you muttered under your breath, swallowing the lump of saliva that had accumulated in your mouth. A pang of worry laced your thoughts as you hoped the boys wouldn't panic upon seeing your bag fall.

Climbing the rest of the way up with a moment of hesitation, you finally reached the top of the tree. As you placed your foot on top, a soothing breeze greeted your face, caressing your nose and playfully tousling your hair. The view was breathtaking, a vast expanse of trees stretching as far as the eye could see. Amidst this forest kingdom, your gaze snagged on something significant. "There you are," you murmured as you spotted what you had been searching for.

Toko and Kenji waited anxiously, their backs resting against the trees as they watched you vanish into the distance. After a few minutes, Toko's restlessness got the better of him, and he started fidgeting with his gloves, stealing glances upwards in search of your descent. He turned to face Kenji, who was immersed in his book, and voiced his concern, "Do you think she's alright?"

"She might take a while," Kenji responded calmly, casting a brief glance upwards before returning his attention to his book. "This isn't exactly a small forest. Stop worrying so much." He paused for effect, then added, "It's only been about five minutes, anyway."

Toko let out a sigh, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, maybe I’m worrying too much." He sat down cross-legged on the ground, leaning back on his arms. A lighthearted chuckle escaped his lips as he continued, "I have no idea how you—," His sentence was interrupted by the abrupt sound of something hitting the ground beside them. The unexpected thump caused Toko to jump, his senses alarmed. In a swift motion, Kenji had already tucked away his book and drew his kunai, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Kenji turned to Toko, concern etched on his face, "Toko, you okay?" He asked, searching their surroundings for the source of the sound. Their minds raced with paranoia, convinced that they were being followed and watched. Toko patted himself down, readying his own weapons as he replied, "Yeah, I'm good." Together, they carefully approached the direction they thought the sound had originated from, weapons ready, prepared for whatever danger might await them.

They came to an abrupt halt as they reached the spot and laid eyes on the heavy bag, its contents scattered on the ground. "It's Sensei's bag," Toko exclaimed, lowering his shuriken and rushing toward it.

"She dropped it?" Kenji muttered, his gaze darting skyward in the hopes of seeing you descending from the treetop. However, Toko was unconvinced. "Dropped? That doesn't make sense. Something must have happened," he says, already retracing his steps towards the tree you had initially climbed. Dropping his own bag, he prepared to ascend the tree so he could look for you. 

"She probably dropped it because of its weight," Kenji reasoned, attempting to calm Toko's growing concern, "Maybe it was weighing her down the farther she went." He grabbed Toko's arm and pulled him away from the tree, "Let's wait a little longer. She told us to wait."

"We can't wait!" Toko protested, his voice filled with urgency. "What if someone got to her up there?"

"Then we would have seen her body dropping. Toko, there are so many other reasons why she would have dropped her bag. You're being dramatic." He attempted to reason, only to have his hand slapped away by Toko.

"Dramatic? No, I'm concerned for her safety!"  he retorted, frustration evident in his voice. "You're the one who doesn't seem to care! You never care about anything!" He jabbed an accusing finger at Kenji, his tone laced with anger. Frustration ignited within Kenji as he clicked his tongue at the harsh accusations coming from his friend, "Of course I care, but I also use common sense."

"Common sense my ass," Toko snapped, "You're the last one to talk about common sense." The shift in Toko's tone was familiar territory for Kenji. The implications of his words were clear, a biting jab at something they both knew very well.

"Don't you dare bring that up," Toko warned, his voice a low, sharp hiss. Both of them knew exactly where the conversation was heading, a topic that had been avoided for a long time, but the memories and feelings still lingered fresh in their minds.

“You know exactly what happened, so stop blaming me for everything,” he snarls at his friend, obviously bothered by the matter.

“I blame you because you were stubborn. You think you’re the smartest, strongest ninja out here, and that’s why she died,” Toko argued, turning around to face him fully.

“I didn’t think any of that. You were a coward and you stepped back. We needed that mission more—”

"What we needed was to go back and get help!" Toko’s voice escalated into a yell, frustration reaching a boiling point as he pushed at Kenji. "Don't you dare put your hands on me," Kenji shot back, his own frustration rising. But Toko, fueled by anger and past memories, paid no heed to his warning.

"You left us behind and went on your own, just because you thought you could do anything without us," Toko seethed, grabbing Kenji by the collar. "I would've left, but she was worried for you.” His voice trembled with anger and grief. "And we went back. And she died because you couldn't let go of your pride and forget the mission," the words hung heavy in the air, their impact as potent as a physical blow. That’s why Kenji didn’t think about his actions. He couldn’t, not when he was being accused of something so serious.

Toko's body connected with the ground, his cheek inflamed and stinging from the impact. He looked up to see Kenji towering over him, fist clenched tight. "You bastard," Toko spat, pushing himself up off the ground with a surge of anger. He lunged forward, tackling Kenji to the ground, and his fist shot forward, aiming for his friend's face. However, Kenji was quick to react, pushing Toko off and pulling out a kunai in the blink of an eye.

The situation escalated, and the sight of the drawn weapon and the intent to harm each other fueled the conflict. Toko saw it as a direct threat to his life, and drew his own kunai. They both launched forwards with only one intent in mind; to hurt each other. However, as the two boys were about to clash, a pair of strong hands intervened, seizing their wrists and squeezing them hard enough to make them release their weapons in a swift motion.

Your voice echoed through the clearing, filled with disbelief and anger. "What the hell is wrong with you two, huh? What were you thinkin?!" You shoved them away, making them stumble onto the dirt. Your eyes darted between them, their heads lowered in shame, attempting to avoid your piercing glare. "You guys never turn on each other, do you understand me?!" The anger in your tone was evident, a boiling cauldron of frustration and disappointment at what they were doing. Your hurt and disappointment were palpable as the memories of your past resurfaced. The uneasy sense of déjà vu weighed heavily on your heart. After receiving no response from them, you spoke again, your voice firm and demanding, "I asked you something, so you better answer me!"

"Yes ma’am," Kenji responded, his voice obedient yet filled with tension. He stood up, grabbing his arm as his head remained bowed. Toko's response came next, the venom in his eyes directed at Kenji. "Whatever," he responded bitterly, wiping the blood that dripped from his nose. His gaze never wavered, filled with a potent mix of hatred, anger, and spite. Your hands came up to rub your face, attempting to ease the headache that formed. "I taught you to never betray each other. I hope this is the first and last time you two ever pull out your weapons on each other,”

"Maybe he should learn to keep his hands to himself." Toko retaliated, but your head whipped around, your eyes locking onto his. "And maybe you should learn how to forgive," you retorted, the words cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "I heard your argument, I know what this is about. I heard everything as I was coming down. Her death was no one’s fault" Your eyes trailed down his face, watching as his expression twisted in pain. "It doesn't seem that way," he finally said, grabbing his bag and harsly pushing past Kenji, who was still staring at the ground.

Kenji's hands were clenched tight, his fingernails digging into his skin and his knuckles turning a pale white. You could sense the tension in his body, recognizing the need for a conversation on this matter. You knew deep down that the underlying issues had to be addressed once you returned home. All of you had been avoiding it ever since it happened, and you couldn’t help but blame yourself for it. However, there was still a mission waiting to be completed, and you would have to push aside the issue once more.

“We’ll speak about this when we get back, for now, just focus on the mission,” you say, grabbing the kunais that were on the ground, “I found out where we have to go,”

The trek towards the destination proceeded awkwardly, each step taken in complete silence. The atmosphere was thick with tension, making it feel nearly impossible to breathe. Hours ticked by without a word being uttered between any of you, none of you sure of what to say. It was then that you settled on waiting until you reached the village to address the situation. You felt it was best to hold off on any conversations until you were in the safety and comfort of your own home, knowing the pressure on them would only grow if you brought it up now. Your sole focus was on the mission at hand. As long as you kept your mind free from any distractions, everything would go smoothly. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself in hopes of managing your anxiety. You observed the boys walking alongside you, their eyes avoiding each other like magnets repelling the same pole. They seemed immersed in their own thoughts, perhaps consumed by anger and regret. The scene reminded you of Obito and Kakashi, and your heart ached slightly as the memory of your friends surfaced once again.You had made a silent promise to yourself that your students would never turn against each other like Obito did to Kakashi. Yet, the events that had just unfolded had planted seeds of doubt in your mind about what the future held in store for them. The thought of your students becoming ensnared in a cycle of hatred filled you with dread and fear.

Your body felt weighed down once again, but not due to the muddy terrain. This time, it was the weight of worry that was resting on your shoulders. It was as if you were being physically held back by the embodiment of anxiety. Yet, despite the weight, you also inexplicably felt a sense of lightness. The suppressed emotions you harbored were taking a toll on your physical self, causing you to silently curse at your own vulnerability. As their teacher and mentor, you were meant to inspire them to forge forward. You were supposed to set an example, yet here you were, feeling crushed beneath the weight of your own worries. Doubts clawed at you, making you question if you were truly fit to be their sensei. You were acutely aware of your previous failures, of your imperfections. Now, you found yourself failing them yet again, berating yourself for not taking action when you could have. You should have addressed the incident and spoken to them, but you held your tongue. The unresolved tensions and bottled-up emotions continued to fester between your students while you tried avoiding ever mentioning anything. Your eyes remained fixated on the path, and your legs moved mechanically, even though you were unaware of your surroundings. It was as if you were caught in a trance, your mind stuck in deep reflections while your body went through the motions. It wasn’t until the giant gates of the Hidden Mist Village emerged before your eyes that you finally snapped out of your contemplative daze. The guards stood vigilantly at the gates, their masked faces intently focused on you and your students. Their weapons were raised in anticipation, their gaze unwavering. It was only then, as their intense stares met your eyes, that your body snapped back into reality. The haze of your thoughts lifted, and your mind cleared, becoming acutely aware of the moment.

Your arms slowly raised, palms facing the guards to signal that you meant no harm. Your feet remained firmly planted on the ground as you addressed the guards with a firm tone. "We're from the Hidden Leaf Village," you explained, "We were called for an important mission. We've heard reports of rogue ninjas terrorizing your village. We're here to assist your people." Your voice was crisp and precise, making your purpose abundantly clear. "Please," you reiterated firmly, "If you need more information, let me approach so I can present the mission scroll." The guards exchanged glances again, before one of them finally stepped forward. It was the captain, you assumed, and his hand reached out, silently asking for the mission scroll.

Without wasting another moment, you reached into your pouch, quickly retrieving the scroll and placing it in the waiting hand of the captain. You waited patiently as he perused the scroll, making sure that you posed no threat to them. Your eyes darted back to Toko and Kenji, who stood behind you, their heads downcast and avoiding eye contact.

"You may come through. We have been waiting for your arrival." With a deep voice, the captain’s words reverberated through the air. He then gestured for you to follow, leading the way into the village. Initially, you didn't notice how empty the streets were, until you walked past a nearby hospital. The sight of numerous civilians lying pale and ill on the floor caught your attention in an instant, and the scene unfolding before you was nothing short of horrific. Nurses were overwhelmed, tending to the massive number of ill patients who had filled the entire hospital and were now flooding the streets. The people lying on the floor appeared deathly ill, their bodies wasting away as the nurses fought desperately to keep them alive. The sight was eerie and heart-wrenching, sending chills down your spine. However, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from the patients, which didn’t go unnoticed by the captain.

"They're all dying," the guard stated matter-of-factly, his gaze fixed forward as if refusing to acknowledge the suffering of the people around him. "All because of poison," he added with a callousness that sent a chill down your spine. Your eyes then fell upon an elderly man who was writhing in agony, his leg profusely bleeding and contorting in ways that defied the limits of the human body. He was wounded, a large gash the shape of a large blade tainted his weak leg. His wound appeared to be decaying, yet fresh blood continued to flow from it, a stark contrast to the slow decay. As your eyes locked with the elderly man's pleading gaze, he muttered a desperate "help us" before you averted your eyes and shut them tightly. Your body trembled at the sight, the suffering of the people weighing heavily on your heart. "And there's no cure for it," the captain’s words echoed in your mind, causing your eyes to open in disbelief. Slowly, you walked past the hospital, your senses still reeling from the stark reality you had just witnessed. A few people could be seen making their way towards the hospital, but beyond that, the village seemed eerily deserted once more.

“No cure? Then all those people….”

The captain's voice was raw and frustrated as he clenched his spear tightly, “All my people will die in vain,” he exclaimed, his anger noticeable. "We've always dealt with similar cases, but after being repeatedly attacked by those damn rogue ninjas, the number of incidents has tripled over the past few months. I can feel it in my bones – they're to blame for this, but I can't prove it, because we’ve never caught them" the captain continued, the helplessness in his tone was obvious.

With furrowed brows, you looked at the captain, "Do you have any information on them?". It was difficult for you to fathom how anyone could be so cruel as to slowly torment and kill an entire village of innocent people.

The captain exhaled a deep sigh, his expression heavy with disappointment, "I wish I had something of value to tell you, but the truth is, I don't," He paused, his voice carrying a sense of helplessness, "We've only spotted cloaked figures breaking in and harming innocent civilians, and anyone wounded in those attacks always end up the same – poisoned and rotting." Frustration tinged his voice as he continued, "We don't know where they come from or why they're doing this. We don't even know how they create that poison they use." You understood how he felt—you understood the helplessness of not being able to protect someone, in his case, everyone.

"I appreciate that information, sir. In situations like this, any information is helpful. Rest assured, we will do our utmost to protect your people. The safety of your village is our top priority." The captain didn't meet your gaze as you spoke, and you could sense his struggle to believe it. Given the countless lives lost, it was almost impossible for him to harbor hope that the nightmare would end. Toko and Kenji stood beside you, their faces betraying a mix of horror and sympathy for the village. Toko, in particular, fidgeted nervously, his uneasiness evident. The weight of the situation was becoming more real and pressing with every passing moment.

"It'll be alright, Toko," you offered a faint smile, trying to provide reassurance. Meanwhile, the captain continued his instructions. "Make sure you avoid getting hit by their weapons. From what the doctors have reported, every patient who’s ended up in the hospital has been stabbed or cut by those ninjas. It seems they carry poisoned knives of some kind. If they even scratch you, you'll find yourself dead," he warned gravely. You couldn't quite determine if the captain's intentions were to scare you or if he was genuinely worried for your safety, but regardless, you nodded in response. "We will be careful,"

The captain led you to the highest point in the village, situated atop a hill on the outskirts. This vantage point would serve as your watchtower for the remainder of the day, with an unobstructed view of the entire town below. You knew you had to remain vigilant, ready to take action at the first sign of trouble. With a resolve to put an end to the suffering of the villagers, you silently vowed to complete your mission as efficiently as possible.

"You will stay here. This vantage point offers a perfect view of the village. I wish you the best of luck, to all three of you. May you emerge victorious and save our people." The man then bowed his head in respect, but you caught a glimpse of his eyes beneath his mask. They were dark, as if the light of hope had been extinguished from within them. He had witnessed the grim reality of the situation time and time again, and his eyes seemed to convey the belief that at least some of you would not survive this ordeal. Countless Jonin from other villages had faced the same grim outcome. They had come, fought valiantly, yet ultimately succumbed to their fate. The captain's eyes reflected the weight of past failures, and yet, within him, there lingered a faint hope—a slender thread of fate that perhaps you and your students would defy the odds and succeed. He desperately yearned for it, hoping that you would put an end to the suffering that had ravaged his village.

You observed as the captain descended the hill, your face contorted in a frown. The pain and despair you had glimpsed in his eyes continued to haunt your thoughts, making it difficult to fully focus on anything else. It wasn't until the captain was completely out of sight that your mind finally caught up, and you turned your attention towards the boys, who had already taken a seat on the ground, their gazes wandering around the barren hill that offered nothing but patches of grass and a few scattered rocks. They were still silent, and you quickly noticed the somber expression on Toko's face and attempted to provide reassurance. "We'll help them," you stated firmly, placing all the bags together and double-checking your weapons to ensure you were ready for any situation. "And we'll be okay,"

"Even if we capture those ninjas, what will happen to all those people who are already poisoned?" Toko, who had not spoken a single word during your time here, finally spoke. His voice trembled, void of the earlier excitement that had filled his words before. Your gaze shifted towards the village, taking in the unsettling sight of deserted streets—a haunting portrayal of the misery and despair that had ensnared these people.

"They'll die. There's nothing we can do for them except avenge them. They will die in peace, knowing that no one else will get hurt." There was no room for debate or argument. Toko accepted your words without protest, a clear indication that the emotional toll of the events had left him exhausted. Kenji sat quietly nearby, leaned against a rock, listening intently to your exchange. In a rare display of positivity, Kenji spoke up, "Maybe our medical ninjas can find a cure for them," His words stood in stark contrast to his usual stoicism and pessimism, and you couldn't help but appreciate the glimmer of optimism. However, Toko's frown remained unchanged, and he paid no heed to Kenji's statement.

"Maybe so, Kenji," you replied with a faint smile, slowly standing up to keep watch. Silence blanketed the area once more as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, transforming the city into a canvas illuminated by the street lamps. The translucent mist began to form, casting an eerily beautiful yet ominous veil over the surroundings. Minutes turned into hours as you, Toko, and Kenji took turns observing the village, looking for any signs of unusual activity in the silent and deserted town. The sky was obscured by thick gray clouds, concealing the moon's silvery glow and blocking any natural light from filtering through. The temperature had dropped significantly as well, and you had been shuddering all night long, your cheeks reddened from the biting cold. From the corner of your eye, you could see Toko and Kenji also shivering, the winter chill seeping into their bones and making them restless.

"You boys okay?" Your aching feet, throbbing from standing for so long and prompted you to speak up as your voice echoed through the silent night. The idea of standing for the entire night seemed both physically draining and unnecessary, considering the uncertainty of whether the rogue ninjas would even make an appearance tonight. Who knew if they would even show up? Doubt began creeping into your mind as you considered the slim chances of any action occurring in the next few hours.

“I’m fine,” Kenji answers, his head body leaned against an uncomfortable rock, “Just uncomfortable,”

 "You're not supposed to feel comfortable," Toko retorted, finally speaking to Kenji after hours of icy silence. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood, relax," Kenji responded with a frustrated huff, his body straightening up as he shot a glare at Toko, who sat a few feet away from him. “Funny, you never try to lighten the mood but now you’re suddenly caring if it’s tense or not,”

“Boys, stop it,” you warn before things got heated, “It’s not the time or place to argue,” 

“Oh please, when is it ever the time or place?” Your eyes widen at the sudden hostility towards you, making Kenji stand up to your defense. “Don’t talk to her like that, asshole,” he warns, his voice dripping with a venom you had never heard before as he made his way towards Toko in a threatening manner, “Or what? You’re going to hit me again?”

“Stop it you two!” you exclaimed, quickly standing up and forcefully pushing them apart, “You need to stop this bullshit, or else all three of us will go down. Is that what you want? You want to put us in danger?” your voice was stern and authoritative, trying to paint a clear message for the both of them. Your eyes flicker back and forth between them, searching for at least an ounce of shame on both their faces. However, Toko simply let out a loud scoff, backing away while his eyes sent a scorching glare at Kenji. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned on us,” he accused, his expression turning bitter once Kenji’s body tensed. “What the hell is your problem? I’m suddenly the bad guy here?”

“You always were,”

Their argument was about to continue despite all your attempts to alleviate the situation, but the sudden sharp and horrific scream of a woman that pierced through the cold and silent night caught you off guard. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when the scream echoed through the night, and the boys were quick to gather at the edge of the hill beside you. Your eyes scanned the darkened town, searching for an explanation or a culprit, catching a glimpse of four cloaked figures jumping out of one of the townsfolk’s windows. Their backs were adorned with toll rods, a knife at the end of each one gleaming ominously in the shadows below. You assumed it was their weapons as one was tainted crimson red—Blood. “It’s them,” your voice hardened, and without any hesitation, you jumped down from the hill, your students quickly following behind you. Your presence had been figured by the ninjas as they immediately split up and darted in different directions. Instead of attacking you, they decided to avoid you, as if their attention was focused on something else. Something more important. “Alright,” you stop your tracks on top of one of the rooftops, memorizing the directions the ninja went, “We’ll go for the one up north first—,”

“I’ll go for the one on the right,” Toko exclaims in impulsive haste, giving you no time to react nor respond as he sprinted into the deep night. Anger bubbled up in your chest, making you curse, “Dammit! Toko! Come back here!” you called out, but he was already out of sight. “Shit, go after him Kenji, I’ll take care of the other two. Don’t get cut. Be careful,” the boy nods his head, muttering a soft “You too,” before vanishing into the shadows, leaving you all by yourself. You shook your worries away and began jumping over the rooftops towards the direction two of the ninjas had gone, and thankfully, they hadn’t gotten too far. They had soon made their way into your line of vision, and you swiftly followed behind them. They were under you, running through the paths of the village as you followed on the rooftops.

They were faster than you expected, and your breath came out as ragged gasps as you sprinted after them. There was no way you were going to catch them like this. They knew the village. They knew where to run to. They knew every corner and curve, as if they had done this thousands of times. “Shit,” you cursed under your breath, continuing to jump from roof to roof as you followed both cloaked figures. As you followed them, you reached for the pouch on your vest, pulling out a few paper bombs. ‘You’ve got this,’ you reassure yourself as you gain enough speed to jump down on top of one the figures. Your fingers swiftly stick the bombs onto its back, and you push yourself off and away from it. The cloaked figure reacted instantaneously, reaching for its weapon and swiftly swinging it at you, the knife-tipped rod a deadly threat. You felt the slightest brush of air as the weapon narrowly missed you, just barely avoiding a serious cut. Before the blade could do any harm, the paper bomb detonated, sparing you from injury. The ensuing blast sent you staggering backward, your feet struggling to maintain balance in the aftermath. As the smoke dispersed, you surveyed the scene, expecting to find the slumped body of the rogue ninja. However, to your surprise, nothing remained except an empty spot. Has it been a clone all this time?

