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[mycryptosuite]

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[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (a Valentino production)

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

tags: Alastor x reader, smut, dubcon, mentions of assault (Val intended to "fuck you to death”), Val's existence, overstimulation, forced (?) orgasms, bondage (shadow tentacles), choking (sexy kind, not murdery kind), cervix wrecked, your aunt is a bitch

(author's note: I've been in Japan for like 7 years and my English has suffered, but your fucking smutty writing on this site has inspired me to write for the first time in years.)

Minors DNI

Angel burst into the hotel lobby, winded. “Please, you gotta do somethin’!” 

To the surprise of everyone, he ran straight to Alastor, tears forming in his eyes.

“Val’s gonna hurt her real bad. I don’t know who else to ask, please. I can't—-“ he cradled his head in his hands, “I can't watch him break any more people.”

Alastor didn’t seem to react at first, but Charlie appeared at Angel’s side and pulled him into a hug, “Angel, take a deep breath. He’s gonna hurt who? What’s wrong?”

“He got a new soul. Some fucking cultist offered her up as sacrifice. But she's not dead yet Charlie—- he dragged her down here alive.” His voice cracked, “He wantsta— he said he’s gonna fuck her to death on camera and wait for her to respawn in hell. He’s convinced he’ll make a fortune off the tapes. Please, for fuck’s sake someone has to do something.”

A human in hell? Well, that was something interesting after all. With a raised brow Alastor spoke, “And how exactly can I help this poor, unfortunate soul?”

“Make a deal or– rip his arms off, I don’t fuckin’ know! There has to be something you can offer Val worth her soul. I’d give you my soul if I could!”

Well that’d be worthless.

But a human? A living, breathing human? Intriguing.

“Alastor you have do something. This isn't right! Hell isn’t for the living.” Charlie’s hair flew upward as her eyes flashed red for a second, “I’ll repay it somehow.”

Well there's no harm in taking a look. 

The demons and sinners who saw Alastor walking into the Vee’s tower oscillated between fleeing for their lives and live tweeting the event. Either a truce or a war would be breaking out and they knew they’d be fucked regardless.

“Alastooor”, Val exhaled,  letting the name drag out lazily, “Come to ruin something, I’m sure.” Val hadn’t seen Alastor since his fight with Vox 7 years ago, and he hadn’t expected to see him in his studio— ever. 

“Ha! No, not today. Word got around that there's a special little guest hidden in your studio.” Alastor’s eyes darted about the room, uninterested in the various parts and bits of the actors changing.

Val glanced at Angel, who’d suspiciously returned some 30 minutes before Alastor appeared. 

“I didn’t say nothing, Val.” Angel’s hands went up in defense. “He came to me askin’ about her.”

“And what exactly do you want with my “little guest”?” Val dropped any pretense of politeness. 

Alastor leaned forward on his microphone, and with a pop of static he practically cooed, “To see the poor creature, of course.”

Val ashed his cigarette into a cameraman’s hair and walked off, “Fuck it, sure. She’s back here.”

The back room was dark, perhaps some would call it mood lighting but what mood exactly it conveyed fell somewhere between dungeon and power outage.

You sat on your knees in the center of a round bed. Arms held above your head by a large clip attached to wrist restraints. Your body swayed slightly, a long rope anchored to the ceiling and tied to the clip above you.  Your body was slightly suspended, knees barely making contact with the bed beneath you. The white nightgown you wore was bloodied and ripped at the collar, causing it to slip down your left shoulder. Jaw clenched, your eyes were covered with a red satin tie. 

Alastor took the scene in. Your lip was cut and swollen, bruises peppered your cheek and exposed shoulder. Yet, you were breathing heavily, like a bull about to rush them. You were clearly defenseless, but somehow still defiant. His smile grew to his ears. It had been decades since he had a human in such a prone state.

“Have you …. broken her in yet?” He asked delicately, eyes never leaving your face.

“Nah, just roughed her up a little. I want to capture her raw reaction on camera when she takes her first demon cock.” Valentino clenched his fist to emphasize the word “first”. 

Your head fell forward as you pulled down on your wrist restraints, a growl rising in your throat.

Alastor felt his breath get caught in his own, your nightgown riding slowly up your legs as you struggled. 

“Hey!” Val snapped his fingers in your direction. “Don’t embarrass me. Our guest came to see you. He’s considering making an offer for you, I’m sure, so say hello like a good girl.” Val rolled his eyes, “Sluts always fucking embarrassing me.”

You tried to gather enough saliva to speak, finding the taste of blood still on your tongue. “Fuck you and your friend.” barely made it from your chapped lips. When was your last drink of water? Last meal? How long had you been unconscious before this all began?

“Not friends.” Alastor was quick to retort, “The name’s Alastor, my dear. It’s a pleasure.”

You sneered, a pleasure? What a sick joke. 

“Alastor.” you repeated it, disdain dripping from your lips.

The absolute contempt with which you said his name did something to him. His eyes darted from your mouth back to your inner thighs, exposed from the rising dress. Your mouth was so rude but your body looked so sweet. A little lamb– no, a doe.  

“Say it again.” It wasn’t a request, Alastor himself was surprised to hear himself say it with such demand.

You thrashed. “Oh is that what gets you off? You wanna hear your name in my mouth?” You said mockingly. “You’re just as FUCKED as him.” The nightgown rode up even further. Alastor’s tongue stuck to his teeth as his mouth went dry. Had you been delivered to Val without panties? Offered to him in just this sheer cotton night dress? What was happening to him…

 Static bit your skin as a low hum filled the room. 

“Say it.” Alastor’s voice dropped an octave, eyes suddenly taking on a slight glow. You couldn’t see the danger before you, but you felt it. Something primal in you knew you were in the presence of a predator.

No, you couldn’t see him, but his presence was pressing in all around you. 

“Alastor.” You seethed, “ALASTOR.” Pulling down on the restraints yet again you tried to find the strength to stand, “ALASTOR! ALASTOR!!” Your legs buckled under you having gone numb hours ago, his name devolving into a gutteral scream. All of your anger and despair ripped from your chest as you shouted his name. The nightgown had now ridden to your hips but you couldn’t find an ounce of shame in you to care. 

You were so full of rage, so defiant still. You were so…. alive.

He felt the blood rushing to his crotch in an all together forgotten sensation, and knew immediately his decision. “Let’s make a deal.” His eyes didn’t leave you, but Valentino knew he was talking to him.

Val let out a laugh, “I have some time to waste while they finish the set. Why not.”

Seated in his personal quarters, Val motioned for Alastor to sit opposite him. You had been left in the dark of that room, only knowing you were alone when the static died down and the hair on the nape of your neck relaxed. 

“Listen, Radio Demon. There’s nothing you have that could tempt me to hand over the little bitch.” His long arms rested over the back of his sofa, a heart shaped puff of smoke leaving his lips. Alastor swatted at the air as it approached. 

“What do you even need her for? You don’t deal in souls, but flesh. Surely you can find another toy to break on camera.” Alastor waved his microphone away.

“Hmm”, Val brought a finger to his chin in thought, seriously considering what Alastor could possibly offer him. “Oooh, I know.” His head lolled to the side,  “People have seen me fuck a thousand times. But no one’s ever even seen you with a partner. ‘Radio Demon fucks human sacrifice’” He motioned from left to right as if reading the words off an imaginary marquee, “Now THAT would make money. Real money. Fuck GOD levels of money.” A red liquid leaked from his lips as they were stretched across clenched teeth, his hips involuntarily humped at the air, “oh fuck. Yes. You do the porn, and I’ll give her to you. Soul and body.”

Alastor was looking at Val but his mind was still in front of you, his name tumbling from your lips. The uninterrupted skin where your thighs met your hips. The desperation in your scream. How absolutely soft and fragile you were. He adjusted his hips, trying to calm the twitching of his cock at the thought of you helplessly before him. 

“What exactly are you proposing?” His fingers came to rest entwined on his knee, one leg over the other.

“First, I have full rights to the video to do as I please.” Val counted out on his fingers, “The porno has to show penetration. No dry humping or some bullshit like that. I need you fucking that whore if I’m gonna sell this shit. Aaand”, A sickening grin grew on Valentino’s face, “She has to cum. And I’ll know if she’s faking it. If you don’t manage all three, the deal is off. I keep the human and all rights to the video for per— no, *in* pep-“ he sputtered, “perpur- forever! Fuck.” 

Alastor’s default grin was now so wide his gums could be seen peeking past his lips, his eyes flashing to dials, “It’s a deal.” He extended his hand to Valentino as he stood. A green light was shining from the open palm but Val shook it regardless, confident the deal's conditions wouldn’t be met. He’d seen a lot of fucked up shit on his set, but the Radio Demon, famously uninterested in sex, wasn’t going to make a battered human cum. How stupid could Alastor be, he thought. And he’ll have the video of Alastor failing to please someone to broadcast all over the pride ring and beyond. “May I have a moment alone with her before the filming?”

Val rolled his eyes, “yeah but don’t fuck her off camera.”

The sudden feeling of a hand on your hip startled you so intensely you let out a yelp. 

“Hello, my little doe.” Hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, then your neck, then your collar bone… “Unfortunately your shoot will still continue today. But if you do as I say, I promise you’ll leave the studio alive.”

You felt the nightgown being tugged back down your hips, hiding your exposed sex.

“I will be taking that pompous moth’s place. I will be as gentle as I can, but he will want to see you suffer. You must still fight me, must act pained. Can you play along?”

Your eyes darted behind your eyelids. He sounded— gentle? His voice was soft against your skin. Maybe he was truly the lesser evil of the two. You nodded. You’d heard all the gory details of what the other demon had planned for you, this sounded infinitely more tolerable. You dare thought you’d suffered worse before. 

“And, one more little caveat, darling. I will bring you to orgasm, so please don’t fight so hard as to delay your release.”

You hadn’t realized you’d been holding your breath until his words punched you in the gut. 

“I-“

“Yes?” Alastor’s mouth was nearly on your neck, his smile ghosting your skin.

“I’ve never—- I mean I can only do that by myself. No one else has managed to-“

A large hand patted your head, cutting your train of thought off. How big was he? His hands could palm a basketball. Could he really be gentle? Was he capable of it? Were those hands going to be on you soon? Your mind was running away with the thought of this strange demon fucking you on camera. 

“Oh don’t worry about that. Just focus on your performance. We have to put on a good show!”

Angel was practically chewing his fingers off as he watched the crew finish the set.

“Alastor what the fuck, I thought you were gonna help her!”

“I am, my effeminate friend. Have a little faith in me.” He adjusted his bowtie and took his place on set.

“I have none. I have negative faith, Alastor. Fuuuuck”, Angel slumped against the wall behind him and sank to the floor. 

The stage was set. A red sigil was painted on the floor of a cabin, candles lit around the room as the only source of light (except the stage lighting hanging above the scene). Of the three walls they’d made, the far left wall had an altar haphazardly filled with flowers, a golden bowl, and small plaid satchel.

Someone — something? — led you by the restraints to the stage. Blindfolded, you were pushed down to the floor, forced to sit on your still numb legs. The leather cuffs on your wrist were unbuckled, allowing you to flex your hands. When you reached for the blindfold a hand smacked at yours.

“No no, keep it. I want you to look exactly how I found you.” The familiar voice of Val instructed. 

Someone handed a script to Alastor, but he pulled his hands away from the demon as if the paper itself was an angelic weapon, “Oh, no thank you. That won’t be necessary.”

“I’ll tell you what to say” Val said, clearly to you.

“It’s—- it’s fine. I’ll just do it like before. I don’t need any help.”

You really didn’t.  There was no improv needed. You could repeat exactly what you said yesterday evening when you awoke on the floor of an unfamiliar place. You’d been visiting your aunt one moment, and alone in a weird room what felt like moments later. Groggy, but alert enough to know something bad had happened. 

You heard “action”, and then silence. You could feel eyes on you.

“Aunt Sara….” You whispered. “I don’t understand what’s happened… Are you still there?” You rubbed your wrists trying to regain some blood flow, readjusting your legs to do the same. 

You heard a strange sound, both yesterday and now. 

“Aunt Sara isn’t here. She’s made an exchange, she gets extraordinary power….and I get your soul.” The way Alastor said it, the way his breath seemed to almost hitch, surprised you. Something cold touched your ankle, causing you to flinch, “But I want more than that. I need more than that.”

You felt that something-unknown snake up your leg toward your center. Crawling backwards on your butt to create some distance you collided with the altar. The golden bowl rolled to the edge and spilled its contents across the table. You could smell the iron tang of blood before you felt the pitter patter on your shoulder. Alastor inhaled quickly before letting the air back out with as much control as he could manage.

“Who are you?!” You’d asked this already. But this time the disembodied voice of your captor replied, “Alastor, the Radio Demon! Pleasure to meet you.”

The right side of your face smacked against the floor of the makeshift cabin as you were dragged suddenly across the room and into the red sigil. The cold appendage on your leg now tightly coiled up your calf.

“No— you have to fuck her with your fucking dick! You can’t use shadow tentacles!” Val shouted, nearly falling out of his chair.

“Now now, the deal didn’t specify with what, only that penetration must occur. Plus, I won’t show up on your video recording device anyway.” Alastor took several steps back, ensuring he was not in frame, “Rest assured, your audience will know it is me.” His words cracked and stuttered like someone had changed the station midway through his sentence.

A small, “fine, whatever.” was grumbled and the scene continued, the tentacle snaking its way up your thigh as Alastor chuckled softly at how you flinched against him.

You rolled onto your stomach and tried to kick off the shadow but it held firm. Letting out a groan you used your hands to drag yourself back towards the altar. Before you could reach the table your other leg felt the pressure of a new tentacle twist around your knee as you were dragged back toward the Radio demon once again.

Your nightgown was forced up, your ass now exposed and in the air as your legs were pulled open. That was as far as you had really gone yesterday, before a flash of light delivered you into the Pentagram City studio. 

Surprisingly, you felt embarrassed, self conscious knowing there were other people in this room. But as if he could read your mind, or perhaps just noticed the tremble in your legs, Alastor softly said, “It’s only us now, darling. There’s nowhere to hide.”

Third and fourth appendages appeared around your waist and neck. Effortlessly your hips were lifted off the floor, your cunt on full display to the man who now owned you. The tentacle on your neck slipped between your shoulder blades and pressed your chest firmly to the floor. You squirmed and struggled against the restraints but only accomplished to draw another chuckle from Alastor.

“Relax. We have forever, after all. We can take our time.”

You felt pressure at your entrance, and your pleas to stop were cut short as a shadow tentacle pushed its way inside you. It was cold, but quickly began to warm as your heat enveloped it. Your body was resisting it, too tight to take it all in one thrust, but you could feel it slick against your lips easily enough to make its way inside.

“Ooh, my dear, your wet little cunt betrays you.” He cocked his head to the side, antlers doubling then tripling in size, “Have my words affected you so much?”

You could feel the tentacle’s shape shift slightly inside you as if it were adjusting to you and not the other way around. True to his word, there was no pain except from the burning stretch of your hole against the girth of his shadow self.

Hissing, you thrashed against the sigil, “get OFF OF ME!” Pushing against the floor you barely got your shoulders an inch off the ground when you felt a nth appendage graze sloppily over your clit. You stilled, suddenly remembering your end of the deal. Your promise to the demon now circling your clit with his shadow. If you couldn’t do this, then the entire filming was for nothing.

“Don’t forget to breath. I can’t have you dying on me just yet, sweetheart.” The static was slowly building in the air around you again, a silent threat.

Your hand shot to your mouth, trying to smother the depraved sounds being fucked out of you. The tentacle in your pussy was now ramming against your cervix, curving and bending as it repeatedly forced its way in and out of you. The room was quiet, except for the slick, sticky sound of the tentacle coated in your fluids pulling nearly completely out of you before smashing back in. The pace was slow and cruel, but the pressure on your clit was fast and hard. Your mind was starting come undone, your thoughts splintering. You couldn’t focus on anything anymore, all over your body was pressure, pleasure, massaging, pushing, and pulling. 

“Ah ah, that won’t do.” Alastor practically sang the words as an appendage pulled your hands from your mouth and brought them to the small of your back. 

You whimpered, trying to find a balance between the overstimulation and the need to not let them see how much you were getting off on this. You needed to hate it more. Hate him more. Your cheek stuck to the wood of the floor as drool leaked from your open mouth, unable to keep it closed any longer. 

“I’ll—” Your strength was nearly gone, but you managed to knock your upper body around the sigil, smearing the still wet blood across your chest. You only managed to whisper into the flooring a quiet, “I’ll fucking kill you for this.”

The tentacles stopped, for a second you felt tears sting your eyes at the loss of friction. A loud screech made you wince, but you had no time to question it as your body was violently flipped. Your hips were slammed down onto the ground, held tightly by a tentacle around your waist. The back of your head ached as it was jostled in the turn. The shadows on your thighs now seemed determined to bruise you as they constricted around your skin. 

“What was that, dear?” The tentacle in your pussy seemed to swell inside you, the force of the thrusts picking up in intensity. He was ramming into your body with such fervor you felt the skin of your ass chaffing on the wooden grain beneath you.  “Speak up, now”, you heard him exhale forcefully, his controlled appearance hanging on by a thread.

