#I’m going to go to your ao3 and find out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

syoddeye · 1 day ago

Text

consequence / needling

price x f!reader | 1.9k words series directory | ao3 tags: tattoos, feelings, social media, shitty exes a/n: good news and bad news. ☕

you’ve never been much of a dancer, but you find a rhythm all the same.

john divides time between work and leave. grouses about tying up loose ends and mountains of menial paperwork about said ends, but he’s with you more often than not. you think you’re handling his comings and goings well until he sits you down for a talk after informing you he’ll be gone for two and a half weeks.

at first, it feels like critique all over again, the kind that makes you shrink into yourself. your instinct is to freeze up, say little, agree with him, and promise to do better next time he’s away. but john doesn’t let you fold into yourself, and he doesn’t take easy answers either. he’s calm and direct and speaks with disarming clarity. for someone who can’t discuss what his job involves, he’s honest about its realities. there’s no judgment in his tone, just a measured precision that leaves you feeling exposed, then immediately comforted. for the first time, you’re not left twisting in the wind.

he wants you to make informed decisions. to minimize the surprises you’ll inevitably experience. no more gut reactions, no more panic.

i need to know you’ll be alright. with or without me.

and he isn’t simply referring to his deployments. he speaks about a future without him, should you choose to walk away.

this isn’t for everyone.

john’s right, of course. you know in your bones but don’t want it to be true. instead, you let yourself believe in the possibility of things working out, following the moments that feel good and easy, however fleeting. winter helps—the light snow smoothing over the ugly edges of everything outside, making it easier to laze about with him. he spends more time at your flat than his own, though he won’t even hear of you merging households yet. you don’t press him. rushing things is what got you here. a deep bruise always prepared to remind you of its ache.

99+. terrifying. absurd.

the espresso machine hisses as you wipe spilled milk off the counter with the edge of your apron. the rectangular shape in your pocket taunts you. you haven’t looked at your phone since you clocked in, and the impulse grows harder to ignore with every flat white.

it’s stupid. it’s not like you drew anything groundbreaking—just a sheet of cats with coffee mugs modeled after old-school greeting cards. a cute warm-up, nothing serious. you wrote a corny caption, meowcchiato or catpuccino, posted it, and went to sleep. you considered it a modest success when you woke to a dozen comments and new followers. then, some big-name tattoo page shared it, and it ballooned.

your fingertips dip into the canvas only for a group order to pop up on the screen, signaling the start of the mid-day rush.

on break, you step out back. the cold air hits like a reset button, your breath visible in cloudy puffs. shivering, you stare at the tower of notifications on your lock screen and swipe.

your eyes saucer at four figures. a thousand and some change likes. hundreds of comments and shares. two hundred more followers. you scroll through the new names, quickly following a few artists and legit-looking shops back before you feel weird.

one account catches your eye despite a sea of requests in your messages. a local studio you’re familiar with.

>> hey, looks like we are neighbors. i like the cats. i don’t think i recognize your work. are you an apprentice somewhere?

rechecking the post, you flinch. you neglected to remove the geotag. shit. so much for total anonymity. you respond before you think too hard about it. embarrassment rolls off of you like the vapor from your breath.

> hi, no i’m not. this is just a hobby.

another chance to check your phone doesn’t arrive until you’re off, due to meet john.

>> really? if you’re at all interested, i’ve got a friend opening apps in a month or two. >> happy to chat if you want to drop by the shop.

it feels like a trap. something oddly shaped like hope makes you walk into it anyway with a reply.

~~~~

she’s in a rush, already glancing at the clock before she’s even out the door. her scarf is half-tied, her coat slipping off a shoulder as she reaches for her bag, but john can’t help himself. he leans in and kisses her cheek, then the line of her jaw, quick and light like a thief. she huffs a laugh but doesn’t pull away.

“you’re going to make me late.”

he kisses the corner of her mouth, the scar on her wrist when she tries to push him off, the warm skin beneath her ear. his hands crawl under her open coat and up her sides to reel in for another. he fixes her coat, fastens the buttons, and ties her scarf, all without letting her up for air. when she finally pulls the door open, winter funneling through the crack, he lets her go with a goodbye. she steps out mid-laugh, and he’s left standing, smiling to himself like a fool.

with nothing but time to kill, he makes himself useful.

cece follows as he tidies. he knows exactly what his girl buys at the shop now, what brands, what alternatives. he parks outside her building and catches himself smiling, almost laughing, at how far this has come. how it started with that dent in the car he now leaves at her curb, the little heart she’d drawn on the note that came with it, an act to placate an angry stranger. now, she draws them on the back of his hand when they lie in.

later, he fixes supper, the cat weaving between his feet. greets her when she gets in with a thin slice of parmesan with honey balanced on his fingers. before she bites the morsel off its perch, she holds up her phone with a frown.

“what am i looking at?”

“he fucking painted it.”

~~~~

you find out through an old classmate, an acquaintance utterly ignorant of everything.

of course, ben painted the breakup, the prelude, and the aftermath, repurposing it all for artistic expression. you picture him pretending to suffer, draping his self-inflicted misery over their history like he’s the victim. the sheer audacity of it—painting your pain as if it’s a fucking concept—makes you want to scream. you don’t even know what’s worse: the paintings themselves, his self-congratulatory smugness in the captions, or the fact that you feel anything when you see them. the nerve to twist everything into his own narrative. it’s infuriating, his reduction of everything into a palette of pity. you know that temporarily unblocking him to spy helps nothing, but you can’t help yourself.

ben reinterpreted everything, made it about his genius and his torment the way he always did. and what bothers you most is that you’re still trying to find yourself in his work, even now.

at least hannah stays out of the literal picture for once. bad enough ben depicts her as some sort of savior. a heavy-handed and garish fucking pieta-like feature. 'ben wanted to paint it, you know…had it all mapped out. i convinced him not to.' the rat.

you stare at the hard line of john’s jaw as he scrolls, barely able to appreciate his culinary efforts because his predecessor ruined your appetite.

“my offer stands.”

“what?”