‘Crack’

A wave of shock flashed across your face, your reflexes pushing you backwards just in time to avoid the figure that plummeted onto the spot you had recently occupied. Once again, the weapon-wielding figure narrowly missed you, your luck holding strong, "Who the hell are you, and why are you doing this?" Spinning the kunai skillfully around your finger, you clenched the handle tightly as you waited for an answer. 

The mysterious figure stood mute, shaking its head as it spoke in a low, distorted voice. "Stay out of my way, and you shall not get hurt," it warned. Confusion gripped you, as you found yourself unable to determine the figure's gender from their concealed features. As you scrutinized more closely, you glimpsed what appeared to be a mask under the expanse of their large straw hat, further obscuring their identity.

Your determined eyes locked onto the mysterious figure, "I'm not letting you guys terrorize this village any longer," you hissed. As your mind briefly wondered about the whereabouts of the second figure, you remained vigilant, refusing to let your guard drop. "You have no idea what this village has done," it pauses for a brief moment. "Please, just be on your way. You have nothing to do with this. I do not want to hurt you, but if you get in my way, you will end up just like them." It trained its weapon on you. “I am sparing you and the young men, leave, or seal your fate this very moment,”

“I don’t need your mercy,” you glare at him and take out your shuriken, “I’m not letting you kill these people,”

"Then you shall die like the rest of them," suddenly, the second figure reappeared, delivering a powerful kick to your abdomen, sending you sprawling against the wall. Your head hit the bricks and snapped back, leaving you unconscious for a few fleeting seconds. As you slowly regained yourself, your eyes snapped open just in time to avoid another attack. With a well-aimed kick, you connected solidly with the figure's head, causing it to stumble as it tried to extract its weapon from the ground. Without hesitating, you took its own weapon and jammed it into its stomach, making sure the blade pierced its muscle deeply. However, as you gripped the handle tightly and pushed it even further, the figure turned into some sort of liquid that melted away under your feet. “A clone?!”

As you glanced back, your confusion grew as the person you had been speaking to appeared a few feet away from you, now charging towards you with an additional rod in hand. The blade swung past you multiple times, trimming some stray strands of hair caught in its path. You swiftly dodged and ducked, sweeping your leg across the ground to knock its legs out from under it. It briefly stumbled but quickly caught itself, and before you could react, it attempted to swing its weapon at you once more.

With lightning reflexes, you grabbed the rod, yanking it toward you as you discarded your previous weapon. A firm kick to its stomach sent it stumbling backwards. As the rod slipped from its hands, you firmly held onto it, a hint of superiority in your voice. "You're nothing without your weapon, aren't you?" you taunted, hurling it to the side, out of reach for both of you along with the other.

"You have no idea what you are doing," it said, rising from the ground. It locked your wrist in a firm grip, and you fought for control. "You think you are doing good, but you are only defending horrible people," it continued, its strength surprising you as it began to push your arms downwards. "Everything you do now will be in vain," it taunted. "They will die, and so will you." With immense strength, you managed to break free, swinging your kunai at its neck. To your surprise, it lifted his hand, allowing the blade to pierce through its palm with no reaction.

"Your students will perish because of your decisions," it sneered. "You could have turned away from all of this, yet you chose to blindly follow your foolish orders," it continued. A powerful kick to your stomach sent you stumbling to your knees, a pained groan escaping your lips. Your arms instinctively wrapped around your aching stomach as you struggled to catch your breath.

The figure unflinchingly removed the kunai from its wounded palm, its expression remaining stoic despite the blood trickling out. Its words hung in the air, a mix of nonsense and malice, as you gazed up at it, your teeth clenched together. "But, I must admit," it continued, "you will die with honor. I admire that." With deliberate strides, it approached you, firmly grasping your weapon in its hands. "This is your end," Its ominous words trailed off as it prepared to deliver a final blow. You were about to dodge, but the sudden intervention of another figure caught you off guard. 

Toko lunged at the figure with lightning-fast precision, tackling it to the ground. Moments later, Kenji rushed into view, his voice filled with concern as he called out to you in worry, "Sensei!" He hurried to your side, helping you up and diligently checking your body for any injuries. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, his gaze scrutinizing every inch of your frame in search of any signs of harm. "I'm okay," you responded, wincing as a sharp pain radiated from your stomach. “We fought those two ninjas, but both of them were clones,” he says and looks at Toko who jumped back towards you after tackling the figure, “I’m assuming that guy is the real deal,”

“Yeah, they haven’t used up much chakra, and they only used clones,” you hiss, “But we can’t let them escape,”

"You think I'll let him escape? I've had enough of this damn mission to let that happen." Toko sneered as he was about to dash back at the figure when you intervened, stopping him. "Wait, we need to work together," you urged. "I fought with them, and I barely got any information of what they can do, so we have no idea what they’re capable of." Your arm halted his advance, but it didn't deter his anger. "So what?" he snapped, shoving your arm away. "He's on the floor. Let's get the job done." He sprints towards the figure, pulling out his blade to finish it off.

"Toko!" you yelled, your voice strained with the effort, your lungs burning in protest. Before Toko could get any closer, you noticed the figure slyly retrieve the kunai it had taken from you, hidden beneath its form to secretly attack Toko. "Toko, get out of the way!" you warned urgently. With a swift movement, you pushed Kenji safely away from you and dashed toward your other student, just in time to shove him out of the path of the incoming blade. Kenji's quick thinking resulted in the figure being entrapped in an earth style jutsu, the ground surrounding him turning solid and trapping him in place.

Toko’s eyes were wide, and for the first time during the whole night, he seemed to snap back into reality. “Shit, sensei—,”

"I’m fine," you reassured as you glanced between Kenji and the now immobilized figure. You took a step towards it, your voice firm as you declared, "You're done." With a swift motion, you pulled the straw hat and mask off its face, revealing the true identity beneath. To your surprise, the person behind the mask was a young man, no older than your students. A wave of realization washed over you, causing your stomach to drop. This person was so young...

The young man, having shed his disguise, locked his pale eyes with yours, his voice carrying a note of resignation. "You should have stayed back," he told you. "She will have it her way, no matter what it takes," he continued, his gaze drifting towards the approaching town guards. The captain, who had previously assisted you, appeared beside you, his voice filled with surprise as he spoke. "You did it," he exclaimed, "You actually caught him..."

A nagging sense of wrongness crept over you as you observed the situation. It all felt too easy. How could this young man, this seemingly helpless individual, have defeated other jonin from various villages? How could he be solely responsible for the terrorizing of the village? Your supposed victory felt strangely hollow, as if the pieces of the puzzle didn't quite fit together. If this was the person responsible for the commotion, why hadn't he been apprehended earlier?

Your gaze lingered on the young man, observing as he silently accepted his fate, the guards quickly restraining him now that he was freed from the muddy trap, "Your reign of terror ends here." The captain exclaims, his masked face leaning towards the young man.

However, his words continued to echo in your mind, a sinister melody. "She will have it her way, no matter what it takes." Who he was referring to was unclear, and the possibility of there being another person behind the terrorizing acts only added to the mystery. Questions raced through your mind, but your body had finally caught up to the events of the day. The adrenaline wore off, and the sharp pain on your side became overwhelming, forcing you to close your eyes in pain. You glanced down at your vest, noticing the growing red spot on it. The wound was located right where the man had attacked you when you had selflessly pushed Toko away. Kenji, alarmed by your condition, quickly rushed to your side, concern etched on his face. "Sensei, you're hurt," he exclaimed, his voice filled with worry.

The guard's attention immediately shifted towards you as he registered your injury. "You're... hurt," he uttered, his voice filled with dread. "I'm so sorry," he apologized, but you shrugged it off, a hint of humor in your words, "Don't worry, he didn't stab me with his blade. He hurt me with my own weapon." His shoulders visibly relaxed as he exhaled, relieved to hear your reassurance. "I see," he finally responded. "I was worried for a moment. I wouldn't want our hero to suffer such a terrible fate." You could hear the smile on his face, “Thanks to all of you, we will finally live peacefully once more,”

Your students, ever humble, responded to the guard's gratitude with a sense of duty. "There's no need to thank us," Kenji explained, firmly supporting you from one side, "We're just doing our jobs." As the group moved along, Toko, who had been deep in thought, snapped out of his contemplation and quickly rushed to your side, firmly grasping your arm to provide additional support.

“Please, come to the hospital. Let us take care of your wound,” the captain offered, and you hesitantly agreed.

With the stitches in place and your injuries tended to, you finally made your way out of the village with a completed mission, guided by a sense of accomplishment yet plagued by an underlying dissatisfaction. The villagers cheered as you passed, celebrating your victory, but the lingering question of whether more of the perpetrators were still at large nagged at you. Despite the celebration, you couldn't shake off the feeling that the threat wasn't entirely neutralized. Nonetheless, you walked out the gates with your students, Toko and Kenji, both of them remaining quiet and tense but safe and sound.

Each step back felt like an eternity, your wounded body protesting with every movement you made. The pain radiated from your injury, making the journey seem considerably longer than it actually was. In a moment of misplaced stubbornness, you had refused to accept the offer of a full healing from the medical ninja who attended to you. Instead, you had insisted on merely receiving stitches and bandages, reasoning that there were patients who required the medics' attention more urgently than you did. As a result, you now found yourself regretting that decision, every step an agony.

As you kept walking, a sense of relief washed over you as you passed by the familiar cabin where you had once stayed at. There, the old lady, sitting on her porch, noticed you and instantly broke into a wide grin, eagerly waving at you in greeting.

Kenji and Toko both urged you to take a break, sensing your stubbornness but knowing you needed the rest. "We should stop here, Sensei," Kenji insisted, with Toko nodding in agreement as well. However, you protested, "I just want to get home as soon as possible." They were right, though. Your body was exhausted, and pushing yourself could lead to you collapsing before reaching your destination. With each step towards the cabin, time seemed to slow down, particularly for you as your injured side protested with every movement. Seeing your struggle, the old lady's expression immediately filled with worry as you approached her. "Oh, my dear..." The old lady quickly stood up upon noticing your uncomfortable demeanor and reached out to grasp your arms, gently guiding you inside the cabin. "Look at you, come, come," she said, her voice filled with maternal concern. "I will take care of you." Toko and Kenji followed closely behind, their concern matching hers.

Once you were inside, you chuckled apologetically, leaning heavily against the wall while clutching your wounded side. "We're sorry to bother you again," you said, wincing slightly. "I hoped you might have something for my pain?" The old lady, ever resourceful, began rummaging through her cabinets, and you watched as she took a jar filled with various herbs. "Of course," she replied, turning towards you. "But tell me, how did you get hurt?"

Your eyes carefully scanned the contents of the jar that the old lady had taken, before darting up to meet her gaze. "It was some rogue ninja," you explained, grimacing slightly. "Fortunately, he hurt me with my own weapon. Otherwise, I would’ve been poisoned," you continued, wincing as the pain flared. "But it still hurts like a bitch," you grumbled, shifting uncomfortably against the wall.

“I see,” she hums, pulling you towards the fireplace, “I’ll patch you up my dear, I have some soup ready too. I’ll pour you some after I take care of you,”

Toko's concern was evident as he glanced at your wounded side, his worry growing. "It's not bad, right?" he asked nervously. You attempted to soothe his concerns with reassurance, though your voice trembled slightly with pain. "It's just a small gash, Toko," you managed. The kind lady had already laid out a silk mat for you to rest on, and you gingerly laid down, wincing slightly as you did. The old lady then spoke up, shooing Toko and Kenji away. "How about you two boys start pouring the soups while I work on your teacher? Go, go,”

The old lady gently shooed Toko and Kenji away towards the kitchen, gesturing for them to go. You sighed, watching them leave as the lady began to tend to your wound, carefully removing your vest and lifting your shirt to reveal the injury. "Been a long day, hm?" she mused, her voice filled with warmth. As she poured some liquid onto the wound, you involuntarily hissed, the pain sharp and intense. “Yeah,” you managed to squeeze out. After a few moments of silence—and pure agony—your curiosity got the best of you.

You observed as the old lady skillfully mixed and crushed various herbs together, her expertise evident in her movements. "You seem to know a lot about medicine," you noted, your gaze fixed on her hands, "Yes, I was a medical nin back in the day," she replied, her smile warm and reminiscing. As she gently rubbed the herbs around your wound, you continued to observe her, intrigued by her past, "They even called me the 'miracle doctor,' but that's all just old news," she added, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

Your eyes stayed fixed on her hands, watching intently as she poured more liquid onto your injury. "However, I barely have any chakra left to fully heal anyone anymore," she explained, her voice laced with a hint of regret. "I can only resort to medicine now," she continued, gently wrapping the bandages around your wound. Her words were interrupted by your suggestion, "Maybe you can help the people in the village," you proposed, your voice filled with hope. "You might have something that could help them, some sort of cure—,"

“Those people don’t want me, dear,” she shakes her head, “Trust me, I have tried,”

Your expression turned puzzled, "But why?" you asked, watching as she skillfully bandaged your stomach. "I was banished from my village, and am no longer welcomed," she replied, her voice steady and accepting. Once she finished, she handed you a bowl filled with a thick substance. "Here, drink this," she instructed. "It will help you with the pain." You obliged, lifting the bowl to your lips and taking a sip. The bitter liquid burned your throat as you swallowed, its thickness and heaviness leaving an unpleasant aftertaste. After swallowing the bitter liquid, you were left with a sour taste in your mouth, the experience far from enjoyable. Nevertheless, you mustered a grateful expression and thanked the old lady, though your face still showed signs of discomfort. "I don't understand," you finally voiced your confusion, turning your gaze towards her as she began organizing her medical supplies.

“It’s not for you to understand, dear,” she smiles, “Besides, I’ve come to term with it. I had a family and lived my life happily here. What more could I have asked for?” The smile that was plastered on her face was one of genuine happiness, and so you decided not to question any further.

After enjoying a meal and giving your body the rest it needed, you finally bid farewell to the old lady, expressing your gratitude for her assistance. She simply brushed off your thanks, insisting it was her duty to help those in need. As you waved goodbye and set off back towards the village, the journey seemed eerily similar to the one you had undertaken earlier. Although your wound had lost its initial stinging pain due to the medicine the old lady had given you, the trek back felt even longer and more arduous than before.

With your head feeling light and your body heavy, each step felt like a struggle. The only thought keeping you going was the idea of finally reaching the comfort of your own home. To your relief, the familiar gates of Konoha came into view, and you took the first step inside. A wave of relief washed over you, your smile growing bigger as you savored the feeling of being back in the safety of your village.

“Finally, back home,” you mumble, the boys stepping at each side of you, “Yeah,” Kenji sighed in relief as he uncrossed his arms, “You’ll… be going to the hospital?”

“I think I’ll go home and rest first,” you chuckle, rubbing your face tiredly, “I barely used any chakra but I feel like I did,”

"Then rest well. I'll see you later, sensei," Toko chimed in, his voice fading into the distance as he walked away. You couldn't help but frown as tension coiled in your stomach, a sense of dread settling over you as all your worries and unresolved issues assaulted you like a relentless wave. You exhaled deeply, turning to face Kenji, "Go home. You need to rest as well,”

“I barely did anything, you did all the work. All we did was stand by and watch,” he rubs his neck, “I’m sorry… if I acted out or anything like that,” he apologizes with a low head, “It’s never gotten this bad, ever,”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me,” you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, “We’ll work this out. The three of us. But right now, I’m more worried about our physical condition. Go home and take a break,” you smile, earning a nod from him. “I understand… see you around, sensei,” a small, yet gentle smile decorates his features, his feet guiding him away from you and towards his home.

Your exhaustion was evident as you rubbed your temple, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Right..." you murmured, your voice tinged with stress. "I need to file a report," you reminded yourself, recalling the formalities and paperwork needed to officially mark the mission as complete. Frustration and exhaustion weighed heavily upon you as you reluctantly began making your way towards the Hokage building, reluctant to face yet another task that stood between you and the sleep you longed for.

Every fiber of your being ached to collapse on the ground, and a familiar feeling of dizziness and disorientation washed over you once more. You couldn't understand why you felt so utterly exhausted, your annoyance growing with each passing second. This was a new level of tiredness, one you had never experienced before, not even during the traumatic days of war. The fatigue weighed heavily on you, and you found yourself becoming increasingly irritable as you struggled to push forward.

As you made your way across the bridge, your thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a familiar figure with silver hair caught your eye. A sense of curiosity washed over you, as you wondered why the man was there at all. You approached him, and as you drew closer, you noticed that he was standing near the river, gazing out at the water with a book in one hand and the other resting on the rail.

“Having fun, mister Hokage?” Your voice echoed and reached his ears, making him turn towards you and give you a welcoming smile. Not that you saw, you just assumed he smiled at the way his eyes formed a crescent.

“Ah, (Y/N), you’re finally back,” he greets, closing his book as he takes in your features, “Though, you seem a little worn out,”

“Well, the mission wasn’t exactly easy,” you cross your arms over your chest, “Not only that, but the boys also got into a crazy argument, I’ve got a lot on my plate,” you close your eyes and furrow your brows, “It’s never ending,”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that,” he says sincerely, “Don’t be. Anyways, what’s the oh-so-busy Hokage doing walking around the village reading?” You raise your brow at him, tilting your head slightly before clearing your throat. Your hand flies up and grips the bridge’s rail, feeling a little weak in the knees. “Just admiring the day. It’s about time I took a little walk and got out of that office,” he chuckles, looking at your face for a reaction before he suddenly becomes concerned.

“(Y/N)?” Your name escaped the man's lips as he noticed you leaning against the rail, your body visibly struggling to stay upright. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he took a step closer to you. Your eyes met his, but they were dull and weary.

“I don’t… feel so good,” you mumble, your balance giving up on you before you stumble forward, thankfully having him catch you right before you hit the ground. Your vision was becoming a blur, and you couldn’t quite hear anything except for a faint ringing sound. Has the exhaustion caught up to you? No, this was way different. Your stomach tingles and your skin feels… out of place. You felt hyper aware of everything, yet nothing at all. All you could see was the blur of Kakashi’s figure holding onto you.

As Kakashi caught you, worry began to consume him as he watched you slowly fade in and out of consciousness, “Shit! (Y/N)!” His eyes scanned your face and body, to search for anything that might be causing this, and they fell onto the red patch on your vest that was stained. As he pulled away the arm that had been covering the wound, he found his sleeve covered with your warm blood. You were bleeding. You were hurt. Whatever had happened to you needed to be treated immediately. Even though you were patched up, you were in dire need of even more medical assistance.

“I’ve got you, (Y/N). You’ll be okay,” were the last words you heard before fading into the dark unconsciousness.

Part 3 coming soon...

A/N: what do you guys think of it? I was planning on continuing it, but it was getting way too long, so I decided to split it into parts! Do you guys prefer this series short like the first part, or longer like this one? Also, most importantly, I hope you guys enjoy it!!

Tag list: @saltybloodtears @capynul @yuujifii @sammyxorae @babychunks10 @yourlocaljobstealer @hbessey89 @mammons-master (sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!!! Please let me know if it bothers you!!)

[brokenmenswhore]

betrothals & brothels | aegon, aemond, & jace

part 4

pairings: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, aemond targaryen x stark fem!reader, jacaerys velaryon x stark fem!reader

series summary: aemond targaryen tells the realm that you, the lady of house stark, are to wed him and secure a partnership in the north. in protest, you agree to marry jacaerys velaryon, affirming the north’s allegiance to rhaenyra. when the news hits king’s landing, aegon decides it’s better to have you under his watchful eye until the political partnership is solidified, but doesn’t realize you have a life away from your duty as a stark

chapter warnings: smut!! (MDNI 18+), slapping (non-sexual, brief)

a/n: alright y’all, i think i’m gonna make this thing 6 parts? i’m really shit at writing ongoing fics because i never know how to wrap ‘em up but i storyboarded it i’m thinking we’re halfway through riiiight NOW

series masterlist

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“Seven hells, are you alright?” the Madam asked, “you look like hell.”

You scanned the room, only calming down when you were sure there were no recognizable faces, specifically Targaryens, in the vicinity.

“I was just locked in a dungeon cell, thank you for asking,” you responded, making it clear that your annoyance was at your predicament, not at her.

“A dungeon?”

“His Grace does not favor my sharp tongue.”

The Madam’s eyes widened. “My Lady, do you mean to tell me you are in trouble with His Grace King Aegon?”

You mentally cursed. You wholly forgot that this woman had no idea of your reasoning for being in King’s Landing, having left any unnecessary piece of information out of your employment deal.

She saw your frustration, and decided not to pester the question further. “I suppose you would fancy something to calm the senses?”

You gave her a soft smile, accepting the cup the moment it was handed over to you. Taking one giant gulp of liquid courage, you said, “I need you to allow me to reside here for a while. I fear this may be the only place I’m safe.”

“I do feel obliged to tell you that I cannot guarantee His Grace never come here again. His brother, Prince Aemond, is a frequent visitor of this establishment. This may very well not be the safest place for you.”