“I-”, your mouth opened to continue your resistance when a new sensation stopped you. A second tentacle was trying to squirm its way into your heat, just above the now uncomfortably thick one twisting around inside of you. The pressure on your stomach from the force made you feel sick, but the devoted ministrations on your clit had your legs twitching against the restraints. “Ah–! no, wai-” It managed to slip itself into you, and with no hesitation it was pressing against your g-spot in a matching rhythm to the tentacle swiping over your swollen clit.

You’d never before made a sound like the one that was pulled from your throat. It was ugly and animalistic and took you by surprise. Still struggling to catch your breath, you threw your head back. You were losing control. As your body was rocked against the ground, the blindfold got caught in the friction and slipped down your nose. 

Bringing your head back up, you finally locked eyes with your new master. 

“Alas-” Another chilly tentacle came to your neck and began to lightly squeeze. You could only breathe out the rest of his name as your eyes met with his. He stood some feet from you, just outside of the sigil, barely on the set at all. He seemed nonplussed, antlers looming over you and suit perfectly neat, except one detail. His pupils dilated when you finally set your eyes onto his. The grip on your neck only stopped tightening when you stomped your foot down in fear of passing out. You didn’t break eye contact, a fire burning in you that told him no matter what he did you wouldn’t be broken. That look in your eyes, the contempt mixed with overwhelming pleasure made Alastor shift one foot in front of the other in an effort to better conceal the erection straining against the zipper of his pants. 

“Mmmhhh–” You finally broke contact as your eyes rolled back into your head, the pressure beneath your belly was building, a tightness threatening to snap. But this wasn’t like before, this wasn’t like when you were alone in your bed with your own hand. It felt like too much, your heart was pounding so hard you thought you’d really die. There was no way your body could continue this much longer, your heart would surely give out.

“Please–” You needed him to stop, the ghostly hand on your throat, the two tentacles pressing against your cervix and g-spot, the unrelenting pressure on your clit. It was too much, it was too sensitive. “I’m sorry, please. Pleeea-” you gritted your teeth, thighs twitching as the muscles in your core tightened.

“Going to cum, my little doe?” Through gritted teeth of his own Alastor asked you as if you had any choice in the matter. He forced your knees up to your shoulders, allowing the tentacles to reach new depths. 

“AaaaHH” You convulsed, “I’m yours, Alastor!” You moaned, willing to say anything to stop the overwhelming feeling as the coil snapped, you were orgasming on this demon’s shadow and for the love of all that was unholy he wouldn’t fucking let up. You did what he said, but he wasn’t stopping. His thrusts didn’t slow, your clit was throbbing and your body shaking uncontrollably. All defiance was dead, your fire snuffed out. Your eyes were glazed and unfocused. Your head hit the floor again as you struggled to keep your thoughts straight, “It’s all yours. My soul is yours! Please- sto-” Another orgasm was being fucked out of you, no recovery from the first. “I can’t, I can’t” Your jaw locked, the way your cunt was spasming and tightening around his shadow appendages nearly pushed them out of your body with the strength of your first forced orgasm. The lights in the room flickered and popped, the candles blew out with a sudden gust, static drowned out your voice from everyone but Alastor as you screamed through the second orgasm. A green light erupted from the smeared sigil beneath you, blinding the crew and onlookers. “My body is yours! My soul! It’s all yours. I give you all of me, Alastor! Alastor!!” Your vision went spotty, and your throat seemed to close around your voice. Your face was red with the strain of your orgasm. You’d never felt unrelenting pleasure like that before and in that moment you’d have given him absolutely anything he wanted from you. Everything. It was his. You were his. He owned you inside and out.

The bullying of your cunt finally calmed after your orgasm began to edge away, your breath no longer stuck in your throat. He didn’t stop, but he slowed down to a lazy pace as what few lights managed to survive flickered back to life. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you looked over your wrecked body to Alastor. His eyes were wild, his bangs damp and clinging to his forehead. His smile was manic, sinister almost. He looked truly demonic. A wave of fear carried a chill down your spine.

The tentacles withdrew, the sudden loss making you feel colder somehow now than before. They had taken on your own heat and matched your temperature so perfectly, now your body felt empty. You felt naked. Your cunt was still clenching, but around nothing at all. It felt…like something was missing now. Your body seemed to be upset at the loss of contact. It made your stomach turn.

You flinched when the radio demon approached you, but instead of tearing you to pieces like his grin had promised, he slipped his suit jacket off and laid it over your body. You hadn’t realized the dress was torn and lying beneath you in a wet pile of blood and sweat. The confusion must have been evident on your face, because Alastor’s appearance shifted. Antlers now small, if not tiny between his ears. His eyes a red and pink, lids half closed. His smile was just a line across his face, no teeth at all. He looked like a gentleman, had you not known what he had just done to your pussy you’d have thought him incapable of such impropriety. 

“Good job, my little doe.” He whispered before you were handed a glass of water by a tall stranger. 

“Wow, you’re kind of natural at this babe. I haven’t seen a performance like that in ages.  Are you okay?” You took the water from him but didn’t open your mouth to reply, instead transfixed on his appearance. You’d only seen Val and Alastor until now. “You can call me Angel. We’ll get you home soon. I swear.”

Your eyes flitted to Alastor’s, did he know? He must have, he must have felt it. Of course he knew. In those final moments, you hadn’t been acting. Not an ounce of your pleasured responses were disingenuous. Not a single word a lie.

Alastor helped you to your feet as Angel placed a robe over your shoulders. Alastor hummed as he put his jacket back on, a satisfied sound coming from his chest that almost sounded like a song. 

Val sat in his director’s chair with his legs crossed, mouth open. His cigarette was mostly ash, delicately lingering on the stub.

Alastor placed a hand on the small of your back as you were guided to the door. Looking over his shoulder he grinned to Val, “It seems our deal is done here, Valentino. She’s mine, in perpetuity.”

(Part two)

༻Masterlist༺

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Chocolate Princess ♡

Willy Wonka x reader

Description - Y/n Ficklegruber can't help but become enamoured with the spectacularly peculiar man stood in the middle of the galleria.

Word count - 1.6k

warnings - fluff ♡

a/n: Watched Wonka today with my sister and my little cousins and honestly have never smiled so much during a film. Every bit of it was just pure wondourous imagination. And Timothee as Wonka was just too scrumptious! Who couldn't love him!

Masterlist

PART TWO

--♡--

I began everyday as I always did. Being ungraciously tumbled out of my pink satin sheets, poked and prodded by our various servants, squeezed into the most painstakingly prissy pink gingham dress (with a matching bow for extra faff), and hauled into my fathers car to join him on his way to work.

You see, I am the sole child of famed chocolatier Felix Ficklegruber. Since I had completed my mandatory years of studies, my days consisted of lounging about my fathers office in complete boredom. My mind practically weakened with the mundane repetitiveness of it all, and I knew it would surely combust if it was not stimulated soon. For 2 years now, I had been begging my father to allow me to study at the prestigious university at the edge of town. But each plea had been met with a scoff, an eyebrow raise and sharp “no”. Even the library was off limits.

I paced around his office, deliberately scuffing my mary janes against the carpet. I smirked at how each scrape made his face tick as if it was being flicked.

“Would you cease that infernal racket. I am trying to work, precious girl.”

“What work? All you do is sit up here eating your own chocolate.” I slumped down onto the disgustingly green couch.

“Please darling, you are giving me a headache, I must ring for my 8am mocha.” He picked up the telephone, clasping his fingers to his eyes.

I drummed my fingers against my dress and clicked my heels together. “You know,” I trailed off. “I wouldn’t be here to bother you at all if…I was at the library.”

The phone was slammed back onto the receiver which made me flinch. He rose from the desk and stalked his way towards me.

“No daughter of mine will be caught in some stuffy book prison-”

“That’s not entirely correct..”

“--That are refuge for the ugly, the untalented and the p–” He dry heaved. I winced at the possibility of another spew. “The p-” I lunged for a bowl as he spluttered.

“I know what you are going to say so maybe we should avoid any bodily functions.” I picked up his monogrammed hanky and wet it from my glass of water. I dabbed the cool liquid against his mouth. His eyes softened at my action and his hand softly clasped around my wrist.

“Sweetheart, you live in complete luxury. Have treasures other children couldn’t even dream of. Why can’t you just stay.” My gaze fell. His hands held my shoulders to turn me around and led me towards the towering window which overlooked the galleria. “Besides, one day you will inherit my pride and joy, my fortune, the very thing that ignites my soul, my–”

“Who’s that?” I interrupted, and pointed my finger to a beautifully disheveled man who had risen atop his suitcase in order to address the crowd. I quirked a smile and took in the strange man, who was truly more a boy, and his frightfully exciting appearance.

The thickness of the window meant I couldn’t hear what the boy was saying but his movements and expressions delighted me to no end. I giggled as he began to flap, mimicking a butterfly. I gasped as he produced from his shallow hat, a large jar of what appeared to be chocolate eggs. But once he took the top off, I shrieked in delight, as each little egg floated up as if carried by wings.

I felt my father stiffen before he shoved me away from the window.

“Now, now sweetheart. Do not bother looking at this man any longer. Clearly another hopeful vagrant but do not worry.” He lifted my chin with his pinky. “We shall deal with him right now.”

I rolled my eyes, knowing exactly who was ‘we’.

--♡--

Once the three had left their respective stores, I snuck out of our own and managed to squeeze my way through the crowd so I was left behind my father and my, and I regret to say it, godfathers.

They each took a bite of the treats offered by the mysterious man who beamed at them with awe filled eyes.

Even from my limited view I could see the flickers of enjoyment cross each of their eyes as they questioned the different ingredients. But my gazing was caught by the top hatted man. His smile grew even brighter as our eyes met. I felt unsure in the presence of a man such as him and all my normal instincts failed. So I settled on a little wave. He offered a small wave back.

“--100%, the absolute WORST!”

The man jumped out of his skin in glee, mishearing Slugworth because of his focus on me.

“Did you hear that ladies and gentlemen, an endorsement by–wait did you say the worst?”

Anger bubbling in my blood, I finally made my presence known.

“You lie, Arthur. I saw your face! You haven’t enjoyed a treat that much since daddy figured out how to make marshmallow flavored chocolate milk.”

There were murmurs amongst the three in agreement and fond memory of that chocolate milk. But they snapped back and I was held firmly by my father who apologized to Slugworth for my rude behavior. A cane was held down on the hand that gripped me. I looked up and met the sweet face of its owner.

“I am terribly sorry.” With a practiced flick I was released. I looped my hand around my saviours available arm. He led me backwards in comical cautiousness. “But I don’t think she’d like to be held for what comes next.”

Suddenly, the three men began to lift into the air.

“The hoverbugs from mumbai! They love chocolate! You must have put their eggs in the treat!” I exclaimed excitedly, whilst watching the hilarious display.

“Exactly.” In my glee, I hadn’t noticed the adoring look which the chocolatier had fixed on the side of my head.

The fun was interrupted by the chief of police. I rolled my eyes. Slugworth must have phoned.

“Now Ms Ficklegruber if you’d kindly step away from the criminal.” The chief of police gestured and I was led away as they interrogated the man whose name I still didn’t know. I looked on sadly as he was forced to give up his earnings. I shoved off the policemen’s arms, I made my way back over to the man whose face was as solemn as how happy it had been just minutes before. The excitement around the galleria had dimmed as various floating consumers were returned to gravity.

“I am really sorry.” I gestured to the measly sovereign he was left with.

“Don’t be. It was a law and I broke it. These fine men were merely doing their job. But a new day shall bring new promise.” He soldiered on with a smile and once again patted his hat back upon his head. “At least I can make rent.” He flicked the sovereign up and caught it once again.

“Where are you staying?”

“Scrubbits.”

My face fell in sympathy. “You didn’t read the fine print?” I pitied the poor man and what was about to befall him. Scrubbits contract was a common warning amongst residents but as I truly took in the whimsical nature which surrounded this man, I knew he wasn't from here. And that made me smile. This place could use something new.

He sheepishly scratched the back of his head and lowered his eyeline.

“You can’t read?” I questioned but my tone couldn't help but soften.

“I always thought my mama would teach me, but eventually my pursuits became solely chocolate.” I reached out and grasped his arm. Stroking the velvet beneath my fingertips.

Before I even knew what they were, the words left my mouth. “I could teach you.”

He was surprised. “You would? But why?”

“You’re interesting.” I peered back to the shop which loomed behind me. “I need that.”

“Forgive me, I have not even introduced myself.” He took off his hat and leaned into a deep bow. “My name is Willy Wonka.”

I giggled but responded with a curtsy of my own. “Y/n Ficklegruber.”

At the mention of my last name he looked towards the ceiling where my father still hung, gesturing feebly. “Wow. You really have chocolate in your blood. No wonder you’re so sweet.” Both our eyes widened when we realized what he said. A blush spread across my heated cheeks and meeting Willy’s eyes suddenly became impossible.

“Y/N GET AWAY FROM THAT CANDY GRABBING SCOUNDREL!” My fathers voice beat down from the ceiling where he had been watching my entire interaction with Wonka.

“Meet me at the fountain, tonight, 10pm sharp. Daddy will be in a sugar crash by then. It’ll be easy to sneak out.”

Before I could rush off to avoid my father once his feet returned to earth, Willy halted my movements and placed his empty palm out in front of me.

“Before you go, I want to give you something. You shouldn’t have anything I make in bulk. You deserve something a little more…” He placed a cloth over his palm and ripped it off revealing a deep red chocolate heart decorated with tiny flakes of gold. “Bespoke.”

I placed the treat in my mouth and audibly moaned at the taste. This man was a true genius. My father is going to be so mad. I could jump for joy.

“Till tonight, Mr Wonka.”

“Please, call me Willy.” I leaned up and delicately kissed his cheek in a way of goodbye.

--♡--

That night after discovering the true horror of what being a “guest” of Scrubbits included, Willy begged and pleaded with his newest friend, Noodle, to help him sneak out for the night because, in his words, he’d seen…

“The most beautiful girl to ever exist and if I don’t get to see her again tonight, my heart might just burst out of my chest!”

--♡--

[thef1diary]

Little Big Fan | Four

- Little Big Celebration

Series Masterlist

wc: 1.6k

After getting over the initial shock of seeing him, you greeted him. "I thought you were room service, I ordered some food."

He smiled but then he asked the question he's been meaning to ask since he couldn't find you after the celebrations, "why did you leave so fast?"

"Isabella watched you hold the trophy then she fell asleep. I didn't want the noise to disturb her," you explained, and he nodded in understanding. "Is that why we're still standing here, because she's sleeping inside?"

You shook your head, "as long as you keep it down." You moved out of the way to let him inside and he saw your favourite show queued up on the tv.

"Looks like you already have plans for the night," Max commented and you chuckled, "This is how my nights are usually spent."

"Well then I probably shouldn't ask if you want to come celebrate with us." Both of you sat on the couch, facing each other. "That would mean going to a club, which I can't do but you should go celebrate your win."

Based on the celebrations you saw on the podium, you knew the afterparty would be even better. A little part of you wished that you could go, but you were content with how you've been spending your nights lately.

"Congratulations by the way," you added. "Do you want me to leave?" Max asked bluntly which made you frown. "No, but if you have plans—"

"My plans are here, with you," he interrupted you, making you shut your mouth with his response. A smile threatened to grow on your face but you managed to compose it. "Plus I can celebrate next weekend at the next race," Max added, a smug smile on his face and you couldn't hold back yours any longer.

"That confident in your winning capabilities?" You asked with a teasing tone behind your words. He shrugged, "if I don't think I am the best, then I won't be the best."

There was another knock at your door, and this time you were certain it was room service. Fortunately, you ordered enough food so you could share with Max.

Watching your show was at the bottom of the priority list, replaced by wanting to keep the conversation going with Max.

"Don't tell Brad about this," Max spoke, pointing to the meal that surely wasn't part of his diet. "Oh no, the champion is a rule breaker," you teased him, earning a smile from him in return.

Max looked at the closed bedroom door, "did she have fun today?"

"So much fun! I think she would start asking me when we're going to another race," you told him, the excitement on Isabella's face is something you wouldn't forget anytime soon.

"All you have to do is ask, I can get you the passes for the next race." Based on his tone, he wasn't joking and you quickly shook your head.

"No, you've already done so much for us; the hotel, flight tickets, caps and whatnot," you explained, but he was quick to retort. "I don't want to sound like a stuck up asshole, but the cost doesn't matter as much as the experience."

You couldn't help but chuckle, "maybe another time, Isabella is starting school soon too."

"First grade?" He asked, and you nodded, "yeah, she's growing up so fast."

"And what about you, did you enjoy this weekend?" He looked at you in anticipation, hoping you enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed yours.

"Maybe not as much as Isabella, but it was a very nice experience and I still can't believe you do this for a living." He chuckled at your response, but then you added, "and what about you?"

"What about me?" He asked, and you clarified, "did you enjoy this weekend, home race and all?"

He seemed taken aback by the question but he answered nonetheless. "A lot better than it usually is," the meaning behind his words was clear to you, especially with the way he looked at you.

"If you told me earlier, I would've worn orange for the race." Max shook his head, "Then people would've thought that you were supporting McLaren."