“i’m inclined to sort him out for you. i know a man or two who owe me.”

~~~~

she makes him promise he won’t sic someone on the ex, and he obliges. he makes her feel better, and she draws another lazy heart on his skin.

cheek pressed to his chest, she sighs.

“you gonna to say anything to him?”

“what’s there to say?”

“i can think of some words to make a sailor blush.”

she flicks his nipple. “i already cursed him out and threw wine at him.”

“think he’s doin’ this because you told hannah to fuck off?”

rolling to her side, she toys with the hair creeping down his chest. “i think hannah and i are irrelevant. swap us out with anyone else, and he’d come to the same, self-centered conclusion.”

“for what it’s worth, i think his work is…trite.”

a tired laugh rattles out of her, and she pats his stomach. “oh, wow, someone check on the sailor. must be blushing.”

cheeky.

he sweeps over her in one fluid roll, pushing her to her back and sticking his mouth to her neck. he ignores her squeals and her half-hearted battering. she protests, something about him leaving a mark, and he lifts.

“put one on me?”

“a hickey?” her chest heaves from their game.

“no. a tattoo.”

the meticulousness john admires translates into everything, that much is clear, given his girl’s stringent cleaning and the amount of ppe. he didn’t think he’d be treated to some gutter punk special, but it feels as professional as an amateur can get. considering the other places he’s spent time with open wounds, her flat feels like a spa.

the amount of shit he’ll catch from the boys, however? that worries him.

they discuss the design again. it already took the better part of an hour to select one from her burgeoning collection—she refuses to call it a portfolio, despite all evidence—and placement took another fifteen. shaving, regrettably, took only a few minutes. odd and intimate. when she brushed the shorn hair off his left pec and swept it into a dust pan, he forced himself to breathe.

“are you sure about this? i’m not a professional. this is permanent.”

he readjusts and pats the naked patch of skin. “i’m aware.”

the bite of a needle is nothing. compared to the puckered scar from a knife wound in his right thigh—it’s a pleasant burn. helps that the hand guiding it is light, the pressure deliberate and contained. plus, her tongue wets the corner of her lips so often, and that, paired with the pinch of her brow? he’d endure worse. cute.

he will not embarrass her and say it out loud. he doesn’t say a word. she’s finally distracted from ben’s paintings.

but she speaks when she switches to color, dabbing excess ink onto a paper towel.

“alright?”

“never better.”

“because i’m not a mind reader. if you’re regretting this now, say the word.”

“i’m not regretting a thing. are you?”

she doesn’t immediately look up from the needle, fiddling with it. when she does, she shakes her head. “not a thing. moving onto color now.”

she carefully drags red into the design, then gold. the firm, short strokes spark a brief flare of discomfort but let nothing slip. he can take it. the silence lingers, shorter this time, and again, she breaks it.

“remember that silly cats and coffee sheet?”

“yeah?”

“i’ve been, uh, chatting with a local artist about it. he wants to meet. talk shop, i guess.”

his attention snaps from his chest to her. sly thing, biting her cheek to keep her expression as flat as possible. “go on.”

she meets his eye for a second, pulling her hand back to swap to green. “he wants me to bring my collection, if you can believe it.”

that ugly, possessive monster in his head cocks an ear. focuses on the wrong detail. he wrestles it into the thick mud of his thoughts and resurfaces with—”sounds like he thinks you have a knack for it. we have that in common.” good show.

“he thinks i might be good enough to try for an apprenticeship.”

this time, she holds his gaze. uncertainty writ large on her face. seeking.

“is that something you want?”

“yeah,” her lip twitches. a flash of something crosses her face. a wince? “yeah, it is.”

#do not let someone without formal training or licensing tattoo you. just in case that needs to be said.#loser barista #price x reader #price x f!reader #john price x reader #john price x f!reader #captain price x reader #captain price x f!reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price x f!reader

123 notes · View notes

moonbaby26 · 3 days ago

Text

Title: Blood and Feathers

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Pairing: Rosinante/Corazon x Fem!Reader x Doflamingo

Warnings: language, non con, dub con, size difference, reader is cheated on (not by the brothers), reader is stalked/abducted, reader is double teamed, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, animal instincts/behaviors, blood, violence, toxic relationships, breeding kink

Synopsis: Set in a modern!AU. You are an avian veterinarian dealing with a recent life upheaval. Years ago, you also had a traumatic experience with creatures mainstream science still denies as even existing. But memories of that night were soon buried, relegated to your dreams alone. Or so you had thought.

A/N: This oneshot was inspired both by @tuquidflamingo‘s gorgeous Harpy!Doffy fanart for Doffytober2024 Day 24:Mythical Here, and @froggiewrites’s terrifyingly sexy Siren!Doffy fic Mating Call Here. I needed more bird!Donquixotes after seeing those works and could not restrain myself. This was originally intended as monster/horror themed for Halloween as well, but I’m way late to the party (as usual 😅).

Fic Masterlist

—————————

“You poor darling. The boys haven’t been very nice to you have they?” You frowned to your newest patient. A female dove, slightly fearful in your grip as you held her gently from behind in a small towel within your hand.

The hallmarks of overbreeding were evident to you in all the missing feathers near the back of her head.

Some single minded Lotharios within her previous enclosure had plucked her practically raw while doing their overeager business on her from behind no doubt.

“Remember. Men are all the same, sweetheart. They only care about one thing.” You mumbled, not particularly worried of how bitter you still sounded while you felt her chest and keel bone next. That bone’s prominence signaling her being rather underweight to your additional concern.

Not that you’d been eating much either, or maintaining a healthy mindstate at all. Just like hers, your life had also gone quite to shit recently.

Just two days ago you’d come home early, only to find your boyfriend of the last few years balls deep and moaning within the newest assistant from his law office.

And you’d thought he really was going to have a heart attack when he’d finally seen you standing there.

But his new young lover had only smiled, cool as anything.

“Oops.” She’d said, still on top of your fiancé and almost sweetly staring over her shoulder at you.

Her long fingernails had left trails of raised scratches all over his chest and sides. Which you’d seen so distinctly as he’d sat up in a panic to plea to you.

Of course, there would have been no way he could have hidden that evidence later even if you hadn’t caught them in the act.

As you’d dragged suitcases out and begun throwing what you could into them, he’d had the gall to swear to you too that it was both his first and last time with her.

He’d even tried to blame her, as if he’d had no say in it all.

But you’d just taken your engagement ring off and thrown it so hard it’d ricocheted off of the wall and rolled to God knew where.

To whatever void your trust and self confidence had now plummeted into most likely.

Yet the apartment lease had only been in his name. So in just that single afternoon, you’d gone from daydreams of a winter wedding to officially homeless and with mascara running down both sides of your face. All with strangers staring at you on your march of shame back through the parking garage.

You didn’t even tell anyone afterward. Because you’d had no one close enough to you to tell.

You were living out of a hotel room now. Nowhere to land as of yet as you’d still went to your normal veterinary job uptown during the day. And to this volunteer time at the avian rehab center just outside of the city each night.

The only consistently listening ears for you now were sick and troubled birds. Either domestic seizures from hoarding and animal cruelty cases like this dove, or sometimes just wild raptors and waterfowl that’d had an acute turn of bad luck.

You’d seen it all at one point or another. But every day was different. And yet only more of the same all at once.

Until tonight, when it absolutely wasn’t.

You were here alone. Staying much later than you normally would, because the company of the birds was still better than hearing your neighbors arguing through those thin hotel walls that were now all you had to go back to.

Besides this dove’s occasional cooing, and your own words of continued self pity, you also had a constant rotation of true crime podcasts, murder mysteries, and tales of the supernatural droning on from your phone still on the counter.

It was very fitting for a rainy, cold night like this one.

And in a bit of a playful holiday segment in between those longer tales, it was then some of those two sentence horror stories.

The narrator had just read one of your favorites in their best Vincent Price impersonation.

“The last man on Earth sat alone in a room.

There was a knock on the door.”

You smirked of course. Your imagination flooding with all that unnamed man’s possible fates and an idea that he may actually deserve them now, before the lights abruptly went out above you.

Both you and the dove had startled with that plunge into darkness. But under the dim glow of the battery backup lights which came on after, around the fire exit signs, you quickly silenced those additional horror teases from your phone.

“Maybe they missed a power bill again.” You’d told the dove softly as you’d returned her to the temporary holding cages.

Funding was always tight for a non profit like this. People just weren’t as giving when sick vultures and irritable corvids didn’t end up as marketable as sad kittens on the donation commercials.

But, this could also be the universe’s sign for you to give in and go home.

Wherever the hell home was supposed to be now.

You’d pulled your exam gloves inside out, trashing them before washing and drying your hands.

A coat, purse, and umbrella were all you had to gather before walking into that now near pitch black hallway.

There was only the slight squeak of your shoes on the linoleum floor for those few precious seconds of normalcy you’d had left.

And then came the first metal bang.

Like a knock.

And the next one which followed it.

Echoing through the darkness before you.

Something heavy and urgent was slamming against the metal door which led to the rear parking lot.

The parking lot that backed up to the woods. Where your car and thereby only way back to the city now was.

Even then, the logic in you still refused to fully slip however. Though your heart did beat far faster in your confusion.

You could hear many birds beginning to rustle in their cages in other rooms, bothered by the new noises as well.

You wanted to comfort them, but you knew they wouldn’t understand.

Did you even understand?

You still had your phone of course. You could call the police and just wait here, locked inside if you were actually that afraid.

But outside of the city limits like this, response time would be awful unless you’d be lucky enough that a random patrol car may be nearby.

You didn’t want some judgmental cop showing up thirty minutes from now, to look at you like you were a complete idiot if you said just being in the dark with strange noises was enough to have you needing rescue.

Your hand was already in your purse though, fingers around the beveled case of your phone as everything went silent again.

And then you heard the door pull open.

That door was an exit only. If another volunteer had forgotten something or come back this late for any other reason, they’d have taken the side path up to the front and unlocked the front door instead just as you had a couple of hours ago.

There was no key to the back door. It was always locked on the outside.

Unless the latch had just been broken off.

Which would explain the banging.

Your heart was moving into your throat by then as you’d sidestepped into the nearest room in the dark.

It was this facility’s single operating room.

And by some grace above you didn’t run into anything. You squatted with your back to the wall as you fumbled to pull your phone fully from your purse.

You couldn’t remember if the emergency dispatch in this area was setup to accept text messages like they could in the city.

If you spoke into this silence to call someone, it’d be the equivalent to screaming though.

Your hands were shaking as you typed instead.

And it was additionally cruel really.

Because your mind hadn’t yet overwritten years worth of habit, even as much as he’d hurt you.

You found yourself texting your ex.

Your fingers moved faster than you thought you’d ever commanded them to then. You’d hit send and watched as that message changed to delivered.

And then…

You heard that stupid trill of his phone from the hallway.

That custom alert you’d heard far too many times to count as his phone had always gone off at all hours from important clients in the duration you’d been together.

Your brain stuttered.

And you heard a female’s laugh.

“Oh, that is embarrassing…” Said the somehow familiar female voice. It was equal parts amusement and mockery now. “She’s still here alright.”

And then a man whose voice you did not recognize, called your name outright before you could think any further. “Please, (Y/N)…there’s no reason to make this harder than it has to be. Please just come out. We’re not going to hurt you.”

But the woman quickly disagreed with him. “No. He said we could do this however we needed to. We’d still be outside in the rain if it was all up to you.”

“Be silent. I’m trying to listen.” The man retorted, yet with his voice lowering to match her own irritation.

“Hmm…no. Not needed. I already smell her.” Came her even sharper response after just another moment.

And you heard something clicking on the tile at that, faster than you could believe as it ran closer.

“Monet!” The male voice was right behind it though, dropping into a range more akin to a snarl before a shadow came bursting through that open operating room door towards you.

You knew her name.

In the emergency lighting you only had a moment to see a glimpse of her once beautiful face too, contorted into a ferocity more akin to a rabid animal before she lunged down to meet you at your still crouched position.

Her slender hand had closed around your airway as if it were all second nature.

Fingernails too sharp to be real dug in as she forced your back onto the ground.

You were choking. And staring up into the now wild eyes of your ex-fiancé’s young assistant.

Monet.

The girl he’d fucked right in front of you just two days ago.

But then she was gone. Swatted away as if she were nothing in one audible hit.

Your throat was still stinging, scratched but not wholly cut as you tried to sit up in a renewed rush of adrenaline.

“Just take her car and go goddammit! You’re going to tear this place apart if you can’t control yourself! This is exactly why I wanted you to wait outside!” That male voice now had a clear source as well. He stood easily over the both of you. Still with his hand that had struck her splayed out like a claw.

What had to be light blond hair hung messily in his angry eyes as he took your purse and threw it at her.

“Take her car back to her hotel! Keep her phone, and make sure she didn’t call anyone!”

It was like he was scolding a child now, as if she had already been told a thousand times how this all should be.

But she was panting, smiling at him even as she did.

“I just want a taste…for all of our trouble.” She breathed.

And he stepped further between the two of you.

“I said no.”

She hissed through her teeth, but you saw him straighten up in response. His lean body seeming to tighten even more in the dark.

“Go!” And that order was truly a snarl from him that time.

Her eyes widened and she clawed the floor, briefly on all fours before scurrying back up.

You could not see her feet clearly in the shadows, but you heard them.

That same clicking sound that had come from the hall before she’d run in.

Like talons moving across the ground.

You didn’t realize how much you were still shaking either before that man’s rock solid grip had grabbed you next.

You were pulled up by your arm.

And Monet was already gone with your purse, meaning she had your keys and phone as well.

She’d had your ex’s phone too.

Was he even alive any longer?

A sound of desperation left you as this tall man forced you down the hall and to that exit door they’d first broken in through.

You’d known it all had to be purposeful then.

When the power had been cut, the two outdoor security cameras would have gone down as well.

No one would ever see him dragging you out of this door and into the rainy night.

They’d likely waste days interviewing people at the hotel instead once Monet returned your car there.

People you’d never even made eye contact with long enough for them to remember your face would just shrug and say they hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

No one would ever find your body.

“Walk.” His voice was still harsh as he’d hurried you outside, across the parking lot, and immediately down a muddied path into the woods.

It wasn’t clear which direction he’d even taken you in after just a few minutes.

In the dark, the trails all looked the same. And you could only watch as his clothes hung on him, dripping in the light rain.

The forest had gone silent save for that rain and the two of you. As all animals often quieted when an apex predator moved through.

He was oddly barefoot too, striding across the wet and fallen leaves. Just in pants and a t-shirt which now stuck across his broad chest.

“You really don’t remember me at all, do you?” He asked suddenly.

And you were still floundering mentally, trying to keep up with his long legs in the darkness.

“My real name is Rosinante.” He said in lack of any answer from you though. “We’ve met before.” And his large hand squeezed your arm tighter.

He sounded like his frustration was only growing. His next words were especially accusatory. “If I’d had any idea you were still this close to the mountains…why didn’t you leave?”

His grip hurt, and you were stumbling often now, just trying to keep up.

“I don’t…I don’t know what you want.” You stammered, sounding so pathetic that it easily could have been a stranger’s voice in your ears then.

“I didn’t want him to find you!” He shot back. And at last his relentless pace began to slow. “I thought you moved away! Why the hell would you come back here!?”

And only then was something finally beginning to click within your memories.

Because it was that desperation in his voice.

Even if that tone was so much deeper now than the boy’s it reminded you of.

“…Cora?” You asked, your eyes wide while you stared up at this frightening man.

But he looked like something had just broken within him as you’d called him that. He’d stopped walking entirely, and you saw the true pain which crossed his face.

A lean, handsome face, with messy blond hair and rainwater dripping down in a way that could have easily been mistaken for tears.

Tears just like the young blond you’d found crying alone in the forest one summer.

The teen who’d said he didn’t know what to do any longer. And that he’d missed his parents so much and he just couldn’t keep pretending.

You’d thought he was a runaway. But he’d seemed so close to your own age, you hadn’t ratted him out to your aunt and cousins you’d been staying with in the mountain cabin that summer.

You’d snuck him food instead, and for those few months that summer break, you had hiked out to visit him every day at your and his secret rendezvous spot.

Eventually he’d said you could call him Corazon, or Cora for short. It meant “heart” in Spanish. The native language from wherever he had really fled from. And a nickname his late mother had given him.

Her little heart.

But he had a big one. Because he was so kind to you. Something you hadn’t been used to. And you’d both loved exploring and talking together for hours on end.

He’d even taught you a special whistle and song he’d said had also come from his mother and original home.

And so often at night you would hear that sound as you’d snuck from your bedroom to see him over and over again.

He’d known you loved birds by then. That you had dreams of going to school to learn more to help as many of them as you could someday.

But when you’d follow that special sound to find him at night, he’d also point right to where any owl or other raptor you’d missed during the day was hiding that he had found.

Just so that you could see them too.

But near the end of that summer, you’d told him you’d have to be going back to the city soon. School would be starting again. You hadn’t finished high school yet. But you’d definitely come back next summer before going to college. You’d promised him that.

He’d seemed so sad regardless though, and that had hurt you too.

He’d even disappeared for a few days. You had gotten worried.

But on one of those last nights, you’d heard that special sound again.

So of course you had rushed to it.

But Corazon hadn’t been there.

A laugh had come from above you instead in the darkness.

One you could never forget just before you’d thought part of a tree had somehow fallen down on you.

Because your breath had been gone, a heavy weight impacting your chest with a crack of your ribs.

You couldn’t even scream. The splayed claws that had first struck your chest, had then spread for thin legs to straddle you as your back had hit the dirt.

And then it had bitten you.

Straight through your shirt and over the top of your shoulder.

Your arms had come up uselessly as those fangs had sunken in.

Yet one of your hands had raked against thick, soft feathers, while the other had caught into spiked blond hair.

Utterly nonsensical in those contrasting parts between human and animal as its wings had encircled you.

But the creature had groaned at your every touch. With its long tongue then lapping at your blood running from the flesh it had broken.

All while bony hips in torn capris pants had begun to move purposefully against your pajamas.

You hadn’t known what to do.

You’d just remembered feeling warm.

But so afraid.

And confused.

And then a furious screech like no bird you had ever heard, came diving down like retribution from the sky.

Loud enough that your attacker had had to look upward. His young face framed in your blood within the moonlight while he’d grinned to the heavens.

He’d been terrifying.

He’d also been beautiful.

But the two monsters had collided. Wings had scraped the ground, flapping violently while talons had tangled, striking each other’s bare torsos over and over as they’d rolled away from you.

The sounds had been fully inhuman, hissing and screaming with splatters of their blood then mixing with yours already on the ground.

Yet you’d been frozen amongst that raw violence.

“Go!” The one with the solid black wings had called out hoarsely though. While it’d tried to even briefly pin down the other one that had attacked you. That slightly larger creature whose wings had been both a dark pink and black.

The one that had still had pieces of your skin within his scowling maw.

“Please! Go and never come back!” The finality and heartbreak in that plea from your strange protector had also been seared into your memories that night.

The same voice that was now years older, with eyes that much sadder as Corazon still stared down at you in the present day.

“It is you.” You spoke in quiet shock. “You’re okay.”

“Why would you come back!?” He demanded again though, regardless of your sudden realization. “He saw your face in all those damned pictures Monet brought to him! He’s been trying to get leverage on everyone from the district attorney’s office all year. Information about their spouses, their kids, and…”

He sneered. His teeth had grit together. And you’d never seen that expression on Corazon.

He was so angry with you.

“You were really going to marry that spineless piece of shit from the D.A.’s office!? He sold you out in a heartbeat! Where you worked, where you were staying…everything. Doffy didn’t even have to touch him! He works for him now!”

Doffy.

His brother Doflamingo?

Corazon had told you long before the attack back then that he’d had an older brother.

The one he had really been running from when you’d first met.

But Doflamingo had caught up to you both in the end.

Even if you hadn’t fully understood it then.

Because you hadn’t known what Corazon truly was.

“I did move away, Cora. I got sent to freaking therapy because my family thought I was acting out for attention!” You blurted defensively.

They’d blamed you for sneaking out. Everyone had told you over and over that it’d only been a rabid bobcat, or a coyote, something like that that had gotten a hold of you that night.

The rabies shots that followed had been an awful regimen. But the shouts that you were just a delusional teenager making up stories about boys with bird wings had been even worse.

It’d been like being branded somehow.

A permanent outcast.

And truly, you had been marked. The bite scars on your shoulder were still why you’d never wear a tank top or a swimsuit in public.

Yes, right after veterinary school you’d settled for the first man who hadn’t utterly despised you. Your standards had been that low.

But he’d still wanted to chase money and status, and to take his law degree back to the most populated part of the region to accomplish that.

So it was either break up or follow him back towards this place you’d once run from.

Yet how could you know any of this would ever actually find you again? That had been years ago.

Why would they even still remember you?

“You really don’t get it. Do you?” Corazon answered to that disbelief still on your face. “I swore to Doffy that if he let you go that night, I’d never run from him again. That I’d submit and serve him just the way he’s always expected the whole world to.” But he made another sound of disgust, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t stop him again. There’s nothing else he wants that he doesn’t already have this time.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I have everything I want.”

Your eyes had still been trained on Corazon, so you didn’t miss the way he immediately bristled at the new voice.

Cora stood at his full height then too, looking up to the branches above with hatred etched on his face.

And the monster laughed in response.

Just like that night as your insides twisted for the sound.

But also like Cora’s voice, that laugh was deeper now too.

Even more menacing.

They had both grown up.

And now you were all together again.

You moved behind Corazon instinctively as Doflamingo leapt down from the branches overhead.

He landed, letting those massive wings spread as he straightened up.

It was a purposeful display of power and size you were sure while he grinned wide.

The whites of his fangs reflected the remaining moonlight almost as much as that single glowing red eye of his. The other eye had been scarred, taken from him long ago.

“Do you know how rare it is for me to come play in the mud with the rest of you any longer?” Doflamingo taunted, crouching a little then to better see you around Corazon’s tall frame.

Yet just like back then, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on that creature either. It was all tan skin, stretched tight over bones and muscle as you could see his every breath.

He was only in dark pants that looked as if they were once the bottom of an expensive, tailored suit.

The mockery of the perfect male form really. Almost human in his silhouette, save for those grand wings where arms should have been, the tail feathers which ran out from the small of his back, and the thinner, scaled over legs coming from the bottom of his pants cuffs. With splayed feet ending in razor sharp talons which now sank into the wet ground beneath him.

His weight shifted, as if he didn’t much like that feel of the dirt either. “I’d prefer meeting in my penthouse on East 22nd these days.” Doflamingo taunted as proof of that observation. “But…I thought this reunion might get a bit messy. And we did just have new carpets put in.”

“I told you I’d bring her to the lakehouse though just as you’d asked. Why are you out here already!?” Corazon barked abruptly anyway, yet you could hear that edge of renewed fear already beginning in his voice.

Doflamingo’s head tilted slightly, that amusement only growing in response. “Well, I was feeling nostalgic. How long has it been, Rosi? Since you and I really got to catch prey together?”

“We’re not doing anything like that!” Cora growled immediately.

“Feh. Quit pretending, little brother. And quit hiding who you really are.” He scolded Corazon outright that time. “This is what you want too, and we both know it. You wanted it that night as well. I was only trying to show you where to start.”

“You were going to kill her!” Cora breathed out. His hands had tightened into fists.

“Not necessarily,” Doflamingo still corrected, condescending as anything. “Actually, I doubt I would have. Don’t you remember why?” And an even deeper cruelty began to seep out with those words.

Something Corazon apparently understood that you did not.

“Shut up!”

“Oh, stop it. We were young, yes. But not in nature’s eyes. She wouldn’t have smelled that way if-“

“I said shut up!”

And Doflamingo laughed again. “You should have been guarding her better then. Instead of running away to hide just because she was ready that night. She came right to me after all…”

“Because you tricked her!”

“You taught her our call…why wouldn’t I use it?”

The special sound.

And Doflamingo did it suddenly then.

His expression changed.

You could mimic it, but not the way they did. It came up from deep within their chests. Like a music note in its pleasantness to you.

You’d ran from your bed many a summer night to find Cora making that sound for you deep within the woods.

And you’d never really wondered why no one else in the cabin had seemed to notice or wake like you did.

Like this song was only meant for you.

It made your body feel warm again. It made you want to follow.

“Stop it!” Cora’s anger snapped you from your daze.

And only then did you realize you had begun to walk towards his brother.

Doflamingo frowned as Corazon had pushed you back behind him once more.