You knew Aemond came here. You had followed him in here upon your first visitation. You also knew it couldn’t be too difficult to avoid him if you tried.

“Just a few nights, then,” you bargained, “until I find something more permanent.”

“Is the situation truly so urgent?” the Madam questioned in concern.

“May we speak in private?” you asked.

The Madam pulled you to a private room and closed the door. You explained the entirety of your situation, sure to leave in each and every gruesome detail that further proved how urgent this truly was. She listened in awe, unaware of all that had been happening in the Red Keep. She knew that Aemond, a frequent visitor of hers, had announced a betrothal, but Aemond had told her it was purely political, and to not ask any further questions on the matter. Therefore, the Madam never thought to ask who the proposal of marriage was intended for. The Stark name never raised any flags for the Madam, and she never thought anything of it.

The Madam agreed to let you rest in one of the typically unoccupied rooms toward the back of the brothel, in exchange for openness of your clientele. It still remained somewhat selective, the Madam not allowing anyone from the North near you, and of course, no Targaryen men.

You discarded the Targaryen gown the moment you were alone, happier with what was underneath. It was still quite a lot, covering most of your body, but its appearance did not strike one as wealthy.

✶

Any affection Aemond was beginning to hold for you was swiftly removed from his heart the moment he saw your cell unoccupied and the door swung open. He enjoyed a challenge, but even you were beginning to be too much for him. He was beginning to fancy you, and he was jealous of how you treated Jacaerys compared to how you treated him. He knew that, regardless of his emotions, you were the only person who made him feel like he met his match.

However, he was growing tired of the games. If you truly detested him so much, what was the point of all his efforts? He suspected why you asked him for access to the brothels; he had heard the rumors about you at night in the North. Was he truly ready to set his pride aside and marry a whore, even with a title?

He decided that while you may be his betrothed, you were no longer his responsibility. If you fought against this match, there was no point in him fighting for it. He was not even sure he truly wanted it anymore. The family certainly outgrew the need for it; the moment Aemond accepted that you truly had found a way out of your cell, he knew another northern alliance may be necessary. Houses Bolton, Mormont, and Glover had bent the knee to Aegon after a mere show of force from Aemond atop Vhagar. While none were quite as large or as powerful as House Stark, they would do well as northern allies.

Aemond chose to remain calm and collected and do his best to forget you and your attitude ever existed. Aegon, however, coped in other ways.

Aegon liked your quick wit. Though all you did was bicker, Aegon couldn’t help but remember his moment of vulnerability with you. You could have walked away, but you comforted him, despite being so adamant about hating him. He was mean to you because you were mean to him and it hurt his feelings, not because he truly did loathe you, despite what he had told you the very last time you two had spoken.

You were defensive, confident, outspoken- all the things Aegon truly wished in the depths of his heart that he could be, but knew deep down he wasn’t. Aegon desperately wanted to appear as confident and cocky, the smartest in the room, but most could see through the facade, including you. He hated how vulnerable you could make him feel. He loved how it felt when you saw that vulnerability, and chose kindness instead of cruelty. You were everything he wanted to be. You were everything he wanted.

Aegon was fueled by rage immediately after learning of your escape. He sent the King’s Guard through the streets of King’s Landing in search of you. He slammed his fists on tables and bellowed toward his brother, demanding to know where Aemond had taken you when he let you free, but Aemond would not confess, lest he leak his own private details.

The men of the King’s Guard were only employed as such due to their friendship with Aegon, and many had not actually seen you, and admittedly were not sure what you looked like.

Aegon, furious and drunk, had also made the mistake of describing you in the clothes they had provided at the time of your imprisonment, the thought that you may have taken the gown off never crossing his mind.

The men of the Guard had asked around a few brothels, but most became distracted and threw away their task in favor of a pretty girl. You were not nervous when you heard the clanging of armor, for you knew that most of these men couldn’t identity you with a name tag.

The King’s Guard was forced, after two days of searching the streets, to report to Aegon that they had no sign of you whatsoever. Aegon considered that you may have taken passage on a ship to Essos, perhaps somewhere further, but doubted that you would so easily forget Winterfell. He thought of flying there, but knew you had no way to get back home. He also thought you had no way of escaping the dungeons, and he had a consistent habit of underestimating you.

It had been nearly a full moon since Aegon and Aemond last saw you. Aemond refused to revoke your betrothal due to his own pride, at least until he could find a suitable alternative.

Aegon thought of you often, but tried to keep the thoughts at bay. He fought to not let it impact how he ruled, but his friends in the King’s Guard most certainly noticed the change in his demeanor.

They convinced him that he needed a proper night out, him and his best mates drowning in cups and whores, leaving their daily lives behind and choosing pleasure over pain for a night. Aegon agreed, knowing he truly needed to blow off steam.

His friends directed him through three brothels before landing on one, one of the men nearly deafening the room from the sound of his armor as he raised his arms and yelled for libations.

A woman brought a round for the men, taking a bow when she noticed The King. Aegon downed the drink with one swallow, slamming the cup down on the table as he said, “alright, let’s find someone.”

The men cheered, throwing their arms around Aegon’s shoulders as they directed him from room to room.

Aegon himself pushed back a curtain and stopped short, the shock of the sight rendering him unable to move.

You were standing tall, nearly naked, a man with curly brown hair knelt on the floor in front of you, his head between your legs and your hands in his hair.

You were used to people interrupting for a moment, in desperate search of an unoccupied room, so you didn’t even turn toward the sound. The man between your legs, however, pulled back and, upon seeing Aegon, knelt fully over on the floor, his hands out in front of him in a deep yoga-like bow.

You watched him in confusion before turning your head to see who he was pointed toward.

You were panting, skin slightly glistening from sweat, a tiny hint of shock that Aegon had never seen before in your eye.

Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. You just stood and stared at one another as the rest of the men in the vicinity noticed the tension and hastily cleared out.

Once you two were alone, you insisted on speaking first. “Your Grace,” you mimicked a curtsy, sarcasm coating your words.

Aegon took a deep breath, trying his hardest to collect himself. He was feeling a mixture of emotions: shock at the sight of you still in King’s Landing after nearly a full moon’s cycle, anger at you for escaping and running away, confusion at what you were doing fucking in a pleasure house, and most prominently, he was turned on at the sight of you.

“You’re still in King’s Landing,” was the best he could come up with.

“I’ve been trying to make arrangements back to Winterfell,” you said, picking up your small clothes from the floor and covering yourself as you spoke, “but unfortunately, the easiest route is via dragon, yet only a select few here have dragons, and I didn’t wish for them to know my whereabouts.”

“And now that they do?”

You sighed, finishing clothing your body with your small clothes and a robe as you stood tall once again. “I should hope I can count on their discretion.”

Aegon snickered, “and what makes you think you can? Did you forget what you did?”

“I only had to escape because you imprisoned me. Did you forget that?”

Silence filled the room. Aegon felt a bit bad for imprisoning you, and wasn’t sure where the conversation was headed. He instead changed the subject to what truly peaked his curiosity.

“What are you doing here?” he questioned.

You could lie. You could tell him anything that made even an inkling of sense, but you were living room-by-room in a brothel, no surefire way to get home, two men vying for your hand and only one honest, and you, quite honestly, had nothing to lose.

“I work here,” you shrugged as if the confession meant nothing.

Aegon laughed genuinely. He continued to laugh until he caught your gaze and noticed your features were stoic. “You’re not serious?”

“I know you’ve heard the whispers about me, Aegon, you cannot truly be so shocked.”

“You were going to wed my brother without your maidenhood? Was your plan to play pretend as if it hurt?”

“If you recall, I never had any intention of marrying your brother,” you retorted.

“Is this where he took you?” Aegon pressed further, the questions falling off his tongue the moment they popped into his head, his brain seemingly not able to keep up with the pacing of new questions appearing in his thoughts.

“The details of any time I spent with Aemond are none of your business.”

“They are, aren’t they?” he continued, finally taking a few steps closer to you, “did he take you here to fuck you? Did he want to ensure you could never truly belong to our little nephew?”

“No,” you scoffed. You did not owe him details. “He does not have my maidenhood, nor has he ever had me. I would hope you think higher of me.”

“You think you’re so strong, but I see right through you,” Aegon began, as close to you as he could be without physically touching you, “you and Aemond came here to fuck, and when you ran away, you came back here because it’s the only place you knew of. You were desperate for passage to Winterfell, and you needed coin to afford such a journey, hence the employment here.”

Aegon was confident in his accusation, which is what made it hilarious enough for you to audibly laugh.

“I truly wish you understood how ridiculously incorrect you are,” you said through laughs, your hand coming up to cover your mouth to hopefully mute the sound and cure Aegon of some of his embarrassment.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he spoke.

“You think I fucked your brother?” you continued, your laughter growing at the thought.

“Stop laughing at me,” he said again.

“You are so far off,” you could barely catch your breath, you were nearly leaning over from the intensity of the laugh in your stomach.

“I said don’t laugh at me!” he raised his voice, a hand coming to strike your face.

You immediately stopped, standing up straight in disbelief as your hand instinctively held the side of your face. He had hit you. All bets were off now. You did not care about striking a royal if he struck you first.

You moved to hit him back, but he quickly caught your wrists, anticipating the action. You were caught off guard, unaware he could move so swiftly. He swung your body around, slamming your back against the nearest wall, your wrists in his hands as they pressed against your chest.

You stared at each other in a moment of heat before he crashed his lips to yours. Your body took over your mind as you kissed him back, relishing in the feeling of his body pressed against yours.

All of the arguing, crying, shouting, and vitriol between the two of you had crescendoed up to this very release.

Aegon dropped your wrists and instead found your waist, grabbing the flesh there to pull you even closer to him as your hands found their way to the back of his head, fingers intertwining in his hair. He groaned into the kiss at the feeling, prompting you to pull even harder. Neither of you were gentle people, and now was not the time to try to be.

Aegon pulled one of your legs up to his waist, allowing you to feel his clothed hardness against your core. Aegon used his other hand to, with immense difficulty, untie your robe as he continued to kiss you with a fiery passion.

He only pulled his mouth away from you to push your robe open, allowing him to see your body, covered only by your small clothes. He breathed heavily, head down, gazing at you for longer than you would have guessed before he returned his lips to your neck, sucking a sweet spot just below your earlobe. You whined in response, and the sound drove Aegon mad.

Aegon moved the hand unoccupied with holding your leg up down to your core, rubbing over your small clothes. There was an evident wet spot that brutally reminded Aegon that there had been another man in between your legs just minutes ago. It also didn’t escape his thoughts that the man had longer, darker, curly hair and prominent features, much like Jacaerys.

Consumed in his thoughts, he pulled away from you, and you could tell something was wrong as he felt the wetness.

“Uh uh,” you snapped him out of his thoughts, “that wasn’t there before.”

Aegon nodded in understanding, grateful that you automatically knew what was bothering him, and slightly intimidated by that fact.

Aegon toyed with the waistband of your small clothes before dipping his fingers beneath them, eliciting a small whimper from your lips as he went back to sucking on your neck.

Aegon ran a finger between your folds, collecting the wetness there before slowly inserting a finger into your hole. Despite the ferocity of the situation, Aegon refused to miss an opportunity to hear the sounds you made when he moved excruciatingly slow.

Above all else, Aegon had an irrevocable desire to be needed and wanted. He loved to make his whores beg, even if it wasn’t genuine, because he could convince himself he was needed to satisfy them. He desperately wanted to see you vulnerable and begging, but you were too headstrong. He knew hearing any version of ‘please’ come from your lips would be damn near impossible. Damn near was good enough for him to try.

He watched your face contort as he pushed his finger in and out, curling when he hit a particularly sweet spot in your walls. You were whiny and breathy, head back against the wall, but that wasn’t enough for Aegon. He added another finger, the ring that adorned it leaving a cold sensation with each pump.

He kept his head on your shoulder, but was no longer kissing you, instead opting to rest his cheek there, gazing up at you as he watched what he was doing to you.

When he hit that special spot, your eyebrows creased, and he continued hitting that very spot so long as your face gave away how good it felt.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your face beginning to turn a slight hint of red from the heat of it all.

“Not so tough now, are you?” he whispered in your ear.

You choked through strangled moans, “I’m still in control of myself,” and you meant it. If you truly wanted this to stop, or if you truly wanted to be more dominant, you knew you could.

“Doesn’t seem as such,” he replied, fucking you even faster with his fingers and giving himself a small, prideful smile.

He was moving in and out fast now, sounds of your wetness filling the empty space as you braved yourself against his shoulders. You were becoming lost in the pleasure, but you were too stubborn not to have the last word. “You think- fuck- you think I’m not?”

You pulled his hand away from you. It was mostly because you didn’t want to come quite yet, but you were happy to let him believe it was entirely for a show of power. Aegon was surprised, having felt your walls begin to squeeze his fingers just moments before.

You took his moment of surprise as an opportunity to grab his wrist and lead him over to the bed, pushing on his shoulders until he fell backward, the backs of his legs hitting the bed frame and dangling off the bed as he laid.

You considered pleasuring him briefly, and you could see he was hard beneath his breeches as he looked at you expectantly.

You untied and tugged at his breeches, pulling them down until he was only in his small clothes. You then knelt down in between his legs as he propped himself up on his elbows to watch you pull his small clothes down, place a teasing kiss on his inner thigh, and then stand up as if you had no intention of touching his most needy area.

Aegon stared at you, evidently disappointed at the loss of contact.

“Uh uh uh, you haven’t earned that. You don’t deserve it,” you spoke in reference to giving him the oral pleasure he expected.

Aegon tried to snap back at you in protest, but you caught his lips with your own, climbing atop him and straddling his hips. The friction of your clothed heat on his bare length was driving him crazy. He leaned forward to deepen the kiss, gripping your hips as he began to grind up against you, desperate for some kind of contact. He whined into the kiss as he did so, and despite your better judgement, you let him use your body for the moment.

When you had enough of him getting what he wanted, you pushed his shoulders until he was pressed back against the mattress again.

You took his cock in your hand, giving it a few strokes before you moved your small clothes to the side, beginning to sink down on his length.

He threw his head back in pleasure, but looked back up at you when you pulled away from him. You maintained eye contact as you began to sink down again, and Aegon took the hint, locking eyes with you as you allowed him to bottom out inside of you.

You sat atop of him for all too long without moving.

“You gonna move?” he asked, desperate.

“Not unless you ask me to.”

Both you and Aegon were in a power play now. It was turning you on even more.

“Should be the other way around,” he breathed out, erratic and heavy.

“I could sit here all day.”

Aegon would never admit it, but he enjoyed it when he didn’t have to be in control, and he was only more excited by your dominance.

He sat upwards, his cock shifting within you as his face became level with your breasts. He used one hand to free one of your breasts from the confines of your small clothes, running a finger across your nipple before encapsulating it in his mouth.

The heighten mood calmed, the act of Aegon’s mouth on your breasts causing the fiery lust to shift to pure intimacy.

Aegon sucked at one breast while the hand that wasn’t holding on to your back moved to fondle the other breast. His tongue swiped over your nipple in between sucks, his eyes closing as he lost himself in you. He swiftly removed your remaining small clothes over your head before returning to his previous position, praising your chest with his hands and mouth.

He only pulled away when you tugged at his top, the removal leaving you both fully naked in front of one another.

You moved a hand to the back of his head, gently stroking the hair there as he sucked. His eyes fluttered open and he looked up at you, never detaching from you, lightly moaning into your breast as you made eye contact.

You threw your head back and whimpered, your sighs driving Aegon crazy. Your position was so intimate, his cock inside of you as he sucked your breasts, and watching your pleasure from his mouth on your nipple was nearly enough to make Aegon come.

Aegon tested the waters of your movement, moving his hands to grip your hips and push you upward, prompting you to move slightly.

You allowed his efforts to work, very gently grinding your hips against him and pushing yourself up enough to feel pleasure, but not enough to move your breasts too far away from Aegon’s face.

He noticed, and he didn’t like it. He detached from your nipple, his chin resting on your chest right between your breasts. “Don’t hold back,” he demanded.

“I don’t take orders from you.”

You smiled so that he knew you were still playing with him, not genuinely mad. You figured he would continue this back and forth game, but instead, his vulnerability showed through. “Please.”

He was looking up at you through hooded eyes as your hips moved back and forth against him, his gaze glassy and desperate. He was prepared to beg.

“Please what?” you asked, teasing him further.

“Please don’t hold back. Please, I need you to not hold back. I need you.”

His pleading was enough for you. You began to lift your hips higher, your knees bending with each drop of your hips. Aegon reattached his lips to your breasts, challenging himself to hold on with his mouth as they began to bounce.

Aegon couldn’t help himself, he started to thrust up into you as much as he could in his upright position. It wasn’t much, but with the combination of you riding him, the movement was enough to make you sweat.

You held Aegon’s head against your breasts, your fingers intertwining themselves through the strands of his hair, lightly pulling when he gave a small bite to the flesh of your breasts.

He looked up at you and smiled. You thought the moment would be brief, but instead of immediately continuing his demonstrations, he kept watching you as you rode him.

You knew what he wanted. He wanted to see what he was doing to you, he wanted to be the reason for your pleasure- he wanted to feel needed. It’s why he was moving so slowly with his thrusts: you knew he wanted you to ask for more.

You leaned down and kissed Aegon, the kiss more intimate and personal than previously. You pushed him slightly as you leaned forward, allowing him to lay down as you lay on top of him, the position making it much easier for him to rock upward into you.

Instead, he stopped moving.

You flattened your palms against the bed on either side of Aegon’s head. “Give up already?” you teased.

“I’m not moving until you beg me.”

You scoffed. “I could just get up, Aegon.”

“Don’t,” he protested, still needy, “I wouldn’t believe you truly wanted to, if you did.”

“Aegon, move,” you said, needy yourself, soaking wet and much too ready to be fucked hard.

“Beg me.”

“Do you truly think me-“

“Beg me,” he said, his tone growing dark.

“You don’t scare me.”

Aegon fisted a hand in your hair, pulling your head backward as he placed a kiss on your neck, biting down hard on the skin. You hissed at the pain. “I said beg me.”

You decided to give in, but not quite how he anticipated. “Do that again,” you said.

Aegon bit down on your neck again, sucking on the now-bruised skin to soothe the pain right after. “That’s not enough.”

You sighed. “I don’t beg anyone for anything.”

Aegon’s hand harshly slapped your ass, jolting you upward in surprise, causing you to move on his cock. He grabbed your jaw in his hands, forcefully positioning your head so you were looking directly at him. “Fucking beg me.”

His tone was too much for you. You didn’t want to completely break your walls down, but it was too hot. You wanted him bad. You wanted to give in.

“I need you to fuck me Aegon,” you whined, “I want you to fuck me. Please.”

Aegon growled and kissed you hard, one hand moving to press down on the small of your back as he lifted and dropped his hips.

“F-fuck,” you moaned, the consistency of his strokes a brand new feeling, and so, so good.

Aegon kissed you to swallow your moans. You bit gently on his bottom lip, pulling slightly as you looked into his eyes, the feeling causing his eyes to blow out with lust.

He began to fuck you ruthlessly, moving in and out of you as fast as he possibly could, your back instinctively trying to straighten in an effort to brace yourself, but Aegon’s hand was pressing down too much on your back to keep you in place.

He grabbed both of your wrists, swiftly moving them behind your back as he held both with one hand, the other gripping the flesh of your ass to help move you against his sharp, vicious thrusts.

You could wriggle out of his grasp, or even purely strengthen yourself out of it, but you didn’t want to. It all felt too good, and you relished in the feeling of men taking control of you in bed. It was rare the men earned it, and right now, it felt right.

Your body was rocking back and forth against Aegon, and you were no longer able to control any way that your body was moving. You were completely at Aegon’s discretion. You contemplated if it was smart to trust him with your body, but you could tell he needed your body just as much as you needed his.

His hips were snapping against yours at a violent rate, his grip on your ass almost certainly preparing to leave a bruise.

“A- Aeg-“ you started, the words losing themselves on your tongue.

“Fuck, yes, say my name,” he begged.

“Ae- Aegon!” you cried out, nearly squealing.

“Sounds so good when you say it,” he spoke through erratic, hectic breaths, his forehead glistening with sweat as he used you to get himself off, fucking his cock in and out of you as fast as he could.

“Shit, Aegon, I- I can’t-“

Aegon threw his head back, the mere idea of you nearly coming causing his cock to twitch. He couldn’t wait to know how good your walls squeezing against him would feel.

He kept his head back against the bed, using the pressure to anchor himself as he tried to move faster and faster, if it was even possible.

You took the opportunity to kiss his neck, sucking a sweet spot just below his earlobe.

“Fuck,” he moaned, the intensity of the sex mixed with the intimacy of your kisses causing him to worry that he would come first if you didn’t come momentarily.

“Need- need you to come,” he begged, “wanna feel you first.”

“I’m gonna,” you responded, his neediness pushing you closer and closer to the edge as you squeezed his cock like a vice.

Your high crashed over you, your legs shaking from the intensity of your orgasm.

Aegon kept up his ruthless pace, chasing his own high. The feeling of your orgasm mixed with the feeling of your legs shaking around his hips was too much for him, his final few thrusts hard enough to bruise your skin as he shot his seed inside of you.

His cock twitched as his body relaxed against the bed.

You used all of your strength to sit up and move one leg upward, swinging yourself off of his lap and collapsing on your back next to him.

“Aegon, did you just- inside of-“

“We have remedies, don’t worry. I’m sorry, you just felt too good.”