An idea popped in your mind and you slapped your hand on his thigh while exclaiming, "I should've taken the cape from Daniel!"

Your hand remained on his thigh but you didn't seem to realize, and he didn't move it away either. "I'll get you one next year," Max suggested.

Your focus shifted away from Max as soon as you heard footsteps in the room Isabella was sleeping in. "Hold on," you stood up and went to check on her.

As soon as you opened the door, Isabella paused in her step, looking at you with a sheepish smile on her face.

"Angel, are you hungry?" You asked, knowing that there were a bit of leftovers. She shook her head, then pointed at the suitcase or rather the teddy bear sitting on the suitcase.

You passed it to her and she climbed back in bed. "Are you sure you're not hungry?"

"No, mama, I'm tired." On cue, she yawned as you walked closer to her. Tucking her in properly, you placed a kiss on her forehead and sat by her side, brushing your fingers through her hair until she was sound asleep. Which again, didn't take long.

You noticed the glittery clips still in her hair from earlier in the day. You carefully began taking them out one by one while trying not to wake her up. Then, after placing another kiss on her forehead, you left the room.

"Everything okay?" Max asked as soon as you sat down on the couch. You nodded, "yeah, she went back to sleep."

"The race really tired her out today," he smiled because of his next thought, "seems like she's the one who raced instead of me."

You chuckled, "looks like it." Then you added, "I know you're a professional and all but it was just as much fun as it was scary watching you drive so fast."

"So you're not a big fan of fast cars?" He didn't comment on the fact that you only mentioned him while there were nineteen other drivers on the grid.

"That depends, will your follow up question be if I would trust you to drive me around?" You responded with a question and he had a sheepish smile on his face, "maybe."

"I guess I'll have to get in a car with you one day to know the answer to both questions."

Your conversation was interrupted by a call on Max's phone. He muttered a curse before declining it. "Why don't we watch your show?" Max suggested, leaning back on the couch comfortably.

You didn't ask him about his other plans, as he had already assured you earlier that the only plan he has for tonight are with you.

It was possible that he wanted to spend more time with you before you leave tomorrow evening, and you couldn't help but smile at the thought.

The thought of leaving didn't sit with you, but you pushed it to the back of your mind and focused on the present, with him.

You grabbed the remote and pressed play, shuffling a tad bit closer to Max.

Somewhere along the way, a few episodes later, Max's arm rested on the back of the couch. His fingers lightly grazed your shoulder every time either of you moved.

Max's phone rang two more times. The second time he picked up and quickly muttered, "I'm busy." Then he turned it off, and apologized to you.

"It's okay, you're the most popular man of the night, people want to see you," you shrugged casually.

"Yeah well, I don't want to see them." You chuckled, liking his bluntness.

It was pretty late when he decided to leave, both of you were so tired but neither wanted the night the end. You opened the door for him, but as he stepped out, he turned to look at you.

"I'll drop you two at the airport tomorrow, just let me know when you're leaving." Once again he said it so casually that you had to remind yourself that he only knew you for a few days. Although it didn't feel like it.

"You don't have to," you reminded him that he was under no obligation to send you off. He shook his head, "I want to, if you let me."

You couldn't say no to him, and perhaps it was a little selfish because you wanted to spend all the time there was with him. You haven't been selfish in a while and it is about time to change that.

"I'll text you tomorrow then. Isabella is going to be very happy knowing she'll see you tomorrow as well." You stated, not mentioning that you would be happy to see him too, using your daughter as an excuse. But then, you didn’t lie either because Isabella would be overjoyed as well.

"Trust me, I'll be very happy too," he added with a smile, preferring not to tell you how delighted he would be to see you as much as he was to see Isabella. That information was best kept to himself.

Then he left. While Max hadn't properly celebrated a race win tonight like he usually did, this sort of celebration felt better than any others.

He walked away with a smile on his face that wasn't related to his victory at all. He was just looking forward to seeing you and Isabella again.

Taglist: (let me know if you want to be added or removed) @xjval @mrsmaybank13 @cherry-piee @urfavnoirette @solphin @burningcupcakefire @nessacarty1 @dreamsarebig @omgsuperstarg @fanficweasley @redbullgirly @llando4norris @wonnou @randomgirlnumber13 @dark-night-sky-99 @chanshintien @leilanixx @gisellesprettylies @peachiicherries @monsieurbacteria6 @67-angelofthelordme-67 @arian-directioner @distancedss @morenofilm @sachaa-ff @lighttsoutlewis @teamnovalak @casperlikej @sadg3 @d3kstar @lewisvinga @lpab @queenofmanydreams @glitterf1 @honethatty12 @drunk-teens-doing-drugs @its-avalon-08 @yourbane @oconswrld @noneofyourfbusinessworld @ssrcsm @softtina @namgification

[rogueddie]

Stitched Together T | 698 words Prompt for @steddielovemonth: Love is sitting in comfortable silence together doing their own thing

"Do you still have my vest?"

"Hello to you too?" Steve says, raising his eyebrows when Eddie takes that as his cue to push past Steve, into his house.

He quickly kicks the door behind him, curling an arm around Steve's waist to reel him into a quick kiss. "Hello! My old vest- you got it?"

"I do- I haven't been able to get the blood out yet."

"Oh, I don't want it," Eddie waves him off, already halfway up the stairs. "Come on, I need to see it!"

"What- Eddie!"

Steve hurries up the stairs after Eddie, who takes them two steps at a time. He hovers at Steve's bedroom door though, rocking back and forth on his heels, waiting.

It's then that Steve noticed the plastic bag that he's holding.

"You gonna explain?"

"In a minute! I need to see my old vest first."

"It's in my closet," Steve explains, leading him into his room and pointing.

Eddie immediately jumps over to the closet, glancing back at Steve before he opens it to make sure it's ok for him to dig through it.

It doesn't take him long to find the vest, face splitting into a grin as he pulls it out.

"Perfect."

"So... what's going on?"

"I'm gonna make a new one. Wanted to remind myself how this bad boy is layed out first."

"Oh?"

"I'll only need it for, like, a few hours. I can get it back to you by the end of the day."

"What? Wh- you brought your stuff here."

"Yeah, I'm gonna stitch it together in the van. I was thinking about going out to the quarry."

"You could- I mean, if you want to, you could just... do it here? If you want to. I'm just gonna be baking today anyway."

"Hell yeah. Any excuse to spend more time with you is a great idea in my book."

Eddie follows him downstairs, setting up on the sofa in the living room, while Steve continues past him into the kitchen.

Steve pokes his head back in after a minute.

"You didn't want to talk, did you?"

"I know how you get when you bake," Eddie reminds him. "I'm ok here. If I need anything, I know where everything is."

"You could ask-"

"No, I couldn't. It's ok, babe. Really. It's nice to just... know you're here."

"Oh. Really?"

"Really."

Steve goes back into the kitchen, but it's not long before he's washed the side, the bowls and utensils he used. All he needs to do is wait for his food to bake.

He wanders back into the living room, sitting on one of the arm chairs.

Eddie barely glances up, focused on his task.

He doesn't seem bothered that Steve is staring, so he just... watches.

It's surprisingly nice. Comforting.

He can see how much care Eddie is putting into each patch, taking his time when pinning them in place and being careful with each stitch.

By the time the kitchen timer goes off, Eddie has only managed to stitch two patches on and started on the backpatch.

He follows Steve into the kitchen once he's done putting his things away, just in time for him to start plating.

"Looks delicious."

"Mhmm," Steve grins. He pulls Eddie closer with a hand on his hip as soon as he's within reach. "You?"

"Got two done in the time it usually takes me to stitch on one, so, I consider it a win."

"Good."

He tries to lean in, pepper Eddie's neck with kisses until he caves the way he always does, easily following Steve up to-

"We should do this more often," Eddie continues. "Hanging out like this. It's... nice. It really is."

"Yeah," Steve agrees, reluctantly pulling back. He can't bite back his sappy smile though. "You're gorgeous when you get into your passions."

"Careful, Harrington. Keep talking like that and people might start thinking you're in love with me."

"Mmm, I don't know, they might be into something."

His attempt to kiss Eddie is ruined by how much they're both laughing.

Steve is pretty sure it's one of the best days that he's ever been fortunate enough to live.

[luveline]

hi bae, just wondering if you could write something like roommate!marauders and reader with anxiety where everytime one of them goes out she gets really worried that’s somethings gonna happen to them and waits up for them and just feels like a burden when she calls to make sure they’re alright and just general anxiety things and them being so sweet about it

love u

love u too♡

cw death related anxiety

“Hey, Remus?” you ask tentatively. 

Your housemate lays across the sofa with his dinner half eaten on the coffee table and a book tented on his chest. He's ignoring both in favour of the television, a rerun of Family Fortunes turning the sofa cushions and his pale skin a light blue. 

He drags his blue-tinged gaze from the subtitles to your frowning. “What's wrong?” he asks. You're surprised he heard you over the sound of Sirius’ stereo echoing down the stairs. 

“Where did James say he was going?” 

“I think he said he'd be at the gym for an hour now he's not in work. Want me to call him?” 

“Why would you call him?” you ask, instead of saying yes, please, like you want to. 

“You're worrying again.” 

They know how you are. It doesn't mean they have to understand —it isn't logical to think James is hurt because he hasn't been home today yet, and none of them are required to humour you in your worry, but they always do. 

You feel sick as he takes his phone from his pocket. You've convinced yourself that James is dead, that his car curled around a bend too quickly on the drive in the rain, or that something happened at the gym, or that he never made it there at all, had a fit in the car park outside of work. Even as you think it, you know it's implausible, unlikely, just a repetitive negative anxiety worming its way into your head, but you can't make it stop. 

James doesn't answer the first time, which doesn't help, and then when he does answer the second time you're waiting for bad news. Remus smiles as he talks. “Hello? Jamie?”

James doesn't need speak phone to be heard. “Remus! I'm at the gym, what's happening?”

Remus wrinkles his nose. “What's happening? Since when do you say that?”

“What's up?” James corrects. “I'm on my way out of the gym, can you talk? You can keep me company while I drive.” 

Remus holds out the phone to you. 

“Remus?” James asks into the room. You take the phone before he can hang up, and decide to be honest, but the words get stuck like toffee between your teeth. “Hello?” 

“Hey,” you say, sending Remus a grateful look. He moves over to make room on settee for you, and his arm wraps familiarly around your shoulders as you settle in. He turns his attention back to his show. 

“Oh my god hey, angel. Remus okay?” 

“I was making him ring you, sorry. I thought… you know what I'm like. It's getting late and you aren't home, and I know I don't have the right to pester you about where you are.”

“Yeah you do,” James says, his voice louder, like his mouth is very close to the microphone. “Course you do. I'd worry too if you weren't home yet.” 

“I do this all the time, though.”

Just last week he and Sirius were out late and you'd panicked that they'd both been hurt. You stayed up until almost one in the morning waiting for them to get home from a music shop in the city, each minute after eleven like a shot of ice water in your veins. Sirius jumped when he saw you waiting in the living room, but then he'd given you a hug and rubbed at your shoulders roughly. You didn't wait up for us, did you? 

“It's worse lately, yeah?” James asks. You hum non-committal, and Remus gives you a squeeze in typical Remus fashion. You hadn't even realised he was listening, but his support makes this easier. “You're worrying about us more.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don't know why. And it sucks because I know it's making me a lot to deal with.” 

“I would one thousand percent prefer it if you rang me then sat there worrying. That would make me feel better. And Remus and Sirius feel the same way, okay? We could all stand to ring each other a bit more anyways.” 

You rub your nose into your hand. “Sorry,” you mumble. 

“There's no need to be. I love you, ‘n I just want you to be happy. If a phone call can make that happen then why shouldn't you do it? And it's not like they're a big imposition, I like talking to you. We all do.”

James is home from the gym what could only be ten minutes later, and he leans over the back of the settee to kiss your forehead chasely. “Here we are, all safe and well.” 

“You haven't seen Sirius yet,” Remus points out.

“I can bloody well hear him. What is he listening to? Is that U2?” James shakes his head in disgust. “I can see why you were so worried I wasn't coming home. Let me go put a stop to that immediately.” 

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Mrs. MacTavish's Remedy 🍯

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For all my girlies who have trouble falling asleep 🫶🏻

Johnny himself had times where sleep seemed far away from him... fortunately, Mrs. MacTavish's remedy works wonders not only on loud brains but the soul as well <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Your feet patted against the hardwood floor as you made your way into your living room, where your boyfriend was left watching some film on the telly.

The bright light from the television stung in your eyes as you got closer, making an effort to let Johnny's form shield your retinas so they wouldn't go up in flames.

"Johnny..." you mumbled sleepily, dragging yourself around the couch. A soft smiled settled on his face as he watched you move, already opening his arms for you.

"What's wrong, bonnie?" He asked quietly, pulling you snuggly into his chest when you crawled into his lap.

"Can't sleep.." it came out slurred, sleep tugging at all of your limbs but never enough for you to slip into the sweet bliss of a dream.

"Y'want me tae just hold ya for a bit? See if tha' helps?" Johnny cooed, gently rubbing a hand along the length of your spine and over your shoulder blades. You nodded into his shoulder, tightly wrapping your arms around his middle.

"Mah sweet girl..." he whispered against your temple, his words melting deep into every crevice of your brain. Your body relaxed against him, your cheek pressed to his shoulder while your hands were pressed flat to his back.

The warmth radiating off of him and his large hands gently tracing shapes on your back usually put you to sleep in the blink of an eye, but today, for some reason, sleep was playing a cruel game with you, dangling a pleasant dream right in front of your face without ever letting you reach it.

You wanted to toss and turn, but Johnny's hold on you had you paralyzed. The trouble was that you didn't know whether it made it better or worse.

You could feel Johnny yawning more and more as the film went on and eventually came to an end.

The loud noises from various explosions and firefights gave you a headache, making you bury your face even deeper into his shoulder. You were glad it ended. Maybe it was the sole reason why you couldn't fall asleep in the first place.

The crease between your brows softened, and a quiet sigh slipped from your lips.

Unbeknownst to you, Johnny was smiling down at you, albeit sleepily as he was exhausted himself, but he couldn't help admiring you.

"Let's get tae bed, yeah?" He spoke quietly, pressing his lips against your temple.

You nodded against his shoulder, sliding off his lap and waiting for him to take the lead.

With your fingers intwined, Johnny gently dragged you along to your shared bedroom. But to your surprise and slight confusion, he made a stop in the kitchen.

"Johnny, what..." you mumbled, your brows scrunched together.

He gave you a soft yet dazzling smile and beckoned you to sit on the counter. You were past the point of complaining, so with his help, you slid onto the cold stone.

"You said ya can't sleep... so I'm makin' you somethin' my mam used tae make me when I was but a wee lad." He added a joking tone to his voice, presumably to lighten your spirits.

It coaxed a soft chuckled from your chest, and your hands went up to rub at your sleepy eyes.

He pulled open the fridge, the bright light making you squint, and took out a carton of milk.

"You, mah bonnie lass, get the luxury of milk from a carton. Had to milk the cows maself back then." He winked at you playfully, making you roll your eyes in turn.

"Sure you did, love." You snorted softly, watching him as he poured the milk into a mug and popped it in the microwave.

The soft hum of the appliance continued on while Johnny rummaged through the cabinet, pulling out a small glass jar.

"Ah, there it is." He declared triumphantly, showing off the container.

"I call it ma sleep elixir. Brought it all the way from home fer emergencies like this."

A golden, gooey mass shimmered in the glass. It looked like a recycled marmalade jar, labeled with a sticker that read;

for sweet dreams when you're missing home ♡

A soft smile pulled at your lips as you recognized the handwriting that, undoubtedly, belonged to Mrs. MacTavish.

She'd sent Johnny, as well as yourself, numerous post cards and letters in the past, so that signature swirl in her words made it easy to spot.

Johnny gently pressed the container into your hands, busying himself with trying to take the mug out off the microwave without burning his fingerprints off- although, the tactical advantage of that wouldn't be the worst, he supposed...

You inspected the small jar, carefully turning it in your hands to watch as the sugary crystals shimmered in the dim light.

Your gaze fell back on the label, gently stroking over it with your thumb.

"This is your mum's writing, yeah?" You asked softly, adoringly looking over the heart that was drawn with such care you could feel the love radiating off of it.

"Aye," he replied with a smile, taking a spoon from one of the drawers, "Mam loves the countryside. She'd drag me and mah sisters tae farmers markets all the time. And she'd always stock up on this here honey. Swears it was the only thin' that knocked me out so she could get a break." He snickered.

You chuckled in response. You loved Johnny, but lord knows if you could've handled him as an energetic rascal.

Gently handing him the precious glass, you watched as he scooped a spoonful of the honey out of the jar and plopped it down into the mug of warm milk.

"Now," he began, slightly leaning on the counter, "we stir clockwise, 9 times precisely." The serious quirk in his brow made you break into a sleepy fit of giggles.

"You're brewing a potion now, are you?" You tilted your head with a small grin.

"I'll become a wizard in the woods if tha' means ya get some sleep." He winked, tapping the spoon on the rim of the mug.

The spoon was tossed into the sink to find and clean up the next morning, something you would've scolded him for if you cared enough right now.

"Careful now. Might be a wee bit hot." John smiled softly, handing you the warm mug.