“You are the shining beacon of utter futility, Rosinante. As always.” He tutted, pausing only a moment longer as he readjusted his rain dampened feathers with some frustration.

The weather had changed to more of a hanging mist now. And you knew it was still cold out here. But you didn’t feel it much anymore.

You were still trying to process what Doflamingo had tried to say.

She wouldn’t have smelled that way if-

Had they been fighting over you because…

“Come on, Rosi. I’ve been more than fair here. Stop stalling and change already.” Doflamingo warned a bit more impatiently then, pulling those pink and black wings back closer towards his bare torso.

As if he was just now noticing the cold himself.

“But why does it have to be her!? You could have anyone…just…pick someone else, Doffy!”

And even as a grown man now, you could still hear so much of that boy within Corazon.

Doflamingo evidently heard it too. “Quit whining!” Was what he snapped back. “I’m tired of seeing you mope around! Gutless and useless…this isn’t solely for me. Over and over you tell me how selfish I am. How cruel I am. And yet I put something desirable out for you, practically force feed it to you, and still you complain!”

“Because she has a right to choose her own mate!”

“What? Like that coward she was already living with? You’d let a rodent like him usurp what’s yours!?”

“She’s NOT property! She…she’s-”

“She’s tired of listening to this drivel.” Doflamingo sneered.

And it was all begun there in an instant.

In one lunge and kick, the elder brother had cast his physical lesser decisively to the side.

Your shield was gone.

And you were slammed against the then splintering bark of a tree as that wet maw opened right against your face.

The pain of the hit had made your body try to gasp. But it was as if Doflamingo had known that was exactly what you would do, with his tongue ready to make that his invitation as he forced his way in.

That tongue was warm and long as his wings closed around you.

You were trapped against the tree.

With the sheer heat of his body making you hypersensitive for every place he now pressed himself against you.

This was real.

This was going to happen this time.

And you tasted something metallic on his tongue aa well. A mix of blood and earthiness, warm and purposeful as his fangs bumped against your own far duller teeth.

He had made sure your mouth stayed open long enough as you felt something heavier than his spit slide into it.

“Swallow.” Doflamingo whispered, with his wet lips then still against yours while you felt that odd mixture hit the back of your throat.

You knew exactly what that was.

And what it meant to accept it.

Corazon called your name from somewhere so close as he’d stood again. But there was nothing else he could do.

You didn’t want Cora to be hurt either though. You didn’t want to ever have to leave him alone with his brother again.

But this was the price of staying.

And you were finally willing to make that deal.

Even if it now pleased the devil himself.

Doflamingo did growl in satisfaction too, his face briefly nuzzling down against yours once you had breathed in again, signaling your throat was clear.

He’d just fed you for the very first time.

A familial intimacy reserved only for those most dear.

“Change and hold her for me, Rosi.” Came the command to his brother which followed.

But you couldn’t look away from him.

Doflamingo had straightened his back again. That red eye gleaming down at you.

“My little Corazon has missed you for so long…but I think he still needs convincing to let that out. So let’s help him. Together. You do want to help him…don’t you, my sweet?” And Doflamingo’s voice was taking on a bit of that special resonance again.

As he stepped back away from the tree, you did follow without being stopped this time. His soft wings grazed your sides.

It felt so very good.

You wanted to bury yourself within the affection of those wings and never rise to see the light again.

But Doflamingo lowered them as he led you further.

Enough that you could now fully see Corazon again.

Corazon with that stricken look of devastation, as if he were watching your death in slow motion right before him. With his eyes even damper now than the weather could possibly be blamed for.

That stab of pain within you for your realization of what he was actually enduring carried even through Doflamingo’s spell on you then.

Your lip quivered. “It’s alright, Cora…” You pleaded softly. “Just do as he says…I’m okay.”

And Doflamingo chuckled.

The heartbreak between the two of you only seemed to fuel him further.

“See? She already forgives you. So show her what you really are. Let’s finish this.” Doflamingo ordered his brother even more darkly.

You both understood the threat behind those words if either of you should dare disobey him.

Cora’s spirit was visibly crumbling.

Which made you feel all the more desperate to touch him, to comfort him.

You had missed him so much too, almost having started to believe that that part of your life really had been some sort of self induced hallucination over the years.

That you hadn’t experienced your very first feelings of romantic love with some blond, teen runaway in the woods one summer.

That you actually were just crazy.

“It’s okay.” You reiterated to him. And Doflamingo allowed you to reach for Cora.

The younger brother did take your outstretched hand for a moment too. He squeezed it tightly in his larger one as his eyes offered you a last look of misery.

But that grip was already changing.

He had seemingly accepted your choice.

Corazon’s pale skin began to darken along his arms. The shirt he wore which had already been badly torn from Doflamingo’s earlier kick, he now used his other hand to rip off completely.

That fabric was discarded like trash as he then stood before you in only pants, the same as his brother.

And the prior lack of shoes made all the sense in the world as you saw the skin of his feet scaling over and those talons forming against the ground as well.

But the thing that captured your attention the most were the feathers as they began to bud. Piercing through the then fully darkened skin of his arms one by one as cartilage loudly popped and bones shifted.

Corazon’s arms elongated in time with his legs, that wingspan taking shape as he finally let go of your hand to spread those emerging flight feathers before they could touch the ground.

They were all solid black, yet with a rich shine as each moved into its place. His new tail fanned out behind him as well, hanging over the back top of his pants.

He was gorgeous, like a god even.

But with glowing red eyes, fangs, and all as you noticed the submissive way he still kept his head down regardless once the transformation was complete.

Like his brother too, Corazon’s bare torso which remained, was all sinew and purpose. Every muscle so clearly defined as he breathed in deeply in his anxiety for your judgment.

But he was no monster to you now.

He was a miracle of nature.

“I like the real you.” You told him gently.

And you saw that true surprise flicker through Corazon’s eyes.

Yet Doflamingo’s impatience had to interrupt.

With his equally long bird’s legs, the remaining distance was crossed in a single stride by him. Doflamingo pushed your smaller body roughly against his younger brother’s.

“Now, is everyone comfortable here?” Doflamingo grinned once more as Corazon caught you instinctively against his wings.

Both of them had to keep their legs bent, squatted really just to keep from towering over you in their true forms.

But neither seemed to mind the inherent size difference either.

By the predatory gleam in Doflamingo’s eye, he surely didn’t.

And before you could fully acclimate, your back was now against Corazon’s abdomen while Doflamingo pinned you from the front.

You were caught between them as wings flared and you heard Cora’s fangs hitting together above your head as he snapped at his brother in reflex, not wanting him this close.

“Hush.” Doflamingo’s lack of any real anger in response this time only highlighted the implied power difference which still remained between them. “I’ll put you back to the ground in an instant if you wish.” He reminded.

Yet it was all overwhelming to you already. Just the combination of their body heats and scents mixing together even before you felt that first movement of Doflamingo’s hips against yours.

“Put those dextrous little fingers to good use, sweet girl.” He ordered then, shifting his hips again to try and rub the waistband of his pants against your hand. “The stronger male always gets first rights of course.”

And you felt Corazon’s body tense with disgust. As if he was going to try and fight for your sake anyway.

Which you still couldn’t allow.

Because you knew he wouldn’t give up until Doflamingo had made him into a bloody pulp.

Corazon still cared for you that much.

Just as you cared for him enough to prevent that fate.

“It’s alright. I do want this.” You said as loud as the brief rise of your own bravery would allow.

Corazon took a harsh breath.

But Doflamingo just pushed what was now an obvious bulge harder against your hand in response.

“Smart little thing.” He taunted as your fingers first made it to the button of his pants.

It was all you could do to keep your hands from trembling though as you undid that button and lowered the zipper to free what was growing for you beneath.

You didn’t know what to fully expect of course when dealing with someone that was neither fully man or beast.

Yet your intuition told you not to hesitate. That hesitation would only risk his violence returning. Doflamingo wanted you to touch him immediately as your fingers ran down that muscular V shape which dipped from his navel to his pubic region.

He wore no underwear. But there wasn’t any coarse hair there either to protect him. Just the slightest bit of downy underlayer as the pads of your fingertips found and massaged through it.

It was more wispy fluff than actual feather, soft as anything you’d ever felt as he leaned his head back in clear pleasure.

Of course, you couldn’t avoid the thick base which emerged from that softness either.

Further hardening so quickly as it kept rising up once freed.

His long cock bumped against your stomach in no time, thick and twitching once already.

It looked familiar enough, save for the damn size of it that you didn’t know how the hell you wouldn’t be injured by.

“Everything off. Now.” Doflamingo growled abruptly though. Foreplay not seeming to be a priority for him in this moment as you were then ordered to disrobe.

And Corazon had gone silent now.

You could still feel the tension of Cora against your back before you began to undress.

Your own humiliation certainly didn’t matter to you by this point though. That would be the least of your problems as pieces of your clothing hit the wet ground one after another.

Coat, shoes, shirt, pants, and underwear were all quickly put out of the way. Until it was just you and all that you were in the cold night air.

“Don’t cover her. I want to see it all.” Doflamingo warned his brother immediately though as Corazon’s wings had tried to shift against you.

And the little bit of room that Doflamingo had allowed you in order to undress was swiftly taken back as he now pressed you skin to skin as soon as he could.

“Yes…this is what we should have done years ago. If my little brother hadn’t been such a prude with a stick up his ass.”

Corazon growled lowly to that.

But notably, he made no move to stop his brother this time as Doflamingo kept rubbing his cock against your skin. The head of it had begun to weep. Yet Doflamingo’s gaze had now focused onto that prominent scar on your shoulder.

The one his own fangs had previously given you.

“Did Rosi ever tell you that our kind can’t procreate on their own?” Doflamingo questioned teasingly then, seemingly at random as his tongue ran out over that scar, almost with a reverence while he licked your shoulder until it glistened with his saliva. “You see…if you breed two winged parents together, all they’ll have is miscarriages. But one winged parent and a human…”

“Doffy.” Corazon warned with his own wings still staying protectively close. “That doesn’t matter right now. Just don’t hurt her.”

“It’ll matter eventually.” Doflamingo contested with a lustful smirk.

And your knees were feeling weaker as the boys did this routine again. Falling into that lopsided codependency they had for one another, bickering even with you pressed right between them.

It was a toxic bond they shared and were so determined to now add you to.

Just like Doflamingo had first tried to back then.

But even he had gained some maturity in the time between. Evidenced by the way he first teased the head of himself at your already surprisingly wet entrance instead of just plunging straight inside.

Whether that wetness was your body’s attempt at self preservation or your own willful desire, you weren’t yet sure.

But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. That was clear as he finally began to slowly push his way in.

And when you made that first sound of pain, stretching too much almost immediately, Doflamingo actually paused.

The feathers of his wings ruffled. Somehow the brothers were now tolerating each other enough to not react when their wings bumped one another either.

Yet Corazon’s chest hummed against your back as you felt him bend to put his lips against your neck, near your ear in response to your pain.

“Relax…I’m here.” He promised, even then still trying to protect you.

And you exhaled, feeling that inner warmth once more. Corazon was using that special tone again, resonating through you as you rested your head back against him.

Cora was soothing you as his brother began to push again.

Your were fully walled in too. Corazon’s chest to your back, against him with your thighs spread for his brother. And Doflamingo in front, taking that offering, his legs bent enough for your hips to line up as he slid in deeper and deeper.

And both their wings were to your sides. They were holding you up together as Doflamingo at last bottomed out against your cervix.

You felt like he could have split you in two if he had wanted to.

But Cora’s song just continued, calming and satisfying as you stared up at Doflamingo while he let out a surprising whine with you clenched so tightly around his extraordinary cock.

“Oh…oh, fuck she feels so good.” Doflamingo breathed next. “Keep her calm…I have to move. Keep her just like this.” He was still instructing Corazon even as his sharp hips began to slowly, ever so slowly, slide back and then forward again. The skin of his cock was dragging against your insides.

And you shuddered. Everything felt like more than you could possibly take.

But Doflamingo’s initial whine soon became moans. He was falling apart even faster than you as his wings closed tighter around you and his movements increased.

His feathers kept shifting, his pupil was dilating.

Yet as he almost grimaced in what appeared to be an abrupt brush with overstimulation, you had your very first inkling that they did not get to use these true forms often.

This was a rare intimacy.

Maybe even completely unique for them.

The opportunity to be with a partner in their actual bodies. With all the heightened senses and raw feelings that must entail.

You were barely even a participant, and yet you were overwhelming Doflamingo as he slouched forward with his hips still pumping.

His chin was resting on one of your shoulders then, while Corazon’s was resting on your other from the opposite direction.

“I can’t even…hell, I can’t…” Doflamingo nearly laughed in disbelief.

And you felt him tremble all over as he thrust briefly harder, much rougher then as you cried out a little. But only for three or four more deep hits before his hips stilled abruptly.

The heat inside was immediate, spilling out into you as Doflamingo held himself in as close to the hilt as he could be.

But he was too big to be flush against you, just doing his best as he buried his face beside yours and you already felt his excess seed running out down your thighs to drip onto the ground.

The forest was so quiet again. Save for Doflamingo’s uneven breaths.

“Dammit…” He cursed quietly, sounding an odd mix of both placated and highly disappointed. “I need to try again. That wasn’t enough.”

But you were still aching, regardless of Doflamingo already softening within you from what he perceived as a premature release.

“No. You already came. It counts.” Corazon’s voice returned then and there however. His wings were trying to push Doflamingo’s further away.

And those wingtips were far more prehensile than a normal bird’s once Cora decided to just pull you away from his brother instead by your waist not long after.

It made a lewd sound when Doflamingo’s wet cock slid out of you with that sudden increase in distance. Then hanging soft in a mess of both your fluids between his legs.

He glowered at Corazon as your warmth was removed from his body once more.

And you feared they would now fight again.

Doflamingo did briefly bare his fangs.

But Cora had turned you to face only him then as he moved his wings to push against the side of his own pants next.

You weren’t even done dripping from his brother yet. But you saw the full desire now in Corazon’s eyes.

He’d had to watch everything.

And he had needs too.

Ones you were sure he had been too afraid to ever tell you up until tonight.

“Here.” You reached out, helping Cora as you tugged at his pants to slip them the rest of the way off of his hips.

Fair was fair.

What you did for one brother, you knew you had to do for the other.

Even if Doflamingo was now finding the concept of waiting for his second turn much more difficult than he’d originally envisioned.

Corazon was wearing boxers. Ones that already looked a bit too tight for him just as you felt Doflamingo step back behind you.

Cora clearly bristled, not appreciating that. But you did your best to deescalate them again.

They had their own hierarchy and rules as all flocks did you were sure.

Doflamingo was the leader of them all without question. But his own neediness and vulnerabilities were far more apparent to you now.

It was a bold risk, and you didn’t move too quickly. But you did reach behind you then to massage your hand along Doflamingo’s hip and thigh. Acknowledging him at your back, and rewarding even his few moments of patience with physical touch.

Maybe that affection had surprised him.

He’d stilled again either way, and that was all the time that Corazon had needed to slide his own underwear down enough to uncover himself.

Your face felt flushed at the sight.

Because Cora was already rock hard. Perhaps not the full length of his brother, but no less intimidating for you.

With Doflamingo still right there however, Cora didn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity.

You gasped as Corazon pressed himself right into the wetness his brother had already made within you.

Your insides stretched and filled tight as anything all over again as Cora breathed your name and began immediately rocking his hips.

Doflamingo was then growling behind you in jealous response, so your hand had to move back between his legs to stimulate him too.

You were fondling the older brother’s still softened shaft as he twitched it wantingly in your palm.

While the younger brother quickly fell into a deep rhythm inside of you, pumping your bodies together as nature had always intended.

It didn’t even feel wrong.

Because they both needed you.

And you needed them.

Or you would now.

And as Corazon scraped inside you just right, steady and sure, your orgasm was quickly building even while Doflamingo began to stiffen again within your hand.

You just stroked him harder in rhythm to his brother’s thrusts.

You could see the future already.

There would be babies.

Multiple babies.

One mother, two different fathers.

Nature was like that sometimes. Especially with a rare species that needed all the help it could get.

It’d just be easier to share the resources. To have two strong mates protecting you instead of only one.

Doflamingo was already getting ready to cum again too. You could hear it in his panting as he fucked your hand so roughly then.

But it was the combination of Cora’s steady pumping and Doflamingo’s desperate movements that finally sent you over the edge.

You felt your channel spasm around Cora, who repaid that pleasure immediately with a hard shudder as he released his own seed in powerful shots to mix with what you’d already received from his brother.

Corazon did get it all in, just barely though before those pink wings were grabbing you backward abruptly.

Yet again you were pulled off of a wet cock that had just finished as Doflamingo slid himself right back into your now fully swollen folds from behind.

His wings pushed you, then making you bend forward at the waist so he could fully mount you from behind this time. You didn’t even have the chance to recover from the orgasm you’d just had before Doflamingo was pounding you so hard against your ass.

You were panting too, trembling for the contrast of his soft wings holding you up on the outside while he utterly wrecked you on the inside.

“Come on…I need you to cum on me too…I’m not stopping this until you do.” Doflamingo threatened you. Evidently not at all missing your visible orgasm had with Corazon inside you moments prior.

Yes, everything was always going to be this way too you were sure. Doflamingo would have to have the final word, the final touch. He might share only with his brother. But everything still had to start and end with him.

He was the dominant male of this territory.

“Doflamingo…” You tried his name in some very minor bid for mercy. You couldn’t think straight enough to will another orgasm back out so soon.

But you had to.

You glanced back up towards Corazon, who still seemed a bit dazed from his own release.

But his eyes did meet yours, even as his brother now fucked you raw from only footsteps away.

Yet, it wasn’t the full sadness from earlier in Cora’s stare any longer. You saw real lust for you still so heavy in those red eyes then. That look which said he would also love to do this to you if you’d only ask him for it.

Corazon would do anything you wanted him to going forward.

And that thought was enough to bring the coil of warmth into your stomach again.

You were going to be fine. You would survive.

You’d never have to sit in a room alone again either and worry about who or what future awaited you on the other side.

Because your monsters were already here. And they had chosen you.

You moaned loudly. Both of these men in your mind, together again while that pleasure sent your body into ecstasy one more time.

You came with that cry for Doflamingo as he orgasmed gladly in return to flood your poor channel yet again with his seed.

Your abused cunt was dripping and your body shaking before Doflamingo pulled you fully back against his chest, wrapping his warm wings around you protectively.

His voice was a bit uneven, matching his rough breathing now. “Let’s go home then. All three of us. Tonight and forever.”

And Corazon smiled slightly at last to that rare sentiment. A remarkable expression in its own right.

Because maybe Cora was finally realizing as you had that the worst was not truly the worst.

Doflamingo wasn’t going to let anything happen to you now.

This deal had been made and the ink was already dry.

Cora used his feathers to awkwardly pull up his underwear and pants before he idly began collecting your clothing for you soon after.

“You’re going to need bigger beds then, Doffy. Both at the lakehouse and the penthouse.” Corazon said quietly as he looked back to the two of you who were still recovering.

Doflamingo smirked, not disagreeing this time. “That’d be much easier than arguing whose bed she’ll get in each night, wouldn’t it?”

You’d lay with them both of course.

But Doflamingo nipped your ear for good measure too as his feathers rubbed more possessively across your abdomen.

“Yes. We’ll have quite a nest going on soon enough.” He grinned wide in anticipation of this truth. “Little ones never like to sleep alone either after all.”

——————————

End.

Thank you for reading! ❤️🎃

A/N: The two sentence horror story quoted in the beginning is “Knock” by Fredric Brown.

136 notes · View notes

heavenlyraindrops · 3 days ago

Text

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter Two

also available on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag to find all chapters | warnings: pre-s1 (for now), profanity, child adoption. Please like, comment and reblog to show support! <3

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter Two:

You didn’t have anyone.

You were looking for company.

The Last Drop was loud and rowdy- just as you’d expected of a bar. Although you didn’t go to many very often.

You pushed through the crowd, resisting the urge to shrink in on yourself and instead holding your head high, setting your jaw. You’d made it to the counter, and you firmly planted your hands on the wood, pushing yourself forward to catch the bartender’s attention.

The burly man looked at you, and came over. You had to raise your voice to be heard.

“I- uh…” you looked around, words suddenly lost.

“What’ll it be?”

“Silco…”

The bartender stared at you. “What?”

You pursed your lips. “I’m looking for Silco. Would he happen to be here? By any chance?”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t tell me he had a lady friend.”

“A lady- what? No, I’m just an acquaintance. Is he here?”

The bartender shook his head, letting out a chuckle which was drowned out by the din of the bar. “He’s a close friend of mine. I can tell him you were looking for him tomorrow. Any message you want to relay?”

You thought for a moment. “…Not really. Although-“ A smoke on the rooftop would be nice. “I’d rather talk to him myself, actually.”

The bartender raised his eyebrow without another word, and nodded. “He always hangs around here in the afternoon. Has nothing better to do with his time, the man,” he joked. You made yourself laugh, and thanked him.

You squared your shoulders. “And while I’m here, I suppose I might as well get something. So, uh… gin and tonic, please. Without the gin.”

The man looked at you rather askance at your peculiar request, but didn’t say anything as he served up a glass of tonic. You smiled thinly, looking around at the establishment as he wiped down a glass.

“So how do you know Silco?” He asked you.

You turned your head towards him. You didn’t expect him to start conversation. He looked at you with a glance of curiosity.

“I don’t,” you say. He frowned.

“So how come you’re asking for him?”

“Well, I mean- I do know him. We met yesterday.” You took a sip of the tonic, and it took the bartender a moment to realise you weren’t planning on elaborating. “How do you know him?”

“He’s pretty much my brother,” the bartender said simply. He extended a hand, and you shook it. “I’m Vander.”

You nodded slowly. “…Vander.” You thought for a moment. “I’m [name].”

“Nice meeting you. Stop by at four tomorrow, will ya?” He watched as you downed your cup and set it on the counter, tossing him the money and nodding.

With that, you left the Last Drop.

You found Silco sitting on the steps outside the Last Drop at four in the afternoon the next day. He looked up at you, and you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

“Silco!” You gasped. “Oh, uh, what are you doing here?”

A languid sweep of his hand brushed the hair out of his eyes. “You asked for me.” He said, voice sounding bored. But there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.

You scoffed, shuffling your feet. “Hardly asked.”

“You were looking for me.”

“You told me to stop by!”

He stood up, dusting off his clothes. “Indeed I did. Lonely, are you?”

“As I’ve said already,” you muttered, following him as he made his way through the street. Before long you’d both found yourself on a rooftop, a cigarette in between you.

“Who’s Vander?”

“He’s like my brother.”

Wow.

“Right.” You looked out across the streets. “Did yourâ€¦ business from last night getâ€¦resolved?”

He nodded, a small smirk playing at his lips as he thought back. “It did.”

“And you're sure it wasn’t a prostitute.”

He scoffed, as you giggled at his reaction. “I’m sure.” He turned to watch you laugh, back pressed against the rusted tin as you laid back, and blew a steady stream of smoke into the air.

And then he sighed.

This became a usual routine. One or the other of you would find each other on the rooftop, and would sit there talking until one person had to leave. He wasn’t half bad company, you realized. And sitting there against the sky and smoke felt nice. It was nice to have someone to talk to for reasons other than necessity or business.

One day on a walk home from an errand, the dark blue of the night sky creeping behind the clouds, you heard whimpering from an alleyway. You froze, unsure of what to do. Run? Stay? The sniffling picked up, descending into sobs.

You burst into the alley.

A little girl, scraped and bloodied, stared at you with wide glassy eyes. You looked back at her.

“What’s your name?” You asked gently, crouching down and wiping the tears and dirt from her bruised face.

“Alice,” she choked out. You felt a tug at your heart, a painful wrench that was hard to ignore. You swallowed a lump.

“What happened, Alice?”

“Th-they… my mommy…” she started trembling again, and you exhaled slowly, hushing her. “They took her.”

“What about your daddy?” You whispered, carding your fingers through her mousy brown hair.

She raised her head. You followed her gaze.

Piltover.

You lip curled in disgust. Some Piltie must have had an affair with a trencher- a Zaunite, and wanted to get rid of the evidence. No doubt. You gathered the girl in your embrace.

You could hardly support a child, let alone take one in…

“The men were following me,” she told you.

“Let’s go,” you replied. You could hardly support a child.

“Where?”

“Home.”

You found him perched on the roof, and climbed up to meet him.

“Silco!” You hissed. He looked at you, frowning at your expression as you collapsed in a heap next to him.

“What’s wrong?” He grabbed your shoulders, eyes welling with concern.

“Silco, there’s a girl. Her father’s from Piltover and they had her mother killed and they’re after her, and I found her and I have no idea what to do with her-“

“Shh, calm down.” He stopped your exhilarated rambling short, and leaned back, taking a moment to think. You watched him, unable to speak.

“Well, if you can’t raise her…”

“I’m not leaving her to die,” you said sharply.

He looked at you skeptically. “And what exactly will you do then? Can you even afford to raise a child?”

“I’ll figure something out.” You sounded unsure.