You both laid in silence for a moment, breathing and energy recovering from the ferocity of the sex as you both thought of what you had just done.

“I can’t return to the Red Keep,” you said, breaking the silence, your thoughts consuming you as you almost couldn’t help yourself but ruin the moment.

“I have no intention of forcing you to,” Aegon replied.

“You would allow yourself to take your leave as if you did not see me here today?” you clarified.

“I do not wish for Aemond to experience what I have just,” said Aegon, “if he knows of where you reside, he will continue to force your hand.“

“Was such a match not your idea?”

“It was,” he admitted, “but it is no longer necessary. I am acquainted with you now, and things are-“ his voice trailed off, and he was searching for the correct word, “different.”

“How so?”

Aegon turned to look at you, your eyes locked together momentarily before Aegon sat upward. “I must return,” was all he said before collecting his clothes and exiting the room.

────── ☾ ──────

tags: @torchbearerkyle @dracaryxzs @hangmanscoming @callsignwidow @velvetcrowbarcherry @kravitzwhore @darlingisntit @not-neverland06 @albionfay @cluz1babe @flusteredmoonn @sab-falco @ajanauia

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader [DARK FIC]

Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

........................

[Smoking, Mention of Alcohol Consumption, Mention of Death]

[5.2k words]

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Chapter 10 "The Color"

“Good night, Mister.”

The audacity you possess gnawed at his gut, he was boiling, seething.

How dare you try to walk out on him? How dare you treat him like a common nobody when he’s kept you alive for so long now without asking for anything in exchange?

It’s easy to understand your perspective. You’ve been led to believe you were betrayed and you would have been if you hadn’t presented him with the taste of heaven. He couldn’t get rid of you after the honeyed dew of you and that pretty mouth trickled down his tongue. He was too addicted to the sight of just how much influence he had on you – all hazy eyes and twitching smile, foggy mind and grabby hands tugging at him as if he was an oasis in the desert. He was drunk on the power, writhing in delight at your willingness. He had you wrapped around his finger and he hadn’t even tried.

But then you slide off the windowsill and slowly walk away, towards the door, try to leave him. It was then that he realized you had just as much of a chokehold on him as he had on you if not more.

He didn’t mean to grab you by the hair, he just reached out to stop you. Then you hissed and whirled around to bite him and his internal monologue to persuade himself into seeing things from your eyes dissipated. He’d had enough of your tantrum, he was nurturing a missing kidney because of you.

You weren’t going fucking anywhere.

He snarled at you and jostled you still and silent, spat a few venomous words he wasn’t too proud of and tossed you on the bed.

Be mad all you want, you weren’t fucking leaving him. You had no right to deprive him of the little comfort he’d found.

Sleep did not come that night, it didn’t come for many nights after. He’d spent the quiet hours daydreaming about being the cause for Mitzie’s disappearance. As days blurred into weeks, he became more and more agitated because no matter how much he drank or indulged in chems, he couldn’t fall unconscious. Not when he couldn’t feel you pressed into him and sleeping off the exhaustion of your travels. He’d be so close to slumber, about to slack and doze off, then he’d be startled awake because the lingering smell of lavender and the heat against his chest wasn’t there. He’d bolt upright, look around in delirium, ready to shower the world with bullets because his first thought was that you were kidnapped.

No, you were right there, a few feet away with your back turned to him. You were there, you just refused to touch him.

No more tugs at his coat, they’d been so annoying, he’d ripped his sleeve away as soon as he’d felt them, now he missed them. No more huddling together at night with the excuse of it being cold, no handholding, no loving glances. You weren’t trying to be in direct contact with any part of him you could get your hands on, you didn’t try to strike small talk while you mapped out the wasteland, no more stupid questions, no pleading for him to tell you stories when you camped down for the night.

He was alone, felt like it, the only indicator for that being false was you walking silently behind him, a presence in his shadow, another thumping heart around the campfire. Other than that, there was nothing.

It was agonizing, nerve-wracking, infuriating, but he was too stubborn to try and fix it. He was too prideful to soothe the aftermath of the turmoil he had caused. He tells himself time heals all, you’ll be right back to being a nuisance in a day or two, he comforts his gaping chest and bleeding ribs with those hopeful thoughts, stifles the annoying little critter reaching for you. His heart? No, something else. He had no heart left to give, but something akin to a heart was cradled in the crevice of his ribcage and he’d be willing to share it. If only you’d turn around and fucking look at him…

But the days roll on and you’re stoic in your silence, he’s not sure if it’s a wordless protest still or if you’ve just given up on him and are trying to figure out how to escape. The prickling possibility poisons his blood until he’s angry all over again, but he can’t say anything when you’ve made no such move.

It’s all a waiting game now.

It’s bothersome.

It’s skin-boiling.

It’s –

“ – Mister!”

He blinks at the call and what had been jumbled letters and fake scenarios disperses to give way to a darkening horizon and a mountain of muddy green clouds. The sound of distant thunder echoes in the deserted field you’ve been crossing today and he finally acknowledges the stinging gust of wind licking at his face.

He catches your strained expression as you struggle to bring in a sheet with all that you’ve managed to scavenge for your current occupation.

“Shit.”

A monstrous radstorm creeps your way, lumbering warningly and eating away at the once clear blue sky. Braving it is a lost cause for him, let alone a small smooth-skin like you.

Cooper isn’t one to turn back, but with the path forward cut off with acidic rain ravaging anything that breathes, for once he’s willing.

With a grunt, he snuffs out his cigarette, turns from the approaching apocalypse to you, pushes you aside, and grips the sheet of provisions before dragging it inside the moldering shack that will be your salvation for the next few days. With the need to not be useless pumping through your blood, you burden yourself with your backpack and the ghoul’s pack over each shoulder before stumbling inside and kicking the door shut behind you.

The windows, glassless, are already conveniently boarded up; that’s one less thing to worry over. The latch on the door is too flimsy to survive the storm, both you and Cooper come to realize that quickly when you slide it shut and it nearly breaks off into your hand, having been worn and eaten by rust and bad weather for countless years. The heap of supplies is left to roll around in a pile on the ground as you’re ushered aside.

Another strained grunt comes from the ghoul as he fights against the barren bookcase positioned in one corner of the room. He pushes it towards the door, topples it over, and presses his full body weight against it to slot it neatly against the wall.

As the shack begins to creak under the cutting pressure of the wind, you make haste for the bathroom. Having mapped out the place already, you’d been pleasantly surprised to find a bathtub intact – a decent place to build a little nest for the duration of the storm, away from both the radiation rain and Cooper. There was a used-to-be-teal couch in the main room and you were almost certain he’d bunk on that and leave you to your peace.

You were wrong.

As you drape a flimsy, dirty blanket over the tub to make for your mattress, heavy boots can be heard thudding against the wooden floorboards and before long, you aren’t alone anymore.

“Door’s secured.” Cooper voices out, a meek attempt at conversation, as he leans against the doorframe and crosses both arms and legs before he looks down at you. His hat is off, discarded somewhere on his way to you, as if to shed some mental barrier he’s kept up to give you the chance to step foot inside an invisible crater left gaping after your quarrel. It was a heartwrenching gesture, you weren’t oblivious to his subtle attempts at trying to stoke the fire that now lay dead between you two.

But you were having none of it.

With a curt nod and not raising your gaze from making your bed, you acknowledge his statement, wishing to keep it simple and wordless.

Maybe it was your first proper tragedy of betrayal that kept you tongue-tied, or that you simply didn’t know how to interact with a stranger because that’s what he’d become once the veil had been pulled away from your eyes. Betrayal, it was the sort of dull ache that burrowed deep and ate at you like a worm did an apple, it was something you still struggled to swallow. Microanalyzing every past experience and interaction with the ghoul had become a pastime activity and the more you delved, the darker the general picture became.

He wasn’t a savior, the man was straight up a textbook abuser and you were his unfortunate target for the time being. But your predicament prevented you from simply walking out on him, you’d not survive alone even after months of scouring the wasteland. You scorned your fragility and lack of self-sustainability, if you’d not been constantly sick back at your vault you would have learned to handle a weapon at the very least. Now, you didn’t know how to hold a knife properly, let alone a firearm, not that there was any easily accessible one lying about.

The ghoul was your best bet and as much as you rebelled against the thought, a part of you was unwilling to walk away even if the current obstacles for not doing so weren’t there.

“You hate me now?”

The storm is above your heads now, you can hear the patter of rain against the weather-beaten roof, and the green-tinted grimness of the world outside casts dramatic shadows on Cooper through the cracks of the boarded-up windows. But for once, he doesn’t look like the Grim Reaper, no, he depicts a man distraught, but with enough masculine pride to hide it well. The whole situation seems like an exaggerated drama series, the culmination had passed already, and you didn’t have the mental strength to go through another.

You didn’t stand a chance in another verbal fight, not when he was prone to spit venom in your face and there was no alcohol to dull your aching heart, no Bucky to offer you warmth and slobbery comfort.

Fingers still over the bundle of rags you’d planned to wrestle into a pillow, eyes dart up to look him over well, taking in the lines in his face that seemed to deepen the longer your silence persists.

“What?”

That’s all you can manage to blurt out as you blink at him owlishly.

“Is good t’ hate, Darlin’.” he speaks softly, the rasp in his voice nearly unnoticeable, and tilts his head to the side, returning your gaze with something akin to pity. “It’ll keep you alive longer.”

“Why would you ask me that?” you feel insulted; it shows clearly as spring water in your intonation. There’s a shift in your features, from neutrality to confusion and then slowly – hurt. The difference in height bothers you at that moment, you feel like a small child about to be given a reality check and your first instinct is to shrink away. Instead, you stand, despite your wobbly knees protesting to stay put and not move and hope that it’ll all be over soon.

But you are no child. You’re a grown woman, you can, have to, stand on your feet and stand your ground even if you smell another argument brewing. You can’t run, you refuse to succumb to his intimidating stance, to the way he’s crossed every limb to lock you out and seem more distant than he actually is.

If he dared to ask you such a question, then you would have the audacity to stand up to him for once.

“Don’ snuggle with me at night no more.” Cooper shrugs at both your question and the saggy expression you give him, he’s casual despite the hoarseness of his voice deepening. “You rather the cold bite yer ass than come anywhere near me now.”

The bathroom you’d chosen as your occupation was dark, windowless, the only light came from the open door where the ghoul stood. He looked like a deathly angel coming to retrieve and deliver you to better times, better lands. He looked soft despite his best efforts to keep a protective barrier between the two of you.

Typically, you’d already be watery-eyed and stumbling to him. You’d wrap your arms around his chest and bury your nose in the crook of his neck and soothe him tenderly that everything was fine, that he was more important to you than a fight, that betrayal could be fixed and trust rebuilt. You wanted to… but it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong – being close to him, smiling at him, touching him.

You just couldn’t. Something deep in your core stopped you, thrashed at the very thought of forgiveness and letting your guard down.

But in truth, you didn’t hate him, you couldn’t.

“I wanted to give you space…” you answer, this time with more than monotony, there’s a pang of spice in your words, a disgust at holding affections for a married man, understanding for his conscious decision of letting you in despite not being fully yours, and a sliver of hurt for being held in the dark for so long. “If I’d known you had a family I would have never overstepped.”

“Did I ever say I wanted space?”

His quip is sharp; it quickly dashes through the air before your own words have dissipated into nothingness.

You’re silent, the moisture leaves your throat and mouth and your tongue sticks to your teeth as you clench and unclench your jaw. Wide eyes stare at him, almost unblinking despite the heavy presence of dust particles all around you. The raging storm is drowned out by the screeching in your ears as your pulse picks up speed. You try to swallow, but end up only flexing your neck.

“You didn’t say anything about having a family either.”

It’s a nasty statement, a defensive hiss emitted more to remind yourself that you aren’t the one in the wrong rather than spur him on, but it does both.

“My family ain’t none o’ your fuckin’ concern.” the spaces where his brows used to be locked together, accentuated his skull-like appearance. His jaw tightened at your mention, it was a sickening subject for him and you were well aware, but that didn’t stop you from resorting to it when he attempted to balm over things without offering a simple apology.

In truth, that was all you needed, to see him honestly remorseful for stringing you along. You didn’t want his autobiography, his entire life’s story, all you needed were little bits of information to keep in your lane and be aware of the proper way to treat him – whether father figure, romantic interest, or simply a guardian.

But he was too stubborn for that. Cooper would rather you learn the hard way, via action over word, a stranger over his own voice. He’d rather you struggle because of his inability to open up and a part of you didn’t fault him, the poor man had been through hell. So had you, though, you’d lost everything, more than him. At least he had a family somewhere out there, you, on the other hand, had nothing. You were worse than him and still you were burdened with being the beacon of light, the source of vulnerability and softness.

It wasn’t fucking fair…

You were sick of the one-sided exchange.

“Mister…” you sigh in defeat and your features scrunch in subtle regret, a hint of empathy illuminated in your dilated pupils. You give him a small frown and take a tiny step forward as your hands reach up to rub at your exposed arms in self-comfort. It wasn’t easy talking about any of this despite how many times you’d lead repertoires in your head.

“Cooper.” the ghoul corrects, acting like you addressing him by anything aside from his name was the biggest insult you could have used. He’s all taut muscles and stiff shoulders, curled fingers digging into the leather of his coat and making it squeak under the strain.

He’s more distraught at your distance than the mention of his family and it breaks your already wounded heart. It gives you the illusion that maybe you are special to him and this wasn’t just a farce, it beats at the walls you’d raised around your naïve affection for him. You’re crumbling before him and you don’t even notice, too caught up in his display of pain to realize it might be just another theatric. Or maybe you just didn’t care if it was.

Bright green lightning strikes close to your rickety sanctuary, it makes the grown beneath your feet tremble and you would have winced away, crawled to a corner, and hid with your hands over your ears until all was calm again. Not now, though, now everything is blocked out. The whole shack might be ripped from above your head and you might not even register it.

It’s just you and him in your cesspool of corporeal need and pain, of words unsaid because neither of you knows when the right time to say them is. The gloomy light from outside creeping through the windows, the dust particles big enough to resemble snowflakes. It all makes him look heavenly, albeit in a very peculiar, unsettling way.

But what wasn’t peculiar and unsettling in the world you lived in?

“Why can’t you be glad I’m putting your happiness before my own?” the words slip past your chapped lips before you register them, hang in the air heavily, and go straight for his gut. There’s an unwavering calmness to your expression now, a friendly, empathetic, even maternal delicateness as you speak. “I want to find your family as much as you do, what’s important to you is important to me.”

It’s painful to him, your lack of self-preservation, your denial of selfishness, it complicates his situation. If you were simply a brat and lashed out at him, he could just leave without regret, but even in your sorrow you kept giving, not material things to ease his life, emotional acceptance that fed his soul, healed the rotten inside of his being. It was addictive, it became the same as oxygen to him and it sewed you to his very skin, he couldn’t get rid of you without leaving a piece of himself with you.

Stupid girl. His little angel…

“I’m not asking you for anything, I’m not having a hissy fit, I’m pleading for an explanation. I’m trying to be selfless and support you and you’re being – ” you gesture towards his stiff, blocked-off pose, his crossed arms and tipped head, stiff jaw, and ridged shoulders. “ – like this.”

You’re ruthless in your soft assault, berating him with kindness and gentle words. It sucks the marrow out of his bones, leaves him soft and weak and needy when he sees the shine in your eyes as tears start to form. He’s not a gentle soul, though, he doesn’t pull you in his arms to soothe your woes and hush you before you start sobbing. Instead, he scoffs with malice.

“Like what?” his tone is biting because he knows no other way, having forgotten what being soft on someone was like. Kindness and comfort are foreign to him still, even if you’d made it your mission to rekindle his humanity before and had done so somewhat successfully in the past few months. He was still a rookie in the field and when it came to him exposing his feelings, everything turned into red alert. He shut down.

Or maybe there was nothing there and you were simply projecting and deluding yourself because you so desperately needed something to cling to in such trying times. It was maddening to think about and so you pushed the doubt away into the crevices of your subconscious and instead thrust your blind faith in him.

“Break for me…Please, break for me…Just this once…”

“Like an asshole.” you spit out, nearly choking with strain as a vein bulges in your neck. Like a good mirror, his malice reflects in you; your brows lower, your lips thin in a line and your teeth shine from beneath. “I didn’t do anything bad. Why are you acting like this?”

Your stance is nearly prowling, bent back and knees ready to pounce at nothing in particular. Cooper wanted to laugh at the sight because despite your unfriendly demeanor, your voice, like always, betrayed you. It was still a soft lullaby, contrasted with your sharp look, and gave away too much you’d tried to hide behind an angry mask.

You were bad at acting, even worse at lying. It was a good thing in his eyes.

Irritation bubbled up his throat at your devotion to him. Even when in pain, even after he’d hid so much from you, you still couldn’t be truly angry at him and it pissed him off to no end. Too pure for this world, your sorrow derived from the unsettled conflict, not his revolting actions towards you. It was sickening, he hated you with every fiber of his being because you were him two hundred years ago.

He didn’t mean to let it out on you.

His turmoil was his to handle alone and with a smoke and a few gulps of whiskey he would have snuffed it out. You were never meant to be the battering ram for his emotional invalidity, but you were standing there waiting for him, for some sort of comeback to turn your monologue into an actual conversation.

He felt mournful only after he’d gripped you by the neck and stuffed his face in yours, his spit flying over your cheeks and chin as he snarled like a rabid dog.

“Because you’re my happiness.”

Your face pales with fright at first and he can see his own degraded reflection in your watery eyes, it’s not a pretty sight. Your features are frozen in a blasphemous mix of fear and so much more once his words begin to register and it’s by pure chance that the tears don’t spill right away.

You’re clinging to his wrist, nails dug into his rubbery skin at first to loosen the death grip he has on your hair, then simply holding on as he forces himself to appear to you in a different light, a softer light despite his rough handling.

“You’re my fuckin’ happiness. My only happiness.”

It wasn’t enough to spit self-indulgent love in your face that felt like a knife right through your stomach, he had to toss you aside right after like you were worthless.

You stumble with a whimper and grab at the wall behind you, flat palms pressing firmly against the peeling wallpaper to steady your footing.

Cooper storms out, kicks the door shut behind you, and leaves you in utter darkness, his heavy boots echoing and drawing distance until the only noise is the deaf storm and your shaky breathing. You slide down until your bum is resting on the dirty floor, weep softly for what feels like hours, let it all out in one go after a long time of keeping everything bottled up. Regretful of not speaking sooner, of letting things fester because of your own stubbornness, because for once you want him to approach you and not the other way around.

Now you’re left alone sobbing in a dingy bathroom.

Your hands card through your hair, fingers sunken in your scalp to try and ground you, calm you down in a way as your face lay stuffed in your knees. Your tears soak the fabric of your tights, and leave stains you hope won’t be noticeable when you go after the ghoul.

Was he kind and you just asked for too much? Was he complicated or were you just stupid? Was this love? Were you supposed to fight for him or let him be free of your burdensome existence? Were his words more lies or was he being truthful?

You sniffle back the tears and wipe your cheeks, deciding that if he notices your puffy eyes, you’ll blame it on the dust. With a small grunt, you stand and dust off your dress before clearing the wet gunk from your throat and taking a confident breath.

You could fix this. You can talk like adults. You can figure something out.

And so you venture out into the corridor, making as little noise as possible and you’re gentle when you close the door behind you.

The storm outside rages on and you see a few puddles of acid water on the floorboards, droplets dribble through the cracks in the ceiling, you avoid them, ignore your despicable reflection in them when you pass by. Another lightning strike and this time you’re more aware and squint, but keep moving forward. The house creeks, nearly sways from the winds, and your drive to find Cooper is no longer solely based on easing his irritation, but also on seeking comfort in his presence if all were to crumble over your heads.

If today was to be your last day together, you wanted to die on good terms with him and maybe in another life, you’d get a second chance to be happy together.

Your nose scrunches at the thought, a foul taste in your mouth, bittersweet. You dismiss the gloom over your mind as best you can and round a corner to the main room where you find him. You halt, slide a hand on the doorframe, and peek at him silently, debating whether approaching would be volatile or not.

He’s sitting on the couch, an old whiskey bottle by his boot. His elbows rest on his knees as a lit cigarette wastes away between his fingers, you can smell it from your spot, the pungent aroma too distinct and frequent to pass by you unnoticed. His back is bent, his hat back on his crown.

Maybe he knows you’re staring and doesn’t care enough to acknowledge you, maybe he’s too deep in the sea of thought to register anything outside the storm raging in his head.

You swallow snot, thankfully the tears have dried, and slowly, cautiously make your way to him. You sit beside him, your knees brush, but he doesn’t do anything to indulge or deny the contact so you continue in your need for him. Small hands wrap around his arm as you wordlessly rest your head against his shoulder and sigh something heavy.

When he presses his cheek against your crown you stiffen, clutch at the sleeve of his coat and scoot a little closer, glad to be welcome instead of chased away as you’d feared. Your foot grazes against his, both pairs planted firmly against the floorboards, it brings you comfort, always has no matter how dire the situation at hand.

It takes time to find your voice again and when you do it’s a weak shell of its normal state.

“Is it bad that I’m in love with you?”

He takes his time to contemplate and you’re left in suspense, but as long as he lets you cling to him, you don’t mind. You feel him eventually nod against your hair and a gentle pat is given to your knee to affirm the answer to come. His motions bring dreadful information, you wish his next word would be different, but you’re no fool and right now you’re too tired to be delusional.