Of course it was a cheesy souvenir with a giant Scotland flag plastered on it. It was well worn and loved from the, borderline unhealthy, amounts of coffee Johnny had consumed from it, but it was dearly appreciated.

It had a chip here and there and the print was starting to abide by the rules of the dishwasher.

Although it was just a cup, the fact that he chose his cup made you smile, and your heart flood with warmth.

You raised the mug to your lips, taking a sip and letting the warm and sweet liquid trickle down your esophagus and into your belly.

"This is some good honey." You hummed, tasting the floral aroma of the liquid gold.

You could imagine meadows upon meadows of wildflowers of all kinds and the soothing buzzing of all those busy little bees that worked hard to make their honey.

What would it like to be so free? To buzz around and occasionally rest on the soft petal of a poppy.

"Ah told ya, didn't I? Mam knows what she's doin'." He chuckled, gently caressing the outside of your thighs.

"Do you want some?" You offered him the mug, only for him to decline with a gesture of his hand.

"I'll be out on the floor if Ah have a sip of tha'."

"That would suck." You agreed, continuing to sip on the milk.

"Aye. Ya need someone to keep you nice 'n cozy after all." He smirked, wrapping his arms around your middle and resting his chin on your head.

You giggled, the vibration against his throat sending a shiver down his spine.

"You're a wonderful cuddle buddy." At the warmth of his embrace your eyes began to fall shut.

"I'm glad ma services are to your satisfaction, my love." He joked, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"'M tired.." you mumbled, resting your weight against him.

"Come on, bonnie." Johnny spoke softly, helping you off the counter, his mug a safe distance away from the edge to deal with in the morning.

His back was facing you as his hands stretched out behind him so he could guide you to your bedroom, your eyes feeling like they were glued shut.

The moment you slipped into that bed, everything that bothered you faded away.

You could swear the sheets felt softer than usual, your pillow was unusually fluffy, and as Johnny pulled the blanket over both of you, it was the perfect temperature beneath.

The window was cracked open for that bit of fresh air that made sleep that much more pleasant.

Despite Johnny's tendency to become a living furnace, he too, had the just the right amount of heat to keep you cozy but not too hot. Your face nuzzled into his chest gave you the perfect feeling of safety.

It felt like you were wrapped in clouds, basking under the sun, a nice breeze blowing over you with the taste of the sweet honey and the creamy milk still on your tongue.

You'd mentally thanked Johnny's mum for her remedy, something you couldn't wait to tell her on your next visit. Perhaps a thank you card for raising the love of your life would be in order as well.

With a contented sigh, your muscles relaxed and you sunk into the mattress. It was nice and quite, except for Johnny's loud breathing and the occasional snore, but the sound gave you a sense of comfort now.

Knowing that he was alive and breathing made you sleep much easier at night.

You opened one eye as much as you could and took a peak at Johnny, who was blissfully unaware and knocked out the second his head hit the pillow.

You smiled sleepily, gently rubbing your hand over his beating heart before pressing your lips to that same spot in a sweet kiss.

"Love you, Johnny." You mumbled, letting yourself finally slip away into a much needed rest.

The subconscious tightening of his hold on you let you know that no matter how many dreams you were apart, he'd always hear you, for your souls were intertwined and would find eachother every time.

Whether in this life or the next, nothing could tear the two of you apart.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The CoD fandom is lacking fluff in my opinion, so I'm here to provide 😌🩷

Should I make a CoD tag list??? 👀

More of my works -> 💫

[orionremastered]

Hybrid/shapeshifter golden tiger reader as a vigilante with batfam? I really love your writing :0

They're so PRETTY how did I not know they existed before???? Also I love shifter fics bc who doesn't

Masterlist

Part Two

Golden

Being a shifter is bad in this day and age, at least until the shifter is mature enough to shift on command. Before then, young shifters can shift with any strong emotion, especially negative ones like anger and fear.

Most shifters mature when they turn into adults, which means they're either taught to become temporary psychopaths or are homeschooled until they're mature enough.

You, like many shifters, were the latter. Now that you're in university and studying biology, living in your own apartment states away from your parents, you're free. So incredibly free.

Free to be you, free to talk to people who interest you, and free to fight the lowly criminals of Goth- wait, what?

It was an accident, you swear. You couldn't bear to hear that poor little girl's blood-curdling screams (you hadn't understood what the phrase meant before, but you sure do now) any longer, so you shifted and almost, but not quite, mauled the man to death.

"Pretty kitty!" she had called you, and from then on you vowed to look after the young kids of Gotham, especially when going to and coming from school as well as at night (if you weren't studying). Sometimes you simply lay in the bushes of a park and watched over the kids as they played on the playground.

They remained your main focus (though you did save others, you mostly watched over the young children) even when the press got wind of the golden tiger shifter vigilante. "Golden" is what they called you, and it was certainly better than other names the press had given vigilantes before.

The local bat population had gotten word of your existence beforehand and had tried to even just get a glimpse of you, but you were too quick. After the press got wind, they amped up their efforts.

You've decidedly had enough of your studying and walked out of your apartment, climbing into the window of an ashy-smelling abandoned building, the charcoal staining your fingers as you moved into the dark to shift.

One could guess what happened to the building, but it didn't have anything to do with a golden tiger climbing out its window on a cool early spring night, the snow thawing slower than usual. There weren't many people on the streets at this hour which you were glad for.

You take your normal route today, going through the less fortunate neighbourhoods where kids are most commonly found. Slushy snow drenches your paws in cold water as you leap onto the next roof and climb down the stairs on the side of the building.

There's a bundle of blankets placed gently into a plastic bucket. You nudge the bundle with your nose gently and when the wailing begins you huff. Another abandoned baby; it's the third one this month. A mother you can't afford a child or is scared for the child's safety when it comes to the father.

Your teeth close around the bucket and you begin carrying the baby to the hospital in Crime Alley, a long trek from where you picked the baby up.

You hear something. Whispers. Your ears rotate to find the source of the sound which would be impossible for a human to hear.

"That's the tiger?"

"No shit," the second voice hisses, much older than the first. "What else could it be? A cow?"

"Whatever," the first one replies. "What do we do? Think that's a baby?"

"Probably. I say we take the baby and bring it to the hospital."

You turn your head to where the sound is coming from, impeccable vision allowing you to see Robin and Red Hood perched on a building above you.

"What about the- how good is a tiger's hearing?"

You do trust these vigilantes but not more than you trust yourself. You flick your tail and continue walking, a few corners from the hospital. The sound of their grappling hooks as the vigilantes follow you are only able to annoy you.

There's the hospital, just at the end of the street. You take no more than two steps before Red Hood steps out in front of you. You aren't surprised as you could hear him the entire time.

"Can I have the baby?" He asks, hand outstretched as he gestures for you to hand it over.

Your eyes narrow and you turn to see Robin behind you.

"It'll be easier for me to get it to the hospital," he explains. "They won't react calmly to a tiger carrying a baby."

He had an unfortunately valid point. The other times where you'd brought a baby into a facility, people freaked out.

Reluctantly, you gently place the bucket on the cold pavement and step back, letting the vigilante pick it up.

As Red Hood takes the baby to the hospital, you turn fully to face Robin. He's short and you reach up to the start of his ribcage.

"You're not an easy tiger to locate," he says. "It takes a few idiots."

You make a sound akin to a laugh, turn your head and vanish into the alleyway beside you.

Robin curses himself for not getting to pat the tiger. He'll be damned if his siblings get to first.

[ardensregias]

SEEING AVENTURINE IN THE LIVESTREAM MADE ME THINK ABOUT MEMOKEEPER! READER WITH HIM :o

I mean since he have such a tragic past, it would be very interesting to see someone who can look into his memories as a Sigonian

I'm so happy you like him too (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠) hope I'm not troubling you

not at all :3 this will contains some leaks and fanarts i've seen about his past! may not be 100% accurate. also memokeepers can choose who they want to be visible to, but i'm not sure about the fortune telling part. this still looks bad despite being in my draft for days goddamn.

the first time he met you was when you're passing by ipc's pier point, only to spot an exhausted aventurine splayed on his million-credit couch.

since memokeepers are able to become invisible, you curiously approach his room, intrigued by his wealth. and out of kindness, you carefully moved him into his bed, before finding his 'aventurine' stone—which indicates his importance to the corporation.

your growing curiosity led you to pry into his past, watching all the hardships and suffering he had to go through during his childhood, which was supposed to be filled with joy and laughter. instead, you watch as they place thick and heavy chains around his neck and wrists, left him with little to no food, marked his neck with the word 'slave', and force the poor boy to work tirelessly. scene after scene plays out like a film, as a proof of just how cruel the ipc can be.

you stopped looking into his memories, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. you would never guess that this easygoing and arrogant man hides such a past.

eventually, you start following him around—watching him gamble, standing in the corner when he sleeps, even sneaking into the ipc's annual meeting just to make sure he's safe. you find him fascinating, the way he can acts so haughty while having experienced so many things he should never have gone through.

until one day, aventurine's guts tell him to catch this strange, mysterious creature that has been stalking him. but you're so hard to catch, so hard that he has to pretend to sleep to make you lower your guard and make yourself visible.

"snooping around again, little memokeeper?" he chuckles the moment you turn around in surprise. you do want to show yourself to him, but not this early! and when you tried to escape, he caught your hand just before you could teleport, pulling you closer, "since you already know so much about me, i can't possibly let you roam freely anymore,"

so now you live with a rich senior manager of the largest corporation in the cosmos, always stuck to his side—aventurine wouldn't like it if you were to use the knowledge about his past for something that'll ruin his business!

he spoils you, of course—while ignoring the weird look he gets from his subordinates and acquaintances when they saw him talking to the air. so you take care of him in return! comforting him when he has a bad day and making sure he did not forget his meals.

this is a memokeeper's love language me thinks: you also create light cones of the moments when he's the happiest—which are usually when you're around, and you bring them to the garden of recollection to make sure you have something to remember him when the fated day comes. aventurine also keeps some of these rectangle objects in his room, and he probably gaze at the pictures when you're away collecting memories.

bonus: imagine aventurine asking you to reveal his luck for today before he went to gamble, to which you refuse, since memokeepers cannot use their powers for self-indulgent reasons—congrats, now you have earned yourself a pouty aven!

[snaileer]

Time Unsolved

Dp Unsolved

“Today on Buzzfeed unsolved we cover the Timely Disappearance of Charles T. Williamsworth.”

Danny slurped loudly on his drink as the intro played. Was he maybe crazy for watching a Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime alone, at night? Maybe.

But Danny had been attacked by ghosts. What was a human gonna do that Skulker couldn’t?

“What a name!” Shane cut it immediately, yellow words typing themself across the screen. Ryan laughed.

“‘Ello, yes, my name is Sir Charles T. Williamsworth, how art thou Ah yes, jolly good!” Shane mimicked with a horrifically bad posh British accent.

Ryan laughed harder, “We’ve been to London, they don’t sound like that!” He said between laughs.

“Uh, /he does! There’s no way a man with a name like that is not ‘mm yes I will take a spot of tea with my biscuit thank you.’ I’m calling it, he definitely talked like that!”

Danny smiled at the antics as Ryan wheezed, “Well it’s too bad we’ll never know for sure then isn’t it, what with his disappearance, y’know what we’re actually here to talk about.”

“That’s okay. /I’ll know. I know my buddy Charles.”

“Alright then.”

The screen was lit up with an image of a man on a black backdrop.

“The Williamsworths were a French-German family who moved to Biel, Switzerland in early 1914, just months before the largest war in European history kicked off.

They were one of the lucky few families to have left France before the war broke out…”

“Oh a family moving, that’s suspicious now?” Shane cut in.

“Well, it was right before World War 1, I mean the timing is kind of suspicious.” Ryan replied in blue.

-People move, Ryan.-

-Okay, okay, it’s just the facts of the case,.-

Danny rolled his eyes, ready for the story to continue.

The images came back.

“This move would evidently prove to be quite fortunate for the family for obvious reasons. However, it also led Charles to find his true passion: … Watchmaking.”

There was a pause as a map of Switzerland came on screen. “Biel, the town that Charles would live in for the majority of his recorded younger life, was known for watchmaking, being one of several in the heart of an area named ‘Watch Valley.’ “

-You ever own a Swiss watch?-

-Nope-

-Heard they’re good. Reeeal good.-

-Yep.-

-…-

“Charles would reportedly develop a passion for clocks, watches, and timepieces in general, only getting more entrenched in his obsession over time.”

The image of the man now shifted to be overlaid on a map.

“By the time the First World War was over, Charles had gained an ostentatious apprenticeship under one of the premiere watchmakers of the time, Max Stührling. This lasted until Stührling’s death in 1938, after which Charles vanished from any records for two years.”

-Well y’know, his mentor had just died. -Maybe he wanted to grieve. Y’know curl up in his room and not see anybody for a bit.-

Ryan laughed, -2 years, he was crying in his room for 2 years and nobody found him?-

-Well, it’s not like records were great back then, I mean what are you gonna write on the census… just.. like..-

-Loud weeping heard from inside. One resident. Unnamed.-

-Yeah!-

“The next time Charles T. Williamsworth appears on record, it is in the back of a photo from France in 1940. Showing Williamsworth standing in front of a watch shop wearing dark clothes, a distinct pocket watch, and looking into the camera.”

The black and white image appears on screen, zooming in on the background figure. Danny tilts his head at it, something about it niggling at him.

“The shop and its owner would go on to be infamous within the town for the duration of the Second World War. Charles was unwillingly drafted in the summer of 1941, serving on the front lines for no more than 3 months before sustaining a wound to his face, leaving him with damaged eyesight, facial scarring, and a medical discharge.

He returned to his shop soon after.”

Danny frowned at the mention of what the man had probably gone through.

“With later evidence statements regarding Charles stating that he was an ‘odd man. He never mentioned the war, leaving it behind once he was not forced to be a part of it. He seemed to be separate from it all, he only cared for his watches.’

This sense of separation would extend to his shop, as when the town was bombed in 1944 leading up to D-day, his shop was left miraculously unharmed. It was reportedly open the very next day.”

-I can appreciate the dedication- Shane says in yellow.

-Yeah, I mean, the morning after is a bit soon, but he did really love watches. If he didn’t have to, I guess he wasn’t gonna close his shop.-

-He’s advertising, ‘Sure you were almost killed in a fiery explosion, but look! I’ve got new watches!’-

Ryan laughs.

“Over the next 50 years, Charles T. Williamsworth would disappear from records repeatedly, sometimes for months, only present on seven censuses between 1952 and 1979. Despite this, the clock shop was never sold, remaining in wait for its master’s return.”

Multiple pictures of pocket watches came onscreen. “It became known in the surrounding area for especially good pocket watches and grandfather clocks. Each personally made using Swiss essemblage practices, often engraved.

While it was a place of prestige, some described the shop as having ‘an unbearably loud sound of ticking, as if a thousand clocks were set to the same second.’

Apparently, Charles ‘seemed to enjoy the sound, often standing in the front room when no one was present. He was able to pick out one clock if it was off time.’ Witnesses stated.”

It cut to showing Shane and Ryan at their table.

“God, I can’t imagine. That’d drive me crazy.” Shane said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I don’t know, a thousand clocks at the same time? Just..” Ryan looked back and forth frantically, as if there were sounds from every direction, “I’d go nuts pretty fast, I can’t even handle one sometimes.”

“I’d just go off and punch one of the clocks, just- RAAAH and -oh my god is that where that comes from?! I’m gonna punch your clock? Or like you clock somebody!?! Oh my god I never realized that!”

Danny’s jaw drops at the realization as Ryan laughs. Shane looks to be losing his mind as well.

“However, Charles’ most notable disappearance was his last.”

Dramatic music played as Danny zoned back in.

“Due to his frequency of vanishing for extended periods of time, it is unknown when exactly Charles disappeared. The last definite sighting of Charles T. Williamsworth was late at night on April 23rd, 1999, when neighborhood patrolman, Elliot Dubois, noticed him locking the door to his shop with its lights still on. Elliot, concerned for the safety of the elderly man, questioned him but eventually allowed Charles to leave, noting that he turned down a road that only led into the woods outside of town.

Two weeks later, 12 year old James Chappellè, a mailboy in the area, noted during his morning run on May 7 that mail had begun to pile up in front of the shop’s door.

Something that had never happened before.”

The word ‘before’ faded into red.

“It reached such a point that the mail system declared they would no longer deliver, as they couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t be stolen.

At this point, the police got involved and the case was assigned to Detective Jacob Laurent.

It turned out to be a more difficult case than first expected, as when they looked into Charles’ past, they were unable to turn up any such notable documents as a birth certificate nor any document containing a birthdate.

But when police entered the shop on May 10th, they found it largely empty, with only the shelves, register, and equipment left remaining between the front and back room.

It should be noted that there was still money in the register, and a light on in the back though the other bulbs for the front seemed to have been burnt out.

Upon entering the living space above the shop, it was found to be covered in dust, and all of Charles’ clothes and belongings still present.

Rather, there was evidence that Charles largely slept in his shop, with a cot beside his workbench.

A workbench that, upon police entry, only held one gold pocketwatch, personally engraved with the initials ‘C. W.’ As it was known for Charles to always carry the pocketwatch, he was officially declared missing and possibly presumed dead.