He looked at you tiredly. “[name]…”

“I’m not leaving her to die,” you said with finality.

He looked at you silently, then nodded. “I’ll… I’ll help where I can.”

You flushed. “You don’t have to.”

He took your hand, and shook his head. “We’re friends.”

You flushed deeper, and looked away, taking a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

He looked at you. “What?”

“I’m sorry, all you’ve ever done is help me and all I’ve done isâ€¦ steal your cigarettes.”

At this he laughed, but one look at your face and he realized you were being serious. “It’s not like that.”

“But it is.”

He fell silent, and you knew he couldn’t deny what you had stated was the fact. But then he spoke. “You give me company.”

You laughed. “That’s it?”

“I don’t care about the enforcer chase, or the cigarettes. You know if I didn’t want to be around you I wouldn’t bother. So stop saying random shit and just…” he took a deep breath and dragged his hand across his face. “God, you’re insufferable sometimes.”

Despite the insult, your insides glowed, and you smiled. “Thank you, Silco.”

“Did you just hear me? I called you insufferable.”

You nodded, still beaming. “Thanks.”

He scoffed, a small smile on his face. “You idiot.” He took out another cigarette, and, as usual, you held out your lighter. He looked at you, and passed you the lit cigarette to have first.

“And you’re sure you don’t consider me as charity work?” You said before a long drag of the cigarette. You passed it back to him, and he stared at you, confused.

“What? I- of course not.”

“Why are we here then?”

“You’re my friend. You were looking for me that day, remember?”

“You immediately decided we were going to…” you waved your hand around. “Whatever this is. Hanging out. What if I wanted something else?”

He rolled his eyes, blowing out some smoke. “What else would you want? I told you to come find me if you wanted company.” He jabbed the cigarette in your direction. “This is company. And I believe we just talked about this?”

You ignored his last comment. “Well, why are you keeping me company?”

He laughed. “You’re my friend. And I get bored too, you know.”

“You have Vander. I’m sure you have others.”

He suddenly looked at you piercingly. You squirmed. Had you said the wrong thing? But then he shook his head slowly, visibly relaxed. “Right, but none of them are…” he stopped himself, face turning slightly pink. “What I mean to say is, it’s nice to know some other people.”

You leaned close and gently prised the cigarette from his fingers, and he looked up at you. You grinned, then placed it in between your lips. Inhaled. Took it from your lips. Exhaled. He blinked as the smoke billowed in his face.

“Thanks,” you smiled. He looked away, miffed.

“We won’t talk about this anymore.”

“‘Course.”

“You know my answer.”

“I do.”

79 notes · View notes

plutotheplum · 4 hours ago

Text

Blush Wine

zayne x fem!reader

summary: a pressing personal issue has you turning to zayne in desperation. he is a doctor, after all.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, fluff, kissing, masturbation, finger-sucking, vaginal fingering, oral sex, p in v, praise kink, confessions

wc: 5.5k

a/n: just a cutesy little idea i had ^^

also on ao3!

“There’s something wrong with me.”

Your words leave you in an exasperated sigh, head tipping back as you stare at the ceiling of Zayne’s office, feeling utterly exhausted.

Zayne hums and the creak of his chair has you looking over at him, brows furrowing when you see he’s already begun to stand, the eartips of his stethoscope in place as he moves towards you.

“Zayne?” you say, huffing out a breath when he presses the stethoscope to your chest, “Zayne, no- not like that.”

“A cold?” Zayne murmurs, gazing down at you scrutinizingly, “I told you to be careful in the rain.”

“What?” you sputter, shaking your head, “no. No, it’s nothing like that.” You squirm a little in your chair, cheeks flushing lightly with embarrassment. “It’s- It’s more personal .”

Zayne stares down at you blankly, draping his stethoscope around the back of his neck. Your fingers tap against the edge of his desk agitatedly and Zayne catches the nervous tic, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Personal?” he echoes, raising his brows.

You nod, biting your lip nervously as you sneak a glance up at him. Zayne stares back at you sternly, his arms crossed over his chest.

“I was going to see a gynecologist,” you blurt out, cheeks flushing further, “but- but you seemed like a better option.”

He tilts his head, leaning back against the edge of his desk.

“What exactly is the problem?”

“It’s embarrassing,” you mutter, casting your eyes downwards.

Zayne lets out a sigh, his finger coming out to tap against your forehead gently. “Tell me,” he coaxes, fingers brushing through your hair for a brief moment before pulling back. “It’s the only way I can help you.”

“I can’t-” you begin, nails digging into your palms. Your voice is a soft hiss when you speak again. “I can’t cum !”

Zayne’s grip on the edge of his desk falters when he hears your words, a choked sound masked as a cough leaving him. You peek up at him shyly when he clears his throat only to find that Zayne’s usual facade of cool indifference has returned.

“I see.”

The only sound for the next several minutes is the tick of the clock in Zayne’s office. You play with your fingers, already regretting your decision to come here.

“Is that it?” you ask finally, “you see ?”

“I’m thinking,” Zayne replies, his hand scrubbing over his face. “Why did I seem like the better option?”

“Because we’ve known each other for years, Zayne!” you say frustratedly, “I figured- figured you might have some valuable input, you know, as a doctor and- and a friend.”

“I see.”

You glare at him when he says those two words again.

“Have you tried clitoral stimulation?”

You nearly choke on your spit when Zayne says that. He sounds so methodical, so disinterested that it almost annoys you again, but when Zayne stares at you expectantly you realize he’s only trying to help.

“Yes,” you mumble, picking at the loose strand of your sweater, “doesn’t work. I tried my fingers too, but I can never cum.”

Zayne hums thoughtfully, his gaze dragging over you before glancing off towards the clock.

“This Friday, I’m off.”

Your brows furrow, unsure what he meant by that.

“I don’t have work on Friday,” Zayne repeats, “neither do you. I’ll come over, examine you and see what I can do.”

“ What ?” you blurt out, “what do you mean examine me?”

“I have to see what’s wrong,” Zayne replies bluntly, shifting on his feet, “I can refer you to a gynecologist if you’d prefer that instead.”

Truthfully, you’d prefer neither. It doesn’t help that your mind conjures up the image of Zayne spreading your thighs apart, his focused gaze trained on you enough to send a rush of heat coursing through your body.

“It’s fine,” you say finally, standing up, “you can come over. I’ll- I’ll let you get back to work.”

Zayne nods, opening the door for you to leave. “Drive safe.”

You’re long gone when Zayne lets out a shaky exhale in the privacy of his office. He scrubs his hand over his face, his cheeks flushing as he remembers the way you had blurted out your problem .

Zayne tugs at the knot of his tie, loosening it in an attempt to try and quell the sinful thoughts that were flooding his mind at that very moment.

You were going to be the death of him.

You don’t know what to do with yourself when Friday rolls around.

It’s too hard to sit still, each of your actions jerky and agitated as your mind runs through the potential implications of this entire situation.

Zayne drops in around midday, the ring of your doorbell making you hesitate as your fingers curl around the doorknob. Maybe it wouldn’t be too late to lie and tell Zayne that everything was fine.

The doorbell rings again and you open the door tentatively, peering up at Zayne.

“This isn’t really necessary,” you begin but Zayne shakes his head, stepping inside your apartment before locking the door behind him.

Silence passes over you both and Zayne stares at you for a moment longer, his gaze dipping over you.

“You’ll need to show me,” he murmurs, his fingers loosening the tie around his neck.

“Show- show you?” you echo, cheeks beginning to flush with embarrassment, “Zayne, you can’t be serious.”

He hums, moving to sit down on your couch, his thighs spreading slightly as he gets comfortable. You look away, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent an indecent noise from spilling out when you see how good he looks.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” he asks bluntly.

“You’re being inconsiderate,” you retort, but his words seem to do the trick, making you move towards him.

You turn to sit down next to him, but Zayne’s fingers are curling around your hips, pulling you down onto his lap instead. A surprised squeak escapes you, body squirming as you try to move off of his lap. Zayne holds you in place, his chest pressing against your back, arms wrapping around your waist.

“Z- Zayne?” you yelp, voice pitching up.

“Show me.”

You turn your head incredulously to find that Zayne’s gaze has darkened, his eyes boring into yours intensely.

“Do you do this with everyone?” you murmur, shaky fingers reaching down to pull your shorts down, leaving you only in a shirt and panties on Zayne’s lap.

“No,” he replies, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Only you.”

You spread your legs, your fingers slipping past the waistband of your panties to circle your clit.

“I- I feel as though you want this,” you whisper, tilting your head.

“I do,” Zayne confesses. “I have, for-” he lets out a long breath, watching the way your fingers move in your panties, “for years now.”

“Oh.” You let out a stuttery, little breath, heart soaring at his words. “So have I.”

Zayne hums, his lips brushing across your cheek fleetingly. His hand reaches out, stopping your movements, pulling your hand free from your panties.

“You should’ve said something sooner,” he says quietly, the pads of his fingers pressing against the fabric of your panties, rubbing gently. “Let me.”

You suck in a sharp breath, fingers digging into his forearm as he rubs a little more, his svelte fingers flexing against your clothed cunt. Zayne taps your hip after a moment and you lift your hips for him, letting him pull your panties down.

“You’re wet,” he murmurs, fingers gliding through your folds, “that’s good.”

“Stop talking like that,” you complain, hips tilting up into his touch.

“I’m simply examining you,” Zayne replies, but you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, the playful brush of his nose against your cheek.

A soft gasp leaves you when his lithe fingers find your clit, circling the swollen bud.

“Good girl,” he whispers, his other hand creeping up your shirt to find your breasts, your nipples already hardened, “relax for me.”

You do as Zayne says, letting his fingers work against you, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs your clit for you. Slick has begun to leak from you rapidly, a dull ache settling in your cunt as Zayne quickens his circling, his lips pressing against your neck.

“Inside,” you whisper needily, fingers wrapping around his wrist, “Zayne, I need your fingers inside .”

“No,” Zayne says sternly, squeezing at your breast as he strokes his fingers over your clit, petting the swollen bud, making your thighs twitch. “You’ll cum like this first and then you’ll cum on my fingers.”

You let out a frustrated whine, but the kiss Zayne lands to your cheek soothes your annoyance. He manages to pull more noises free from your lips with the way he rubs your clit, the press of his fingers growing harder when he sees your mouth drop open, head falling back against his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Zayne encourages, the fingers of his other hand pinching and rolling your nipple. “Just like that, love. Fall apart for me.”

A few more strokes over your clit is all it takes, a sharp gasp sounding as your orgasm rips through you, body shuddering on top of Zayne’s lap.

“Good girl,” he praises, fingers not letting up as he rubs your clit through the twitches racking through your body, “did so well, baby.”

You slump against his chest, panting softly, head lolling to the side to blink up at him dazedly.

“You fixed me,” you mumble, nose nudging against his when he lowers his head.

“Seemed a little too easy,” Zayne murmurs.

You roll your eyes and Zayne smiles, his hand turning your head to the side. His head dips and your eyes flutter shut when his lips press against yours for the first time. He kisses you softly, his fingers stroking through your folds again.

Zayne groans into your mouth, deepening the kiss, his tongue licking into your mouth. You whimper, hips rocking into his fingers, feeling the press of them against your aching cunt. He pulls back to press his lips to your jaw, trailing soft kisses along your skin, his breath hot.

He presses one finger inside of you, drawing a moan out of you. Another finger joins soon after and you’re mewling desperately, pressing his hand against your pussy, wanting to feel his fingers deeper.

“Pretty pussy’s tight, love,” Zayne whispers, pushing your shirt up to finally get a good look at your breasts. “ Fuck ,” he breathes out, groping at one your breasts greedily, “you’re beautiful.”

“Zayne,” you hiccup out his name, biting your lip when you feel how hard he is against your ass, “feels s’good.”

Your hips rock back, grinding against his clothed cock. Zayne grunts, his forehead pressing into your shoulder at the feel of you against his bulge.

You writhe when he fucks his fingers into you rapidly, back arching as you moan loudly, feeling the curl of his fingers inside of you.

“I like you,” he rasps, nosing into your cheek, unable to help himself from laying firm, hot kisses all over your cheek and jaw, nipping at your neck gently.

You open your mouth to respond, but Zayne feeds you his fingers instead, keeping you full. A drunken slur sounds from you and Zayne huffs out a low laugh, his thumb adding to the mix when he circles your clit as he thrusts his fingers in and out of your leaking cunt.

You suckle on his fingers, tongue swirling around them mindlessly, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Needy,” Zayne says, slowing the pace of his fingers, drawing out the moment.

You squirm on his lap, hips rocking and rolling, trying to grind against his cock and hump his hand, desperate to cum. Zayne lets out a low moan when he feels the brush of your ass, his hand slipping from your mouth to grip your hip in an attempt to stop you.

“Please,” you gasp, “please, Zayne, wanna- ah - wanna cum!”

“Go ahead, love,” he murmurs, resuming his pace, his fingers fucking in and out of your sloppy pussy. “Cum on my fingers.”

Your eyes squeeze shut, teeth sinking into your lower lip. The tight coil in your stomach snaps when he curls his fingers inside of you again, his lips pressing against your ear in a low groan.

Zayne captures your lips in a kiss when you cum, his hand smoothing up and down your side soothingly as you shudder again, your soft cries muffled by his lips on yours.

“That’s it,” he whispers, kissing you gently, “good girl. Came so good, baby.”

You give him a hazy smile, turning on his lap, straddling him instead. Your arms wrap around his neck and Zayne sinks into the kiss, moaning into your mouth when you roll your hips, grinding your wet cunt all over his trousers.

Zayne moves you off of his lap before long, standing up, his hand pressing against his hard, clothed cock.

“Can I watch?” you breathe out, voice airy.

Zayne flushes, his cheeks and the tips of his ears covered in a pretty pink. You lick your lips when he rubs his hand over his bulge, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“Please, Zayne?” you continue, voice softening further, “it’s- it’s only fair, right? You got to touch me and- and I just want to watch.”

“You’re infuriating,” he grits out, his eyes narrowing into a half-hearted glare.

You smile up at him when he steps closer, eyes dropping down to watch his lithe fingers undo the buckle of his belt. It falls to the floor, along with his pants and boxers and you swallow harshly when you see how hard his cock is.

It’s nice, like all the parts of Zayne, the black hair at the base of his cock trimmed neatly. You bite your lip, hands grasping at the armrest of the couch when you see how thick his cock is, the tip of it flushed a few shades darker than his cheeks.

“Is that what you want?” Zayne rasps, his hand wrapping around his cock, pumping it slowly, “hm? I didn’t think you were so filthy .”

“‘s not filthy,” you mumble, inching a little closer to his cock.

Your lips part, tongue lolling out, trying to taste the glob of pre-cum beading at the tip of Zayne’s cock. He grunts when he sees what you’re trying to do, shaking his head as the tips of his fingers press into your forehead, pushing your head away.

“No,” he says breathily, “you wanted to watch, so watch .”

A soft, frustrated whimper leaves you, a pout settling on your lips. It’s impossible to sit still with the dull ache of emptiness settling in your cunt again, thighs rubbing together needily as Zayne squeezes the head of his cock, more pre-cum leaking from the tip.

“Z- Zayne,” you whine, eyes half-lidded as you watch him stroke his cock, “Zayne, you’re so big.”

Zayne groans, his head tipping back in pleasure. You take your chance, reaching out to grab at his shirt, pushing it up a little to watch the flex of the muscles in his abdomen. It’s making you wet again, the feeling almost uncomfortable as slick drips from between your thighs.

You lean forward, landing a soft kiss to his hip. Zayne’s eyes flutter open, his gaze hazy as he stares down at you. You smile up at him sweetly and Zayne huffs out a breathy laugh, hardly able to believe the sight in front of him.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, his thumb reaching out to brush over your lower lip, “you’re so pretty.”

You hum, mouth opening for his thumb when he presses it in further, tongue swirling around the digit. He groans and your eyelids droop a little further, gaze dipping to find that his grip on his cock has tightened.

“Is this how you get off when you’re alone?” you whisper, words slurring around his thumb as he strokes it over the surface of your tongue.

Zayne nods, pumping his cock faster, his thighs twitching minutely.

“Do you think about me?” you whisper again, biting the tip of his thumb gently.

“Yes,” he groans, “ fuck- yes, all the time. You’re- hah- you’re all I can think about.” Zayne leans down and you rise up on your knees to meet him, lips pressing against his in a slow kiss. “It’s always you , love.”

Your heart stutters in your chest at his words, eyes lighting up at the little confession you’ve managed to draw out from the usually stoic man.

His brows knit together as he strokes his cock, his lips finding yours again as he kisses you desperately, his hand cupping the back of your head to hold you in place.

“I- hah- I’m close,” Zayne grits out, his hips stuttering.

“Wanna watch you cum, Zayne,” you whisper, nipping his lower lip playfully.

He groans, body hunching over as he fucks his cock into his fist, letting out rasping pants.

“Open your mouth,” he murmurs, fingers stroking across your cheek, “wanted a taste, didn’t you?”

You nod eagerly and Zayne lets out a low moan, his hips jerking as he cums. You hold your tongue out, eyes shutting when you feel his cum splatter over your cheeks and tongue, a soft mewl slipping out of you at the heady taste.

You lick your lips, leaning forward to lap at the tip of his cock. A smile spreads across your face when Zayne shudders, his fingers spreading out across your scalp as he holds you in place, letting you suckle at his spent cock.

“Good girl,” he whispers, thumb stroking across your cheek, “cleaning me up so well, baby.”

You hum, kissing the tip of his cock, mouth opening for his thumb when he feeds you a stray drop of cum.

Zayne dips his head soon after, kissing you feverishly. He cups your cheeks, pulling you closer. You sigh into his mouth, arms wrapping around his neck, feeling his softening cock against your stomach.

“I like you,” you whisper against his lips, pecking them gently.

“I know,” Zayne murmurs, his hands petting at your sides, “I like you too.”

Your eyes flutter shut when he kisses your forehead, a contented hum leaving you when he kisses your cheek after. Zayne wraps his arms around your waist and you laugh when he hoists you up, legs wrapping around his waist.

“Bedroom?” you ask, fingers playing with the soft strands of his hair.

Zayne nods, one of his hands squeezing at your ass. You don’t make it very far when his pager sounds.

You pout when Zayne sets you down onto your feet, peeking over at his pager as he reads it.

“Urgent?”

“Seems like it,” Zayne murmurs, his brows furrowing slightly, “I have to go.”

Despite the urge to protest, the urge to make Zayne stay with you for longer, you can’t find it in yourself to voice your thoughts when you see the serious look on his face. Instead, you let him get dressed, helping him redo his tie.

Zayne lowers his head, his fingers gripping your chin to tilt your head up so he can kiss you again. You melt into it, arms wrapping around his neck, lips working against his lazily.

“Thank you,” you say, kissing his cheek when his hands drop away from your waist, “for helping me out.”

Zayne’s eyes glimmer with mirth, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a half-smile.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, “just don’t go to anyone else if you have that problem again, okay?”

You pretend to consider his words, even though you know no one could ever replace the spot Zayne’s carved out in your heart.

“I mean it,” Zayne murmurs when you don’t respond. His body draws near, his thumb smoothing over your cheek. “I want you to only need me.”

His words curl around your heart, squeezing tight. Your mouth opens to respond, but your breath gets caught in your throat and Zayne lets out a soft chuckle when he sees how flustered he’s made you.

“You- you can’t just say that ,” you grumble, face pressing into his chest.

“Why not?” Zayne asks, his hand stroking your hair gently.

“Because!” you say exasperatedly, peering up at him, “you just can’t.”

Zayne smiles down at you, his lips pressing against your forehead. “Well, I did. Let me take care of you, hm? I’ve been doing it until now.”

You nod your assent, kissing his cheek before pushing him towards the door.

“Bye, Doctor Zayne.”

“Bye,” Zayne replies, his eyes roving over you, committing the image of you bare and dazed to mind. “Remember to rest. Eat when you can and drink plenty of wat-”

“Zayne!” you interrupt, pointing at his flashing pager again, “I know .”

Zayne sighs, stepping through the doorway to leave. He stares at you one more time, his voice creeping through the narrowing gap as he closes the door. “I’ll send you a text.”

So, Zayne solved your problem.

But he had given you another problem in return. You couldn’t stop thinking about him or his fingers. Worst of all, the simple thought of it left you hazy, your mind fogging over whenever you remembered the feel of his fingers inside your cunt.

The following week, you’d missed at least three good shots at the training facility leading to Jenna shooting you a strange look when she saw how off-target your shots were. A wane smile had graced your lips and you’d gone home in a daze.

It’s how you’ve ended up like this, squirming around in bed, hand shoved down into your sleep shorts, brows furrowed. All you could think about was Zayne and how much you missed him.

A soft hiccup escapes you when you feel your impending orgasm fade, a frustrated noise leaving you. You grasp blindly for your phone, pressing it to your ear after calling him.

“Hello?”

“Zayne,” you whine, fingers stroking over your clit, “Zayne, I need you.”

You can hear Zayne sucking in a sharp breath when he hears your whine, and the sound of his chair moving.

“I’ll be there.”

You’re opening the door when you hear the doorbell ring and Zayne stumbles back as you practically throw yourself at him, yanking him down by his tie to kiss him.

It doesn’t take long for him to reciprocate, his hands sliding to the backs of your thighs as he picks you up. Zayne shuts the door with his foot, his lips working against yours eagerly.

“Again?” he asks, carrying you into your bedroom before setting you down gently.

You nod, pulling him down for another kiss, fingers working at his tie and the buttons of his shirt. “Doesn’t work if it’s not you.”

Zayne hums, pushing at your shoulders slightly to get you to lay down. You bite your lip when he sinks down onto his knees, arms pulling you towards the edge of the bed, your legs over his shoulders.

“I’ll take care of you,” Zayne affirms, pulling your shorts off.

He groans at the sight of your bare pussy, thumbs spreading apart your puffy folds. Your arousal clings to his fingers and the first brush of Zayne’s thumb against your clit has you seeing stars.

“Please,” you gasp out, moaning softly when Zayne’s hot breath hits your pussy, “want your mouth, Zayne.”

“You have it, love.”

Zayne squeezes your hand, his tongue licking a stripe up your slick folds. You whine, thighs twitching at the sensation, your other hand sinking into his soft hair. He lets out a low noise at the taste, his face pressing between your thighs.

Your toes press into shoulders, hips bucking as Zayne’s tongue swirls through your folds. He makes a few measured sounds as he laves over your clit, sucking the swollen bud into his mouth every so often.

“Taste good, baby,” Zayne murmurs, pulling back to press wet, sloppy kisses onto your inner thighs. “Such a pretty pussy,” he breathes, his cheek resting against your thigh as he stares at the pitiful clench of your cunt around nothing.

“Stop- stop teasing me,” you whimper, back arching and fingers fisting Zayne’s hair when he lands a few kisses to your clit.

Zayne grants your request, his mouth returning to your puffy pussy, lips suctioning around your clit. You mewl, eyes squeezing shut as you feel the press of his fingers inside of you, filling you up.

“Yes,” you begin to chant when he curls his fingers and begins to fuck them out of you, “ oh- yes, yes, please nghh- ”

Zayne slurps at your cunt, the lewd noise filling the air coupled with the sounds of his fingers thrusting in and out of your dripping pussy. You can hardly think straight, the pleasure so mind-numbing that your toes are curling and you’re tugging at Zayne’s hair roughly.

“W- wait,” you mumble dazedly, “Zayne- Zayne, want your cock.”

He peers up at you, his eyes never leaving yours as he laps at your pussy, drawing back before spitting on it.

“Thought you wanted my mouth?” he says, fingers still working in and out of you.

“Need you to fill me up,” you demand, trying to pull him up, “I want you inside of me.”

Zayne is stubborn like you, if not more, denying you as he buries his face back into your cunt, sucking and licking, drinking down your wetness like he’s been starved.

“You’ve already cum on my fingers,” Zayne rasps, kissing your clit, “cum on my tongue, then you can have my cock, love.”

You glare down at him, not appreciating the subtle edging. Zayne smiles up at you, his mouth opening wider to lap at your cunt before sucking at your folds messily, his tongue swirling around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh briefly.

A squeal leaves you when Zayne suddenly holds you in place as he roughly sucks at your clit, mouth suctioning relentlessly. Your body jerks, legs kicking out at the feeling, his fingers grazing the sensitive spot deep inside of you.

“Cum,” Zayne orders sternly, moving his fingers faster, “cum on my tongue like a good girl.”

That’s all it takes, your thighs squeezing tight around his head, back arching as you cum, shuddering gasps leaving you. Zayne hums into your cunt when your thighs loosen, licking over your sensitive cunt gently, his lips pressing against your clit in an affectionate kiss.

You lay there, limbs heavy, staring up at the ceiling hazily. The clink of Zayne’s belt draws you out of the trace post-orgasm, arms wrapping around his neck when he crawls over you, kissing you softly.

“Still want my cock?” he asks, brushing your hair away from your face.

“Mhm,” you nod, and it’s you pushing at his shoulders this time, making him lay down as you crawl up onto his lap, straddling his hips.

There’s pre-cum smeared across Zayne’s abdomen when you look down, his cock hard and thick, the tip flushed dark.

“All yours,” Zayne whispers, his thumb stroking over your lips and jaw when you begin to drag your cunt over his cock. “I’m all yours, baby.”

You smile down at him, nuzzling into his palm before turning your head to kiss his wrist.

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Zayne replies, his hands grasping at your hips.

You lift them for him, rising up onto your knees. Zayne grasps the base of his cock, holding it for you, guiding you to sink down on him. Your mouth drops open in a silent moan when his cock presses into you, head falling forward when you feel how thick he is.

“Take what you want, love,” Zayne murmurs, “use me.”

A soft whine spills out of you, hands landing flat against his chest, your hips rolling. Zayne’s hand drifts, grabbing at the fat of your ass, moving you up and down on his cock.

You’re crying out his name desperately and Zayne groans, propping himself up on an elbow to pull you down, mouthing at your tits. He wraps his arms around your waist and you cup the back of his head, holding his head to your chest.

Zayne’s tongue swirls around your hardened nipple, the sensation of his teeth grazing and biting gently enough to send little twitches through your body.

“You’re- you’re so good,” you mewl, eyes fluttering shut while your nails dig into his broad shoulders. “I- fuck- I like you so much! Zayne- oh- hah- like you!”

Zayne moans in response, tongue flicking against your nipple until you tug at his head back using his hair, your lips crashing down onto his. It’s feverish and unrestrained, Zayne’s hands grasping at your waist, your hips and ass as though you might suddenly disappear.

“Ride me,” he urges, his breath fanning across your lips. “Ride me, my love.”

You nod, unable to stop yourself from kissing him again, widening the distance between your knees, setting a firmer base before you begin to rise and fall on his cock.

“ Shit- ” Zayne gasps, his head tipping back when he feels the clench of your pussy as you drag it up and down his cock.

The sounds of skin against skin fill your bedroom, both of you panting into each other’s mouths, Zayne’s brows knitting together as he stares up at you, his fingers flexing against your waist as though trying to hold back.