“Yeah…” he whispers, voice roughened and battered from mouthfuls of alcohol and lungs filled with smoke. There’s a distance to his gaze as his eyes stay glued to the stray, empty can of beans in one corner of the room.

He’s not equipped for this, never thought he’d fall into such a situation even after he’d scorned his marriage and called it quits despite there being no actual divorce papers. He never thought the wasteland would gift him with something so precious to care for let alone hold his heart.

He doesn’t want to be loved, he doesn’t like the complications it comes with, but he’s left too weak to say no to it.

“What do I do then, Mister?”

It’s a genuine question, makes him smirk for half a second before his face falls again and the whirl of thoughts resurfaces tenfold. He nuzzles your head tenderly and the hand he rests on your knee squeezes as if he’s afraid you’ll stand any second, take your bag, and run away with the storm. A prerequisite for his words to come, his heartfelt advice from one survivor to another.

If only you were two simple survivors…

“Run.” he says so softly, but so powerfully, so sincerely. He wished you’d listen and rip away from him, be free of his torment, and find a settlement where to prosper. But he knows you, understands how you tick, he’s already poisoned you with the spilled blood of innocents, you even smell of cigarettes, no longer just lavender and sweat. “But you refuse.”

Poor little thing.

You’re his now even if he doesn’t want you. He’s yours now even if you refuse to believe it.

“Yeah…” you agree without debate, despite the negative implications his words carry.

You had no one, you were too deep in. What else were you supposed to do?

The ghoul pulls back then and you lift your head to look at him as your death grip on his arm loosens. You watch as he takes his hat off and places it on the backrest of the stained old couch before leaning down to your eye level.

Your lips part and you inhale, ready to mumble something out to fend off the quiet, but he beats you to it.

“I’m sorry.”

He kisses you then, latches onto your mouth with foreign gentleness, testing your resolve, tasting the bitterness of your tears, past and fresh. He pulls away just barely, enough to quickly wrestle out of his coat before draping it over the both of you.

“Cooper…”

He shushes you with another kiss, less gentle, more fervent, desperate even as he pushes you back until you’re lying down with your head tucked in one of his hands. You’re squished between him and the couch as he nestles between your thighs and lets his weight sink you into the cushions. You kiss him back, hidden beneath him and his coat.

His tongue slips past your lips without any resistance, finding yours, twirling around it, guiding it into a languid dance as you begin to tremble uncontrollably. His free hand finds each of your arms and moves them to encircle his neck where you hold and grip at with shaky fingers.

He cups your cheek and tilts your head slightly, deepening the kiss. His lips are soft and tight, rubbed clean and delicate by the whiskey and you can taste it on his teeth. You’ve never craved that taste before in your life, for once alcohol is pleasant.

You mewl when his tongue leaves your mouth and he dips his face into the crook of your neck, cradling you carefully as he breathes you in and mouthes your sensitive skin sloppily. You breathe slowly and deliberately, trying to steady the pounding in your ears that deafens all but the rustling of his coat. You bite your bottom lip as uncertain sounds crawl up your throat and seek to escape.

And suddenly, the world has color again.

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

Hello, lovelies!

It's been a long time since I posted an update, forgive me. Between work and uni, I've had my hands extremely full this summer. Updates will be slow, but I've not abandoned anything!

I don't know if there is still interest in this story, but if anyone reads: Hello! Good to see you! I hope you enjoy the end of the first arc!

More to come soon! Stay safe out there!

PS. If you're no longer interested in the story and you're a part of the tag list, don't be shy and let me know. I completely understand <3

🌼 Daisy Masterlist 🌼

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Tag list:

@bountydroid @windierhades @ultimatreality @gruffle1 @v3lv3tf0x

@fallout-girl219 @one-of-thewalkingdead @robin-the-enby @savanahc @whatthefuckkrichard

@lisnamavka @lomlbillieeilish @itsyellow @cloudroomblog

@skykaykay @i-just-like-to-read @landlockedmermaid77 @enaelyork @maeplaysbass

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@zloshy @skrzydlak

[bbokicidal]

"Settle Here; Let Me Love You" - [B.C.]

Pairing : Bang Chan / Chris Bang x Reader

Warnings : Overall Fluff, Small mention of Chris' tendency to look down on himself

Word Count: 850>

Looking at Chris was like peering at the hardcover case of a book you'd just bought off a dusty, cracked thrift shop shelf.

The feeling of running your hands over the soft skin of his shoulders and biceps was akin to trailing your fingertips down the spine of the book. It was new to you - had once been someone else's. It was soft and offered a sense of warmth and familiarity but held texture that proved it had been someone else's before sitting on that shelf; Bumps and soft crevices of scars that held experience from whatever may have caused them - be it small accidents or marks he'd had from birth. The gentle ridges of the title printed along the spine were the beauty marks painting Chris' skin; The small print of the Author's name was that of his mother.

Meeting his eyes was the same as opening the cover for the first time; Flipping through the first few title pages that were a soft and small insight on what the story would be about - maybe mentioning who the book was written for; Why it was written in the first place. His eyes held a sincerity that likened that of the first page of the first chapter - and both made you feel the exact same way. It was a breath of fresh air, something of a new start, and looking Chris in the eye - though you had been together for some time now - always managed to bring the butterflies back into your ribcage.

Every turn of the page was a day spent with him. Every sip of coffee was a word on a page; Every word spoken between the two of you was soft dialogue that brought two characters closer together.

His smile was the climax of the story.

The wide, gummy brightness that showed all of his teeth and made his cheeks dimple in deep - His eyes crinkling, shoulders pushing up towards his ears and head tipping one way as a feeling of bashfulness pushed into his chest. The feeling it created in your own was the same as the excitement and joy of sliding your hand over the last page of the book; Reading the final sentence and slowly pulling it to a close, flipping the book back over to peer at the cover one more time before it was set on your shelf to be adored in passing.

And this book wasn't perfect. You knew that; He knew that. With the nicks and scars, dents of being tossed around and told harsh words; The subtle but apparent fraying and tearing of the edges of the cover. It stuck out on the polished wood of the shelf it now sat upon, lingering with the others.

You'd given him a chance.

Took a look at him. No judging by the cover, just flipping through the pages and reading the back to raise a brow in interest - and taken the plunge into falling in love with him and his story.

And though you could read this story over and over - falling more in love every time you spoke even just a few words in exchange with him - you would always continue to learn something new.

"... What?" Chris murmurs, having taken notice that your eyes had been lingering on him for a while now off to the side.

You blink once, twice - then offer your boyfriend a soft smile that he knew all too well. You'd been lost in thought again, peering at him while spacing out and talking to yourself in your head.

"Nothing," You hum in reply, reaching to take his hand and rub your thumb along the ridges of his knuckles. "You're just beautiful."

Chris' cheeks dimple under the sweetness of his smile, his lips pressed together and the corners turning downward in a habit he'd picked up from Changbin. He giggles, looking back down at his phone in favor of trying to hide the red tint that brushes over his cheeks.

You let the brief conversation end there. No more words need to be said, feelings laid out with just a few short sentences between the two of you.

As you peer a bit longer at your boyfriend, the adoration in your chest begins to settle - the excitement of just being so close to him dulling from a rolling boil to a subtle simmer.

Perhaps you'll look back on this again in the future - continue to make the connection after a sequel is written and the two of you are experiencing the journey of the story together - hand in hand, facing the world together under the sunlight of the blue sky instead of being alone under the white lights of a studio.

But for now you'll continue to read the story that is Chris Bang, over and over until your eyes lull with sleep and your hands fight to turn the page. And continue to love it as much as you did the first time you read it through.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

I Skip My Pride - No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: What an amazing opportunity to use that gif. Takes place in Chapter 22. Title from Lay All Your Love On Me by ABBA.

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary/Warnings: You share some music with Ben over text. Usual warnings.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, fluff

whjt is empty v 

What? 

annie and mm are talkinng avout empty v. wat is it. Ben frowned at his phone, watching the little bubbles appear and disappear, and added theyre foghting about something calld a reeahna  

The bubbles disappeared for half a second, and then- 

Ask MM how to spell that. 

Ben ahead of him, where MM and Annie were locked in an argument about something that sounded fucking stupid. 

“How the fuck do you spell that.” 

MM twisted, frowning at him. “Spell what.”

“That weird fucking word you said. The reeahna.” 

“Do you,” Annie paused, exchanging a weird fucking look with MM. “Do you mean Rihanna?” 

“Sure. How the fuck do you spell it.” 

Ben listened as Annie sounded every letter out—slowly, like he was fucking stupid—and entered them into the phone carefully. 

rihanna. 

The response was immediate. Jesus fucking Christ, Ben. 

wat 

She’s a singer. And you’re thinking of MTV. 

whats mtv 

MTV was launched in the 80s. You should know what MTV is. 

Ben paused, then typed, cabel channel 

Good work. I’m proud of you. 

shutt up. why is that shit still aroond 

People love music, celebrities, and drama, and MTV provides all three. 

od they still do thw msuic show 

VMAs?  

sure 

Yes, they do.  

music goood 

What???? 

is musac still good 

I’d say it is, but it’s an incredibly subjective medium. 

wat music do u liek tha most 

Ben knew what music She liked. He’d spent hours listening to all her fucking songs, over and over while she was gone. But the variety had almost killed him with whiplash, and he didn’t have the goddamn time to comb through the infinite amount of songs she seemed to enjoy. If She’d just spell out the best ones, he’d memorize them because he loved Her, and not bother with shit that wasn’t necessary.

The little bubbles had started up again, appearing and disappearing for several seconds before- 

Did you listen to the playlist? 

dont knoww how

Do you want help?

He sighed, glancing up at Annie and MM to ensure they wouldn’t reach back and grab his fucking phone from his hand, and looked back down. yes 

Yes… Please? 

dont puush it 

I’m not helping you if you don’t say please, Benjamin. 

Ben scowled at the screen. pleas 

Thank you. Open the app, go to playlists, and hit the one labeled Benjamin Music Education Initiative. 

Ben rolled his eyes, but followed Her instructions, returning to the messages when he was done. now wat 

Listen to the music, dummy.  

i dont know theese songs 

That’s the point. There was a brief pause—Ben was really starting to hate these stupid fucking bubbles—before, There’s four songs per decade you missed. Three that are important for you to know, and one that I like. I also added some more familiar stuff that I thought you’d like, so you don’t listen to Toxic and explode.  

stuf i like 

Hughie said you like Steely Dan, so I went off of that. Ben grinned at the screen, even as the next message came through. Old fucking man music, by the way. You’re not doing yourself any favors in the “I’m not a goddamn dinosaur, Sunshine” department. 

He wasn’t a fucking dinosaur. Normally, Ben would’ve immediately typed that into the phone with a glare, but something in his chest was making him all fucking soft and fucking happy. He loved Her so fucking much, and it was making him a pussy, but Christ, he couldn’t bring himself to give a flying pig’s fuck. He could picture Her perfect face in a mock frown, almost hear Her voice dropped into that dogshit fucking impression of him as he read her words, and he did like Steely Dan. He had absolutely no memory of telling Hughie that, but Ben didn’t really fucking care if he’d mentioned it and forgotten, because now She knew. And She’d added a few of their songs to the stupid playlist, mixed in with a bunch of shit Ben didn’t recognize. 

doo i have to listeen now 

Do you not want to? 

i dont want to stoop talking to u 

There was a pause, and then, You can do both. They aren’t mutually exclusive. 

why 

Because two apps can run at once.  

Ben blinked, and went back to the playlist, hitting the button labeled play and almost dropping his phone as the music blasted through the car. 

“Shit!” MM turned around the glare at Ben as he smashed his thumb onto the screen, trying to stop the guitar splitting filling up the air. “Use fucking headphones, you asshole, not all of us want to listen to Nirvana right now!” 

“Nobody gave me headphone, you dicksack-“ 

“Here,” Annie threw a pair of thin white wires at Ben’s face, shrugging. “Those are my backups, they were like fifteen dollars. You can keep them.” 

Ben scowled at the alleged headphones. “This is fucking string.” 

“Goddammit,” MM muttered, snatching Ben’s phone and the wires from his hand and chucking them back into his lap, now somehow connected together. “You’re welcome, motherfucker. Go back to sulking about your separation anxiety and use those if you want to listen to music.” 

Ben didn’t know how to use them to listen to music. Headphones were big, and they went over your ears. These couldn’t go over fucking shit. 

how do u use wiires as headpones 

What? 

annie gav me string and said to use is to musicc 

Oh. Those are earbuds, you put them in your ears.  

Ben glanced down at the wires. There were little pieces on the end that looked bigger, and could maybe fit in his ears. 

They did. It felt really goddamn weird, but when he shook his head they didn’t fall out, and when he pressed play again it was like the music was being pushed into his brain.  

i got it 

Good work. 

shut the fhck up 

Rude. Do you like the music? 

its ok. loud 

I’ll take okay and loud. I did start with grunge, so it’ll get quieter.  

its not baad. didnt fuckinng expect it tho 

I have so many old man jokes. 

Ben rolled his eyes. brat 

Cunt. Wait until you get to the 2010s, you’re going to hate it. 

He might. Ben didn’t understand half the pop culture shit in the modern world, but She did, and he trusted her. He wasn’t listening to his music for himself, it was all for her. To find out what fucking music she deemed worthy of showing him, what stuff she loved, so he could love Her better. Maybe manage to understand her insane, genius fucking brain a little more. And he hadn’t been lying, the music wasn’t bad. A lot of it was weird as shit, but none of it made him want to rip off his ears.  

And it was making something inside of Ben all fucking soft and gooey, that She’d successfully figured out what music he liked. That she’d taken the time to do this, just for him. It was the Benjamin Music Education Initiative. This was for Ben, from Her. He fucking loved Her, and she cared about him enough to do this. He was going to memorize every single fucking song on this list, and maybe she’d do it again.  

He’d love Her no matter what. Even when she made old man jokes and called him a cunt, Ben would keep loving Her until it killed him. 

i thogt u hated romeo an juilet 

I do. Why? 

song 

Well, this version has a happy ending, and it’s an excellent fucking song. 

its fine 

It’s amazing. Do not disrespect that song, Pretty Boy. It’s blasphemy.

i said its fuckig fine 

I’m going to make you listen to the whole album. The entire discography. 

He could live with that. If it kept Her at his side, Ben would easily put up with listening to this twangy guitar for a million goddamn years. If it made Her smile, all the fucking better. wahtever 

Don’t test me. I’ll do it.

i no 

Know. 

fuckk off

No. You’re stuck with me. 

Ben could live with that as well.

End Note: Do you guys think Ben would be a swiftie. I feel like he would but he'd be like, angry about it.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd

[itsmarsss]

Scandalous (Blitzø x Fem!Succubus!Reader x Stolas) [Helluva Boss] pt. 6 - Transaction Action

How the mighty do fall. (Getting into a weird three-way situation with an imp and a succubus isn’t exactly considered classy, Stolas.)

"Stolas wants you don't get mad", he blurts out. "What do you mean Stolas wants me?"

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | 1st bonus | pt. 6 | pt. 7 | pt. 8 | pt. 9 | 2nd bonus

Word Count: 12,920

Warnings: threesome, afab!reader, unprotected sex (don’t do that y’all!! also this does NOT lead to a pregnancy or anything like that lol i fell for that in a fic once and i hated it so don’t worry abt that), making out, dry-humping, dirty talk, fingering, Stolas has a cloaca (like in canon), Blitzø purrs, hair-pulling, feather-pulling (?), tail play (?), use of blindfold, physical restraint (no ropes, just.. tails again lmao), light choking, stolas is very submissive, penetrative sex, standing sex, sexual tension, name-calling, light degradation, dom/sub undertones, squirting, i think that’s all. this chapter is basically just sex honestly.

When Blitzø called you up into his office only a few minutes before you were supposed to go home, this was not where you’d thought the conversation would be going. You could have imagined it would have something to do with his whole situation with Stolas, judging by the weird suggestive way he asked you to go and the fact that the full moon was just the next day, but, then again, that was Blitzø, and that wasn’t really anything abnormal.

But when he sat you down on his chair, circled behind you and offered you a fucking shoulder rub (which, what the fuck?), you knew something was up. “Okay what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“The fuck’s wrong with you?” He retorts.

“Blitz. What did you do?”

“Why do you think I did something?”

“You would not be giving me a fucking massage right now if you hadn’t done something.”

“Maybe I’m just trying to get you in the mood… ‘s it working?” He half-heartedly tries some flirty humor.

“Blitz.”

He sighs. “Okay I did do something.”

“Oh what a surprise!”

“But it wasn’t like. Well I didn’t do do something. I just did something.”

“What does that fucking mean?”

“Stolas wants you don’t get mad,” he blurts out.

“What do you mean Stolas wants me?”

He sits down on top of the desk in front of you so he can face you as he speaks. “Well you know the thing I have with him?”

“Not exactly, it’s really fucking confusing.”

“Not that confusing. We use his little magic spell book-”

“His Grimoire.”

“Yeah that. We use that in order to have I.M.P. happen and everything. And I bring it back to him every full moon.”

“Yeah and where does the whole sex thing come in again?”

“Well it’s like. Uh. It’s like an exchange, you know. He lets us use the book, which is kind of a little bit very illegal but ya know he’s royalty he won’t get in trouble or something like that, I don’t know, and in exchange I have sex with him.”

“Like just once a month?”

“Like just once a month,” he repeats in confirmation.

“That is-”

“Fan-fucking-tastic, right?”

“Not exactly what I was gonna say. But sure.”

“Well it is. And guess what? Stolas wants you to… participate… in our activities.”

“Stolas what?”

“I told you! He wants you.” Blitzø smirks, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“What? No.”

His expression falls immediately. “What do you mean no?”

“I mean, you can’t just go offering sexual favors in my name! I’m not some fucking sex doll!”

“You said you wouldn’t get mad!”

“No I didn’t, you just asked me not to.”

“Look I didn’t offer it, he just asked for it!”

“Well then tell him no! I see this guy all the time for years and sure he’s hot or whatever but he’s so composed and polite and never shows any fucking ounce of interest and now he pulls this?”

“I mean you’re not awful to look at. Maybe he’s been thinking about it all this time. Maybe all those years he’s been jacking it off to you in his-”

“Well this is not the way to go about it.”

“He just told me to ask you. It’s supposed to be a ‘non-pressure ask,” He says, in air-quotes, “but, like, he’s a prince you know? And we need the book.”

“Does none of that sound concerning to you?”

“Not really,” he shrugs. “It’s just what I do.”

Your mind wanders to yourself a few years before and you wonder if it would be wise to accept a deal like this. You wonder, too, if you should talk to Ozzie before deciding on it, but then again… you kind of didn’t want to have that conversation. And would it be so bad to hook up with two hot guys and get something you needed out of it? You realize you were sounding just like Blitzø. Or just like… 

You shake the thought away. This was different. “What about us?” You find yourself asking.

“What about us?”

“How would we go about this? Isn’t it gonna be weird?”

“What? No way. We’re just gonna be friends who… sometimes… fuck the same guy… at the same time. And that’s it.”

“Is it… good? Like is it good at all with him or just like. A ‘get it over with to get what you want’ kind of thing’?”

Blitzø averts his eyes to the floor, hesitating before giving you an answer. “Best sex I’ve ever had. But don't go telling anyone that.”

“Well shit.”

“So, you in?”

“I... the full moon’s tomorrow, right? Can I… think about it?”

“As your boss? No. But as your friend… sure.”

“Wow. So caring of you.”

“Yeah yeah call me mother Talita or whatever.”

“Mother what?” You stifle a laugh.

“Mother Talita? You know, that… nun or whatever.”

“That’s Mother Theresa, dude. And she’s been down here.”

“Yeah well so am I.”

“Well, am I dismissed, sir?” You mock him, putting on a stupid accent, trying to ease the tension up.

“Sir, huh? I can work with sir.”

You smile. Has it been that long since that day you met?  

[. . .]

Millie looks confused when she opens her front door to find you on the other side of it later that day. Well, not day anymore, technically. A little later than that. And a little later than later, too. 

Alright, it’s the middle of the night and you’re sort of, kind of, panicking. A lot. 

“Y/N? E’rythin’ alright?” She yawns, clearly woken up by your knocking on her door.

“I know you were sleeping, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s fine. Something happen?”

“Not really. Well not yet.”

She raises an eyebrow, curious. “Come in, girl.” She walks you inside and the two of you sit down, facing each other, on the purple couch you always compliment her on. Moxxie comes out of their room, rubbing his eyes and barely awake. “Sweetie everything-“ he yawns. “Everything okay?” He doesn’t even register the fact that you’re there, eyes barely open.

“Yeah Mox. Y/n’s just here to talk.”

“Oh. Hey.” He finally fixes his eyes on you and gives you a little wave.  

“Hey Mox,” you wave back.

“‘S it a both of us talk or a Millie talk?”

“Millie talk.”

“Okay. I’ll be,” he vaguely points back to the room, his mind clearly still foggy from the sleep. You feel bad for waking them up like this, but it’s not exactly the first time something like this has happened, be it you showing up at their door at late hours to talk to either or both of them just like this, or one of them (both too, once) showing up at your place instead. “I’ll be right. There.” 

“Sure, Mox. You can go back to sleep now, alright? I’ll be right back,” Millie tells him with a fond smile, and he nods before walking back into the room, closing the door behind him to let the two of you talk. 

“Okay. Ya wanna tell me what’s going on now?”

“Blitz asked me to do something and I think I’m gonna say yes but I really don’t know if I should ‘cause it’s a little bit insane.”