The watch’s presence also led detective Laurent to suspect foul play.

However, despite the declaration of foul play, the police did not extensively search the town woods, citing the size and density of the forest.”

The video cut to Shane staring at Ryan, face deadpan. Ryan was clearly trying to hold back laughs.

“So… let me get this straight… an old man who’s… how old at this point exactly?”

Ryan laughs, “Nobody knows, there’s no known birthday-“

“That’s weird too, but okay, let’s say he’s like what, at least 95? I mean… there’s a certain age that like if you disappear… ..eh.” Shane shrugged.

Ryan looked at him incredulously, “Eh??”

“Yeah,” Shane shrugged again, “Eh.”

“What???”

“I mean… y’know… old people wander into the woods sometimes, maybe he just went for a walk and got lost. At that age… death has gotta be around every corner, I mean come on!”

Ryan wheezed into his elbow.

Danny laughed quietly.

Once Ryan calmed down, he organized the file, clipping it down on the table, “So! With the story finished, let’s get into the theories,”

Shane rolled his eyes, “Oh god this is gonna be one of yours isn’t it? What ghosts are abducting people now?”

Danny smiled, briefly considering how much effort it would take to go haunt Shane all the way in LA.

“The first theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth was involved with the mafia at the time and was a long standing or high ranking member that had crossed the wrong people.

Some reasons for this theory is the lack of early documents, suggesting a fake identity or forgery.

This case is especially supported by the long absences, where his shop remained closed and yet still remained in his possession.

In fact, the deed for the shop was not listed under Charles’ name, instead Iisted as owned under a private organization.

This theory explains his disappearance and possible subsequent death as an act of revenge from an enemy made from illicit activities. Leaving no body behind, there would be no evidence to prosecute the acting party.

Within this, there are also some who believe that if Charles was engaged in the mafia and lived under a false identity, that his disappearance was him returning to his actual identity, possibly due to being caught.

Prison records indicate 6 Swiss-German inmates arrested at the approximate time of his disappearance, roughly matching the age and appearance of Charles. Notably, none of them had a distinct facial scar and no identification was ever confirmed.”

The screen switched.

Shane smiled at Ryan, “Oh Ho Ho, my boy Charles is getting into some funky stuff, huh? Workin’ for the Mob, breaking knees, chopping fingers?”

Ryan laughed, “Yeah maybe, it definitely lends credit to him being a part of something. Maybe he was out in the woods breaking knees y’know. Or burying something.”

“Someone,…”Shane said ominously, then burst out laughing, “What if he buried himself! Just-“Shane mimed digging, clapping his hands like he was wiping off dust, “Alright, thats a good illegal grave right there, just a good hole for a dead- woaaah!” He pretended to fall, “Boom, stuck in his own grave.”

“Really, this old man dug a 6 foot deep grave? On his own?”

“Hey you don’t know his strength, maybe he lifts.”

“Alright.” Ryan shook his head, still grinning.

Danny smiled, considering it, it did kind of make sense.

“The second theory is that Charles T. Williamsworth did indeed just walk into the woods and never come out. If this is the case, what happened in the woods is widely speculated on. Some saying that animals may have attacked him, or that he simply fell or was injured and could not get up due to his age.

This theory loses support due to the fact that no body was ever found. Though some say that if the woods were too big for the police to search, there may be a den or that his body was covered naturally.”

“Or in a grave.”

“You really think he was mafia?”

“I mean, who could tell?” Shane shrugged.

“The third theory, much like the first, is that Charles was a federal agent for one of the Allied Powers.

This theory is also supported by the significant periods of absence and lack of documents to indicate a forged identity, meant to fool the German government and allow him to work behind the lines. However, unlike the first, there is also evidence of a man with the same distinct scar on his eye, showing up in the background of photos at the British Intelligence Office, the Eiffel Tower during Germany’s occupancy, and behind closed Swiss borders.

None of which would be possible without the unique skills and permissions of a government agent.”

Silence reigned as Shane and Ryan stared each other down, Shane clearly ramping up for something.

“The name’s Williamsworth. Charles Williamsworth.” He said dramatically.

Ryan burst out laughing. “You support this one more then?”

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind, he’s not in the mafia. His suspicious activities were in the name of secrecy, national secrets, confidential war trades. Espionage…”

“Well I guess, nobody’s gonna suspect the 95 year old man to be up to anything. I mean, if I saw an old man somewhere I’d just be like, huh I wonder who lost their grandpa, not ‘I bet he’s secretly working to take down Hitler.’ Y’know.”

“Charles gets caught: just ‘Whaa-at me~e? I’m just a gentle~e o~ ol~ld ma~an, I can’t harm nobody~y.” Shane mimed leaning over a cane.

“He gets caught and just pretends he has dementia, ‘Who am I? Who are you? Why am I here? Where’s my breakfast?”

Shane cackled as Ryan laughed.

Danny considered it more, this one seemed the most likely, though… he’d definitely be the oldest agent.

“Another theory is that the shop was robbed and Charles returned while or before it was happening, catching the criminals off guard and leading them to react rashly, injuring or killing Charles. They then would have hidden his body and cleaned out the shop to hide any other evidence.

This theory however is disproven by the lack of money taken from the register.

Despite this, it is the official claimed circumstance by the police at the time.”

“Fucking police, always with the boring one.” Shane said ruefully.

“Our last theory, and my personal favorite,-“

Shane groaned. Danny smiled, this was gonna be good.

“-is that Charles T Williamsworth was a time traveler. And that all of his disappearances were when he was traveling through time.

This theory supports his families early move to Switzerland under odd timing, his appearance in so many photos and even his obsession with clocks. As well as why he seemed unbothered by the tumultuous times.”

“I can… accept it.” Shane said, hesitant.

Ryan laughed, “I’ll take it.”

“Despite all of these theories, there is still significant information missing from the case.

And so, like clockwork this case shall remain:

Unsolved.”

Danny’s mouth dropped as the screen went dark.

No way.

No freaking way.

He lurched upwards, eyes wide.

Obsessed with clocks, scar on his eye, fricking weird and talks in riddles.

Oh mygod!

Danny threw himself out of bed, “I’ve connected the dots!” He rushed to untangle himself from his sheets, transforming immediately, “I’ve connected them!”

He dove for the ghost portal.

Holy frick!

Charles T. Williamsworth was Clockwork!

[mycryptosuite]

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[trashywritestrash]

Short and Sweet

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count: 853

Warnings: Best friend’s brother— is that a warning? This is just a short lil thing for Valentine’s Day

A/N: The poem and response in this came from Thomas Richardson’s “Gentleman’s Valentine Writer” which wasn’t actually published until 1828 but I needed ideas, okay? Also, I wrote this when Bridgerton was still the lead in the poll lol

Living beside the Bridgerton household had many advantages. Being close in age to Daphne gave you the perfect excuse to spend time with her. However, spending time with Daphne meant also spending time with the rest of her family, which allowed you to form a close bond with them all. One Bridgerton in particular being Benedict.

Benedict was a few years older than you, but within a perfectly reasonable range that made it acceptable for you to fancy him. How could you not? He was sweet and sensitive, but he had a playful side that brought joy any time you were fortunate enough to witness it. Although, you never dared to dream that Benedict might return your affections. You were the best friend of his younger sister, surely he would not think of you in that way.

Initially, you had been excited to be presented before the queen and sent out into society. But while Daphne had been deemed the season's incomparable, you had fallen into her shadow. You were happy to see your friend receive many visitors and gifts, but some days it would hurt to see a line of men outside her door while you waited in an empty sitting room.

Waking on Valentine's Day brought nothing but sorrow. It was only one month into the social season and you already felt that you were destined to become an old spinster. With no prospective husbands in sight, you would likely have to face a second season. You did not expect that you would receive any callers that day, yet you waited in your sitting room in a fine dress, as you did every other day. Your mother sat in a chair at the far end of the room, leisurely reading until something would happen.

Early into the day, your butler entered the room with a calling card in hand, "A Mister Bridgerton is here to call upon Miss Y/L/N."

"Send him in," You replied, feeling your chest constrict. It was possible that one of Daphne's brothers had come to pass along a message for her, but a gentleman visiting while you were accepting callers still brought you a shred of hope.

Moments later, you saw Benedict step through the doorway, holding something behind his back. He smiled, "I see I have gotten here before the rest."

You returned his smile, nervous, yet calmed by his presence. "I think you will find that the gentlemen are coming to your door today, not mine."

"Then they are fools and I am lucky to have you all to myself."

"What can I do for you, Benedict? I find it hard to believe you would be here as a suitor." You spoke the words in jest, but felt your throat tighten as you said them all the same.

Benedict's smile fell into confusion, "What is so hard to believe about that?"

Taken aback by the genuine confusion in his tone, you clarified, "I only mean to say that I would not have expected it."

"If that is the case, I hope that you find this to be a good surprise," For just a moment, you heard a bit of nerves in his voice as he tried to present a confident image. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay long. But I wanted to bring you these and to officially declare my affection."

Finally, Benedict moved the hand behind his back to reveal a beautiful bouquet of morning glory and myrtle. You smiled wide at the sight, "Thank you, Benedict. They're lovely."

Shortly after, Benedict had to take his leave, although he promised to come back the following day. Once he had left, you reached for a book on the language of flowers. You found that morning glories are used to represent affection, meanwhile myrtle is used to represent love and marriage. Learning that brought a blush to your cheeks, finding the meaning to be a little bold, but not unpleasant.

It was then that you noticed a small folded piece of parchment beside the flowers. When you unfolded the paper, you could see the painted design done in watercolors. A man and a woman stood beneath a tree, which was situated between a lovely cottage and a church. The image was small, but you could tell that the couple was you and Benedict. On the other side of the parchment was a simple note.

I boast not eloquence, dear Miss, Nor do I write exceedingly fine; Therefore, I bluntly ask you this-- Pray, will you be my Valentine?

As you looked down at the note, you felt your heart swell. You held it close to your chest, feeling as if you could burst from happiness at any moment. Your mother then looked up from her book. "What is that, dear?"

"It is nothing!" You responded quickly. Luckily, your mother did not push the issue further.

That night, you folded the note once more and placed it in the drawer of the nightstand beside your bed. As you attempted to fall asleep, all you could think of was that you could not wait to see Benedict again.

----------

Want more fanfic? Check out my masterlist!

If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, reblogging, or tipping my Ko-Fi!

[siriusblackslut]

The one where Coryo shows his true colours after a disagreement.

As Coryo’s best friend, you should have anticipated this.

Pairing: Coriolanus/Reader

Word: 5909

Warnings: mildly dubious consent, soft dark, obsessive behaviour, yandere

Sometimes, Coryo was glad you were so stupidly naïve.

He hated it most times, you navigating the big bad world so clueless as to how it revolved around a pretty darling like you, when you would offer shy smiles to hungry eyes raking the length of your body, when you would entertain unpalatable opinions clearly devised for your sole attention, or when you would introduce him as your dearest friend to puzzling spectators moments after he greeted you with a peck at the corners of your mouth. 

Today though, he was so fucking grateful, for between the happy sips of posca you had announced just how thrilled you were with your university acceptance letter, as though you were expecting him to cheerily send you off to the other side of the city.

It was sour news, but Coryo was glad he was made aware of them sooner than later. 

“Away?” he demanded sharply.

The room settled into a tense silence broken only by his curt paces across the length of the room, and your eyes followed him expectantly.

When you didn’t reply, you weren’t sure what with from the tone of his voice, Coryo was quick to make his displeasure be known. “I wish you had told me earlier so I could discourage you.”

“But it’ll be so good for me,” you tried earnestly once more and Coryo thought you were positively deluded if you had ever thought there was a chance he was going to let you go.

He reached you in two strides, his thumb caressing your chin in a way that was gentle yet firm. “Don’t leave.”

It was clear he wasn’t asking, which made him even more disappointed when he saw your expectant expression give way to a frown because you were making this harder on purpose. Coryo thought it was a shackle sometimes, to want to breathe, live and own you.

“You’re upset, I unders--”

“Upset doesn’t even begin to describe how angry I am.”

And oh, bless you, you though he was worried about you, and you continue your reassurances that were endearing at first, but Coryo was finding them increasingly irritating.

You squeezed his forearm still stroking your chin, giving him a small smile, “I can handle myself.” The clench of his jaw went unnoticed, “And besides, Sejanus will be there too.”

Coryo hated sharing you, even in speech, and that revolting name rolling of your tongue so effortlessly like it belonged there replacing his own, it made him livid, and he thought it was the last straw.

“So, he can offer you a fortune?” He let his voice fill with scorn and allowed his face to twist into a cruel sneer. The thumb at your chin gentle just moments earlier now dug into your skin, “some more unsavoury opinions?”

“I thought he was your friend.”

Coryo let the silence sit and it was telling, so telling, in fact, that you were now questioning your friendship with him, rightfully so, and it was in this moment of rebellious defiance that you snapped at him and you had never snapped at him before, “Then I’ll be fine on my own then, without him or you.”

Such fierce words spoken in a wobbly tone, had Coryo thinking you had forgotten your place. He thought, in some way, he was to blame because he had been far too lenient on you and it was clear now that you had not respected the privilege of freedom that he had allowed. He would have to remedy that, and he wasn’t particularly sorry either, only sorry that you would think him unreasonable but really, he just wanted you to mold into the prettiest version of yourself and flourish with him.

When he took a step forward, his solid frame looming uncomfortably over you, Coryo had already decided that you weren’t going to leave because he simply could not fathom a world where you were not a mere arm’s reach away, and he was resolute that he would not either. He was deciding now, only how he would break it to you, and even through your thick naivety you sensed something shift.

“You’re staying,” he said.

It was an unsteady step back. “No.”

“I won’t say it again.”

It tired him, you had barely opened your mouth and he just knew it was another misplaced objection and so he silenced you instead, digging his fingers at your jaw and pulling you up to devour those pesky words. It was a hard kiss, one of nose bumps and teeth clashes that was entirely different from the usual shy easing brushes of lips, but Coryo thought he had to start somewhere more obvious now.

A muffled cry between his swirling tongue and you had hardly begun a protest, but he was there too, determined to swallow it up by planting more suffocating kisses until you were gasping for his breath.

“Fine without me huh?” Coryo repeated your words between each kiss across your mouth, lips, tongue, cheeks, chin and everywhere he could get his lips on.

To him, it was so intrinsically natural the way you slotted up against him, but for you and he was mocking your words now, it was a confusing turn of events. Mouth entangled with his depriving you of air, the hot skims of his fingers across your waist leaving a blazing trail in their wake and that dull ache blooming in your belly, it all made you disoriented and you pushed away at his head in retaliation for some rational distance, but he would never give you any now. Coryo had just tasted you and now you were leaving him high and dry and aching for more? He would even settle for that glimmer of sweat at your neck and he latched on, sucking pretty kisses across your nape until he could feel your pounding pulse and it made him drunk, the sheer power he had over you because you wanted him too, you just didn’t know yet.

“You just need a reminder of how much you need me,” he was planting sloppy kisses up your throat and his hands left their post at your waist, roaming, roaming and roaming until hungry fingers fiddle at the hem of your skirt pushing up and up until it bunched at your waist and the sinking feeling at your belly settled uncomfortably when you finally understood what he meant.

“I thought we were friends,” you mumbled weakly and Coryo was almost offended that you hadn’t spared a thought to the natural progression of your relationship, as if that truncated milestone was all that was destined of your relationship. Still, it was an improvement from the empty words of assurance, and he liked it much better when you had submitted, even if it was reluctantly.

“And you said you love me, and yet you’re leaving me,” he was murmuring into your skin still continuing his onslaught of rough kisses across your neck, “so it seems we were both not entirely truthful with each other.

Itching hands wandered up your thigh and Coryo was delighted to find your panties already wet from just curious fingers and persistent lips. Though you hadn’t grasped it yet, your body sure had and Coryo would make your mind follow once he was finished with you.

“Tell me what I want to hear,” he whispered encouragingly and his breath seared your skin. “That you love me.”

“I do!”

Fingertips caught the hood of your clit through your sopping panties, and he began to trace light circles at the drenched fabric, just enough for you to feel the beginnings of what Coryo could offer.

“Like lovers do.”

It made you shiver, and you exhaled into his chest. There were many realisations to be had in this pleasure haze. “Coryo--”

“That you won’t leave,” and he pressed another kiss into your neck, fingers drawing tight patterns at your clad clit until you ached for him like he did for you.

“That you’ll stay.”

“No-- oh--” A moan tumbled through your lips before you could stop it and you pressed your face deeper into his chest to muffle them out of embarrassment even though Coryo thought it was the prettiest sound he had ever heard.

All shy from a slipped moan and he wondered whether you even notice the way you were grinding against his thighs soaking his trousers, clearly yearning for something more than the light skim of his thumb barely there at your panty-clad clit. It amused him greatly, your outward unwillingness even though you belonged to him, and when those silly unintelligible murmurs of protests gave way to breathy gasps, but Coryo still thought you had yet to learn your place in his life, he moved away, palm bumping against your thigh under your skirt.

The betrayal, disappointment and relief on your face, it made Coryo triumphant because in some selfish way, he wanted you to understand exactly what you had subjected him through all these years.