“I- I can’t- forgive me.”

Confusion flits across your face when you hear him. “Zayne?”

Zayne doesn’t respond, flipping you over onto your back; drawing a surprised squeak from you. You whimper when he kisses you roughly, his cock slipping out of you for a moment before Zayne pushes it back into you, his hips settling between your thighs.

Your arms wrap around his neck, Zayne’s face pressing into the crook of your neck as he ruts his hips into you with abandon. He tilts your hips up, driving his cock in with deep, rough thrusts, ripping every possible needy noise from your throat.

His back is covered in red welts with how you’ve been clawing down his skin, body writhing under his with every thrust he delivers. His balls are slapping against your ass, the sound making your cheeks flush, but you hold him closer, fingers tangled in his hair.

“Z- Zayne!” you hiccup, hardly able to form words, mouth hanging open with how he’s mouthing at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. “Zayne, ‘m gonna cum!”

“You’re mine,” he hisses, shifting to peer down into your eyes, his hand coming to cup your jaw. “Only mine,” Zayne repeats, stealing a kiss from you, “all fucking mine.”

You nod rapidly in agreement, your thumb brushing over his lips before pushing into his mouth. A soft mewl leaves you when Zayne sucks, his tongue swirling around your thumb, his teeth biting gently.

“Cum,” Zayne slurs, his hips beginning to move unevenly, “cum for me, my love. Give it to me. Give everything to me.”

You seize under him, cunt clenching around Zayne’s cock and he moans deeply, trying to bury his cock as deep as possible inside of you. His cock twitches as he cums, thick ropes of his hot cum spilling into you, your cunt clenching around his cock weakly.

Zayne nuzzles into the crook of your neck and you let out a content hum, hands smoothing down over his broad back when he slumps over you.

“I can’t feel my legs,” you mumble.

Zayne lets out a hoarse laugh, kissing your cheek before moving off of you, laying down beside you instead.

He tugs you into his side, his warm palm moving down the side of your waist, caressing your hip soothingly as he kisses your temple. You sigh, moving closer to him, pressing into his side, eyes slipping shut as he squeezes your thighs slowly, relieving the dull ache that’s settled into your muscles.

“You’re beautiful,” Zayne whispers, cupping your cheek, tilting your head to look into your eyes when they blink open.

A light flush covers your cheeks, a shy smile spreading across your face as you lean in, pecking his lips sweetly.

“You’re wonderful, Zayne.”

“Such high praise,” he murmurs, nose nuzzling against yours affectionately, “am I really so deserving?”

You roll your eyes, poking his chest in response before sitting up.

“Where are you going?” Zayne grumbles, his arms wrapping around your waist and tugging you back into his chest.

“I have to clean up,” you whine, eyes slipping shut when Zayne squeezes your breast.

You bare your neck to him a little more when he begins to plant soft kisses here and there, his hands petting over your spent body. A quiet moan spills from you when he kisses the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin when he speaks.

“Not so fast, love. We have to make up for lost time.”

#zayne smut #zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #lnd zayne #lnd smut #li shen

71 notes · View notes

darlingshane · 15 hours ago

Text

Rocking your f-me pumps

Shane Walsh x F!Reader

Summary: You're out on a Friday night and meet a certain deputy who can't stop flirting with you at the bar.

CW: +18, explicit, smut, pwp, p in v, flirting, dancing, horniness, drinking, semi-public sex, crack, pet names, making out, foreplay, some sort of roleplay.

Word Count: 3,1k

— Links: AO3 // Shane Masterlist

With the impossible mission of not falling on your face in the process, your feet dangerously rush across the uneven concrete sidewalk that takes you from the parking lot to the bar. Maybe you’ve gone too far with your outfit, but it’s Friday night, after all. You’re looking to make an impression, and the dress you’ve picked to go along with the uncomfortable pair of fuck-me pumps you’re rocking for the occasion will definitely take care of that part—you’re sure.

When you cross the door into the bar, it’s as rowdy as usual on a night like this. Loud and crowded— most seats are taken, people are dancing at the back below the glow of a red neon sign, others play pool while waiters haul trays left and right. You find a few heads turning at your passing, as you expected. This is probably the wrong dress for a hole in the wall like this, but you had put it on to cause a reaction of one person in particular.

You glance around one more time to find that special someone who’s sitting at the end of the bar.

Biting your bottom lip, you stare at him like prey, sharpening your teeth and claws before approaching him with caution.

“Mind if I sit here, handsome?” you ask the man, pointing at the empty stool beside him. He’s a deputy from the Sheriff department. He’s wearing his uniform, but his tan shirt is completely unbuttoned, showing a black tee underneath.

“It’s a free country, darlin’,” he says without glancing at you.

The deputy tilts a beer bottle up to his lips, taking a generous gulp of as you study his profile and his rough, defined features. The angle of his jaw is something to admire. He’s clean-shaven, but there’s still a faint shadow of a stubble, matching the thick black of the curls that adorn the top of his well-shaped head.

“Thanks, Deputy,” you carefully take a seat on the bar stool, crossing one leg over the other, and wave at the bartender.

“Call me Shane, I’m off duty, sweetheart.”

“Thanks Deputy Shane.”

He scoffs, and it’s then that his eyes finally turn to the side to gaze at you for a split second before noticing that ridiculous dress you’re wearing.

When his neck swivels again, he darkly stares at you, head to toe, like he wanted to eat you alive. His jaw slacks, almost hitting the counter and if you look closely, you can see his mouth watering taking in the full sight of you. The cleverly exposed skin, the way that dress hugs your figure in all the right places, the sheer fabric of it revealing more than it needs to; more than you're even used to.

“Anything wrong, Deputy?”

“Hm? No. Everything’s perfect,” he drawls before tearing his eyes away from you.

Pleased with his reaction to your outfit, you bat your eyes, glancing over the subtle shrug of one of your shoulders. “That’s what I thought.”

Then, you wave your arm a second time at the new bartender, but he ignores you again. He saw you both times, and he’s not even serving other patrons, he’s just staring at the game playing on mute on the TV.

“Can you believe this fucking asshole?” You slightly bang your fist on the sticky bar counter to express your frustration. “Is this kid new here or what?”

“Hey, buddy!” Shane raises his voice over the music to call his attention. “C’mere and serve the lady.”

The guy barely nods at you to acknowledge your presence or ask what you’re having. You just order an old-fashioned cocktail and hope he doesn’t screw that up. You also order a beer for the deputy as a thank you.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine. Next one it’s one you, Deputy.”

“Thought I said you can call me Shane.”

“I know, but the whole uniform thing is really… imposing. And I’m a good girl. I wouldn’t like to disrespect the authorities. It’s ingrained in me.”

“Good girl?” he scoffs, glancing at you sidelong, using the bottle in his hand to point at your body. “Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but good girls don’t usually dress like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he remarks that word with a casual shrug, silently implying what you both know, that your full get-up doesn’t scream—I’m about to leave for church. It only says—I’m driving directly to hell to pay for all my sins.

“I don’t like what you’re suggesting, mister,” you mutter as the bartender finally brings your drinks.

“I’m just saying. Look around and check out the sophisticated clientele of this fine establishment.” He says with mockery. “There’s a guy by the slot machines in a greasy, leather vest that’s looking at you like you’re a porterhouse steak. He’s practically drooling all over the floor. He's one minute away from putting his hand in his pants and rubbing one to your name. I’d be careful walking to your car if I were you.”

You can’t help but snort before checking out the guy he’s referring to. The guy in question shifts on his boots and draws a lewd smile at you when you briefly look at him.

“Ugh, you're right.”

“I told ya. Nobody comes into this hellhole looking like you if you weren’t looking for trouble or soliciting, darlin’.”

“Maybe not.” You press your teeth to your bottom lip for a second. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m sitting next to a cop.”

“That's right. As long as you stay by my side, you have nothing to worry about.” Shane locks eyes with you. “You still haven’t told me your name, sweetheart.”

“You can call me whatever you want, darlin’.” Your eye flirts with a cheeky wink.

“Yeah?” He pauses for a second to think. He glances at the cherry adorning your drink and asks, “how about Sherry? Would you like that?”

“Sure, I like that. “You lift the glass in your hand to take a sip. “I’m not soliciting, by the way. Just so we’re clear.”

“Didn’t think you were. Prostitutes don’t usually take that much time and effort to fish for a client.”

“Are you talking from experience?”

“Maybe.” His lips form a downward curve as he scratches his jaw with the tip of his thumb. “So, tell me sweetheart, if you’re not soliciting, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m in a band.”

“A band, huh? Like a rock band?” His eyebrows arch a little higher.

You shake your head. “No, not a rock band. I'm in a concert band.”

“Hm, with saxophones, flutes, and all that shit?”

“Uh-huh,” you take a bigger sip of your glass.

“What instrument do you play?”

“The clarinet.”

“You any good?”

You half shrug. “Let's say I have a natural talent.”

Then, you pick up the cherry from your glass and slowly suck it between your lips as a double-entendre, putting him under a spell as you rip off the stem in one swift motion.

“You’ll have to show me sometime.”

“I’d love to, Deputy.” You grin as he shifts on his seat. “That is, of course, if you have a good instrument. I won't just take the first one that comes around. I like to take my time picking a good one.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he answers quickly, boasting, “let me assure you I have a fine, tuned instrument. It has never disappointed anyone who's ever got the pleasure to play it.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” With a quick flick of your tongue on your lip, you gaze shamelessly at his crotch to make an initial assessment. It's hard to tell by the way he is sitting. The folds of his pants makes it harder to see an outline.

“Can I ask you something now, Deputy?”

“Shoot.” He tilts his beer to his lips.

“Let’s say, hypothetically, if I was a prostitute, would you arrest me?”

“Told you I’m off duty.”

“So… If I were to do something illegal right now, would you turn a blind eye? Is that what you’re implying?”

Pausing, Shane puts down the bottle, sending his opposite hand to land in the middle of your thigh as his face leans in closer.

“For you? I’d do anything you want, darlin’. Even turn a blind eye or both. I'd even turn in my badge if you asked me to. I'd kill any guy who'd dare to look at you with so much of a stink eye.”

“Interesting…” You shorten the distance to his face, your nose nudges the tip of his own, “who’s the bad boy now, huh?”

“I never claimed I was a good boy.”

“Hmm, no, I suppose you didn’t.” The tip of your tongue juts out, and you slowly lick his bottom lip before firmly planting your lips against his mouth.

When you can’t hold up the charade any longer, you laugh against his lips and pull back slightly as Shane laughs along with you.

“Hey, baby,” you reach with your hand to cup his jaw, and wipe the spit you left on his lip with your thumb.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You finally greet each other as usual. You’ve been going out for a while, but from time to time, you like to play a little and pretend you don’t know each other. You’re not sure how it started, all you know is that you both clearly enjoy this pretense as a form of foreplay, even if it’s a little silly at times. The only downside is that neither of you can hold the fantasy for too long. Eventually you always start laughing, but you're getting better at it. And it doesn't matter if it's not perfect, cause it works like a charm.

“You’re late,” he says, his warm hand squeezing your leg.

“I know, I’m sorry. My car was acting up again. I could’ve texted you, but I didn’t wanna mess up our pregame”

“It’s alright. I’ll check it out this weekend, yeah?” He brings his face closer so he can kiss your lips again. “You know, next time… do call me. It’d be fun to do this on the road. You could be a damsel in distress and me, an asshole who would only help you in exchange for certain favors.”

“That sounds kinky. I love it.” Scrunching your nose, you seize his mouth once again. This time, your lips part, and you invite him for a deeper dive into your mouth that he quickly takes over with the delicious swirl of his tongue that firmly plays with yours.

The hue of your advertised make-out proof lipstick ends up smudged on his lips when he pulls back.

“You know, that color looks good on you. It brings out your eyes.” You use your thumb to wipe the stain from his mouth.

“I should kiss you more often then.”

“I’m not opposed to that,” you pull his face closer so you can continue peppering his mouth with an endless amount of kisses. It’s hard to stop. He tastes and smells so good you can’t help yourself.

With music playing in the background, when the mood shifts to something slower, Shane drags you to the dance floor. You anchor your arms to him, trying to balance yourself on your impossible heels as you sway together to the melody of the song playing. You adore the way he stares at you when his forehead leans on top of yours. One of his fingers traces the shape of your jaw. A second later, your face is held inside his palm as an inescapable wave of desire forces him to conquer your lips again, as if his life was on the line and the only safe haven was your mouth. Your head spins with the dizzying swirl of his tongue that leaves you breathless over and over. The tone of the music changes to something sexier, and so does the rhythm of your bodies that follow suit. You part from his kiss as the heat rises, and spin around in his hold to press your ass against his bulge. His mouth latches at the crook of your neck, viciously printing a love bite as a reaction to the sensual swaying of your hips, making him harden behind his uniform slacks. You throw an arm back and place your hand blindly on the back of his head, making a fist with his curls.

“Everyone is looking at you, darling’” he purrs in your ear, clutching his hands to your waist, following your moves.

“Yeah? Let ‘em.” Your cheeks feel like burning when you say that. You avoid at all costs looking around to see anyone staring. Instead, you gaze over your shoulder to focus solely on him. “Bet they're jealous I've already picked my guy for the night.”

“You bet this sweet ass they are,” he squeezes your backside firmly as you find the soft skin of his earlobe and suck it between your teeth. It makes him lose his mind when you do that, but not as much as when you're sucking his cock. He becomes a feral creature when you take him fully between your lips.

You press your teeth a tad harder on his lobe, and he pulls back at once. He retaliates by biting your neck with the same force.

Letting out a gasp, you close your eyes and let Shane and the music take over your body. His hands roam your body anxiously to touch every part of your skin, covered or not. The sultry neon lighting of the dance floor acts as cover for you and other couples around.

There's something that has risen to rock-hard perfection, rubbing at the curve of your hips as the song comes to an end. During that transition, you suddenly feel your hands propped against the paneling of the wall, and him completely pressed against your back. One of his hands slips under the hem of your skirt at the front as he drags his hardness over your ass while his fingers play over the thin lacy fabric of your underwear, stirring your arousal.

Your panties are soaked by the time he manhandles your body so you're facing him again.

With glaring lust spilling out of the wildness of his gaze, he now shoves your back against the wall with little care. He's the hunter now, and you're the prey, and you can tell he's not looking to go easy on you.

Shane licks his lips, and without warning, he seizes your mouth once more with such vehemence, it makes your center send a jolt of electricity across every cell of your body. With teeth, tongue, and hands, he devours every bit of you as if you were made out of his favorite food. It's violent and delightful to have him all over you like that. It’s easy to get lost in that cloud of ecstasy when all your body craves nothing but being taken by him. Shane is firmly pressed against you. His rough hand lifts one of your thighs over his hip, forcing the skirt of your dress to fold up your leg, so you can feel the outline of his erection when he fits his crotch between your legs.

“Shane… Shane, baby,” you moan unintelligibly in his mouth, slightly coming to your senses. “Maybe we should do this somewhere else?”

“Hm? I thought Sherry was more adventurous.” His lips are automatically drawn to your neck once again.

“She is.” You hold his head between your palms and straighten his neck so you can look at his eyes.” But that doesn't mean she wants to basically copulate in front of all these people like fucking animals.”

“I don't think they’d mind.” Shaking his head, amused, he nudges the tip of this nose against yours. “It would be the first time these walls have seen some copulation happening.”

“Well, I do mind.”

When you're done protesting, you head out the bar to drive home, but you don't make it farther than the parking lot.

Unable to keep his hands off you, by the time you've reached his truck, he's practically ripped off your panties. There's barely a thread holding them together when your favorite deputy opens the door to the passenger seat to his truck. Without bothering with climbing inside, he bends you over that same seat, removing the remains of your underwear completely so he can collect your arousal in his fingers.

Much like the inside of the bar, there’s no doubt the parking lot at the back has seen its fair share of action, but out here, the difference is that there's practically anybody.

Either way, you leave the car door open to shield your dirty deeds. While Shane stands behind you, you look over your shoulder after hearing the clinking sound of his belt unbuckling, just in time to see his raging erection being released. Biting your lip, you watch him spit on his hand and spread it all over his shaft to have an extra layer of lubrication. He leans forwards and whispers in your ear to stay quiet before shoving his cock bluntly into your dripping cunt. You gasp and close your eyes, feeling every thick inch of him stretching you up nicely. His warmth breath bathes the back of your neck while he quickly picks up the pace. Right off the bat, his thrusts come sharp and hard to have you clenching around him before everyone even notices what you’re up to. This is about a fix, a quick release to quench that fire burning at your core. Pleasure ripples through your body with each push. You have to press your teeth harder on your lip to keep you from crying out. Shane coos your ear with encouragements mixed with a fair share of fucks and other curse words.

The grip of his hands tightens at your hips when he’s about to come. You can tell by the way his cock throbs and the erratic push of his hips searching for that sweet release. Your legs are about to give up when you feel the fire in your center expanding outwards, making you contract harder around him in one tight squeeze that earns you a good grunt out of him. A second later, his warm, sticky substance comes out in quick spurts, coating your walls, filling you up like a cream puff.

“Fuck, Deputy, you really know how to make a girl's legs shake.”

“You're not the only one with a natural talent, darlin’.”

— Credits: stunning divider by @firefly-graphics

#bernthirst tv tribute #jon bernthal #shane walsh #shane walsh x reader #shane walsh fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd #smut #darlingwrites

53 notes · View notes

lilacxquartz · 2 days ago

Text

PRETTY LITTLE TRINKET

harpy shoko ieiri × reader

plot: while lost at sea, you find yourself saved by a monster yet unable to leave

summary: you challenge your circumstances, only not to get very far at all due to a completely flipped decision.

chapter 3 of 5 • previous chapter • next chapter > • masterlist • ao3

3. Grave Decisions

It was becoming a little frustrating at how much of a standstill you seemed to be with your healing progress as your wound simply wasn’t getting any better and given just how different it looked beneath the gauze every time you snuck a peek below the gauze, you suspected that the wound was purposefully being reopened.

She must have been hurting you.

(So that you couldn’t leave—or perhaps so that you would remain weak—but why?)

Given that she was a monster, your mind went in all sorts of directions. Your first thought was born out of sheer paranoia, thinking that she was going to eat you, or something similar, but the sort of relationship that she seemed to cultivate from you was quite different. You considered something personally inflicted next, yet you couldn’t quite make sense of why it had to involve a prolonged wound.

When your feathered friend had returned, exhaustedly collapsing into her nest, you decided to sneak out instead. Hobbling down the rocky spire, you held your breath the entire way, the injured leg be damned. Albeit awkwardly, you shuffled down to where the waves crashed against stone, pushing and kneading violently churning waters back and forth. A truly treacherous place it was; so slippery and shiny, yet too worn to provide any traction.

Thankfully, the swim to land just up ahead wasn’t too far, even if the swim did feel like it was going to rip apart your skin from bone. You chanced it either way, giving it all that you had—pawing your hands forward, dragging yourself forward against the heavy current, doing everything you could—all the while the waters threatened to drag you from the shore, but thankfully never backing up on the warning. Just like when you pushed through before, you made it.

Using your hands and knees, you crawled over onto the coast, feeling the sharp rocks and sand scratch into your skin like webbing dust. A surging wave of nausea rose from your lungs as you recollected yourself, choking out waves out of lodged water—only to be met with the sight of something—someone else. Initially, you thought that she had caught up to you before you even had a chance to escape, but then you quickly realised that this was not her at all.

Slowly raising your head, your eyes locked onto an imposing figure, bearing dusky raven hues, their face unadorned with the same kindness that she offered you.

Dread pooled in your in the back of your mind, registering this particular being as a danger, and yet you remained hopeful. It was all you had to go on in these unforgiving circumstances, after all.

Crouching down to meet at your eye level, this particular beast propped a clawed finger just below your chin to tilt your head up. A noise similar to a ‘tch’ clicked from the flick of its tongue, signaling disapproval.

“What a bothersome thing she’s found this time,” a male voice commented, and in your own tongue at that. You understood that from your observations whenever she would idly speak to you, that she would use a different language. So whoever this beast was, intentionally meant to make sure that you would hear his insult.

You opened up your mouth to speak, only to be cut off by him before you even had the chance to do so.

“It’s a pity,” he sighed, letting go of your chin before letting his hand fall to his side. “Had it been me who found you, I would have just disposed of you, or left you right where you were.”

Taking a gamble with how disgusted this creature seemed to be with you, you tried to push the fact that you were trying to leave. “Look, I’m just trying to go home. Can you tell me where to—”

“—leave?” he cut you off again, tilting his head off to the side as he regarded you coldly before pushing you back against the dirt, keeping you lodged in place instead. “You should have asked me that yesterday,” he mused, “but no, it’s within the best interest of the island to keep you right where you are.”

“But, I can just leave and—” you tried once more, only for him to seemingly talk over you again.

“—it’s far too late for that, you foolish thing,” he quipped, squeezing tighter against your shoulder in a firm pinch, “but if there’s one of you that slips past us, then who’s to say you won’t bring back hundreds more of you as the last one did?”

You blinked.

He seemed to sigh as he let go of you. “Do you really have to go home? You’ll be creating more trouble than it’s worth by choosing to do so.”

Once again, you tried to drive your point across. “Y-yes…?”

He tutted once more, however, “What a troublesome species.”

Just as he was in the process of berating you for seemingly no reason at all, however, yet another bird-like creature seemed to land. Dusty white feathers descended onto the scene, landing with almost skilled precision. You avoided exchanging eye contact with this being too, already intimidated by the pulling allure of their deep blue gaze.

“Shoko will be upset if you hurt this one,” it replied in a mutual tongue, as though trying to convey reason within your hearing range. Shoko. That must have been what she was called. You wondered about their names too.

“Like she isn’t already doing something similar,” the other one scoffed, using the talons on his feet to pull back the seaweed, highlighting red scratchings just below, “see? Besides, Satoru, I’m not going to hurt this one. I’m doing what she wants. Confinement, was it?” he looked back at you, trying to remember a word, “That little thing that humans claim they do when they mean to imprison instead.”

“Just don’t injure this one more than is needed,” the silvery one protested.

“I’ll gladly leave the pain up to her,” he scoffed in response, “I wouldn’t want to taint my claws too much, would I?” he added before jumping up into the air, allowing his fanning wings to lift him back into the air, flying away. His friend seemed to follow, but you didn’t appear to be alone just yet, with the beast you did know, returning to find you.

She didn’t accuse nor ask you anything compromising, rather hurriedly closing the distance between the two of you within the blink of an eye. With practiced care, she inspected the damage left behind by her friend, seeming to examine you with frantic haste. Such care however had confused you, given that she was so happy before to inflict pain on your sleeping form just a good few hours ago, leaving you to wonder just what her angle was.

Finally dry and recovered from both the prior interaction as well as the hefty swim, you tried to choke out a confrontation, despite your voice sounding shakier than you would have liked it to be, “I know you’ve been hurting me,” you accused, “those scratches… the bleeding…” you listed before pausing, “this can’t continue, I’ll only get sick if you keep this up. I can’t always be injured. I’ll die eventually. So please, let… me… go.”

Her eyebrows knitted in slight frustration as her feathered fingers continued to pat at your cheek with delicate brushes, her clawed fingertips gently dabbing at your tender flesh—poking, but not piercing—although the control surely slipped as she tried to hold it all together. From the way she searched intricately in her mind for the right words, led you to believe that she might have been holding something from you.

“I… can’t,” was all she could initially muster before taking a deep breath to continue. “Humans have come here before to destroy our land… so there aren’t that many of us left,” she explained, trying to reel you closer as if afraid to let you slip away for even a second.

“I don’t want to destroy your home,” you assured her, “I just want to go home.”

Her eyes drifted around the area, reducing her voice to just a mere whisper as if careful to disclose the dire circumstances, “If you leave, my friends might kill you.”

Your eyes fluttered in surprise. “W-what?”

“This whole island is a secret to humans,” she replied, leaning even closer, trying to desperately explain, “most can’t see it unless they’re close to death, or in a mental decline, so our visitors are often desperate. Many get killed off if they reach the shores, others, we leave to drown at the site of the accident.”

“...Like my ship,” you murmured, catching on, “was anyone else alive?”

Shoko considered responding with the truth, but she feigned ignorance instead by shrugging her shoulders. “I am not sure.”

“E-even so,” you stammered, “I won’t tell anyone.”

She shook her head in response. “It won’t be enough,” she sadly confided, seeming to once again retain some information from you before doctoring her response into something different, “you’ve chang… nevermind, you’ve seen too much, is what I mean. You won’t be able to go back home. It’s a risk that we can’t take.”

“Wait,” you caught on, “change?”

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance, partially at herself for letting such information slip. It seemed as though she was internally warring with her inner mind at just how much she should share, choosing ultimately to once again, hide you away from the full truth.

“A slip of the tongue,” she curtly smiled, “I meant to say that it isn’t safe. I won’t injure you anymore and you can recover, but understand that I don’t want to gracefully harm you. I just want to keep you alive. Is that a possibility for us?”

With a weary nod, you sighed as you supposed that you didn’t have that much of a choice to begin with. Accepting the terms, you calmed your protest, making do with your current condition for now. You weren’t completely done with your attempts to leave this strange place just yet, but you knew that you had to buy your own time to rightfully plot and execute this whole matter without being caught by either of them again.