“Oookay. What’d he ask ya to do?”

“Well not just him. Apparently- apparently Stolas-“

“The prince guy?”

“Yeah, the prince guy. Apparently he wants to make the deal they have like… a three person thing.”

“What?” She asks loudly, voice pitched up. 

“Yeah. And apparently he asked Blitz to ask me to participate tomorrow.”

“They want you to like… fuck ‘em?” She makes a crude gesture with her hands, trying to confirm she understood you right.

“… yeah.”

“Well shit!”

“I know!”

“And you wanna say yes?”

“Is it crazy if I do?”

“A little!  I get that you wanna fuck Blitz but you’re sure a threesome with this royal guy is the best way to do that?”

“Hey! I don’t wanna fuck Blitz!”

“Y/n. I love you. I love Blitz.” She pauses, trying to make a point. “You two wanna fuck so bad it’s painful to watch sometimes.”

“That’s not true! And we both agreed waaay back when we met that we wouldn’t. That’s why we’re such good friends!” You exclaim, as if what you’re saying is normal and even obvious.

“Again, I love you. Very much. But I don’t need to keep fighting some urge to fuck you so that we can stay friends, ya know. That’s not normal.”

You go quiet. The point she’s trying to make is fundamentally right, and so there’s really not anything you can say to dispute it. You know that. 

“That’s not the point here! I think I want to say yes, just see where it goes maybe. But what if we’re right? And then we fuck and things are weird and I’m just involved in this situation.”

“I think you’re giving it too much credit. Things could get a little weird but it’s not like it would fuck up your friendship.”

“You don’t think it would?”

“Not if you don’t let it. But I’m a little worried about the threeway part of it. This isn’t Blitz asking you out. You know that, right? It’s Stolas asking to fuck ya. Through him. He’s like. Just a part of it.”

“I know. And I don’t want Blitz to ask me out, by the way. Alright? And yeah obviously this feels a little weird. But the guy’s hot and I’ve always noticed that. And don’t tell him I told you this, like ever, but Blitz says he’s the best sex he’s ever had.”

“Blitz said that?”

“Yeah! I think I’m just curious.”

“Girl, you know what you wanna do already. I dunno why you even came here.”

“I want your opinion!”

“My opinion is you wanna do this so do it! But maybe don’t commit to like… a forever kinda deal ya know. Do it once and see whatcha think.”

“Okay. Yeah. That sounds… smart.”

“ I never said I thought it was smart, it’s dumb as shit!” 

[. . .] 

Blitzø was already in his office when you got to work. Well, obviously. You’d passed up on the carpool this morning, choosing to walk this time instead. What was weird, though, was the fact that the place was so oddly quiet at that time of the morning, when usually there would be some sort of argument between Moxxie and Loona going on, or some weird client explaining their whole life story to Blitz somewhere, or even Millie training in the middle of the office. 

Millie and Moxxie weren’t there, though. Strange. “Where’s everyone?” You ask Loona. 

“The two fuckfaces went up on their own.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “Don’t ask me. Blitz told them to. Said he’d go for a different target with you when you got here.” 

“‘Kay. Thanks.”

You walk up to his office, knocking on the door. It was closed, which was also weird. He almost never left it closed unless he had a client in there, which Loona would’ve probably told you about. “What?” He yells from inside.

“It’s me.”

“Oh. Come in.”

You do. You open the door to find him sitting on his chair, hands behind his head and feet over the table. “So?” He asks, and you know he’s referring to your answer to what he proposed the day before. Alright, straight to the point then.

“D’you think I could go tonight and see how it goes? Before, you know, committing to the whole deal thing and all?”

“I mean I guess?”

“Tell him I’m doing that,” you assert yourself.

He doesn’t seem to have any complaints about it. Quite the opposite, in fact. “So… ya wanna get ready at my place? I can help you relax a little  before we go.” He grins, doing that stupid thing where he wiggles his eyebrows up and down. 

“Stop making things weird!”

“Learn how to take a joke, bitch!”

“Learn how to be funny, asshole!”

[. . .]

At home, you’re feeling nervous. What the fuck had you even gotten yourself into? What had gotten into Stolas to request you participate in the agreement anyway? You’d barely ever exchanged that many words in the times you’d seen each other throughout the years. 

Still, there you were, getting ready to fulfill his wishes.

Well, if you were doing this, you should dress to impress, right? You convince yourself that’s what you’re doing, but really you’re just trying to compensate for the anxiety by dressing nice and at least feeling hot. 

You smile at your reflection in the mirror: you look nice.  It’s been a while since you’ve gone out with anyone. Well, not that this was going out. It’s still been a little while since you've hooked up with someone, too, though. You sit down on your bed and grab your phone, noticing you got a text from Millie. 

mills: how u doin?

You send her a selfie as a reply. 

mills: DAMN U LOOK HAWT

you: thank u!! u really think so?

mills: duhh?? bur r u sure ur ok w this?

you: i think so

mills: thats not a yes

you: if i get uncomfortable ill leave promise!  right?

mills: right.  so. u finally getting it on w blitzzzzzzzz 😏😏😏😏

you: ew bye millie!!

mills: aw cmonnn

you: no!! bye!!!

No getting into that subject. Millie has been adamant about pointing out the sexual tension between you and Blitzø for ages now. And, just as you could admit the night before, it’s not that you don’t notice it, or even that you were in denial about it being there- you were denying any acting upon it. And it was working out great, in fact! It’s what made you two such great friends, right? And tonight you were throwing years of that self control out the window. That doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.

You tried not to dwell too hard on that, as there’s plenty of other things to think about at the moment, and you click out of Millie’s contact and on Blitzø’s instead. 

you: im ready can you come get me???

He takes a few minutes to reply.

blitz(n)o: ON MY WAY

[. . .]

“Shit” is the first and only thing he says as soon as he pulls up outside of your apartment complex, checking you out.

“What? Is it too much? I thought it was simple enough.” You look down at your outfit as you get in the car- a black tank top, lacy black bra peeking out, and simple, plain black shorts.

“No it’s simple. Pretty uh. Pretty simple,” Is all he says before turning his head to face forward, beginning to drive.

What did that fucking mean? “Okay.”

He changes the subject. “So! Ya ready for the time of your life?”

“I don’t think you understand how much I’ve fucked before.”

“I don’t think you understand how good I am.”

“Sure thing, Blitz.”

“Oh don’t act like you haven’t been thirsting for this dick for years now.”

“I most definitely haven’t.”

“That’s not what I hear.”

“And what do you hear?”

“What I hear is that my dick must be good.”

You cringe as you remember the moment. You were wondering when he’d bring that up again. Though you hoped he’d forget about it, you know him, and you know he wouldn’t. “Oh come on, that's low, it was a slip-up.”

“You said it though.”

“You can’t prove it.”

“I have witnesses!”

“Will you shut up?”

“Oh no, I’m gonna talk about this forever and ever and ever and ever and-“ 

“Shhhhh I wanna listen to some music,” you turn on the radio, trying to get out of the conversation, and tuning into one of the Wrath stations. You sing your hearts out to a few songs until you get to the palace, and then your mood immediately shifts- this is real. This is going to happen. It feels thrilling, but it feels weird, too. 

“Come on, we gotta get in through the balcony.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Why?”

“I- uh- cause… his wife. Well, ex-wife? Or whatever.”

“His wife’s here?”

“No, she leaves with his daughter when I come over.”

“So why would we get in through the balcony?”

“Well the servants!”

“He’s a prince, Blitz, can’t he do, like, whatever he wants?” 

“Look, we just gotta. ‘Kay?”

It doesn’t really seem up for debate, so… “Okay.” You follow him, and rather ridiculously climb up Stolas’ balcony, feeling like a fool. When you get up there, Stolas is sitting on his bed, tapping his foot, waiting for you. His eyes light up when he sees the two of you. 

“‘Sup, Stolassss?” Blitzø greets him.

“Hello Blitzy. Y/n,” he stands up to greet the both of you, immediately flustered over your presence. He's definitely never done anything like what you’re here to do ever in his life.

“Your Highness.”

“Oh, Please no, what have I told you? None of that.”

“Sorry. Old habits. Hi, Stolas.”

“That’s much better, darling. I like it when you say my name.” Oh.

“I brought her like I said I would, ya fucking perv,” Blitzø smirks.

“Uhm. I can see that, Blitzy.” He looks over to you. “Are you alright with this, dear?”

“Yes, I think.”

Stolas tilts his head to the side. “You think?”

“I’m not really sure why I’m here, honestly. You never really… showed any interest before.”

“My apologies, darling. Things were… a lot more difficult, then. But I have always noticed you.”

“I’m not that sure if I believe you, but-”

“Would you let me show you, then?”

Oh shit. “Yeah. Okay.” You nod, a little more enthusiastically than intended. 

“Hey I’m feeling a little left out here,” Blitzø complains, arms crossed over his chest. 

Stolas lets out a chuckle. “Is it alright if he joins us, dear?” He asks softly.

“Bitch I’m the one who actually knows her!”

“I am only checking in with her!”

“Let me check in with her!”

“Very well, then, go ahead!”

“It cool if we threeway?”

You let out a laugh at his wording. Ever a poet. “Sure.”

“Nice. See, Stolas?”

Stolas chuckles again, and sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. Blitzø follows, sitting down too, but leaving the spot between them empty. He signals for you to come sit with them. Blitzø leans down, pushing your hair out of the way so he’s granted access to your neck. As he begins kissing the spot right under your ear, Stolas grabs your hand, holding it in his. 

“Wait.”

They stop moving altogether. 

“What, can’t take it? We barely started!” Blitzø jokes. 

“It’s not that, asshole. Let’s just not get straight into it, yeah?”

“Shit, okay. You like to watch?” He grins, and you don’t have the time to respond before he lunges over at Stolas, grabbing him by the collar of his vest and pulling him into a hungry kiss. 

Stolas seems taken by surprise at first, but quickly lets himself get lost in it, wide eyes closing and startled expression relaxing. At first the kiss is only that- hungry. But as the moments go by you see it morph into something else- they look like two men starved, ready to devour each other whole. They move against each other aggressively, messily, over you, with Stolas cupping Blitzø’s jaw with both of his hands and Blitzø pulling hard on the feathers on the back of his head. Once in a while you can catch a glimpse into the way their tongues move against each other, desperate and careless, and it’s fucking hot. 

“Fuck,” you find yourself mumbling under your breath at the scene, unable to hide the way it’s got you all hot and bothered, and the two men pull away from each other, both out of breath. 

Blitzø smirks, very obviously enjoying the reaction they got out of you. “So. Like what you see?” 

You only nod.

“Wanna try it out?”

You nod again, slowly. 

“Use your words, dear,” Stolas urges you, and fuck it’s delicious.

“Yes.”

“Wanna put on a little show for birdy here?” Blitzø grins.

“Yes,” you repeat yourself. He’s so gonna give you shit for the way you’re acting right now after you’re done.

But right now he’s almost sweet about it. “Come here,” he tells you, expecting you to lean in. You do. 

Blitzo kisses you abruptly, with no time for you to think twice of it. He kisses you fervently, slowly, taking his time with this kiss that feels long overdue. Honestly, thinking back on it, it feels crazy that, with the sheer amount of sexual tension between you, you’d never even kissed before, despite the constant half-jokes about everything you half-seriously wanted to do to each other. It had always seemed like a line you shouldn’t cross- one you wouldn’t be able to come back from. And you suppose you were right: there was no way things could go back to normal after this. You could act like things were normal, but there was no way in hell you’d be able to forget whatever was about to happen. 

This was a problem for future you, though, because current you is busy enjoying every second of this.

He smirks into the kiss, and you can’t even get yourself to complain about his smugness like you normally would. Instead, you reach over around him, twirling his tail around on your pointer finger, hoping to get a reaction out of him. He lets out a kind of whimper you’d only ever heard animals make, clearly unprepared for that. You’d want to make fun of it, if only it didn’t sound so fucking hot and if only it didn’t seem so fucking enticing to have him whimper for you. You’re filled with the urge to make him do it over and over and over and over again, which sucks, because there’s no way you’ll be able to hold a normal conversation with him with those sounds to be remembered.  He pulls away from you, though, as soon as he catches himself making the noise. 

“Damnit, woman, gotta give a guy a warning!”

You shrug, half-apologetically, and the both of you turn to take a look at Stolas, who has his eyes open impossibly wide- all four of them. His mouth hangs open and there’s a very visible pink flush on his cheeks and it looks so damn cute and it’s making him look so very, very fuckable right now. 

“Was it a good show, Stolas?” You ask, trying to get a reaction from him.

Stolas can only get himself to nod slowly, as if lost in a trance. The look on his face makes you want to eat him right up.

“Well. Do I get a show?” Blitzø asks, and a surge of boldness rushes through you, pushing you to crawl your way onto Stolas’ lap, tracing your fingers along his face and his beak and looking up at him through your lashes in feigned innocence.

 “What do you think, Stolas? You think he deserves it?”

The prince gulps. It’s exhilarating- to have a fucking Goetia prince under you gulping in anticipation to have you. It’s been a while since you’ve let yourself feel this sort of power over someone. “I… believe it’s only fair,” he responds.

You nod in agreement, pleased, and pull him to you by the collar of his tailored vest. Kissing Stolas is obviously pretty different from kissing Blitzø, but different definitely isn’t bad in this case. It’s a lot more tongue, which makes sense. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been wondering what it was even like to kiss him, considering the, you know, beak. But his hands were planted on your hips and his tongue was moving against yours and he wasn’t desperate in such a way that rushed things too fast, but he was still so clearly eager with the way he kissed you like he’d run out of time that it got you stunned. Fuck, all thoughts that could still linger of this being a bad idea were getting thrown out the window by now- you’d deal with those later. 

“Okay okay I get it,” Blitzø complains, interrupting the moment by pulling you away from Stolas by your hair. It makes you freeze in place on the demon’s lap. Did he really just pull on your hair right now? You try to blink the shock right off your face, and maybe the fact that it might have turned you on for just a second, but it’s there long enough for Stolas, who’s staring at you with wide eyes, to notice- you can see it in his expression, like he was making a mental note of it, but he doesn’t mention it out loud. 

“That’s rude! What’d you do that for?” You scold.

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t like it, I heard ya tell Millie you do. And the two of you got too many clothes on for a proper show.” You decide to brush off the first comment as to not freak yourself out- you know what conversation that came up in and you did not want to think about the fact that he’d apparently overheard it. Instead, you focus on the latter.

You look back at Stolas, who’s been awfully quiet since Blitzø’s interruption. So much for ‘using your words, dear’. “Actually I think so too. You agree, Stolas?”

“Oh my- fuck, yes!”

You and Blitzø share a look at the reaction, both grinning. 

Blitzo wants more, though- he wants to prove to you just how dirty Stolas is, how you should have believed him when he told you about it. “Come on, you can do better than that, Stolas. Don’t be shy now. Tell us what you want.”

“What I want?” 

You nod eagerly, encouraging him. 

Blitzø moves closer, settling on kneeling behind Stolas, voice dropping an octave as he coos at his ear. “You can talk to her like you talk to me. She ain’t no saint.”

“Really, Blitz?” You raise an eyebrow at the comment.

He looks up at you. “What? You’re the one already on his lap.” Okay, yeah, fair enough. 

“So? I can bring out the toys if you want. Just say the word, Stols.” Blitzø urges him. You take a mental note of the nickname to ask him about it at a later time. 

Stolas hesitates for only a couple seconds before describing the most dirtiest, filthiest ways in which he wanted to be fucked. You find yourself wanting to fulfill them all as he talks to you. “I want you to fill me up with your fingers. I want it so badly. I have fantasized about it. You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this, for how long. Want to gag on Blitzy’s big cock, I want to hear you while he thrusts deep into you, you need to know how perfect it feels. I just want- I- I don’t know what I want, I- I-”

“Fuck.” Blitzo breathes out.

“Fuck.” You reapeat. Fuck, indeed.

A new sense of eagerness runs through you and compels you to move to unbutton the buttons on Stolas’ vest that you’re sure are all made out of real gold. Blitzø seems to be in the same line of thought as undoes his cape from behind him. Why was he even wearing the fucking cape for a scheduled hookup? Whatever, it just needed to be off, off, off. You both move at what feels like it could very much be the speed of light to undress him. 

Hearing what Stolas fantasized about had clearly turned the both of you on beyond comprehension, and every ounce of rationality was getting thrown out the window by the second. The clothes you’d taken off of him were blindly thrown somewhere in the room, leaving him only in his pants and underwear, and as much as you did want them off too, you didn’t have it in you to get up off of his lap yet. “Fuck, Stolas. Few months ago I wouldn’t have thought you had that kind of mouth.” You ground your hips against his, experimentally, trying to gauge his reaction.

He didn’t seem to be expecting you to do that, his hips betraying any tries he could make at seeming unbothered by it as they seemed to involuntarily thrust up to meet yours instantly. And then he fucking hoots. Incredible. He covers his mouth when he realizes the sound he made. 

“I told you. He’s a filthy fucking whore.” Blitzø says, still behind him. Stolas gulps at the insult. He likes it, you realize. 

You run a hand through the feathers on his chest, keeping the other on his shoulder, and you can feel him shiver under you. Blitzø keeps on, speaking in that low voice that wasn’t even directed at you anymore but still gave you chills, bringing his hands to pull Stolas’ down from your hips and on the mattress, on either side of him, trapping them firmly there. You get the idea- and it fills you with anticipation: if things keep going like this, you’re sure to have an utterly helpless Stolas between you. The image your mind conjures of it alone is already breathtaking enough to leave your mind foggy. You roll your hips against his again, and again, settling into a painfully slow pace just to tease him.  “What’s up with that, Stolas? The lady thought you weren’t even into her! Acting all polite and shit and then going home and jerking it to her. That what you were doing?”

Stolas doesn’t reply, and you could have mistaken that for him being uncomfortable, if only his body wouldn’t keep betraying him. Blitzø has learned how to use that condescending, mocking tone to get the prince going, having turned it almost into an art form at this point with the way he seemed to know exactly what to say and how to say it to tug on his strings.  He closes all four of his eyes, breathing growing more erratic as he grinds back up against you, pointlessly chasing what you purposefully simply won’t give him enough of. 

“It’s okay if you did, Stolas, baby. You can tell us,” you coo, as if taking pity on him. The truth is seeing him like this, all flustered and pathetic, was something you came to find out you enjoyed- very much so. 

He opens his eyes- only the lower ones- and stares at you with them wide. “Only- only sometimes.” 

“Oh, did you now? Poor thing! Did you hear that, Blitz?”

Blitzø lets out a mocking laugh from behind him, still trapping his hands in place. “So pathetic. I bet you jerk it to the thought of our last full moon too, don’t you, Your Highness?”

Stolas doesn’t reply, once again. You halt all movement at the lack of response, as you’ve come to realize teasing him is beyond fun. “Come on, answer him, Stolas.”

“I can’t help it.”

“I knew it. You’re a fuckin’ mess, Stolas! Look at your feathers all ruffled up. So pathetic. ‘S it the girl on your lap or the guy right behind you, huh?”

Stolas completely ignores him. “Your- your clothes. I’m the only one undressed here.. They should be off too,” he pleads, eyes closed once again. 

“Which one of us?” You ask.

“Both of you.”

“Oh.”

“Fine by me,” Blitzø shrugs, freeing Stolas’ hands from his grip and taking off his jacket, revealing a button up shirt and… are those suspenders? You restrain yourself from making fun of them so as to not ruin the mood. You’ll make fun of them later.  He takes the shirt off swiftly and begins to unbutton his pants, too.

“This what you want me to take off?” You inquire, pulling on one of the straps of the black top and tilting your head to the side. It’s pointless to ask, really, and you know that- there was only so much for you to take off, unlike the two freaks who were practically competing for the most clothing layers in hell. Truth is, you just want to make him say it. 

 “Yes,” he affirms, pulling at the hem of your top. “Please.”

You nod, pulling it over your head and discarding it somewhere on the floor next to the bed. You take your time, not missing the opportunity to make a little show of it. “Better?”

“So much.” He breathes out.

“Holy fuck I’ve always dreamed of seeing those,” Blitzø comments, staring profusely and unashamedly at your chest. You’re still wearing the pretty black bra you’d picked earlier, and you let out a genuine laugh at the reaction.

“Shut up- ” Whatever you were about to say next dies out as Stolas places a kiss on your collarbone with no warning. 

“What, you don’t think it’s true?”

“Oh, no, I believe you.”

“Cocky bitch.” 

“You- fuck-“ Stolas nips at a sensitive spot on your neck, just under your ear. “You asked, you pri-” you suck in a breath as he runs his tongue along your throat.

“Hey now, we’re trying to have a conversation here,” Blitzø scolds him. “They don’t teach you it’s rude to interrupt at prince school?” He mocks, and his tail ascends to Stolas’ neck, entailing itself around it and tugging on it. It pulls Stolas’s face away from your body and leaves him gasping for air, and, fuck, it’s hot. “Where was I?” He asks you nonchalantly, tail still squeezing Stolas’ throat just enough to make his breathing erratic. “Telling you how many times I imagined what it’d be like to bury my head in your sweet, sweet-”

“Pervert.”

“Joke’s on you, insulting me only turns me on more.” The spade of his tails lifts Stolas’ chin up, forcing him to rest his head back on Blitzø’s chest.

“Why does that not surprise me- will you quit staring at my boobs?”

“I mean it’s kinda hard when they’re like right there. And where’s that energy for the pigeon here? He hasn’t taken his eyes off ‘em since you took the shirt off. And he’s got four of ‘em.”