“Go on,” he said, “just tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll make you feel real good.”

And despite your body shaking with unresolved tension, you still managed to shuffle back, head shaking defiantly.

Coryo would be impressed by your composure if he was not furious.

“No?” and he was onto you once again, consuming your lips until he was so sure you were inside him because then you would have to stay. Nose skimming your cheek and foreheads pressed flushed together, and all you could taste was his tongue swirling inside yours. It was working, him chipping away at your will, but still, you gave him a rational, albeit breathless answer.

“No,” you murmured because this was your dearest friend who had you all frazzled and flushed, and you swatted away at his wandering hands trailing between your thighs once again, but it was to no avail because Coryo was determined now, he would not have you slipping through his fingers because he had worked too hard at you and at this, he would have you impaled on them instead.

Forceful fingers yanked at your panties, and then it was all flesh against flesh with Coryo rubbing at your clit before he worked a knuckle into you.

“Gonna show you then,” he snarled. There was a lot more friction now, the sloppy sounds as he fucked his fingers into you reverberating around the room was proof of it, and the dizzying ache that returned twice as hard made your knees weak and you stumbled, plunging yourself deeper on his digits. 

“Tell me you need me.” 

It was a choked sob that made it out your lips, but it was still thick and full of arousal. “I can’t.”

“Of course, you can darling,” he cooed, and it was confusingly kind against the plunge of his fingers into your cunt. You only whined in response and whilst Coryo thought it sounded delightful, it wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear.

“I know you want to, just wanna hear it from your pretty lips.”

In case you needed another reason for a confession, he curled his fingers up paired with another plunge, fleshy pad brushing up delicately somewhere special and deep inside you. It felt so terribly good, but your waterline shimmered instead because the blossoming heat in your stomach, it made you feel so guilty because it meant you were willing, didn’t it? Now, that was all a bit too much to bear. “It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” Coryo repeated and it was unbelievably cold, making you shiver even in this hot flush.

You took another shaky step back, but he was already there with his chest pressed flushed against yours, fingers still pumping inside you while his thumb still circled your clit and it made your head empty and legs unsteady, and you pushed him but it only provoked him further because you were denying him his rightful property.

“You think it’s fair to leave me?” he growled and slipped another finger in spitefully, and the stretch was painfully delicious, “We’d promise we’d take care of each other, remember?” 

He didn’t let you reply, he was almost certain it would just be another string of silly protests judging by your shiny eyes. Instead he captured your lips in another hot and heavy kiss that was full of angry scrapes until on his tongue lingered the sweet metallic taste of you and Coryo was drunk on you, you in his lips, in his palms and now in his throat trickling like fire into his belly.

It was intoxicating for him, but painful for you and had you reeling back to tuck your head at his chest once again and Coryo’s only solace was that you were now rocking your hips, plunging yourself down to meet every thrust of his fingers.

“So sure you don’t need me?” he gave you another chance and he prayed you take it because it was hurting him now, when he knew he could shower you in such other-worldly pleasure.

You only burrowed your head deeper into his chest, still griding on his fingers. Unfortunate, but unsurprising and so he waited, and he didn’t have to wait for long, not when his thumb was busy lavishing your clit and you were doing half the work fucking yourself on his digits, until your breath hitched against his chest and you were shuddering in his arms with your cunt gushing drenching his sleeves before he pulled his hand away once more and the blooming pleasure waned away into nothing, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

Knees buckling and you stumbled back, glaring at him with fat tears rolling down your cheeks. It made Coryo’s heart ache, but he thought this lesson more important than your temporary upset at him, if only you had confessed.

“I don’t need you,” you snapped at him, and the self-assuredness in your voice had him thinking you were so clearly deluded. As if your cheeks weren’t running with tears from what he had withheld from you, as if you hadn’t just been rolling your hips against his outstretched fingers only moments ago. 

“Sure, seemed like you did when you were fucking my fingers.”

“I can take care of myself!”

He really did respect your persistence if it was not just so disobediently misplaced.

You were glowering at him now, despite the flush of your cheeks and Coryo wondered just how naïve you could be. Were you really that completely clueless as to the way your body craved him? How could you retreat when he could feel you twitching to be in his arms?

“I don’t want to be mean, you know,” he was advancing again, leaning in and it made you feel a bit dizzy. “But I will if you keep being this uncooperative.”

His intoxicating scent, the caress of his thumb at your cheek, your sticky thighs and that angry unreleased ache buzzing between your legs, it was all too much and you moved away, just to think, but Coryo was right there too, he would follow you to the end of the earth until you were in his arms.

A mere whisper away but Coryo still thought there was a vast expanse between the two of you because you just weren’t getting it, it was almost insulting now. He closed the space with another devour of your lips until you were gasping for breath and pushing him away yet again, but he was there and everywhere, lips all aggressive and all-consuming locking into your unwilling ones until he was smothering you, suffocating you in all his heavenly adoration, until it seemed like your only respite was to move your lips against his.

Even if they were sluggish and clumsy lips smacking against his sloppily unable to keep up with his heated ones, your receptiveness drew a groan of appreciation from him and it was that, the low rumble of his throat that snapped you back to reality, because this was your sweet Coryo Coryo coryocoryo, your dearest friend, despite that shameful heat rising between your legs.

It caught him by surprise this time when you pried his head away, stung even more after your momentary clarity, especially when he had really thought you had given in. Now you were just standing there with your lips swollen hanging agape and coated with his spit, peering up at him all doe-eyed through your lashes glimmering with tears, just standing there looking pretty like that was all you could do for him, and it made Coryo so furious because you could be more.

You caught a glimpse of him half possessed, but it was only for a moment before he had pounced back on you and the assault on your lips now borders on painful with his teeth scraping against your already sensitive lips.

“Gonna remind you myself then,” Coryo hissed between each rough kiss. It was suffocating, insistent lips and his towering frame pushed up against you threatening to blend into one, and you were still moving back and backandback until your calves were digging into the mattress because your lips felt so raw against his now, but he was still there, and there was no room to retreat anymore and so you arched your back away instead, anything away from his prodding tongue inside your mouth because it was painful, dizzying, electrifying but youcouldn’tseemtobreathe and you were leaning back leaningleaning until you were falling--

You toppled onto his bed, and it was a welcomed respite, wracked gasps slipping from your throat in a desperate attempt catch your breath, but the moment was brief, and the dire reality sank in your belly where Coryo had bunched the excess fabric of your skirt. 

He had taken his position on his knees; it was humiliating but not in front of you because he wanted you worshipped. Then, you would know just how much he revered you, adored you, loved you, to the point of complete devotion.

Cold fingers pried at your warm thighs and Coryo took advantage of your momentary daze to hook your left leg over his shoulder, his right palm pressing your other leg to ease your thighs apart. The ebbing pleasure reawakened once more from his hot breath at your cunt and the light trace of his digits up your slit. It was embarrassing, vulnerable and had you letting out another protest in retaliation for the premature sparks between your legs, but Coryo thought your warm slick coating his fingers said otherwise. 

He could tell that you were panicking now, thighs squirming against his shoulders as you began to grasp just exactly what he was doing. Arching your back in an attempt to buck him off but it smeared your pussy against his face instead, your clit bumping at his nose and your hips stuttered, a strangled moan escaping your pursed lips.

“You can like it, you know,” Coryo murmured and he was quick to indulge himself, running his tongue up your slit and he was careful to collect your precious essence, not a drop wasted, to swirl at your sensitive pearl of nerves until your quivering thighs were squeezing his head and you were gushing once more. 

And despite the many objections tumbling from your mouth, your body was so compliant, rewarding his efforts doubly and Coryo lapped away gratefully until you were dribbling down his chin and even then he brought his fingers to scoop them up before licking clean at them too because you were just so tasty and he was starved of you.

If gluttony was a sin, then why is he in heaven?

You were still writhing on the bed, still attempting to push him away at his head and it made Coryo even more determined if anything because he had never not gotten what he wanted, deserved and was entitled to. Slipping his left palm under your arse, he pried your flesh apart before pressing his face into your pussy, lips latching onto your clit, and it stayed there suckling because he would make an example of it now, that he was never going to let you go on his own accord regardless of how you begged him to. Hardly now, it seemed, when he flicked his tongue at your puffy pearl of nerves drawing another muffled cry, but you were no longer jerking back now.

It was taking less and less time for Coryo to drag you back over to the edge until you were teetering precariously once again, and he was completely delighted to find you already pulsing around him when he sank his fingers into you.

“You’re close again,” he murmured into your pussy and it was mocking because not a moment after he unlatched his lips from your swollen clit and you were protesting?, leaning back to admire his handiwork of your pretty pink pussy all swollen and glistening with slick a mix of his saliva and your arousal. He collected it up with a broad swipe of his tongue, finishing with a flick at your clit, all whilst still knuckles deep pumping into you, filling the room with obscene squelches.

“Can feel you clench around my fingers.”

“Oh--"

When Coryo felt your scrambling fingers again, it was to pull him in this time, as if he wasn’t already so intimately acquainted with your sweet cunt. It filled him with pride, that he could make you feel this good but just because he adored you didn’t mean he wasn’t going to discipline you, and if it meant taking your release away so you would understand just how intricately intertwined the both of you were, he would do it.

It began to ebb away as quickly as it had come, and it is in this moment of desperation that you reached for him. Blonde locks tangled within your fingers, but Coryo was still restrained, only soft kitten brushes against your bundle of nerves bringing you to another world of pain because it just wasn’t enough, only enough to keep you flustered and wanting but not enough for you to tumble over into the territory of pure euphoria. Even his right palm pressed against your tummy was firm, he couldn’t let you ride his face just yet, no glimmer of a chance at your own release that wasn’t at Coryo’s calculating hand.

All pretence abandoned and it wounds your pride.

“Please.” It was a whisper, but a polite start.

“Come on, princess.”

“Coryo,” There was no protest in his name anymore, only a pleading sigh of his name catching in your throat like a desperate hoarse prayer to something divine, and it made him hard.

“That’s it.”

“Please--” you tried once more but your voice breaks instead into a moan of frustration.

Your only consolation was that you weren’t the only one who was in suffering. Even in the midst of pressing gentle kisses at your cunt keeping you at the torturous edge where there was only one clear resolve, Coryo was also begging you  “Let me make you cum,” and the neediness in his voice was embarrassing because only you could resort him to this humiliation. “Just want to hear you say it.”

Another curl of his fingers, swirl of his tongue.

“Admit it.”

You were sobbing now, how could you let it go again? When it was just within reach, you could feel it brushing at your fingertips and at your thighs between Coryo’s curls, and the thought of it reducing to a disappointing barely-there wane, it brought salty tears to your eyes.

Your thighs tightened at Coryo’s shoulders in a poor attempt to keep him there, but you could feel him beginning to shift away and with it, your high slipping away too.

It was a dangerous game, but you were at the edge of your resolve, and you’d do whatever to convince him now, tell him that you would stay, that you would be whatever he wanted you to be, if that meant you could topple over the edge.

You could reason with him later, you would.

Reason what?

“Need you Coryo,” you gasped, “I need you, will do whatever you want.”

It was a little dazed and Coryo thought that you could work on the delivery, but he was happy with that nonetheless, rewarding you with a drive of his fingers even deeper catching every sensitive spot deep within you whilst his tongue continued its attention on your clit.

Whatever he wanted and he told you just exactly what between greedy mouthfuls of your pussy, “You won’t leave.”

It was pure desperation that spoke. “I won’t!”

Coryo lets you fall apart for him because of him. He released his palm at your belly button, letting you ride your orgasm out on his face with your thighs wrapped tight around his shoulders, his little angel so devilishly hysterical, until his face was completely smeared full of your delicious slick and he thought that he could drown in it happy.  

And when you came down from your high, it was still not enough because he wanted more of you and all of you and Coryo had a point to make that you needed him, you said it yourself. His efforts only doubled, indulging in the tastiest treat he had ever had, suckling at your oversensitive clit and needed his fingers drove deeper into your pussy until you were humming with unbridled pleasure that even the gentlest strum of his tongue had you thrashing around his shoulders, had your fingers tugging at his hair painfully as you soared and fell once again in the matter of seconds, another ragged pant dragged from your throat.

And when Coryo thought that you, your body and mind, had finally understood that you belonged to him wholly, he unlatched his lips from your swollen clit, pressing light kisses at your thighs before he pried himself of his position lodged between your trembling thighs.

When you came down from your peak, white ebbing back to the dimly lit room, you could make out his pale cheeks flushed pink and his hair messy an irrefutable evidence of your willingness. Coryo gave you a crooked grin, before he slumped back on the bed next to you, legs tangled with yours.

“I knew you would come to your senses.”

The reality of what you had agreed to settled disagreeably in the pit of your stomach once all that tension had disappeared.

His fingers, sticky from your cum, cradled your flustered cheek. It was as though he was reminding you, encapsulating you so you would never leave. He pressed another giddy kiss at your lips, and you tasted yourself on his lips.

“Tell me again,” Coryo panted against your lips; it was dizzying to be victorious.

But when he felt your cheeks wet against his, he wasn’t entirely convinced that you understood the seriousness of the events that had just transpired, and he simply refused to entertain your disobedience any longer.

“For fucks sake, just be good.” Now Coryo adored you, but he needed absolutes and not empty promises made in a frenzy of pleasure. Even though you had understood, you had yet to completely surrender to your happy fate by his side. He thought, maybe you just needed one final push.

His lips were locked onto yours once again, hot and hungry and before you could let out another string of those ungrateful whines and unwarranted objections which would only be ten-fold when the rattle of his zipper echoed through the room.

“You’re selfish, but I can put up with that,” he chastised while plying your lips open with his rough ones.

 “Wait--” your voice welling with alarm, but Coryo swallowed that one too, planting another kiss at your lips.

“Cus you’re mine.”

You were. His perfect stubborn girl who was now kicking feebly at his legs to no avail, limbs and lives too deeply intertwined.

Coryo could feel his composure slipping. He had been so sweet on you, but that was before his cock was pressing against your soft thighs. It was all instinct now because you were the sweetest temptation he had ever had to resist, but now he gets to indulge in you now and he sure was making a scene of it, groaning into your mouth while he guides his cock under your skirt, pressing it into you until his cockhead was gliding across your silky folds.

There was a bit of give before he breached into you, and see, he was right, he always was. You were enjoying yourself too whilst Coryo defiled you so that you could only belong to him, with your breathless whimpers tumbling drunkenly into his mouth, and he was sure not to kiss those away.

“You said you’ll do whatever I wanted.”

You did. Maybe in a haze of confusing arousal, but those were your words.

“And I want you to stay. With me.” Coryo murmured between each moment apart from your swollen lips, between each snap of his powerful hips driving into you. “I command it.”

He was sure to make every single rut into you harsh, until his hipbones were mashing against yours painfully because just look at how you could take every one of them, look at the way each sore bruise against your bony flesh went straight into your core and look at the way your wet walls clung onto every single bulging vein his cock had to offer you. Could there be any other reason why if you weren’t made for him and him for you?

And yet you were still refusing your happy fate.

A broken sob from your throat and Coryo could feel you tighten on his cock, clenching impossibly tight and he supposed that if he loved you, that meant every stubborn part, and even that was getting easier to love with how you were pulsing around him with every cry, and he thought he could grow to enjoy the chase.

And even that seemed to be waning now because you were conceding with every forceful fuck into you until you were reciprocating, your fingers tracing his chest while lips clung onto his, nature taking its course.

When Coryo pulled apart from your lips to lean back, it was to make you watch the way your lithe body beaded with sweat, not just accepting but welcoming his numbing assault from the way your pussy stretched, shaped and memorised him, so that even when he wasn’t there, he still was, there and everywhere. The outline under your navel bulging with every thrust was proof of it, and marked just how deep he was inside of you, conquering depths previously untouched.

“Look at it,” he snarled, bringing his thumb to trace at the bulge and it drew sparks across your skin. “Is there anywhere more fitting?”

You were just a mixture of sobs and moans when you peered up to blink at him dumbly, and Coryo didn’t think you could look any prettier but here you were, more beautiful and debauched than ever impaled on his cock. 

“Unless you want me to stop?” 

He was offering now, only because he knew you could never agree.

He snickered, “No, I didn’t think so, wouldn’t have lasted a single day without me.”

Gasping all over the place and it made Coryo swell with pride because he had done it, stamped out any ounce of bitterness and resentment you had towards him for just doing what was best for you, that was writhing and brimming full of unadulterated want desperate for release.  

“I won’t be there to make you feel good like this,” and he was gloating now adding to that messy whirlpool of emotions that were shame, awe and desperation pulling fat tears down your cheeks, but Coryo knew you better and thought that awful reality too painful for you to wrap your little head around.

“Gotta take care of you in every way.”

“Please!” and if had known that all it required for you to stay was to fuck you silly, he would have done it a lot sooner.  

“You’re not going to leave me, not ever, you do understand why that is don’t you?

Because he loved you, you understood that much now, but at what cost?

Coryo demanded an answer, his hips snapping up to bruising into you deliciously, but his pace stuttered.

Surely, he won’t take this away from you. You were ruined now, because he had made you feel better than your clumsy fingers could ever make yourself feel, reached places inside you that you hadn’t known ever existed, led you to heights so unimaginably heavenly with easy strokes. Coryo knew you completely, better than you knew yourself.  