~~~

The days passed on with greater ease now that your existence wasn’t confined to staying put at the nest and with a great deal of caution, she pushed you into her friend group with the other two half-monsters. It was a rocky start, but you slowly got used to having her, Satoru, and Suguru around, even if it was clear that Suguru still deeply disliked your company. Satoru luckily for you, was the complete opposite. Curious, kind, and forgiving.

Shoko was something in between. She was reluctant in her prejudices against humans, likely for the same reason the other two were, but also still very much interested in keeping you around for her personal interest. She wanted nothing more than to simply sit down and learn from, as well as, all about you, curious to understand just why on earth humans seemed to have such an exhausting life going on back in the main parts of the globe, calling the everyday life you were from, ‘exhausting’.

True to her word as well, she let you finally heal without interruption, allowing your leg to mend itself towards a scar-free state, and just as it all started to get better, you found yourself locked onto a peculiar sight just over the horizon.

A large ship, just barely caught by your hopeful eyes. You hoped that they would somehow be search and rescue boats, perhaps by some miracle spotting you in the far distance, or how ever your delusionally planted hope went and so you jumped up and down from the spot, guiding them to your location.

But then you remembered a small detail, something about this island not being seen to the naked eye unless certain conditions were met.

Indeed, something was very wrong here. Their rough demeanours, their gruff appearances, and their body language eluded sheer hostility from their presence alone as they cruised closer towards the shore.

You had heard rumours before, but you thought that, perhaps naively, they were completely wiped out by now, a long-buried terror that ceased to exist from the late 1800s, and yet…

Locking eyes with one of them, you could tell very well.

That these were pirates.

So not only had you doomed yourself, but likely them too.

this is part 3 of lilac’s bite sized yandere nightmares

39 notes · View notes

spaceorphan18 · 1 day ago

Text

Three Conversations :: Polin fic

A/N: The next entry of my canon compliant series. This one is set during 3x01, and takes place between the garden party where Colin talks to Penelope and Lady Danbury's ball.

Colin has three conversations -- one with his mother, one with Kate, and one with Francesca.

Available to read on Ao3 if you like.

****

Colin Bridgerton finds himself, as he often has over the past few days since he’s returned home, in front of the window of the drawing room that faces the main square. It’s not as though he’s looking for anything in particular. The residents of the ton scurry by, going about their day, without much thought from him. Something else has drawn his attention. The Featherington Estate.

He hasn’t returned to the estate since the night of the Featherington Ball -- the night he called Jack Featherington out on his schemes. The night he made good on his promise that he would take care of them. Or at least one of them. The one who mattered to him the most. The one whom, despite countless letters, despite constantly being on his mind, he has not heard from at all.

He’s been debating on whether it would be appropriate or not to stop by, to check in, to make sure that they are alright. He has heard little word of any of them. He has learned that Jack Featherington is no longer a concern, having fled back to America and he’s heard news that Prudence had found herself a husband. But no news of Penelope. No news from Penelope. It’s worrying.

And so here he stands, waiting to maybe catch a glimpse of her. Wanting desperately to know if she is alright. Wanting to know if her silence has been forced or intentional; though neither option seems a good one.

He replays that moment in the garden again. He had been so eager to see her again. To speak with her. She is the only one he wanted to share his travels with, the only one who would probably care. He wanted to know of her, how she’s been without him, what she has been up to, what clever observations she has made in his absence. And yet, she had been distant, uninterested, cutting their reunion short after a few mere minutes of conversation. After all that silence he is still met with more silence. It feels cold and confusing in a way he can’t quite articulate.

What has changed?

Has her broken friendship with Eloise affected things? Is her family finally forced her to shut the world out? Or, is it…him?

“Colin? May I have a moment?” His mother’s voice jolts him from his thoughts.

He spares one last look at the unmoving Featherington Estate door before giving her his attention. “Yes, always.”

Her brow is furrowed, her well-known look of mothering concern crossing her face. “I can’t help but observe, since you’ve been home, that you’ve been a little more outward in your affections towards the young ladies of the ton.”

Colin lets out a groan. He knows where this is going and it’s not a conversation he really feels like having. He turns back towards the window. “I’m merely playing the part society asks of me. That is all.”

Violet purses her lips, digging in. “That may be, but I can’t help but wonder… You have always been so charming with the young women, Colin, maybe not with the same frivolity you’ve shown as of late, but I feel as though there’s something more intentional going on as well. Tell me, do you have any plans for this season?”

“My only plans are the same as they’ve always been,” he replies, with some resignation. “I intend to continue pursuing my life’s purpose.”

“Which is what, exactly?” Her eyebrow is arched, skeptical, but still she retains a dash of hopefulness she reserves for all her children.

He plasters on the grin he’s well known for. “If what you’re really asking is if I plan on taking a wife this season, the answer remains no. I’m sure Francesca will keep you busy. And if that is not, you still have Eloise or…Benedict.”

“Hmmm,” Violet watches out the window, too, deep in thought. “While I understand that your brother and sister may seem more difficult in certain ways, neither of them have ever been coy about their pursuits.”

“And you feel that I am?”

“Yes, quite.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he says, shortly. “But rest assured, I have no desire to find a wife this season. I have no desire to find love again any time soon. If that is plain enough speak for you.”

A carriage pulls up in front of the Featherington Estate. Colin watches as Penelope and her maid are helped out of the carriage. Penelope has a handful of books, her nose squarely in one, as she pays no attention to Lady Featherington, coming out of the carriage next, berating the driver for some unknown issue. He isn’t sure what it is, but there’s something different in the way Penelope is holding herself, something he hasn’t quite seen before. She is lost in her own world, relaxed, wistful, amused. He wants to know what has captured her attention so thoroughly.

He contemplates leaving. It would only take a moment to cross the square, ask her about her book, ask her about her thoughts… He does miss her thoughts. He misses her voice. He misses her.

The thought makes him feel both heavier and lighter at the same time.

“Colin,” Violet says his name slowly, delicately, as if debating on which words she’d like to use. “You have traveled the world, and I have no doubt that what you have seen has, for better or worse, changed you. But I do have a hard time believing that someone who has felt love once so deeply is now claiming so easily to forsake it.”

He isn’t quite sure how to respond to that. “I am not forsaking anything,” he assures her. “I’ve just decided that of the many pursuits I would like to have, love is no longer one of them.”

“Interesting,” Violet hums to herself.

“What’s that?”

“The last child of mine to say such things to me was Anthony.”

****

He finds himself, again, at the window. The whole Featherington family seems to be gathered around a couple of carriages now - headed out for some kind of outing. The modiste perhaps? There’s a lot of commotion as they’re sorting out who is going where. He observes Penelope, off to one side, arms crossed as she waits for her turn. He notes that she doesn’t look happy or sad, only lost in her own thoughts. Resigned if anything.

He still hasn’t made it across the square. Still hasn’t gone to check up on them. Still hasn’t figured out how someone who used to be so verbose with every interaction is now suddenly such a mystery to him. He wants to see her, talk to her, ask her how she has been. It’s becoming more of a need than a want. And still he refrains. He will not impede in places he may not be welcome.

“Colin?” This time it’s Kate who approaches, with a broad grin. “It is a pleasure to have you back.”

He nods, with gratitude. “I must say, it is a pleasure to have you join our household. I’ve never seen Anthony so…tolerable.”

She lets out an amused laugh. “You are too kind. And also too kind for such gifts.” She holds up a pair of royal purple, leather riding gloves; a pair he knew she would adore the minute he saw them. “They are similar to a design I am familiar with back home. I cherish them.”

He nods, warmly. “It’s the least I could do for such an agreeable new sister. And if I dare say it, you are possibly the most agreeable of the bunch.”

She lets out another kind laugh. “Mmm, you say that now, but I assure you if you spoke with Edwina, she would tell you that I would be just as troublesome as your own blood.”

His attention is once again drawn to the window. A horse is neighing, being restless. Something has spooked it. There is a commotion outside as the drivers are trying to calm it down. He quickly scans for Penelope, but she has wandered a bit down the road, far from any harm’s way. He is relieved to see it.

“Since you are my sister now, perhaps you wouldn’t mind a query,” he asks of Kate, who is also watching the scene unfold across the square. She nods, open to his question. “You wouldn’t happen to know what has come between my sister, Eloise, and Penelope Featherington?”

Her head snaps towards him, surprised. “How unlike you, Colin, asking for gossip.” She gives him a playful tap on the arm.

He shrugs. “It’s less about gossip and more about feeling as though the world has turned on its head and being unsure as to how it got there.”

“Ah,” she replies, looking out the window. She notices what he has, Penelope pacing in a square as she waits, head to the ground, avoiding the scene that is only being exacerbated as Portia yells at the driver about the horse. “Well, unfortunately, I do not have an answer to such an inquiry. Admittedly, Anthony and I have heard little of the outside world lately.”

“And yet, you may have been the only ones, besides my mother, who’ve responded to my letters.” It shouldn’t have bothered him so much to hear back so little. Yet, it feels as though the world has moved on without him and he’s having to scramble to catch up.

“So, I am to take it that none of your sisters wrote to you?”

He shakes his head. “None of them. Not even Penelope.”

Kate looks at him curiously. “Penelope is not your sister.”

“Yes, but she is my…” He cuts off, unsure as to the end of the sentence. She is his what? It is true, she is not his sister. A friend? A confident? The only person in the world he feels comfortable baring his soul to? The only person he truly longed for while he was away? What do you call such a person?

Maybe, simply, she is just his Penelope.

His whole body relaxes at the thought.

“She is a good family friend,” he responds when he notices Kate’s eyes lingering on him.

She arches an eyebrow, making a good imitation of his mother. “If I may venture a guess, perhaps Penelope is someone who is more important to you than merely a good family friend?”

“Perhaps,” He says. It is uncomfortable how closely Kate is watching him. “We have known each other since childhood. And with the Featheringtons no longer having a direct male heir, they should be looked out for. She should be looked out for. Despite what you might hear, they are a fine family.” He adds the last part quickly, as it is clear from the scene outside that Lady Featherington, on her best days, remains more difficult than ever.