You look back down at Stolas, who not-so-gracefully makes a point of directing his gaze somewhere else. 

“You been staring, Stolas?”

“No.” It comes out breathy, the sound threatening to not even come out given the hold of Blitzø’s tail on his throat.

Blitzø scoffs.

“It’s okay if you were.”

“Hey!” Blitzø complains. “I’m being treated so unfairly here!”

You ignore him. “Did you get a good look?” You card your fingers through Stolas’ hair before caging his face in your hands.

“What do you mean-”

You pull yourself off his lap altogether and he whimpers at the loss of contact, immediately muttering out apologies for staring at you. You just can't believe how easy it is to make him so submissive, such a mess. 

“I’m not punishing you for staring, Stolas. I just think you got a good look already. Don’t you wanna take a good look at Blitz too?” Blitzø raises an eyebrow at you as you lock eyes, silently questioning where you plan on going with that. 

Stolas doesn’t have to be told twice, and turns his head, and only his head, to look at Blitzø , in almost a full 180° turn. It’s freaky, and not the sexy kind of freaky- scary freaky. 

“Geez don’t fucking do that!” Blitzø releases the demon from his own tail’s grip on his throat. “I was gonna let you move!”

Stolas whips his head back into place and turns his whole body to face Blitz this time. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

“Yeah I noticed.”

Stolas doesn’t look embarrassed by what just happened the same way you noticed he’d been when he let out the compromising noises earlier, and you chalk it up to a single reason- he’s too busy ogling at Blitzø’s almost naked body. You get up off the bed, walking to the other end of the room, where Blitzø had left his bag. Rummaging through the collection of sex toys he’d brought in it, you were positive you’d find what you were looking for somewhere in there- and you do.

“The fuck are you doing?” Blitzø calls out.

You wordlessly hold up the blindfold in reply, putting the other stuff back inside the bag before turning around to face them, only to see both men staring at you intently. “What?” You ask, walking back towards the bed. Was this like a wrong move, or something?

“You wanna use that?” Blitzø asks you.

“Well it’s not for not me, is it? It’s for Stolas.” You explain, casually, and said demon chokes on his own spit. 

“Me?”

“Well, yes. I think you’ve stared enough for now, haven’t you? You don’t think we can take care of you? Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

His cheeks burn a flaming pink hue again and you wonder once again if what you’re suggesting is actually welcome, your confidence faltering for a second. “Have you guys never used it? I thought-”

“Oh we’ve used it alright. I think the pretty bird here’s just a little overwhelmed. Is that right, Stolas?”

“You’re just… so forward, y/n.” It sounds like it’s a good thing, judging by the way he says it. You still want to make sure, though.

“Is that an okay thing?”

“An okay thing?” Stolas repeats, as if even thinking of questioning that is completely stupid. He crawls over to the edge of the bed, where you stood, and sits pretty on his legs with his back to you. “Please do it. I’ll behave, I’ll let you take care of me.”

Okay, green light. Very hot green light. 

“Oh, Stolas. I’m sure you will,” you place a kiss on the side of his neck, eyes locked on Blitzø’s as you do so. He, in turn, looks elated, eager for what he knows is coming next.. Whatever you were doing, it seemed you were on the right path, with both of them. You bring the soft black fabric over Stolas’ eyes, tying it up behind his head. Blitzø stares curiously at you when you make eye contact with him again. “You wanna play?” You ask, a devilish smile directed at him.

“Fuck yeah.” 

Silence takes over as Blitzø takes his time crawling over to Stolas on all fours, anticipation building inside all three of you by the second. He sits on his own legs, mirroring Stolas’ position, and places his hands on the prince’s knees, pushing his legs open. You can hear Stolas’ breath hitch. Blitzø moves closer now, kneeling between his legs and resting his hands on either of his thighs. Stolas immediately places his own hands on top of the imp’s and leans forward, trying to pull Blitzø into a kiss. Blitzø leans back and clicks his tongue in response. 

“Stolas I thought you just said you were gonna behave.”

“I am!”

“You’re not, though, are you? Do I have to spell it out to you? You don’t call the shots here. You touch me when I let you.”

“O- okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He retracts his hands, placing them by his sides once again.

“I don’t know, I’m not very convinced.” He looks up at you. “Think you can hold him for me, sweetheart?” He challenges. 

“Yes.”

“Good girl.” The words leave his mouth and go straight in between your legs. You can’t help the way it sends shivers up your spine. Blitzø turns his attention back to Stolas. “Come here, Stolas, let’s leave some room for the lady, huh?” He gets into a sitting position and pulls Stolas onto his lap in such a quick motion it makes him gasp.

You kneel on the bed behind Stolas and look up expectantly at Blitzø. As much as Stolas isn’t calling the shots here, neither are you, you realize.

“Now let’s try again, shall we?”

Stolas nods and Blitzø finally pulls him into a kiss once again, hands firmly planted on his hips. You can hear their moans as they make out in front of you, the sinful noises filling the room, and if this were a scene in a movie you’d be replaying it nonstop. Their tongues dance against each other in pure, lewd, lust, and you’re so entranced by it that you almost miss Blitzø’s hand snaking itself down Stolas’ pants. The demon on his lap jumps in surprise, the hands he’d so obediently been keeping to himself involuntarily flying to Blitzø’s biceps. 

Blitzø immediately retracts his own hands from Stolas’ body entirely, and Stolas mutters what you think is a ‘fuck’ as he realizes what he did wrong. “It wasn’t fair, you didn’t warn me-”

“Nuh-uh, I gave you another chance already, Stols. I think you need to be taught some manners.” He looks up at you and signals to Stolas, and you blink a couple times before you catch onto what he wants you to do. 

You lean in closer, your front now flushed to Stolas’ back, and reach to grab his hands- one with your own and the other with your tail. Bringing them both to his back, you bind them with the tail, securing them together. It leaves your hands free, and you take the liberty to grab Stolas’ hair and pull on it, forcing him to lift his chin up, making him let out a shaky breath. Blitzø didn’t ask you to do that, but you’re sure he’ll appreciate it. You sure are.

“Now we’re talking. Can’t disobey now that you’re being held back, can ya?”

“I’ve apologized-”

“Ah-ah-ah. We’re past that already. And I don’t think you really are sorry. Ya wanna know what I think? I think you want to be held back. I think you want to be helpless.” 

Stolas takes a gulp instead of responding.

“Let's see if this way you’ll behave like a good little slut, huh?” Blitzø grabs Stolas’ face with both his hands and pulls him into a kiss that isn’t just desperate, but brutal this time around. Stolas’ little moans are delicious, and you watch over his shoulder as Blitzø snakes a hand inside his pants again. Like the last time, Stolas tries to move his hands, but your hold on his wrists restrains him from doing so. “I still feel like you’re wearing so much. Don’t you think we should take this off?” He pulls on the waistband of Stolas’ pants.

“Please do.”

Blitzø grins and looks at you. “I don’t know… What do you think, y/n? Think he deserves it?”

You lean down to whisper in Stolas' ear. “You think I should tell him you’ve been trying to move?”

“No. No, I won’t do it again. I swear.”

“Yeah, I think we could put him out of his misery.”

“If you think so,” Blitzø pulls on the waistband of Stolas’ pants and underwear again, prompting the prince to lift up his hips so they could be taken off, leaving him completely exposed. You find your position a shame right now, only able to see what you can over his shoulder, and decide you just have to switch it. You let go of your tail’s grip on Stolas’ wrists and let your hands off his hair, moving to kneel by Blitzø’s side, now able to see the whole picture, and it’s a sight to behold, Stolas’ naked body on top of Blitzø’s, his eyes - all four- hidden by the silk fabric.

“Holy shit.”

“What, couldn’t contain yourself?” Blitzø mocks.

“I’m the one who’s new to this.” 

“Oh yeah! You are! You wanna give her a proper show now, Stolas?”

“Yes! Yes.”

“You can touch me this time.”

“Oh thank fuck-” Stolas mutters out and immediately wraps his arms around Blitzo’s neck. He ruts his hips against his once, tentatively, trying to gauge any sort of response now that he’s been granted permission to. When Blitzø meets his thrust, he lets out a relieved sigh, and begins to grind onto him in a crescending rhythm, finally able to get some friction in his own accords. 

The second Blitzø starts purring, you’re done for. You don’t even really think before your lips are on his neck, and your hand rests on his chest, and his lips meet Stolas’ as they keep their pace against each other, and in a matter of seconds it all becomes a mess of entangled limbs and breaths and lewd noises. 

Your lips graze Blitzø’s earlobe for a second and one of his hands comes flying off of Stolas’ hips to your hair, pushing your head back down. “Do it again,” he demands, eyes closed and breathless, and you oblige, kissing up on the side of his neck until you get to his ear again, biting lightly on it, causing him to instinctively pull on his grip in your hair, and making you let out an involuntary moan directly to his ear. He thrusts up hard against Stolas at the noise, the purring growing louder. Stolas yelps at the change in pace, fast, brutal and utterly dirty now. “Come on, Stolas, you can give me one before we get more far.” 

Stolas’ face scrunches and you almost think he’s going to correct Blitzø’s grammar before he simply nods, ignoring it and leaning further so his forehead meets Blitzø’s, and it actually looks sweet. There’s no time for being sweet. 

You grab Stolas’ face, roughly pulling him to face you, and his movement falters. “Don’t stop, Stolas. Okay?”

“Okay.”

You nod, pleased, squeezing his cheeks until his mouth is forced open and pulling him into a torturing kiss, slow and sensual and downright vulgar. A promised, he doesn’t stop his pace against Blitzø, who meets him with equally eager ruts of his hips, but doesn’t look nor sound nearly as fucked out as he does. Blitzø presses two of his fingers directly to Stolas’ hole, and, though he doesn’t insert them or even move them, the friction from it in between their bodies as the moved in sync seemed to be enough to turn Stolas into an even bigger mess, mouth parted as he let out the most impossibly filthy, delightful  noises, barely able to kiss you back properly. 

“I’m going to- I’m- Please, please, please, let me-” he’s so gone you’re not even sure he can register what he’s saying, how he’s begging. And he’s begging for permission, you realize. 

“You make the call,” Blitzø tells you. “Think he deserves it?”

“I’m not sure,” you taunt. “You think you’ve been a good boy for us, Stolas?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything!”

“Good, good boy. You can cum, Stolas. Can you cum for us?”

Stolas nods furiously, pace increasing to be impossibly more desperate, and you watch in awe as Blitzø inserts two of his fingers inside his hole, going back to thrusting into him right after. The noise of his fingers moving inside of Stolas, along with the breathy moans he’s letting out, is so pornographic it makes you blush- Stolas is so fucking wet that Blitzø has no issue inserting them entirely inside, though he’s still careful with it, curling it up in such a way it has Stolas letting out an animalistic screech. You can see he’s just on the verge of finishing, and decide you can put yourself to good use to help, snaking your tail up to his neck and wrapping it tightly around it, now aware that he likes that, but still in such a position that you can have a clear view when he cums- and oh, when he cums! 

The wet noises fill the room along with Blitzø’s grunts and Stolas’ utterly sinful moans, in sync with the way their hips meet and Blitzø’s fingers go deeper and deeper inside him each time. The sight is glorious, from Stolas’ semblant of pure ecstasy to the way he drips onto Blitzø’s fingers, hips faltering more and more as he loses himself while the orgasms hits him, leaving it for Blitzø to pump his fingers inside him a few more times so he can fully ride it out. 

You retract your tail from his neck as he rests his head on Blitzø’s shoulder, jumping up at the stimulation when Blitzø moves to retract his fingers from inside of him. Blitzø wordlessly offers them to you, and you silently open up your mouth, tongue out and all, so that he can place them inside. You run your tongue over his fingers, coated with Stolas’ fluid, looking at Blitzø through your lashes. You give them kitten licks, enjoying the way he seems affected by the sight. “Suck, bitch,” he demands, and you don’t even have the willpower to determine if you care about the name-calling or not, only doing as he says and sucking his fingers dry obediently. He looks pleased by it. “Ya hear that, Stolas? She’s tasting you on my fingers like it’s her last fuckin’ meal. Bet you wish you could see that,” he mocks, and Stolas shudders at the thought. You pull away with a soft ‘pop’, licking the remnants of the liquid from your lips. 

“Don’t be mean, Blitz,” you coo, moving to untie the fabric in the back of Stolas’ head. He takes a couple seconds to lift his head up from Blitzø’s shoulder, eyes slowly opening to take in the view of the two of you. He blushes slightly, and his eyes travel down to where his groin meets Blitzø’s, gulping at the sight of his cum all over Blitzø’s underwear. He’s sure he’s ruined it, but doesn’t have the heart to care. He can just buy him a new one. 

“Are you alright, Stolas?’ You ask him, softly, as he comes back to his senses. 

“Yes. Yes, thank you, thank you.”

Blitzø smirks. “So, Stols. Anything, huh?”

“I- uh-” Stolas stumbles over his words, embarrassment washing over him now that he’s come down from chasing his high. “I-”

“Are you backing down, Your Highness?”

“Don’t call me that,” Stolas scolds him. “And I still don’t know why I am the only one undressed.”

“Cause it’s fun,” you chime in, chuckling at his expression. 

“You a pussy, Stolas?”

“No- I’m- will you not call me that?”

“If you stop acting like one.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Now that’s more like it.” He grins, pleased. “You’re gonna eat her out, and I’m gonna watch.”

“What?” You’re the one to ask. 

“What, don’t think I didn’t see your thighs pressed together while you watched us. I could bet you so much money that you’re dripping wet just from watching.”

“I-” You glance at Stolas, who has his head tilted to the side as he watches you. He looks curious. “Okay.”

“Good fuckin’ girl. Come on, Stolas, don’t be shy!” Blitzø pulls you to lie down with your head on one of Stolas’ fancy silk pillows, and you feel anticipation bubbling inside you. 

Stolas crawls to kneel right by Blitzø’s side, facing your legs. His eyes wander from you to Blitzø to you to Blitzø, as if unsure where to begin. And apparently he is. “I don’t- I don’t know how to- what should I do?”

“You never eaten a woman out before?”

Stolas ashamedly nods his head no. 

“Didn’t you have a whole ass wife?”

“Well, yes, but we barely ever-” oh. 

“Okay, well, good thing I’m kind of an expert,” Blitzø grins confidently and you fight the urge to roll your eyes at it. “Ya wanna learn something new today?” 

Stolas nods feverishly. 

“Okay, well, change of plans, tits,” Blitzø tells you, crawling over to be at face level with you, his body fully on top of yours, weight held up by his hands on either side of your head. “That alright?” He lowers his voice again, staring deeply into your eyes. You’re beginning to suspect he could ask you to do anything in that voice and you’d do it, no questions asked.

You take a gulp. “Yes.”

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he whispers, before capturing your lips on his roughly. This time around the kiss doesn’t start slow, or tender, or anything remotely wholesome. It’s obscene and hungry and feels so, so right. He leaves his weight for his left arm to support as, lips still linked with yours, tongue still dancing against your own, he descends his right hand to squeeze your right breast over your bra, and you feel him open a smile against your lips when he manages to make you suck in a harsh breath at the feeling of it. He massages your breast roughly over the piece of clothing before he tugs the bra cup down, thumb and pointer finger promptly taking hold of your nipple and rolling it between them. He pulls his face away from yours and halts his ministrations altogether, much to your dismay, to take a look back at Stolas. “You watching?”

“Of course.”

“Good. You see how you don’t just jump straight into it? Not that you can’t, but it takes the whole experience up a notch to start with some kissing, some touching, some squeezing,” he wiggles his eyebrows at the last part and makes a point of squeezing your boob once again.

“And what makes you so sure you’re doing it right?” You challenge him. You know he knows you’re only doing it to tease him, but whatever gets him back on you, even if only to prove a point. Blitzø fucking loves proving a point.

“Good question. Let’s see, shall we?” He lets go of your bra, letting it cover you again, and begins trailing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, your ears, your neck, your throat. He pays extra attention to your collarbone before supporting himself up and shifting his weight to his legs, straddling you. He places his hand back on your right boob this time, kneading it over your bra once again, and tugs down on the other bra cup, exposing your left. 

He dives right in with no warning. You’re given no time to expect it before he’s licking at you messily, your nipple hardening immediately at the contact. The cool air of the room hits the spit that now covers it as he pulls away and intensifies that feeling even more. You breath hitches. 

He takes it a sign to keep going, which it is, and encloses his lips around it, sucking like his life depends on it, and holy fuck it feels good. The moans you’re unable, and honestly don’t care enough about anymore, to contain, incite him to alternate between sucking and licking at your nipple, other hand busy massaging your other breast at a matching pace and tail caressing the inner of your thigh, though that you’re not sure is intentional. It turns you on, nonetheless. Only after a while of it is he sufficiently satisfied before feeling like he needs to continue his ‘lesson’. He lets his teeth graze and slightly pull at your nipple as he pulls away. “Yeah I think I’m doing it right,” he boasts.

“Oh fuck you.”

“Ha! Not yet! I’m teaching Stolas how to eat some pussy first, would you mind?” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Okay, we could give some more attention to the boobies-”

“Ew, Blitz! What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t say fucking boobies!”

“It’s what they are!”

“You’re so fucking-” your words get caught on your throat when his tail wraps itself around your upper thigh, squeezing it tight enough to hurt just a bit. It feels good. “Fuck. Insufferable.”

“Can you let me finish? Ha. Finish. Anyway, we could keep on giving some more attention up there, but the lady seems really impatient, doesn’t she? So we can always just go back to that later.” Tail still wrapped around your upper thigh, he moves around from straddling you to opening your legs to make way for him to kneel between them. Wordlessly, he leans back down to kiss at your stomach, and his hands fly to the waistband of your shorts. He tugs on it and asks for confirmation that he can take it off, doing so as soon as he gets it. You lift up your hips to help him out and he discards the piece of clothing by purposefully throwing it directly at Stolas, who looks stunned by it for a second. 

You’re sure Blitzø’s next step is to just get to taking your panties off, but, instead, he wraps his hands behind your legs, pushing you to fold them and plant your feet to the mattress, and leaves small bites all over your inner thighs. Your breathing quickens as he gets closer and closer to where you simply need him at this point, but doesn’t get to it. You're torn between yelling at him to just get to it and just enjoying what he’s doing, however torturing it feels. You’re not torn anymore when he gives a rather harsh bite, tugging on the soft, plush skin of your thigh, sure to leave a mark, and decide on your first option. “Will you please get to it already, you fucking-” He knows you were about to insult him, and makes sure to shut you up just before you can, licking a stripe over your panties. “Shit. Yes.”

“The two of you really need to learn some fucking manners, you know? Have some fucking patience!” He scolds, and he tugs on the thin band of the lingerie with his pointer fingers, pleased with how you immediately respond with furious nodding, urging him to just fucking take it off already. He slides the underwear off your legs slowly as he keeps his words directed at Stolas. “Now if you’ve been doing things right, by the time you’re taking the panties off, she should be wet.”

“Not true for everyone,” you quip, and gasp in surprise when he grazes two of his fingers against your entrance, collecting the wetness and bringing them up for Stolas to inspect. It almost makes you want to die of embarrassment. 

“True for you, though. You ready for the best head of your fuckin life?”

“Highly doubt it.” 

He only sends you a smile, clearly confident, before lowering himself, hands parting your thighs further and wasting no time before licking a long stripe up from your hole to your clit, sending shivers through your spine. You let out a moan. It fuels him on, and he does it one, two, three times again before his tongue focuses solely to your clit, rolling it out in circles a few times. Your hands instinctively go to his head, taking hold of the base of his horns. What he’s doing feels good, but you know it can feel even better, so you guide his head to signal what you want- “Up and down.”

You’re not sure what his response to the demand will be, if he’ll scold you for telling him what to do, but he seems pleased to have you voicing exactly what you want. 

He pulls away for a second to comment on it. “That’s it, babe, tell me what you want.” He latches his mouth to your clit again, sucking on it a couple times before releasing it to go back to flicking his tongue at it, up and down this time, just as you urged him, and the feeling of it is heavenly. You assume.

You can feel a faint sign of your orgasm building inside of you as he keeps on for who-knows-how-long, and so it’s beyond frustrating when he pulls away altogether. 

“No! What the fuck?” 

“Hey, chill out! I gave a little demonstration, now we should let Stolas practice, shouldn’t we?”

As much as you want Blitzø’s mouth on you again, you don’t deny the suggestion, for Stolas is looking at you in such a mix of curiosity and hunger that it makes you crave his mouth on you too. 

“Are you sure you’re okay with that?” Stolas asks you, nervous. “Perhaps I’m not the most qualified to-”

“I’ll guide you, Stolas. Please?”

He only nods, taking Blitzø’s place between your legs. He stares, and it takes a lot of willpower not to close your legs at that. You remind yourself he’s curious, not judging- not only has he never gone down on a woman, the only woman he ever had sex with didn’t exactly have the same anatomy as you did. 

“There’s no clothes to take off anymore,” Stolas points out, nervous, as he runs Blitzø’s ‘demonstration’ on his memory again. 

Blitzø laughs. “That’s true. You just gotta dive right in. Long as it’s fine with the lady. Is it?”

“Yes.” You feel a little ridiculous in this position, being the object of some sort of sex lesson or whatever the fuck this had turned into, but, as soon as Stolas’ mouth is on you, Blitzø’s hungry eyes staring at the scene, it clicks that he wants to watch the two of you much rather than to genuinely be teaching Stolas anything. 