So,what matter the cost when he loved you? When could make you feel this good, when he wanted to, he had made that abundantly clear. You thought that you could stay, if it meant you could feel like you this indefinitely.

“Tell me so I know.”

You gave him something better than an answer, you gave him a confession.

“I love you.”

Coryo thought it sounded perfect on your lips.

“You won’t leave me then.” It was unlike him, so uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“I won’t.”

“Promise it.”

“I promise.”

Coryo believed you. It was hard not to when the very proclamation had you rolling your head back on his pillows, your arms outstretched pulling him into a weak embrace, legs curling around his pistoning thighs drawing him unbelievably close until it was unclear where your body ended and his started and until you were one with him. He could feel you fluttering once again and it was even tighter this time around his fat cock instead of his fingers, until you came completely undone in a string of euphoric gasps.

For him though, it was your complete surrender to him, finding immense pleasure and unconditional solace in him and the years of frustrated anticipation melted away and Coryo groaned too joining your dazed gasps as he spilled himself deep inside you.

He thought, in this hazy reality, that just to be sure, he might just have to knock you up too, then you would really have to stay with him.

“You’ll write back,” he said in laboured breaths between each skim of his lips across your forehead when he finally slumped down against you. His tone was stern and gentle, there was no need to be mean anymore when you had been so compliant and obedient for him. “Write and tell them you’ve changed your mind.”

When you did not respond only turning away shyly, he peered down at you intently to see your waterline glimmering once more and he brushed the wetness away because he knew for certainty that they were only happy ones now. His prized possession brimming so full of bliss her eyes were brimming too.

Coryo didn’t mind this view of his pink and purple masterpiece dotted across your throat, marks of his property, but for now, he wanted your unyielding attention. He reached to tuck at your hair before tilting your jaw until you were facing him once again with your noses bumping lightly.

“You’ve got bigger and better things ahead of you,” Coryo murmured and it was his turn to be reassuring this time. Judging by the way his cock seemed to come to life again, tapping at your inner thigh, you agreed.

[skz317cb97]

Okay I read something like this for another fandom and it was actually soo good.

I was wondering if you'd write something with Bang Chan/Chris in mind if you're taking any fic requests :)

In a world where upon their first touch, soulmates (Bang Chan/Chris x female reader) are overcome with a sudden and overwhelming need to fuck each other

Please and thanks if you can

Office Space

Bang Chan × Female reader

Word count: 1.8K

Synopsis: You live in a world where one touch of your soulmate will ignite a pathological urge to consummate your bond. What happens when you bump into the cute guy from the office and it appears as though you've found your match?

A/N: 18+ ONLY! I hope this is to your liking! I had fun writing it! Such a great idea! Than you so much for sending it in! If you all like this one give it a reblog, like, comment, hit up my ask box, whatever! As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: 18+ ONLY MDNI! Cursing/strong language, semi public sex in a locked office no one knows), unprotected sex (please use condoms), cream pie. I think that's it not anything too crazy but if I missed something please let me know and I'll add it asap!

The same thing happened to everyone. Once you turned twenty-one, if you came into physical contact with your soulmate your body had an overwhelming primal desire to claim each other physically. Fuck. It was a big talking point when you start going through sex ed in junior high. You heard the same thing you always did with anything else that had to do with sexual education. ‘It’s perfectly normal’ or ‘It happens to everyone’.  

No matter how true that was, it didn’t make the topic any less uncomfortable to talk about for some people, you being one of those people. You avoided anything that had to do with soulmates but when you turned twenty-one you went to a psychic with some friends and the lady who read your fortune said that your soulmate’s name would be Chris and his last name had something to do with a gun or fireworks, an explosion maybe, she wasn’t sure and you weren’t buying any of it.  

By the time you were twenty-five a few of your friends had already found their soulmates. You didn’t have time for that nonsense. Your career was your soulmate. You were the lead of your department’s team and it was no easy feat getting to that position.  There were eight other teams all the leads for those departments were men.

Most but not all of them you had met in passing regularly. There was one that you had never even been introduced to but you heard people calling him Chan. You couldn’t lie to yourself, he was gorgeous. Strong nose, kind eyes, pouty lips, shoulders for days, and well, he definitely had a good tailor because his ass... You had to stop thinking like that, you didn’t know the man. You didn’t know his last name, you had never even heard his voice.  

Well, that was about to change really soon. Today when you got to work the head of your branch was pulling all team leads in for a meeting so you and the eight other men, including Chan, had to meet in meeting room three immediately after lunch. Around one thirty all nine of you promptly met your boss.

There were eight other people there and you were trying not to be distracted by one person in general. It was difficult, you didn’t know why. You were able to keep up with the meeting but about halfway into your boss's third bullet point you were getting warm and took off your sweater. The dress you wore was sleeveless, you were hoping you could cool off. You were trying not to look at him but your eyes found him anyway as you shrugged your cardigan off. When you did you found his eyes already on you, something in them.  

“Chan?” Your boss had called him twice now and he snapped out of it and realized you noticed him staring, he quickly looked away. You could see his ears turning red. 

“Yes sir?” Your boss asked Chan to present what his team had been working on this quarter, asked a few questions about Chan’s team, and where he’d like to see things go in the next quarter. Chan had an answer for everything and it came out as smooth as butter with his thick Australian accent, which you had not been expecting.

When Chan was done the boss called on you to do the same thing. You stood and started walking forward as Chan was headed back to his seat. The walkway was narrow, you went to step around each other but stepped in the same direction, you both kind of nervously laughed and then stepped in the same direction again. 

“Sorry,” His slender fingers gently gripped your shoulder and he stepped behind you. His cologne was intoxicating and it was like one touch set your whole body on fire. When he passed you and headed to his seat you looked behind you for a second but he was already pulling out his chair. You tried to ignore the feeling in the pit of your stomach and focused on your presentation.

One by one all of the guys had to go up and do the same thing. It drug on forever if felt like. The throbbing between your legs was unbearable, you didn’t think you could press your thighs together any harder. Chan just seemed to be intently listening to whichever one of the guys was presenting, seemingly unbothered. Finally your boss dismissed you all you were thanking the stars you could finally get out of there and away from Chan before you made a fool of yourself. Just before you could make your haste, exit Chan called your name. 

“Oh excuse me, y/n? Would you mind coming to my office and running over a couple things about your team that I think I’d like to implement with mine?” You almost choked. 

“Y-your office?” He nodded; he was acting perfectly normal. You’d thought, well... you’d thought maybe he was your soulmate with the way you were feeling but apparently, you're just a horny perv that thinks about fucking their co-workers. 

“If you’re busy...” You didn’t want to seem impolite or like you weren’t a team player, he was really giving you a huge compliment by asking for such a thing. You just needed to get a hold of yourself. 

“No! Uhehm, no I’m not busy... I’d be happy to go over whatever you’d like.” That sounded like more than it should have you felt like but he still seemed totally nonchalant. He bowed and then led the way, you following the trail of whatever cologne he was wearing. Chan opened the door and let you in first.

You walked into his office nervous, hoping you could keep control of yourself because you had never felt so out of control in your life. As soon as you were in his office Chan came in too, then shut and locked the door. You turned to him and he walked up on you quickly. Your heart started racing, his hands gently cradled your face, his now a breath away from yours. 

“God please tell me you feel this too.” You were so relieved, you pulled him into a kiss as your answer. You had to taste his lips, they looked so juicy, a little red from worrying at them. You pulled away for a breath and backed towards his desk pulling him by his tie gently. He had a wicked smile on his face and followed. You sat on the desk legs spread, skirt riding up a bit and Chan nestled himself between your thighs, gripping your hips before kissing you again. You wrapped your arms around his wide shoulders and scooched forward. 

“I’ve had the biggest crush on you since I started here.” He admitted suddenly, lips hovering over yours. You couldn’t help how big your smile got. 

“Really?” He nodded biting at his lips and then kissing you again, his tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting you until oxygen was needed. 

“I’ve always noticed you too, it’s always kind of scared me.” You panted out. One of Chan’s hands was on your waist the other tracing your jaw.  

“You don’t have to be scared baby girl.” You felt warm all over hearing him say that. 

“I know.” You lifted your skirt more then hooked your fingers into the side of your panties and pulled them over, exposing your dripping sex to him. He looked down and his mouth watered but then he forced himself to look back up at you. 

“Are you sure?” You nodded and pulled at him desperately. 

“Mhmm.” You needed him. Chan started to unbuckle his pants, pulling them down and just as he was about to pull down his briefs, exposing the large outline in them, he realized something. 

“Oh... uh... I don’t have a condom.” You looked at him sweetly, a little shy, you always were when it came to this stuff. 

“Well... it’s just... together forever, right? I mean, that’s what this means... doesn’t it?” Chan cupped your face and nodded his eyes sparkling. 

“Together forever.” He kissed you softly. 

“I’m on the pill, so... it’s okay.” He shook his head, then dropped his underwear and you got a full view of what had been straining against the stretchy fabric of his briefs. You gnawed at your lips and he didn’t waste time. Chan wrapped your legs around him and lined up with your wet hole. When he sank into you it finally made sense.  

“Yes... fuck... f-feels so good baby girl. Please wanna hear you say my name, tell me how you want it beautiful.” 

“Chan yes fuck... harder, fuck me harder...” Chan fucked you harder, panting and moaning just as much as you. You loved how he wasn’t scared to make a little bit of noise for you. Not enough for anyone outside the office to hear but enough to make you drip for him. Chan shook his head no. 

“C-call me Chris...” 

“What?” You stopped him and looked into his eyes, your soulmate’s eyes. 

“C-Chris, my real first name is Chris...” I’ll be goddamned, you thought to yourself. 

“What’s your last name?” He smirked at you with a funny look on his face, laughing a little. 

“Seems like an unusual time to ask. Wanna know what yours is gonna be in the future?” You flushed and smiled. 

“It’s Bang.” He kissed you. The fucking psychic was right. 

“Why does everyone call you Chan?” He pushed a stray hair away and you couldn’t help but lean into his warmth. 

“It’s my middle name and there is a lot of Chris’ on our team. So I go by Chan in the office, but everywhere else, I’m Chris and I’d very much prefer to be Chris when I’m inside you. He rolled his hips and your eyes rolled back.  

“Mmmm Chris...” He started fucking you harder egged on by you using his actual first name. 

“huhuhu Chrisss...” Harder harder harder he kept pounding into you. He loved it he wanted more. 

“C-C-Chr-risss... g-gonna... gonna cum.” A light sweat was starting to break out on Chan’s forehead as he pushed you harder towards your climax. Your arms wrapped around him hand fulls of his beautiful curls. 

“God fuck I’m gonna cum too... fuck! Cum with me baby girl... cum with me.” He snapped his hips into yours again, brushing your g spot and you went nose diving into your orgasm clutching onto his muscular frame tightly, gasping for air. As soon as your cunt started clenching around Chan he started coming too, pushing deep inside as he filled you.

You both held each other, your legs wrapped around him, foreheads pressed together, trying to catch your breath. Once both your heartbeats returned to normal Chan helped you off his desk and pulled your skirt down for you. You adjusted his tie and he leaned in kissing you again. 

“Uh do you maybe wanna grab some dinner tonight?” You smiled and tried to help tame his curls a bit after mussing them when you came. 

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @jisuperboard @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @minnysproutgriffinteddy @svintsandghosts @the-sweetest-rose @alice05280 @3rachasninja @m0ri-apeuda @eastleighsblog @linoification @mlink64 @smally97 @fun-fanfics

“I’d love to Chris.” 

Please do not repost or translate any of my works. My blog and stories are NSFW and 18+ ONLY! Minors, ageless, and blank blogs will be blocked!

[biteofcherry]

Milky Sweet

Bad Moon Rising Masterlist

Alpha Ari Levinson x omega female reader

warnings: none; pure fluff, domestic bliss and happy news; Ari being slutty as always; shifter!Ari; shifter!Reader

Author's Note: This is a short fluffy fic written as a result of this poll.

The soft click of the door being open and closed, then the tiny creak of the floorboards under the weight of a massive body made you smile. 

Your Alpha was the type of a man who walked with purpose and barely contained threat, making his approach a reflection of the beast that he shifted into. Not in your home, however. 

Well, not since the argument two months ago. 

You were attending online classes, sitting in front of the sleek new laptop (a gift from Ari) and listening to the lecture, when your mate all but burst into the living room in all his bold glory. Shirt unbuttoned, exposing his chest and belly. His jeans were tight enough to draw attention to the outline of his cock. 

Okay, so maybe only your attention dropped that low, but the point was that he strode inside unabashedly cocky and loud, while you were in the middle of the damn lecture. 

Fortunately, you had your camera and microphone turned off at that moment, but if he walked in a half an hour earlier, everyone would get an eyeful. 

There was a lot of your yelling and hissing, and poking Ari in the chest, calling him an uncultured caveman. He apologized, though it didn’t stop you from poking him some more. And calling him a slutty beast. Which resulted in said beast fucking you on the table, while the last minutes of the lecture were still going on. 

Since then, Ari made sure to be very quiet and stealthy when he returned home on days you had classes. 

“It’s okay,” you called out softly. “The lectures are over. I’m just finishing some notes.”

A heartbeat later Ari appeared beside you, bracing one hand on the table and the other on the back of your chair as he leaned down to kiss you. 

There were aspects of being Alpha’s mate that tied to his dominance and control, but then there were small things - like the way he kissed you good morning, goodbye and hello - which shone light on the soft, precious bond between you. 

“How was it today?” Ari glanced at the notebook scribbled with colorful notes and stickers. 

“Honestly, rather dull.” You sighed, returning your gaze to the notes, but not before glancing at Ari’s bare chest. Typical. 

“Hungry?” He straightened. “I’ll toss on some quick stir fry.”

“Sounds good.” You were eager to finish, so you could join Ari in the kitchen. 

As much as you fought for your independence of being limited to an Alpha’s mate, you couldn’t deny that spending time with him was enjoyable. It was always a spark, filling your chest with a variety of warm sensations. 

The feeling of safety and contentment; sometimes a bubbling joy and carefree wilderness; the need so deep and burning it made you itch to claw at skin. 

Sometimes you wondered if it was the mating ceremony that enhanced that connection between you two, for you have never felt anything as intense with your previous partners. Even the ones you thought you’re in love with. 

There, that light fluttering in your belly returned as you walked into the kitchen a few minutes later. The scent of food, the sight of your mate preparing a meal for the two of you. It reminded you of the comfort of your childhood home, where you got to see your parents be true partners. 

Ari did his best to make you feel as his equal, even though it was an undeniable truth that you weren’t. Not by the designation of your wolf nature, nor the laws ruling the shifters packs. But in the way he gave you freedom and shared responsibilities with you, you felt respected. 

“After dinner I’m going to check on Dante’s crops,” Ari mentioned as you slid onto a barstool at the kitchen island. “Wanna come with me? You’ve spent all day inside, some fresh air will do you good.” 

You narrowed your eyes slightly, watching him closely. 

Despite the bloody way your packs were joined into one, Ari proved to be a good Alpha. He held the reins, but was open to listen to his packmates. Especially the inner circle, who combined both people from his old pack and some of yours. 

He was also willing to give new ideas a chance.

Like the one Dante had: to use a portion of your lands to farm crops which would profit the pack. He had this idea before, with some specific type of plant that was rare, but becoming very popular. Dimitri, your previous Alpha, didn’t agree to it. He was adamant on maintaining as much of the wild, free area as possible. 

He had his rights, but if Dante’s project succeeded, then in a few years your pack would be able to buy more lands.

However, faith in Dante’s plans and supporting him in this project, didn’t change the fact that he was your ex and Ari was a very primal, possessive man. 

Ari may deny it, but you noticed all the micro possessive gestures he displayed whenever your ex was nearby. More of them than usual, that is. 

He was also right that you needed some time under the open sky. 

It was bliss when an hour later you walked down the narrow paths between growing plants. The scent of watered and sun-stroked ground wiping away the mental tiredness, soft breeze tickling your skin and the sun peeking from between cloud layers making you squint your eyes. 

And your Alpha’s hand moving between squeezing the back of your neck and your butt, despite Dante not coming anywhere near you. 

You rolled your eyes and continued beside Ari as you listened to Dante’s promising report. The way Ari talked with him spoke of appreciation and pride, and you knew it meant a lot to any pack member. 

Later, as you stood at the edge of the field, with your back pressed to Ari’s chest and his arms wrapped around you as you watched the sprouts of the new chapter for your pack being tended to by Dante and his coworkers; you felt a surge of pride, too. 

Of your Alpha. Your wild, untamed mate, who scared you a bit, but who showed you and the others that he was worthy of putting your trust in him. 

You sighed softly and titled your head to the side as Ari brushed the shell of your ear with his lips then placed a kiss behind it.

Tip of his nose nuzzled into that spot. Paused. Then slowly dragged down, into the crook of your neck where two biting marks were crossing. 

“You got new perfume?” Ari hummed, curiously sniffing at your gland. “You smell a bit different. Sweeter. Nutty? Milky?”