Kate tilts her head to consider. “I am not sure what it is I might hear. Do not forget that I, too, have come from a less than reputable family as well.”

“That couldn’t be further from the truth,” Colin assures her.

“You know that, and I know that, but others may not,” Kate points out. “Hence, I will trust your judgment when it comes to the Featheringtons.”

“Good.”

“And?” What more she is waiting for, he is unsure.

“And…?”

She clicks her tongue. “I suspect there is more that you do not wish to divulge at present. I understand.”

“I’m not sure I get what you mean?”

Kate shakes her head at him. “Never you mind.”

The scene outside has reached a solution. The horse is now calm, the driver annoyed yet settled, Lady Featherington has finally stopped her screaming and has entered the carriage. Penelope finally makes her way back towards the carriage, joining her family. Colin notices that none of them seem to pay her any attention. She is just there, taking up space. A terrible oversight if he has ever seen one.

How does one not notice her? She is the most radiant person in any room.

“Oh, Colin…” Kate rubs his arm, affectionately.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just that -- as unalike the two of you are, sometimes you remind me of your brother.” She grins, giving him a wink as she starts to leave. “Thank you again for the gloves.”

****

It’s evening time. Colin glances out the window to see if their carriage, the one taking them to Lady Danbury’s ball, has come around. It hasn’t yet, but across the square, a carriage waits at the Featherington estate. He pauses, watching, but all is still. They have to be going. Everyone is going. Hopefully, then, he will see her there. Maybe, then, they can steal a moment to talk.

He is joined at the window by his sister, Francesca. She is ready as he is for the ball, dressed in a lovely shade of pale blue. She doesn’t say a word as she approaches, only stands by his side, idly, as they both wait. He squirms a moment, fixing his jacket, adjusting his collar, dusting off a lapel. Nothing moves outside. He feels restless.

“If you’re wanting to inquire about what is on my mind, there is no need, for it is nothing,” he says, after a moment.

She gives him an odd look. “I had not the intention to ask about anything. Though it does not sound like nothing.” She clasps and unclasps her hands in front of her, fidgeting.

“Are you nervous for your first ball?” he asks.

“Maybe a little,” she admits. Francesca has always been so calm, so serene. It’s strange to see her in such an agitated state.

He takes one of her hands and gives it a squeeze. “There is no need to be. You look lovely, sister. And rest assured, we will all be here for you.”

She smiles, but it does not quite meet her eyes. “I find comfort in that.”

They continue to stare out the window, silently.

Eventually, across the way, the door opens. Lady Featherington leaves the house, followed only by Penelope. She’s bundled tightly in a cloak but he notices her hair is styled differently, the red waves shining brilliantly in the orange glow of the lamplight as it cascades over her shoulder. Colin’s breath hitches a little at the sight of her.

“I do miss her,” Francesca says, solemnly.

“Penelope?”

“Yes,” a faint smile spreads on Francesca’s lips. “She’s always been so lively and kind to me. Always complimenting how I play the pianoforte. It seems as though something has been missing not having her around.”

“Yes, Penelope is…” his words die as there isn’t an adequate way to complete the sentence. He remains fixed on Penelope across the way. He hadn’t been looking forward to the ball. He isn’t often fond of any of them. But he’ll be seeing her soon, and a sense of giddiness arises in him.

“It’s a shame whatever argument that she and Eloise have had,” Francesca continues. “We did not see her at all while in the country.”

“And you do not know their argument?”

Francesca shakes her head. He supposes that’s one mystery that will have to remain for now.

Across the way, Penelope moves towards the carriage. For a moment, she turns to look behind her. Her eyes flash up, and Colin thinks she sees him looking back. A frown falls over her face, and she turns away again, entering the carriage. Colin feels a heaviness in his heart.

“I find myself…missing her as well,” he admits. It feels good to say it out loud.

“That does not surprise me,” Francesca says, unexpectedly.

“It doesn’t?”

“You are dear to her.”

“You mean, she is dear to me?”

“Of course, she would be.” Francesca gives him an incredulous look. “I only meant that I’m sure her attention towards you had not gone unnoticed. To not have it now must feel…strange.”

“Eloise is dear to her,” he deflects. “Any affection for me, as well as the rest of the family, is merely an extension of that.”

A flicker of a grin twitches on Francesca’s lips. “Yes, I’m sure she feels towards you the same as she does for Hyacinth.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“And yet, her eyes do not light up nearly as bright when any of the rest of us walk in a room.”

“Do they?”

“Surely, brother, you jest. Have you truly never noticed how…” Francesca is cut off by the rest of the family entering the room.

The bustle to leave begins as they shuffle out of the house. Francesca is scooped up by their mother, ushering them out first as she gives Francesca tips on how to act and whom to seek when they arrive at the ball. Benedict and Eloise head out next, the two of them huddled together as they giggle and laugh and joke about the various ways they could make what should be a very dull evening more lively. Anthony and Kate are next, arms linked together, as they look at each other, very deeply in love.

Colin brings up the rear, feeling somewhat like an afterthought.

“Why are you being melancholy?” Anthony throws him a look as they wait to enter the carriage.

“I am not melancholy,” Colin states. “I’m just being… pensive.”

“You’re being sour,” Anthony says. “And you’re reminding me of me. I don’t like it.”

Kate lets out a laugh, as she puts a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “Let your brother be. I’m sure his mood will improve once we get to the ball.” She gives Colin a wink as they enter the carriage.

He isn’t sure why everyone has been insisting he’s acting like Anthony. Anthony had been miserable last year. And he doesn’t feel anything of the sort. He’s fine. Good, actually. Never in his life better. A far cry from the tortured soul his brother had been the previous year.

He throws one last look over to the Featherington estate; Francesca’s words lingering on his mind. Would Penelope’s eyes brighten when they meet tonight? The thought has him feeling hopeful for the evening.

#bridgerton #polin #polin fic #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #penelope bridgerton #polination #s.o. writes things

32 notes · View notes

muppeddie · 2 days ago

Text

Blame it on my DNA

808 coda; Eddie tells Chris about his plan to move to El Paso. It does not go well. Buck is forced into the narrative about it. Ao3

“Hey, Bud. You got a minute?”

“Uh-uh.”

Chris’ room is dark. He keeps the curtains drawn tight and the blinds down most of the time. It’s three in the afternoon in El Paso, Eddie knows there should be sun streaming through, bathing the beddings and showing him what his son has up on his walls, if he left his shoes all over the place, if the bed is made.

It must be, though. His mother always used to make them during breakfast.She would serve them and disappear, lighting fast as she drew up covers and fixed pillows before they could be done.

Eddie used to go back to his room before leaving for school and find the bed made, like magic.

He’s sure Helena does Chris’ bed, too. Must take her time with it since she doesn’t have three kids at once anymore, too.

“How was the chess tournament?” he asks, coward.

Chris rolls his eyes, one hand picking at the lint on his pants. “It was fine. I got third place.”

A smile breaks out on Eddie’s face. Lips turning up and up, hurting his cheek. He’s so proud. “No way! That’s amazing, Chris.”

“It’s third place, Dad,” he says, deadpanned. Something in Eddie breaks. “Nothing to write home about.”

He settles more firmly against the chair. This time, he’s chosen to take the call from the kitchen. Barren, most of his utensils are already in boxes to be shipped out to some storage room until he can make peace with either selling or taking them with him when he moves.

“Hey. Everything you do is something to write home about. You got some kinda trophy I can bust about at the station?”

Bashful, Chris bends out of frame. The room is so dark; how Eddie worries. He comes up after shuffling around somewhere with a framed letter of participation, declaring him third best in the school chess championship. There is a little brown ribbon printed on the picture.

“Just this,” Chris says, shy and low. It comes out so thin, Eddie barely hears.

“That’s great. I’m really proud of you, Bud. I mean it,” he says, because Eddie thinks he should hear it.

“Grandpa says we can practice more and I can try the tournament week after next, just not in school. There is like this social center thing… it’s for charity or something.” It’s been months since he heard his kid say so many words at once. Eddie feels choked up about it, just a little.

He clears his throat before he speaks again. In for a penny. “What if… what if I was there, to cheer on you? Would you like that?”

Chris sits straight in his chair, his head is lopsided but his eyes shine behind his glasses - bright, bright, bright blue. “I guess.” He takes the longest pause in Eddie’s life. “It would be cool.”

“Good.” It propels him forward, an asteroid ready to crash and burn. “Because I’m coming to El Paso in a few weeks.”

“Like, for holiday? Buck didn’t say you have time off.”

“No, no. Not for holiday, uhm…” He wets his lips, swallows around the nerves that have balled in his throat, picks at the linen in his gym shorts, a mirror of Chris. “For… ever? I’m- I’m moving back to Texas, Chris. Saw a new house and everything. We can go check it out together, if you want.”

Chris pales, the blue of the screen casts him in a weirdly off-putting light.

“Not. Not that I’m gonna make you come live with me. I mean, you can do whatever you want, but if you do want to live with your grandparents, I want to be there. For you. I’m not missing the big moments anymore.”

Eddie gets to the end of his little speech, Chris’ chest is heaving. He reaches for the tablet like it will allow him to reach through the screen and touch, comfort, reassure.

This is exactly why he needs to go back to Texas.

“What… what about the house? You can’t just sell it.”

Eddie opens his mouth to speak, but Chris is on a spiral. He looks somewhere to the left of the screen, barely catching his breath. “What about your job? Does Captain Nash know? Did you tell Buck?”

Nodding, Eddie replies, his voice a bit higher, a bit firmer, “I did. It’s all taken care of, you don’t need to worry about it, that’s my job.”

“You never do things for me. Just for you,” Chris spats, vitriol and anger right on the center of the keyboard. “You’re always thinking about yourself first.”

And that - that can’t be further from the truth. He needs to know, Eddie needs to tell him. And why is the screen suddenly so blurry? Why is his chest aching? Did someone shoot him again? Right there, in his kitchen?

“That’s not true Christopher. You know that’s not true. I’m…”

Chris interrupts him. “First you leave Mom behind, then you send me away, and now I don’t get to come back home?” He’s yelling now, full-body spasms, his arms shaking. That much stress cannot be good for him. “You promised. You promised.”

“Chris.”

“I don’t wanna talk to you anymore.” The connection shuts. There is only a black screen and the image of Eddie’s red eyes and snotty face.

He clicks to the right, just below Christopher’s name on his contact history. The tablet rings for about three seconds before the call gets picked up and Buck’s face lights up the screen. He’s at home, on his couch, relaxed in the gray hoodie he keeps for nothing-days.

If he notices how rattled Eddie is, he doesn’t show it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I think I screwed up, Buck.”

The expression on his best friend’s face changes, he gets that frown he has when they talk about something big, shifting forward in his seat. “Tell me about it.”

#buddie #buddie fic #911 on abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz

29 notes · View notes

littlelovelyra · 4 hours ago

Text

"Tell Me I Can't Touch You" - Sylus x FMC

“I’m not a good enough man to walk away from this. You need to tell me that I’m not allowed to touch you."

MINORS DNI 18+

ao3 if you prefer

Word Count: ~1,797

Summary: After you find yourself ambushed in the N109 zone, Sylus comes to your rescue, resulting in a night of passion and ultimately, acceptance that you want him.

notes: A quick one shot of Sylus and FMC. I've had this lil scene in my mind for a while. I've been out of the writing game for a bit so I apologise if its sloppy. <3

The last thing you can recall is being ambushed in the N109 zone, a place where despite your best efforts, you keep finding yourself. As much as you try to stay away from the shady territory you always seem to find yourself back here and Sylus is always ready and waiting for you in the shadows. The irresistible pull you feel towards him should disgust you, it should make your gut twist with nausea but instead, you find butterflies in its place. No matter how hard you try, his face, his voice and even the feel of his skin are burnt into your mind. He’s like a drug, all it took was one encounter with him and now his presence flows in your veins.

As your vision fades in and out of focus, the feel of warm, strong arms encircle you. From what you can see, you know exactly where you are. If the dimly lit hallways were not a dead giveaway, it would be the intoxicating smell of his cologne that always drifted through the entire safe house. He’s carrying you… that means he must have found you after the ambush happened… or was he already watching you?

As you gain a bit more consciousness you attempt to wriggle out of his arms but you are quickly humbled by a radiating pain moving down your ribs and you feel his grip gently pull you closer to his chest.

“If you keep wriggling like that, you will only hurt yourself more, Kitten.” The warmth of his breath cascades down your cheek as he whispers in your ear, sending those butterflies into a frenzy.

“What… What happened? I remember an ambush but not much after that.” Your voice sounds a little hoarse and tired as you try to recollect the recent events.

“Yes, there were three men. They saw a beautiful woman walking alone and decided to take the opportunity. They will not be bothering you… or in any woman again. Ever.” The coldness of his tone cuts through you as he gently places you down on the bathroom vanity. “You’re freezing. There is a towel and some fresh clothes for you here, take your time in the shower. I will wait outside for you, but before I go, take this please to ease the pain a little.” He gently opens your hands and gives you two pills that you assume are painkillers. You look up to say thank you and are stunned by his soft concerned gaze. You give a quick nod in appreciation and swallow the pills, his shoulders instantly relax and he exits the bathroom.

What was his angle? He looked like he cared for a moment there but there has to be something he wants. He’s one of the most feared men, surely you were hallucinating that look he gave you. Softly you pad across the cold tiles and turn the shower on, taking a small moment to appreciate just how spacious it is, you could lay down in it if you wanted to… imagine all the things two people could do in here… what you and Sylus could— “No. Stop it” You stubbornly cut your thoughts short. You cannot be fantasising about him. It’s not right.

After stepping inside the shower, you welcome its warmth, enjoying the feel of the hot water hitting your back. A wave of annoyance works through you as you begin to lather the soap over your body and scrub. You should have been more aware of your surroundings; you know better than to let your guard down, especially in the fucking N109 zone. What the hell was going through your head? If Sylus wasn’t there, who knows what would have happened? A slight feeling of debt creeps through your chest, and your mind connects the pieces. That is his angle. You owe him now. Surely that is what he wants… why else would he save you? GOD, you feel stupid for even thinking he was concerned. You turn the shower off and head over to the towel, drying off and putting on an oversized tee shirt with a pair of shorts. Seething with irritation, you exit the ensuite and find Sylus sitting on the edge of the bed. He quickly stands and holds out his hand to help you as you slowly move around. The pills have dulled the pain but it is still tender to move too fast.

“So what do I owe you, Sylus?” You cross your arms and glare at him expectantly.

“Your skepticism wounds me.” He chuckles as he raises an eyebrow at your obvious display of irritation. “You owe me nothing, Kitten. Just come lay down and rest. Please.”

You glare at him a moment longer and unfold your arms as you slowly lay down on the bed. “Fine. I believe you. For now.” The irritation slowly dissipates as you settle on the soft mattress and close your eyes.

The mattress dips down to your left and you snap your head in the direction to see Sylus perched on his elbow watching you with a smirk.

“Can I help you?” You raise an eyebrow at him in confusion. His eyes travel down your body and his brow furrows with concern.

“You have a few cuts on your legs. I have some ointment for them.” He moves quickly and sits between your legs, opening a tube of cream. You feel your cheeks heat, and those damn butterflies are practically bursting now. Too stunned to speak, you lie silently, watching him spreading the cream across his palms, massaging it down your leg. His hands are firm yet soft and gentle at the same time. As he works the cream into your skin, a soft moan of appreciation escapes your lips, and his hands still for a moment. Another flush of embarrassment rises to your cheeks and you refuse to look at him as he begins working on the other leg.

His fingers massage lazy circles dangerously close on your upper thigh, and heat pools at your centre as you mentally will those fingers to wander further. You can’t help yourself; you have to steal a glance at him, you need to see if there is any desire from him. The minute you open your eyes, they lock to his crimson pools, he’s been staring at you. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth and a low grumble escapes his mouth as he holds himself over you.

“You’ll need to stop looking at me like that, Kitten. Because if you don’t, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.” His mouth hovers just above yours, and the heat of his breath sends a shiver down your body. You gently bring your hand to his face and run your thumb over his lips, watching his ruby eyes glisten with need. “I’m not a good enough man to walk away from this. You need to tell me that I’m not allowed to touch you. Tell me… and I’ll walk away.” He grits his teeth as he pins your hands to the padded headboard.

“I don’t want you to go.” The whispered confession hangs in the air as it leaves your lips.

“You’ll regret this. Tell me to go. Please.” He whispers back to you, his mouth hovering over your lips again.

“Sylus… Touch me. Please.” Your body squirms beneath him, and you feel his hard length briefly against your leg.

His mouth crashes into yours, and your body is set ablaze with desire as you pull his clothes off. He gently removes your clothing, and he sits back for a moment as his eyes hungrily take in your naked form. Sylus crawls his way up your body and brings his mouth over your breast, gently flicking his tongue over your hardened peak, earning a moan of pleasure from you. He places hot, slow kisses down your body before settling his head between your thighs. You shake in anticipation as his breath spreads across your sex.

The feeling of his tongue slipping through your seam makes your back arch in pleasure as he begins to feast on you as if it were his last meal. Catching your bottom lip between your teeth, you look down, watching him at work and lock eyes as he slips his finger into you, pumping the digit in and out as he devours you. Waves of pleasure roll through you, and it's not long before you are crashing over into ecstasy.

As he frees himself from between your legs, he once again crawls up over you, planting a soft, deep kiss on your mouth. He expertly parts your lips and slips his tongue against yours, moving in perfect synchronisation. You hear a dull thud hit the floor to see that he has removed his pants, and the hard length of his arousal hovers at your entrance as he looks into your eyes.

“I want you, Sylus. Please.” You breath out as you wrap your legs around him urging him closer.

“You never have to beg me, Kitten.” He breathlessly pants as he slowly guides himself into you. “Fuck. You’re so wet for me. Such a good girl.” His thrusts slowly pick up pace and the wet sounds of your bodies clashing together sound like a symphony to your ears. He was worse than a drug, he’s taken up your entire being and you loved it. He felt like home and you didn’t care if it was just for this moment. It was worth it. As he continues to ram into you he brings his hand down and rubs tight circles around your clit bringing you closer to the edge once more.

“Say my name. When you come, I want you to say my name. I want to hear that you know who’s made you come so hard.” His breathing is erratic, and his thrusts are frenzied.

The waves build up again, and you shatter around him, screaming his name. You can feel your walls clench around his cock, and you feel his hips begin to buck as he releases himself deep inside you.

He falls beside you, pulling you into his chest in a gentle embrace, and he strokes his hand up and down your spine. Your brows furrow slightly at how happy you feel.

“What are you thinking, Kitten? Are you feeling regretful?” He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“No… I feel… free. Does this make me a bad person, Sylus?” You whisper against his chest.

“No, this doesn’t make you a bad person.” He mumbles against your hair.

“Then what does it make me?” You breathe out as you look up at him.

“Mine. It makes you mine.” He whispers against your lips bringing them together once more.

23 notes · View notes

turn-my-hollow-purple · 1 day ago

Text

Don't You Want Someone Crazy Like Me, Babe?

CALLING ALL ARCANE FANS! Here's a CaitVi slowburn I'm working on on Ao3 so go check it out on there (tagged), this is just the first chapter :)

cw: swearing, mental health issues (eating disorders, self harm), alcohol/drug addiction/abuse

Two years? Two whole years. Isn’t that insane? Vi finds herself thinking as she feels the warm rush of water against her pale skin. She swipes the back of her hand along her face, pushing the beads of water off her body. Her delicate fingers wrap tightly along the handle of the shower and push it off shut quickly. The abrupt feeling of cold air against her skin causes a bitter sensation to erupt along her body, goosebumps decorating her skin.