Stolas’ mouth is careful on you and his hands are unsure. Blitzø comes up behind him to place them on your waist, and the prince quickly gets the sign to grip at your sides. You’re surprised when he pulls your body down to him, pressing you to his mouth forcefully as he messily licks at your clit, reminding himself of the up and down motion you’d guided Blitzo into. You want more, more, more.

“Holy shit, Stolas, I want it inside. Please, please, please,” you plead, neverminding the fact he might be confused by the request. It doesn’t even cross your mind as you’re in the middle of it.

Stolas pulls away to turn and look at Blitzø, a silent question of ‘what the fuck does that mean?’ in his semblant. 

Blitzø lets out a laugh. “Your tongue, Stolas. She wants it inside her.” 

“Oh. Is that right, dear?”

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes-” he wastes no time in doing as he’s told- Stolas is very good at that, it seems. 

He gives your clit a kitten lick before slithering his tongue into your hole and, fuck, fuck, fuck, this is exactly what you wanted. He flicks it inside of you blindly and you can’t help but fuck yourself against it, thrusting against his mouth repeatedly to help him find a rhythm. It feels so good you feel that same feeling bubbling inside you again, your orgasm beginning to creep up again. It stays that way, though, and you realize what you want might be too much to ask of Stolas just yet. “Blitz?”

“Hm?” He’s watching the way you fuck yourself against Stolas’ face intently, barely registering the fact you’re speaking to him.

“Blitz. Your- your fingers.”

“What, birdy not good enough for ya?”

“It’s not that, I want- I want both of you.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah. Yeah I can do that. Scooch over, Stols.”

Your legs are opened impossibly wider, and Blitzø squeezes himself besides Stolas, who looks lost now. “What should I do?”

“Keep eating her out, yeah? Only difference is I’m gonna be fucking her with these while you do it,” he holds up his hand, wiggling his fingers in the air. Stolas blushes at the implication of what’s to happen and Blitzø runs his thumb over your clit in an achingly slow pace before one of his fingers finds its way into your entrance, wet enough now that it doesn’t hurt, but he does it slowly, still, curling it around for a moment before checking in with you. “Y’alright?”

You hum in confirmation.

“Gonna give you another one, alright?”

“Please just fucking put it in, Blitz.” 

He doesn’t make any funny remarks at that, only doing as demanded. He inserts a second finger, and this time around it feels like you need a few more seconds to adjust to it, which he gives you. He curls both of them up tentatively, without moving them from their place, and is pleased with the coarse moan he manages to get out of you. 

Stolas takes the noise as a cue to dive right in once again, licking at your clit ferociously. The stimulation feels so undeniably amazing you feel your senses tune out. Blitzø begins a slow pace as he pumps his fingers inside you, curling them up ever-so-slightly, and Stolas matches his rhythm as he gives your clit the attention it so desperately needs, and you faintly register yourself making noises so unhinged they barely sound like you, the knot in your belly threatening to come loose. 

And then Blitzø lowers himself up and suddenly they’re making out, with each other, with your cunt, all the while Stolas’ fingers claw harshly at your thigh and the pace at which Blitzø’s fingers move inside you picks up, with him choosing to pump only deeper and deeper inside you instead of pulling his fingers out to insert them back in, and then it all fucking explodes. 

The mix between a moan and a scream that you let out could be a sound effect on one of those freakin’ Angel Dust movies. 

Blitzø is quick to take his fingers out of you and suck on them as soon as he’s made sure you’ve ridden down your high, and Stolas laps up at the remaining fluid that gushes out of you.

“Holy fucking shit,” you mutter out under your breath, chest heaving up and down. 

“Is that a good thing, dear?’ Stolas asks, and you can see he’s fighting a smile.

“Asshole. I know you know what an orgasm is like.”

“Well now I’m fucking hard,” Blitzø says, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to take a look at him. He is. His black underwear, stained with Stolas’ cum on the front, looks impossibly tight. 

“What’s that you said about wanting me to feel how perfect his dick feels inside me again, Stolas?”

“Oh, you want-” You take Stolas by the hand and pull him out of the bed with you, pushing him against the nearest wall before turning around with your back to him. 

You lock eyes with Blitzø, still sitting on the bed, confused as ever. 

He gets up off the bed, now standing, but doesn’t move towards the two of you. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Well, what I’m planning doesn’t exactly sound the most comfortable lying down.”

“What are you planning?”

You tug at the back of your bra. “Can you take this off for me, Stolas?” His fingers fly to undo it and you let the piece of clothing fall to the floor in front of you, now entirely exposed. “Aren’t you coming?”

Blitzø wastes no more time, walking over to where the two of you stand in a hurry, taking his underwear off in his way, and your eyes widen at the sight of him completely naked in front of you. Fuck, you need, need, need him inside of you.

“How do you want me?” He asks, and you realize he’s sort of gotten the gist of your plans. 

Your turn around, facing Stolas again, body flushed against his. “Oh we’re recreating Stolas’ fantasy right now. Isn’t that what you asked for, Stolas?” You raise a hand to caress his cheek.  “I think you said something about me filling you up with my fingers? Is that so?”

“Yes,” he agrees, anticipation visible in his face as your other hand descends over his body slowly, knowing what’s coming next. You stop just before you reach his hole to tilt your head back on Blitzø’s shoulder. 

“Then he said something about how perfect you feel inside of him, that I just had to know what it feels like. Didn’t he?”

“Fuck. Fuck, you want me to-” Blitzø doesn’t finish his sentence, voice dying out at the proposition. 

“What, cat got your tongue now? Are you a pussy, Blitz?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Prove it then,” you tell him, before averting your attention back to Stolas, finally letting your fingers graze against his entrance. He hoots again, the second time the whole night, and you smile at it. “Look at me, yeah? Gonna give you what you want.” You press your middle finger into his hole and he sighs. You decide to take it slowly for now, circling around his answer, barely a knuckle in, teasing him to your heart’s content. 

The grin you sport is quickly wiped off your face as Blitzø parts your legs further apart with his foot and flushes his front to your back, aligning his dick with your hole, and you suck in a sharp breath in anticipation. “You ready?” He asks you, and, with a nod from you, he pushes himself in, inserting just his tip inside of you slowly, giving you a moment to adjust to the intrusion. 

“Fuck me,” you whisper, to youself really, as the uncomfortable feeling of the intrusion turns into an uncomfortable feeling of needing more. 

“Right away,” he tells you, as if you’d been talking to him, and pushes his whole shaft in at once. Not forcefully enough that it hurts, but fast enough that he’s now fully buried inside you. He relishes in the gasp you let out and asks if he can move.

“Yes, yes, yes-” he begins moving, fucking you from behind at a torturingly slow pace, making sure to bury himself deeper and deeper with each calculated thrust. You insert your finger further inside of Stolas, whose voice gives up on him, inaudible gasps coming out as you match Blitzø’s rhythm in yourself. 

Blitzø isn’t exactly known for his patience though, and so it doesn’t take long for his pace to grow more erratic. The end of his tail entangles itself with yours and he holds your hips firmly, pulling them against his. You insert a second finger into Stolas, pressing them in deep, and he grabs your head with both his hands, shoving your face against the fluff of his chest.

“Fuck I knew you had to be nasty, but this? Shit, this is like combining every wet dream I ever fuckin’ had,” Blitzø mumbles as he fucks into you. 

“It’s his wet dream,” you let out, referring to Stolas, whose chest muffles your voice slightly, and you make a point out of curling your fingers up, making the prince let out a sinful moan.

“Oh and you’re not enjoying this?” Blitzø fucks deeper into you, harsh thrusts meant to prove a point. 

Suddenly, Stolas leans forward, over your shoulder, and pulls Blitzo into a bruising kiss that’s meant to shut the imp up. It works. Blitzø’s hips falter slightly for a moment as he gets used to the change, but he adjusts quickly to it. It’s so incomprehensibly hot, the way they make out over you, their moans meddling with each other’s, the way they pant, the way you can feel they’re as into this as you are. 

Blitzø pulls away from Stolas and his mouth goes directly to your collarbone, biting at it, as Stolas sucks at your neck at the same time. 

“Harder,” you plead, as you can feel the familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching once again, and the feeling of it coils inside you in such a way that you know it’s going to hit you hard, and you chase your release blindly.

Blitzø smiles against your neck as he complies, fucking into you so impossibly harder, every roll of his hips so deliciously deep it could make you delirious with how perfectly he’s now managing to hit that sensitive spot inside of you. Just as before, you make sure your fingers hit Stolas just as deep, matching Blitzø’s now brutal pace, and the prince trembles against you, clearly close. Blitzø himself can’t even keep pretending he’s as unbothered as he’d like, seemingly also in a borderline delirious state as he aggressively thrusts against you, cursing over and over again under his breath.

“Fuck. Gonna cum, gonna cum-”He finishes first, and he does so with a groan, burying himself to the hilt inside you as he fills you up. You can feel his legs trembling, but he doesn’t let up his pace until he hears you call out for him.

“Shit. I’m so close- Please-” It must have taken all his willpower, but he ups his pace to match the way he’d been moving earlier, fast and hard, and, suddenly, you’re cumming. Not even just that, you can feel the liquid gush out of you as you squirt, cum dripping down your thighs and coating Blitzø’s cock, and the scream you let out pushes Stolas over the edge right after, too, and you let him fuck himself onto your fingers for a long as he needs to ride out his orgasm. 

It leaves all three of you a panting, gross, sticky mess, no sound emitted other than heavy breaths, chests heaving up and down as you come back to reality. 

You pull your fingers out of Stolas carefully, and he whines at the loss. Blitzø pulls himself out of you as well, and you bite down on your lip as to not do the same. Tasting Stolas on your fingers is exhilarating, and has you wishing you could go down on him. Later, maybe, you think to yourself, as you realize all of you seem to spent, too fucked out to jump right into another round. 

Coming down from your high to the silence that follows has you wondering if you should say something, do something, but leaves you stuck in place, as you have no idea what they usually do when they’re done. In hindsight, you probably should have asked Blitzø earlier- are you even allowed to stay any longer, to provide any sort of aftercare, or do you just clean yourselves up, get dressed, and leave? You don’t want to make things awkward by being the person to ask ‘what now?’ or something of the sort, so you wait for one of them to take the lead.

Stolas thankfully does. “We should get ourselves cleaned up.”

He leaves towards some other door inside his already gigantic room, and Blitzø immediately follows. You stay where you are, feet planted to the floor. Blitzø’s head appears in the door frame. “You coming?”

“Where?”

He utters no word as he walks up to you and drags you along with him into what you realize is a huge, beautiful bathroom. There’s a bathtub in the middle of it, the myriad of candles that surround it the only source of light in the room, and it somehow seems as if it’d just been drawn, steam coming out of the water, which made no sense. 

“When did you- how-”

Stolas laughs at your confusion. “I have got some spells under my sleeve, darling.”

Blitzø groans in annoyance. “Yeah yeah, now will you conjure me the fucking thing?”

Stolas’ smile falters for a fraction of a second before he agrees. “Of course, Blitzy, dear!” With a wave of his hand, a fucking shower materializes in a corner of the room. 

“Are you getting in?” Stolas asks you, motioning to the bathtub. He notices the confusion in your face. “Blitzy doesn’t like baths.”

“So you conjure him a fuckin’... magic shower or whatever whenever he comes over?” What the hell. 

“Well, yes. It’s not half as difficult as it sounds, trust me.” He slips into the bathtub, humming at the welcoming feeling of the hot water. “Do you enjoy baths?”

“Um. Sure. Yeah.” You glance at Blitzø for a moment, not missing the eye roll at the conversation. Oh, whatever. 

You get in, and Stolas promptly settles into washing your hair, because what even is reality? It feels nice, though you do wish Blitzø would share the moment with the two of you. You understand why he won’t, but tell yourself it’s fine, and you really want it to be, because the feeling of it is just nice, different from most times you’ve been intimate with anyone. No one’s ever drawn a magical bath for you and offered to wash your hair after sex before, that you’re sure of. 

When you’re all half-dressed again, you prepare yourself to bid Stolas goodbye and leave, only for Blitzø to be the first to launch himself back on Stolas’ bed, sprawling over it. Were you staying the night? 

What a weird fucking man. Can’t take a bath together after fucking you senseless but invites himself to stay over? In what realm is the latter less intimate? Still, you don’t find it in you to argue, plopping yourself to lie down next to him, Stolas following suit. 

You’ll think about it tomorrow.

[. . .]

“What’s got you so happy?” Millie asks you as you get ready to leave for Loo Loo Land, as Stolas has requested you work as security for him during his outing with Octavia, his daughter, which is something you wouldn’t normally do, but he must have offered a lot of money for Blitzø to agree. She’s asked you what your night at the palace had been like, but you hadn’t had the chance to talk to her in person about it yet. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tell her, checking your gun’s cartridge. 

“‘T’s probably the dick down she got this weekend,” Blitzø inserts himself into the conversation, and you send him a dirty look. 

“Shut the fuck up.”

A/N:I hope this doesn't suck omfg lmaooo and if the last few paragraphs do suck cut me some slack my brain is so fried at this point lol. anyways enjoy.

[2996-sana]

kookeu's divorced parents

summary: exes to lovers / could this be the start of a new chapter? nayeon let out an exaggerated sigh as her phone pinged, drawing attention to the message on the screen.

y/n: nayeon, i need to see kookeu. it's been two weeks.

rolling her eyes, nayeon swiftly typed back.

nayeon: busy week ahead. can't make it.

chaeyoung, across the practice room, noticed nayeon's dramatic reaction and playfully inquired, "what's bothering you, unnie?"

the question piqued the interest of the other members, who were lounging on the practice room floor after a tiring practice.

nayeon, adopting a frustrated tone, spilled the beans. "y/n is asking about kookeu again."

"sounds like a serious kookeu withdrawal,” momo said.

tzuyu, offering sensible advice, suggested, "just let her see kookeu, unnie. after all, you both adopted him."

"why have you been gatekeeping kookeu lately anyway?" jihyo questioned.

"rumor has it nayeon thinks y/n might be off the market. they’re preparing for a custody battle." jeongyeon, seizing the opportunity to tease nayeon giggled.

nayeon gasped and playfully tossed her cap at jeongyeon. "so what if she is? i don’t care.”

sana leaned in with an exaggerated expression. “kookeu might be meeting his stepmom soon.”

mina, usually reserved, chimed in, "maybe that's why y/n is so eager to see kookeu – she's planning introductions.”

"you two are relentless. kookeu is just a dog, and y/n wants to see him because... because she misses him.” nayeon sighed in mock exasperation. "i can't believe i'm entertaining this conversation. y/n just wants to see kookeu, that's it.”

"are you trying to convince us or yourself?" jeongyeon couldn't help but raise an eyebrow,

chaeyoung chimed in with a giggle, "yeah, unnie, and what's with the sudden detective work? last i checked, she was single."

nayeon, brushing off the playful accusations, rolled her eyes, "since when have you and y/n been besties? anyway, it's not like i'm jumping to conclusions here. two weeks ago, i was at her place, bringing kookeu, the usual routine, right? and then, out of nowhere, a new scent lingered in the air. now, i'm not crazy, but we all know y/n is practically married to that jo malone perfume of hers. so, naturally, i found it a bit suspicious."

"did you ask her about it, unnie?" tzuyu asked.

nayeon, adopting a defensive stance, quickly replied, "no! why would i? it's none of my business anyway."

the other girls exchanged knowing looks. despite nayeon's attempt to sound nonchalant, they were pretty sure she considered it very much her business.

"momo, i'll be off now," nayeon announced from her living room, catching momo's attention. in nayeon's arms was kookeu, and as momo approached, she couldn't resist showering the furry friend with affection, planting kisses on the small dog.

"are you going to see your other mommy today, kookeu? be good, okay," momo cooed to the little dog, who wagged its tail in response.

nayeon, feigning dramatic exasperation, sighed, "yeah, we gotta go."

during the drive, nayeon found it challenging to shake off her nerves and growing annoyance. how dare you be seeing someone new? and to top it off, bringing her to your place? though she tried to convince herself that she didn't care, the possessive feeling lingered. she justified it as merely being protective of kookeu—what if he started favoring the new step-mom over her?

the door of your apartment swung open, and nayeon couldn't help but appreciate the cozy atmosphere you exuded. clad in just a grey hoodie, you looked incredibly cute, and nayeon briefly considered going in for a hug but dismissed the idea as too awkward. instead, she gently placed kookeu on the floor, who immediately dashed inside your apartment and offered a small wave, "hi."

you greeted your ex-girlfriend with a grin, pulling her into a warm hug, "hi, nayeon. i missed you," before turning your attention to kookeu, adding, "and you too, of course, my cute little angel baby."

nayeon couldn't suppress a smile at the heartwarming scene. your affection for kookeu had always been evident, and one of the most challenging aspects of the breakup was being separated from him. although you both adopted him together, it was nayeon's idea, so you respected her decision to let him stay mostly at her place. but now, as kookeu darted around your apartment, nayeon couldn't help but miss this—coming home to you and spending time together with kookeu.

the nostalgia was interrupted by a familiar scent, the lavender that now put her in a sour mood. fond feelings evaporated, replaced by a sense of irritation.

clearing her throat, nayeon headed for the couch, engrossing herself in her phone. after a while, you joined her, dropping kookeu on the floor to explore your space. "how have you been? how are the girls?"

"they're okay," nayeon replied dryly, raising an eyebrow at your concerned expression.

"are you okay?"

"why wouldn't i be?" nayeon scoffed, glancing around the room, noticing the changes in your once-empty space. it used to lack personal touches, as most of your things were at her place. now, with new furniture and decorations, she couldn't help but wonder if you chose them with your new girlfriend. bitterness crept in. "i like what you've done with the place."

"right? i've been having fun decorating, i guess," you sighed. "had a bit of help, though, so i can't take all the credit."

nayeon raised her eyebrows, curious. "oh? from who?"

before you could answer, the doorbell rang. "oh! i had food delivered. your favorite," you exclaimed, rushing to get the food.

as you both indulged in the meal, she momentarily forgot about the new person in your life, and it felt like old times—sharing a meal, joking around. nayeon's momentary lapse allowed the bitter feelings to dissipate, and for a while, it was almost comfortable. however, beneath the surface, a part of her cursed the constant reminder of your shared responsibilities, especially when it involved seeing you so often. if only she didn't have to be around you so frequently, maybe moving on would have been a little easier for her.

her thoughts wandered to the desire to lean in and wipe the side of your mouth, as she used to do when eating together. and when you did something particularly cute, she wished she could just start making out with you right then and there on the floor of your apartment. god, she missed kissing you. it was a luxury she no longer had, unfortunately.

"you look really pretty today," you said with a flirty smile.

nayeon snickered, finding the compliment amusing despite herself. she couldn't deny that your attention had a certain appeal, even though she tried to keep things light.

the moment, however, was rudely interrupted by the intrusive buzz of your phone. annoyance flickered across nayeon's face as she quipped with a teasing edge, "is that your new girlfriend?”

confusion etched your features, "you're being ridiculous. you were the one who wanted to end things. why do you care about my personal life now?”

nayeon gasped, attempting nonchalance, "i don't care if you're seeing someone new. i just find it amusing that you're inviting me over, buying me food, and flirting when you have someone else.”

"so, you don't care then? if i'm with someone else?" you asked, a hint of skepticism coloring your voice.

nayeon hesitated before responding, "no, i don't. besides, she has dreadful taste in scents. lavender? suffocating."

despite her attempt at nonchalance, you sensed there was more to nayeon's feelings. "what about you, nayeon? i'm sure the long line of admirers hasn’t dwindled. who's been hitting you up this week? how many responses did they get?"

the shadow of past insecurities lingered, fueled by the knowledge of nayeon's charm and the potential admirers seeking her attention now that you were no longer together.

nayeon felt a mix of frustration and unspoken emotions. she wanted to assure you that no one else occupied her thoughts, that you were the constant presence in her mind. but right now, she couldn't bring herself to offer any comforting words.

“we’re leaving,” as she announced her departure, nayeon felt a firm grip on her arm, stopping her in her tracks.

you seemed weary, worn out by the misunderstanding. with a tired tone, you clarified, "there's no one new. i just wanted to try something different, so i got a lavender diffuser. see?" your finger pointed towards the diffuser a few feet away, emphasizing the innocence of your actions. "you're so stupid, nayeon."

embarrassment tinged nayeon's cheeks as she noticed the lavender diffuser on the table. "o-okay," she stammered, taken aback by the realization.

your teasing tone cut through the tension, "you don't sound like someone who doesn't care."

nayeon rolled her eyes, unwilling to admit how your words affected her. she opted for silence, gazing at the floor in an attempt to conceal the hints of vulnerability.

your sigh broke the quiet, and the frustration in your voice was palpable. "i... there's not going to be anyone new for a long time, nayeon," you confessed. "i don't know why you think i'd move on so quickly. i didn't even want to break up in the first place."

nayeon chuckled, trying to ease the tension. "no one's getting replies from me either," she joked, meeting your gaze with a hint of contemplation.

feeling the unspoken emotions, nayeon decided to break the tension with an unexpected move.

she closed the gap between you, gently pressing her lips to yours. so gentle you almost don’t feel it at first. you sigh against her mouth. your head is spinning and your heart pounding at the realization that you’re kissing her.

deep down, both of you acknowledge that it's time to figure things out and maybe give your relationship another shot. however, for now, you prefer to let your actions speak louder than words.

"wanna take this to my bedroom?"