With another sigh, you rested your head against Ari’s shoulder as your gaze drifted from the beautiful greenery to the puffy clouds in the sky, their creamy shade taking a hint of the first lick of sundown. 

“I guess I’m pregnant.” 

You surprised yourself with how calm you sounded. A part of you expected more shaky emotion to come with the admission, but somehow it wasn’t scary at all to say it. 

You felt Ari go very still. A wolf who had all of his instincts alerted. 

“I suspected it,” you continued when he remained quiet. “I planned on getting a pregnancy test tomorrow, or the day after. But having your mate distinguish a difference in your scent is a better proof than peeing on a store-bought stick.” 

Ari spun you in his arms fast, but any dizziness didn’t get a chance to settle as he cupped your face in his palms and made the sparkling blue of his irises your sole focus. 

There was so much emotion shining in his eyes. Disbelief. Hope. Joy. 

He held your gaze for a long moment, until you reached your own hand to touch his cheek. A split of a second, just a faint curve of your shy smile confirming your words, and Ari was pulling you into a fierce kiss. 

He was still kissing you as his arms slid lower and in a swift move he picked you off the ground. With a squeak, you broke the kiss and laughed. The sound of it was muffled by the long, loud howl that ripped out of Ari’s throat.

“By the gods!” You huffed, half amused, half annoyed when he continued his howl, despite your attempts to cover his mouth with your hands. “There goes my hope to tell my parents before the whole pack knows.”

Ari’s eyes crinkled and he purposely let out another deep bellow, before it faded into laughter and he was putting you back on your feet. Though his hold on you didn’t ease an inch.

“They don’t know what’s the reason for my howl.” He grinned, not the least apologetic. 

“You’re in the middle of a field with your newlywed mate. What else is there to howl about?” You gave him a pointed look. 

“You know how packs work,” Ari shrugged. “We could tell your parents over dinner and before we made it back to our house the whole pack would know already, anyway. Besides-” 

Ari leaned in. The spike in his scent was enough to have a heat flush you from the inside, but the way his eyes shadowed with that animalistic hunger had your pussy clenching.

“ -I want to test first if you taste sweeter, too.”

[dyaz-stories]

in a world of boys, he's a gentleman || Park Chan-Young x f!Reader

summary: Yeong-Su breaks a window at the stadium, and Chan-Young takes the blame for it, resulting in severe consequences. Fortunately, you're here to pick up the pieces afterwards.

word count: 3.1k

warnings & tags: spoilers for season 2 of sweet home, violence, injuries, soldiers being assholes, coarse language, making out, the pronoun "she" is used in reference to the reader

A/N: couldn't find gifs for chan-young so I made this one, but I'm by no means a gif maker, so, yeah. Also, I don't know anything about baseball, so please pretend this makes sense if you know better. I'm not sure which team Chan-Young was supposed to be on, so I picked the Doosan Bears because Sweet Home takes place in Seoul. Finally, it's my first time writing for him, so I hope you'll enjoy my take on this character!

It’s another day at the stadium, which means it’s another day of boredom.

Oh, there are things to do around here, sure. If you don’t mind being ordered around by soldiers who stand behind you with a scowl on their face and remind you that the only reason you’re even there is because of their good will, you’ll find a job to do. Cleaning a corner of the stadium, probably, in hopes that someone will be able to live there — as if there were enough mattresses — or doing the inventory, again, while looking the other way when rations mysteriously go missing and everyone knows who’s doing the taking.

Thing is, you’ve never been one to grovel. In fact, back in the Before days, you were the one giving the orders. Youngest assistant coach for the Doosan bears, the Seoul baseball team, you were in line to become the youngest coach in the history of the country. And, yeah, you weren’t completely in charge, but you were trusted. You had responsibilities. People knew to take you seriously.

You’ve had ideas for how to run this place more efficiently, to avoid making the civilians feel like they’re second-rate citizens, but it’s been made clear to you that you weren’t welcome to make suggestions. So you haven’t bothered, lately, but you also won’t play in that stupid game, where people get to change the rules without telling you.

It means that you do a lot of aimless walking around in the stadium. Chief Ji implicitly lets you roam around, a testament to the fact that you knew each other well back in the days, when you used to bring her coffee before big games, but you mostly try to make yourself useful in the way soldiers haven’t bothered accounting for.

A lot of that means keeping an eye on kids that are left to themselves otherwise. Their parents are busy, and it’s not like there’s much to do for them, here, so you try to keep them entertained. Unfortunately, you’re no teacher, meaning that it’s a lot of physical activities, wherever you find enough place. Other days, people who are teachers take over for you. That is the case today, meaning you’d have the day ‘off’, if it weren’t for Yeong-Su not showing up for class.

You don’t personally think he should have to attend class. You know how mean the other kids can be to him, and though the teachers don’t do much in the name of keeping the peace, you don’t let that fly when you’re in charge. Which is probably why the kid never misses your classes, a small pride that you keep well tucked in your heart.

Still, the teachers insist that you make sure he’s okay, so you agree to go try and find him. He knows the stadium well, meaning it will be no easy task.

You end up finding him throwing a ball against a wall. It looks like he’s practicing his aim, you think when you notice that he’s drawn a square on it. You’re about to approach him, maybe give him a few pointers, when a particularly hard throw has the ball bouncing too high and it crashes through a window, finishing outside of the stadium.

You freeze. Monsters don’t approach the stadium much — it’s been months since there’s been a case of that happening.

But the mere thought of there being something open here still has your heart pounding with fear. It’s only a few seconds before you compose yourself, but that’s long enough for someone to come running. You rush towards Yeong-Su, prepared to fiercely defend him if you need to.

It’s Chan-Young, and you relax, even if your heart is now pounding for a whole other reason.

“What happened here?” he asks.

He may have been running with his whole equipment, but he shows no sign of being out of breath.

“I’m sorry,” Yeong-Su mumbles. He’s hard to handle, especially these days, but he clearly respects Chan-Young a lot. “I didn’t mean to— I was just practicing and—"

Oh gosh, you realize, kid was practicing pitching, and it’s not lost on you that that’s the position Chan-Young mainly played as.

“…and now I’ve lost my ball,” Yeong-Su sniffs.

He’s trying to hold back tears, and it tears a little piece of your heart away. You know that Yeong-Su had found a ball autographed by Chan-Young, know that it’s one of his most prized possessions. It’s no surprise that Yeong-Su can’t stand the thought of losing anything more than what he already has.

Chan-Young glances at you, still standing a few steps behind Yeong-Su.

“He didn’t mean to,” you say. “I’ll help you fix the window.” Eun-Yu probably won’t mind giving you a hand, too.

Chan-Young nods, and you watch as he puts a knee to the floor, so he’s at eye-level with Yeong-Su. If he was any other soldier, you’d be more cautious, but you know him. Worked with him, when he was on your team, lost him when he enlisted, and now you’re in this strange limbo, where he doesn’t seem to know how to interact with you, even though there is this obvious familiarity between the two of you, every time you do speak.

“You need to be more careful,” he tells Yeong-Su, putting on his Serious voice. “If a monster heard that and came in, it could be very dangerous for everyone. And if you’re in front of the window when it happens, it would attack you first. So don’t let that happen again, okay?”

Then he gives Yeong-Su a small, comforting smile.

“If you want to practice again, come ask me next time, okay?” He glances up at you, and there’s such softness in his eyes when he does. “Or ask the coach. She knows her stuff.”

You’d never become coach, not officially, but his use of the word makes your heart swell.

“Okay,” Yeong-Su mumbles, staring down at his feet.

For a moment, it looks like everything will resolve itself just like that, and you’re already putting a hand on Yeong-Su’s shoulders to pull him away with you, when you hear the familiar stomping of military boots coming towards you.

Chan-Young’s expression changes immediately.

“Go,” he orders.

“But…”

He spins around to grab your shoulders, lowering himself to look straight into your eyes.

“Go,” he repeats. “Please.”

There’s such urgency in his voice that you can’t deny him, even if you’re not sure what is going on exactly. You grab Yeong-Su’s hand and pull him with you until you’re both behind a corner, just in time. You keep an eye on the scene, confused. The soldiers behave like assholes, you know that, but surely—

“What happened here?” the Sergeant bellows in Chan-Young’s face. “You’re lucky it was us, who were standing outside the window, and not something else! You better have an explanation, soldier.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Chan-Young says, shoulders straight, from what you can see. “I was just practicing and—”

Before you can wonder why he’d lie, the punch catches him in the stomach, and he doubles over in pain. You catch yourself before you can gasp out loud, and instinctively cover Yeong-Su’s mouth, which is probably a smart move, because he starts thrashing to run towards Chan-Young. You don’t blame him, but you also absolutely cannot let him do that, not right now.

“Yeong-Su,” you whisper, mimicking Chan-Young’s attitude with you just a minute ago. “You need to go back to Ms. Cha. Okay?”

“But they’re…”

You wince, because they’re still berating Chan-Young, and one of them has just given him a hard kick to the ribs. All the more reason for you to intervene.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise, but I can’t do that if you’re here. So go back to her, and I’ll come see you when everything is okay again, alright?”

He sniffs, rubs his eyes to hide the tears, then turns around and runs. At least he’s got a good survival instinct, you think, even if it hurts to remember where it comes from. The second you’re sure he’s not coming back, it’s your turn to run, but towards the soldiers this time, with a confidence that you now worry is wholly unwarranted.

“Hey, don’t you think that’s enough?” you interject, maneuvering so you can get between them and Chan-Young.

There’s a scoff and they roll their eyes. One of them puts his hand on your shoulder and pushes, but you barely take a step back. You’re used to men trying to intimidate you.

“I thought we’d made it clear that your opinions weren’t welcome,” Seo-Jin snaps at you, getting too close to your face for comfort — like that would make you budge.

“Doesn’t mean I’m going to let you beat up someone because he broke a fucking window, when if you’d gotten to work, that hole would be closed by now,” you reply on the same tone.

He opens his mouth to yell at you once more, a vein bulging on his forehead, when Chan-Young comes to stand in front of you. He’s barely just gotten on his feet, has one hand pressed against his rib cage, and still, he’s already coming to stop you from taking any risk. You want to scream at him and hug him all at the same time.

“Please, sir, she doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Neither does he!

“That’s enough, Seo-Jin,” sergeant Kim finally intervenes, and the man immediately takes a step back. “Don’t let it happen again,” he tells Chan-Young. “And fix the hole,” he tells you, as an afterthought, before leaving and taking his team with him.

Your blood is boiling. He might try to be the voice of reason now, but you saw him doing nothing while his men got blood on their hands so he wouldn’t have to.

You don’t have time to think about it, though, because next to you, Chan-Young has slowly let himself slide to the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask, panicked, while he grimaces and leans against the wall.

“I’m fine,” he says, an obvious lie. “You shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You took responsibility for something you had nothing to do with, but I’m the one who shouldn’t have said anything?”

He sighs, shakes his head.

“I just don’t want anything to happen to you,” he says. He looks at you with warm eyes, and you feel your breath catching in your throat.

There’s something about Chan-Young, there always has been. You always have to remind yourself that he’s nice to everyone, because he’s such a kind person. Even that didn’t stop you from falling for him — and it’s the second time that it happens, damn him.

“I’ll go get medical supplies,” you say, pushing yourself to your feet. “Stay here.”

“There’s no need to—”

“Please, do you want to die from an infection after surviving all these monsters? Stay. Here.”

You ignore any further protests as you rush to get the supplies.

It doesn’t take you long. Chief Ji provides you with what you need without questions, and apologizes for not being able to give you painkillers — they’re reserved for emergencies, she explains. You know the other supplies are, too, but you understand her reasoning, and just thank her with a quick nod and a promise to help out for the next few shifts outside the stadium, if she needs it.

When you come back, Chan-Young’s moved to sit on one of the boxes that are always laying around in here, and you grab another one to sit across from him.

“Open your jacket,” you say as you take the disinfectant.

“I— I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“C’mon, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you say with an eyeroll, because the guys on the team weren’t exactly shy about taking their shirt off in front of you and he should remember that.

He clears his throat and glances away, and you notice his ears turning red.

“Um, right. Yeah. Just a second.”

Under the jacket, he’s wearing a simple white t-shirt, and he lifts it up so you can see for yourself.

And it’s not looking good. The area is red and swollen already, and you worry it will be worse soon. Unfortunately, there’s not much you can do about that, so you disinfect the scratches caused by the boots, and gesture for him to put it back down. You’d normally advise to put something cold on it, to calm the swelling, but that’s not really an option here, not when the little electricity you have is mostly used to keep the lights on.

“Try not to move around too much, okay?”

“I’ll try my best,” he says with a brief laugh. It’s a silly recommendation, and you both know it, but you still felt the need to say something.

“Now give me your hand, I’ll see what I can do.”

He does, and you carefully turn it to check the palm. You’re not sure if he hurt himself when he fell earlier, or if it’s just that there’s constantly manual work to be done and it’s hard not to injure your hand. Either way, you start cleaning it and disinfecting it as well.

“Do you think they would have been as hard on a kid?” you ask.

“No!” he protests immediately, maybe a tad too strongly. “They’re humans. I’m sure they wouldn’t have—” He interrupts himself, and you suspect that he knows they still could have hit him, a thought that makes your stomach turn. “But… Yeong-Su’s had a hard enough life as it is. People here are not… kind to him.”

“I’m not blaming you, especially after that,” you sigh, “I just— You do realize that it’s not your responsibility, right? I’d have helped the kid, and it could have ended better than…”

You gesture vaguely at him, and he closes his eyes for a second. He closes his fingers over yours where you’re holding his hand, rubs his thumb over your skin, which sends a wave of heat through your body. It only lasts a moment, though, before he catches himself and lets go.

“I’m— I was in charge, when his sister— I was supposed to be helping them. And I failed him.”

“What?” Ms. Cha told you that story, in hushed whispers, to explain why Yeong-Su was such a complicated child these days. It had been clear that there was nothing Chan-Young could have done. “You can’t blame yourself for someone turning into a monster and going on a rampage.”

“It happened on my watch,” he insists. “If I’d been more careful— If I hadn’t left the bus—”

You stop yourself to look at him straight in the eye. He’s close, but you don’t feel uncomfortable, not with him.

“That could have happened to anyone. You couldn’t have planned for it.” He exhales, long and slow.

“Thank you for saying that,” he says, but you can tell that your words haven’t sunk in. It breaks your heart, and yet you have no idea what more you can say. After all, you weren’t there. It makes sense that he wouldn’t believe you.

“You still shouldn’t put yourself in the line of danger to—” to what, anyway? Expiate his sins? What does he have to prove? Does he have a death wish or something? “You shouldn’t put yourself in danger when you don’t have to.”

“Better me than Yeong-Su,” he insists. “He’s just a kid, and he has his mom — well, Ms. Cha. And he has you.” You set the disinfectant back down, hands almost trembling as you realize where he’s going with this. “Better me than him,” he just concludes sadly.

“Park Chan-Young,” you say, “you don’t seriously think that, right?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes when he replies.

“He has a family here. I— don’t really have anyone—”

You’re not sure what goes through your head when you put your hand on his cheek and kiss him. If you had to rationalize it — which you’re not really in any position to do when it happens — you’d say that you just wanted to prove him how wrong he was. Truth is, though, that you also couldn’t bear the idea that you were letting him believe that when it was so entirely untrue.

His lips are warm against yours, and you think you feel him leaning into you, but you pull away too soon to know.

“There,” you say as you gather your things. “Now you know you do have someone, so don’t put yourself in danger unnecessarily, alright?”

Then you’re on your feet, hell-bent on fleeing the scene.

Of course, Chan-Young catches up with you in an instant. He grabs your wrist, and pulls you back against him. His eyes are wide as he searches yours.

“Did you mean that?” he asks, his voice catching in his throat.

“Mean what?” Your heart is pounding in your chest. You’re… not sure where he is going with this.

“It wasn’t pity, right? You— I have you?”

The words almost send a shiver down your spine.

“Of course you do. I don’t exactly go around kissing people—”

Next thing you know, his hands are cupping your face and his mouth is on yours. He kisses you feverishly, like he desperately needs you to prove your words to him. You kiss back without hesitation, wrapping your arms around his neck. It isn’t long before your back hits the wall and you let out a brief groan.

“Sorry,” he says, pulling away from you to check on you. “Are you—”

You don’t let him finish, pulling him back down against you. His hands move down to your waist, one of them slipping under your t-shirt to feel your bare skin. He’s kissing you slower now, more sensual, and he abandons your mouth to kiss down your jaw, then your neck, before he comes back to your lips.

“I shouldn’t—” he mumbles against you. “I’m not supposed to—”

“Everyone’s doing it,” you reply, but it doesn’t surprise you when he tears himself away from you. He’s a sight to behold, flushed and out of breath — and is it odd that you enjoy seeing him panting from kissing you when you know he can run for hours without struggling? He’s always been one to stick to the rules closely. It says a lot that he broke one right now, but you won’t push him any further, not until he’s ready.

You take a step back towards him, take his hand in yours, and press your lips to his cheek for one last, soft kiss.

“Don’t forget now,” you say. “You have me. Don’t risk your life without thinking.”

He doesn’t kiss you again, but he leans in to press his forehead against yours, squeezing your hand in his.

“I have you,” he repeats, as if to convince himself. “I have you.”

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