She shivers, shaking her head slightly, letting the water spray from her pinkish hair. She wraps a towel along her body, covering only a slight portion of her figure. It hangs loosely off her soft skin, clinging to the wet curve of muscles along her body. As she walks past the mirror to exit the bathroom, she catches a glimpse at her body and cringes slightly, hating watching her own figure.

Vi exits the bathroom and is greeted by the loud banging of hyperpop music from Powder’s room across the hall. Vi bangs a hand on her door and rolls her eyes.

“KEEP IT DOWN, I DON’T WANT ANOTHER NOISE COMPLAINT!” she yells to her sister. She doesn’t receive a response which isn’t surprising, but Vi gives up, grumbling as she makes her way to her own room.

She drops the towel lazily on the ground and pulls out a pair of gray sweat pants that are coated in various markings… dust, grime, paint. She slips those on and finds a loose fitting, cropped, black tank top. Her nipples poke against the soft fabric as she runs a brush through her messy hair.

It’s grown out to a lengthy mullet, creeping halfway down her back and strands of her hair are painted black in contrast to the brightness of the pink color of her hair. Vi sits on the edge of her bed and realizes only now that she hasn’t slept through a whole night in the two years it's been. Her phone lights up on the ground next to her towel and she shoots up and rushes to it. It’s just a message from Jayce… not the message she wanted.

It’s the group chat with her, Jayce, and Viktor called “Hexual Tension”

Hammerhead: vi, when u work next Knuckles: ??? Knuckles: which job dumbass? Clockwork: I believe he is referring to your job as a bouncer at the club downtown, Vi. Knuckles: alright hexpert Knuckles: why? Hammerhead: we wanted to visit u Knuckles: professor v wanted to visit me? Clockwork: Jayce asked if I would accompany him to your work and I happily obliged. I told him it is like a date. Knuckles: with hundreds of other people Knuckles: and me Hammerhead: long time no see Vi Knuckles: I know I miss y’all too Knuckles: I work tomorrow from 8 to 1 am Clockwork: Perfect, we will see you then.

Vi flicks her phone closed and sighs. It’s been awhile since she’s seen those dumbasses and as much as she doesn’t want to be bothered, she does miss them.

She jumps at the sound of a knock on her bedroom door. “Come in,” she calls out.

Powder peeks her head inside. “Can I come in?”

Vi just nods and scoots over on the bed to make more room for her sister, but rather she sprawls herself out on the ground instead of the bed. Vi just huffs.

“What’s up?”

“I know it’s the two year anniversary,” she whispers, her eyes glued to the ceiling. Her blue hair is messy, falling on the ground with strands across her pale face.

“I don’t need your pity, Powder,” Vi mumbles.

“Hey, street name, dumbie,” she grunts out.

“Sorry, Jinx,” Vi subconsciously corrects, not quite used to her sister’s new ‘street persona’.

“I’m not here to give you pity, just make sure you’re okay, that’s all,” she whispers, turning over on the hardwood floor and facing upwards at Vi sitting on the bed.

“I’ve… been better,” Vi finds herself admitting quietly.

“It’s been two years and-”

“-don’t expect me to get over it after two years,” Vi bites.

“Not what I was going to say,” Jinx informs, flicking her finger in the air disapprovingly. “I was going to say… it’s been two years and I haven’t seen you take care of yourself once or process it properly once and I’m not sure… that’s just not good.”

“You’re not exactly the queen of taking care of herself,” Vi informs, her eyebrows cocking slightly.

Jinx laughs loudly, an outburst that catches Vi off guard. “You’re not wrong… I have anxiety and an eating disorder and I blast my ears with music so I don’t hear the voices. But you… you have depression and anger issues and hurt your body physically.”

“I’m not proud of it, alright. I’m just saying I don’t think you’re one to speak on healthy behaviors.”

Jinx shrugs, turning onto her back again, eyes darting across the ceiling as if they’re searching desperately for something, perhaps an answer to a question that underlies Vi's words.

“I didn’t mean to bother you, just trying to be a good sis,” she says quietly.

Vi feels a sharp pain in her stomach and scrunches her nose up tightly at those words. “I’m sorry, Po-Jinx. I’m just processing everything. First love and first heartbreak are hard.”

“Especially since you’re gay.”

Vi makes a scowling face, shooting daggers at her sister, who doesn’t even look in Vi’s direction, but bursts out in a fit of giggles again.

“Yeah, okay, especially since I’m gay. But it’s just been hard when she was… my whole life, I suppose.”

Jinx just nods, her fingers dancing across her skin as she allows the tingles to fuel her body, letting her know that she’s breathing and thinking and alive. The cool wood of the floor helps. Jinx tilts her head ever so slightly in Vi’s direction and her lips tug into a small frown.

“Sorry,” she chirps.

Vi just shrugs. “I’m going to be fine. I just can’t believe you remembered it’s been two years.”

“How could I forget?” she whispers, her lips teasing upwards slightly. “You hadn’t spoken to me in years and you just appeared on my doorstep like a wet dog.”

“I know, not my finest moment. Dad died and I got fucked up and I’m sorry again.”

“Stop apologizing for it, dammit,” Jinx hisses, hating to relive their past trauma and mistakes.

Vi bites the inside of her cheek, feeling the same pang in her stomach at the discussion of past wounds. “But I’m glad I’m here.”

“Me too,” Jinx whispers. “Work tomorrow?”

“Both jobs, yeah. You?”

“Yup, both as well,” Jinx whistles out, a soft sound that has a childlike tone to it.

Vi just laughs slightly. “Glad you call what you do work.”

“I make money!” she informs, offense written across her face.

“Legally?”

“Money’s money!” she yelps, pressing her palms into the cold wood to help push herself up so she’s sitting upright and looking at Vi directly.

Vi just shakes her head and laughs. “Just giving you a hard time. And don’t get caught, alright?”

Jinx offers a mimicking salute as she stands up and bows, making her way to the door. She swings it open and lunges through it.

Vi’s voice cuts through the door before she can shut it. “Turn your techno-ass music down so we don’t get a damn noise complaint again, alright?”

Jinx rolls her eyes but smiles, the door open barely half an inch as she whispers “no promises!” through it.

Vi watches the door shut all the way and she finds her body collapse fully on the bed. Her dark room glows slightly in the low light of the lantern sitting in the corner. She doesn’t bother with overhead lights often as it costs more for the electricity bill. She contorts her body until her hand scrambles against the floor under her bed. Her fingers brush against the cold glass of a beer bottle that she pulls out and presses against her cracked, scarred lips. She shifts her hand under the covers of her messy bed and she finds her vape. She also brings this to her destroyed lips, breathing in the taste.

She blows it out in a low breath, her lungs deflating completely, leaving her weak. The room fills with the scent of blue raspberry and it’s stupid, but it reminds her of-

Vi tosses her vape across the room. It hits the wall and then the ground with a loud bam! sound and she hears the pieces of it scatter across the wooden floor. She hisses under her breath, regretting the mistake but not bothering to clean up the newly made mess.

The beer bottle finds its way back to her lips and she consumes the tart liquid. It coats her tongue and her throat, encapsulating her entire body in a way that turns her mind fuzzy and numb.

Vi can’t help but think it’s also been two years since she hasn’t been either high or drunk.

Her body sinks into her old mattress and she lets her muscles relax, feeling the coursing alcohol throughout her veins, fueling her body and her mind, leading her to exhaustion.

════❖════

Only the holy lord above knows how long Vi’s alarm has been blaring for. That is if there is a holy lord above.

Her head is pounding and she feels sick to her stomach, a sour feeling pulsing in her body. She lets her hand search her hand blindly search her bed for her phone, searching for an escape to the loud sounds that make her hangover worse. She gives up quickly and pulls herself out of bed, realizing it’s on the floor.

“Motherfucker!” she swears loudly, realizing the time. “I’m so fucking late-”

It’s already 11:30 am and she realizes that she had a class that started 45 minutes ago. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she cusses under her breath as she messily runs a hand through her long hair, not bothering to straighten or brush it.

She also doesn’t bother changing, just grabbing her shoes and her boxing gloves, along with her wraps and a water bottle.

“BYE!” she screams loudly as she darts out of the small apartment that she shares with Jinx. Vi doesn’t get a response from her sister, which isn’t surprising. She’s probably still asleep.

Vi sprints about four blocks to the small little boxing studio in the middle of the downtown area, bursting through the door, panting and scared.

Her boss stumbles over to her… his face does not look amused.

“The fuck you doing here so late. Someone had to take care of your class,” he shoots bitterly.

Vi’s lips quake as she attempts to breathe properly, to fill her lungs with the air required to talk and communicate with her boss. She scrunches her nose and rests her hands on her knees.

“I’m so sorry I had an issue at home and-”

“Not interested. Go take your class back,” he demands.

Vi straightens herself out, pulling her tape out to bandage up her wrists and put her gloves on.

“Oh, and Vi?” he quips as she’s rushing to one of the back rooms. “You’re late one more time, you’re fired,” he hisses.

She nods, her eyes stinging. She’s exhausted and worn out but she has a class to teach. She bursts through the door and notices all the young kids practicing with their sub. She plasters a smile on her face and waves at the kids. They giggle with excitement as they notice her and she tries not to deflate instantly.

“Sorry about that, guys! I’m here for the rest of your class. How was the sub? Shall we practice some kicks too?”

════❖════

“Morning, baby,” Maddie whispers, turning over and pressing a kiss against Caitlyn’s cheek.

Caitlyn is staring numbly at the ceiling. “Morning,” she whispers, her British accent thick with exhaustion.

“Ah yes, still cranky until you get your coffee.” Maddie attempts to make the joke to lighten the room, but Caitlyn doesn’t crack. “I’ll go make some when you get ready for work, yeah?”

Caitlyn just nods, her eyes closing and opening in slow, drawn out blinks. Maddie crawls from the bed, naked. She dawns a robe as she exits the room to fix Caitlyn some coffee and food before work.

Caitlyn pulls herself from bed a few beats later, fully clothed. Her face is cold and emotionless as she stumbles to her closet, pulling out a uniform-type look. Her high waisted trousers hug her ass and thighs tightly, constricting her slightly, but she doesn’t mind. Her nimble fingers make their way up the button’s of her dark colored shirt. She slips on her boots and an overcoat.

She finds herself in her bathroom. She’s a mess; her hair is dark with sweat and grease and is tossed in every direction except down. Her face is dark and smudged with makeup from the night before. She tosses cool water against her face in an attempt to wake her up and wash away the remnants of her makeup. She brushes her hair with her delicate fingers, pulling it into a high ponytail. Some of her strands are defiant, sticking out in erratic waves.

She stumbles into the kitchen.

“You look lovely,” Maddie chirps, handing her a cup of coffee.

“I wear this every day, Maddie, and I’m not wearing makeup today and my hair’s an outright disaster.” Her voice is harsh… harsher than she intended.

“It’s okay, babe, you still look amazing,” Maddie pleads.

Caitlyn exhales sharply, taking a long sip of her coffee, letting the bitter liquid wake her up as it hits her taste buds. “Thank you,” she finally whispers out after a few minutes.

Maddie just nods. “Be safe today.”

“I always am,” she informs, grabbing her car keys.

Maddie leans in for a kiss before Caitlyn leaves, but Cait dodges it, letting Maddie’s small lips plant against Caitlyn’s cheek. “Bye,” Maddie hums as Caitlyn leaves.

Unfortunately, Caitlyn’s entire drive she isn’t thinking about the rules of the road or what the day at work is going to look like, which is very unlike her.

Rather, her mind is plagued with thoughts of Vi. Yesterday was the anniversary of their two year break up and man, did that day wreck Caitlyn. She honestly hadn’t even realized it until she was almost home from work that night but it ruined the rest of her day. The bitterness and contempt she held for her fiance because of it was awful, but she couldn’t help it. It's not as if it wasn’t all her fault, but it didn’t matter. She missed her so bad and she regretted everything.

But it was too late to fix the mess she’d created, so why not let it be… let the mess sit? She wasn’t proud of that mentality, but it is out of her hands, for better or for worse.

Caitlyn parks her car, her head pounding as she realizes she doesn’t even remember arriving here; how she got here and everything. But she slips her badge on the belt of her pants and stumbles towards the police station. Being a detective is hard, but what better way to take her mind off of a broken heart?

But fuck, did she miss Vi.

24 notes · View notes

sequinsmile-x · 2 days ago

Text

My Foes and Friends

Emily gets a call from her teenage daughter when a day out with her 'friends' goes wrong.

-x-

Hi besties <3

Not really sure where this came from, but when has that ever stopped me??

I wanted to write some Momily, and Hotchniss with teenagers has a special place in my heart so here we are! <3

As always, please let me know what you think!

-x-

Words: 2.7k

Warning: References to bullying

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily sighs contentedly as she settles onto the couch, her favourite book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. She swings her legs around, smiling at her husband when her feet land in his lap and he looks up at her, his attention briefly drawn from his book as he squeezes her foot. He takes one look at her, sees the slight tension in her jaw, the vein in her forehead that always gave her away, and presses his thumb against the arch in her foot.

“She’ll be fine.”

She narrows her eyes, “I didn’t say anything.”

Aaron smiles and skims his hand up her leg until it lands on her knee, “You didn’t have to.”

Emily rolls her eyes, unable to fight the smile that chases it, and she shakes her head at him, “I thought we agreed a long time ago not to profile each other.”

He shrugs, a spark of mischief in his eyes that she would have once thought he wasn’t capable of, “I’m not profiling you,” he says, smiling as he reaches out for her hand and links their fingers together, “I just happen to know you, and I know how much you worry about the kids. Gracie is fine - she’s at the mall with her friends and she has Find My Friends switched on,” his smile turns into a playful smirk, “It was one of your conditions of her going, remember?”

She blows out a shaky breath and nods. Grace was 14 now and grappling for her independence, desperate to push boundaries and spend more and more time with her friends instead of her family. It made Emily ache, like she was being pulled in two different directions. In one sense, she was so proud of who her kids were becoming, but in another, she missed when they were small and their favourite place to be was tucked up against her side with their little fingers tangled in her hair.

Jack had, mostly, come out of the other side of it now. He was 20 and unashamedly called either her or Aaron for advice whilst he was away at college, even if it was something as simple as how to cook something for dinner. It was comforting to know that even as Grace started to pull away from her, something she knew Lucy would start to do soon too, her teenage years just on the horizon, that they’d eventually come back to her.

“I know you probably think I’m crazy-”

“Never.”

She smiles at the interruption and squeezes his hand, “But after everything we’ve seen…I just worry when we aren’t with them to keep them safe,” she scrunches her nose up, “Especially when they are at a mall. They’ve given me creeps ever since the Katie Jacobs case.”

Aaron nods in agreement, a shiver running through him at the memory before he encourages his wife closer, his arm around her as she settles against him, “I know, sweetheart. But she’s sensible, and smart,” he tilts his head to look at her, “She’s you.”

Emily shakes her head at him, her teeth pressed into her lower lip as she tries and fails to suppress a smile and she cups his cheek, “My mom would say that’s the problem. That she’s all me.”

He hums, “Well, you know your mother and I haven’t always seen eye to eye on certain things.”

She chuckles, feeling a little lighter already as she leans forward to kiss him, her lips catching the corner of his mouth. She’s about to slide onto his lap properly, to kiss him until she forgets about everything except the press of him against her, but she’s interrupted by her youngest’s footsteps closely followed by her voice.

“Gracie is right, you two are so gross.”

Emily shifts back from Aaron, her eyebrow raised at her 12-year-old, barely able to hide a smile as their eyes meet, “You okay, Lucy?”

She hums and walks over to the armchair in the corner, and for a moment Emily pictures her as a tiny little thing who had to climb onto it, and it makes her ache, “I’m okay,” she says, tucking her legs under herself, “Bored.”

“Did the internet turn off?” Aaron jokes, and Lucy rolls her eyes at him.

“No,” she replies, blowing out a breath, “When is Gracie getting home?”

Emily and Aaron exchange a brief look, both of them suppressing smiles so their youngest doesn’t think they are making fun of her. The girls had always been close, ever since Grace first held her younger sister, Jack’s arms around her as he showed her how to do it, but in recent years they’d started to pretend they weren’t each other’s best friend. It was another phase Emily knew they’d grow out of, but in the meantime, it meant that their home was now often filled with arguments about borrowed sweaters and make-up.

“In a couple of hours-” Emily starts, but she’s cut off as her phone rings, she looks at it, her brows furrowing as she sees Grace’s name and picture on her screen, “She’s calling me,” she says, picking up the phone as she exchanges another look with her husband, this one concerned, “She never calls,” she answers the phone, swallowing thickly as she tells herself she’s over-reacting, “Grace, honey, is everything okay?”

“Mom,” she says, the shake to her voice making the spark of worry in Emily’s gut ignite, “Can you come get me?”

Emily’s already standing up, looking around for her shoes and keys, highly aware of Aaron and Lucy following her, their concern adding into the mix, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

She sighs, “Where are the others, are they still there? I thought you were going to get some food-”

“Mom. Can you please come get me?” Gracie says as she cuts her off, half shouting at her mother in a way she rarely did, “I’ll explain when you get here…but…please.”

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose and blows out a breath, “I’m on my way,” she says, pushing her feet into the first shoes she can find, “Stay exactly where you are and I’ll come and meet you.”

“I’m in the food court,” she mumbles, her voice shaking again, her words catching in her throat in a way that lets Emily know she’s crying, “By the Taco Bell.”

“Stay there for me, okay?”

She hears a sniff down the phone, “Okay.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” “You too,” Grace replies, the shake to her voice instantly worse than it already had been. Emily makes her promise one more time that she’ll stay put, and they exchange hurried goodbyes.

“I don’t know what’s happened, but she’s asked me to go and get her,”sShe huffs out a breath as she turns to look at Aaron and Lucy, matching concerned expressions on their faces as the pre-teen leans against her father’s side. Emily shrugs on a jacket and grabs her keys from the counter, “I’ll text you when I’ve got her, okay?”

“I should come with you,” Aaron says, and she shakes her head, stepping forward to kiss his cheek, something that Lucy doesn’t protest like she usually would.

“I have a feeling she won’t want a crowd, honey,” she kisses his cheek again, “You two stay here, and when I let you know we’re on the way back you two can get started on some hot chocolates.”

Lucy leans forward to hug Emily, her arms briefly tight around her before she pulls back, “I think this calls for the fancy stuff we got from France in the summer.”

Emily smiles and kisses her forehead before tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “I think that sounds perfect, sweetie,” she looks up at Aaron and smiles tightly, a silent promise that they’d talk about it later passing between them, “I should get going.”

“Drive safely,” Aaron says, smiling despite his concern when she rolls her eyes at him, “The last thing we need is for you to get into an accident.”

She salutes him as she opens the front door, “Yes sir.”

“Oh ew,” Lucy says, screwing her face up in disgust, “Please don’t call him sir.”

___

Emily’s relief at finding Grace is short lived the moment she gets close enough to see her bright red face. The make-up she’d meticulously applied smudged on her cheeks and the sleeves of the sweater she has pulled down over her fists.

“Gracie?”

Grace looks up at her, and her lower lip wobbles, fresh tears slipping down past her lashline, “Hi Mom,” she says, wiping her cheeks before pointing at the large table she was sitting at, empty seats surrounding her, “Pull up a chair,” she puts her elbow on the table and then rests her cheek against her fist, “There are plenty.”

Emily chooses the seat next to her and sits on her hands to stop herself from reaching out and pulling her into a hug, finding herself not entirely sure if it would help or embarrass Grace.

“What happened, baby?” She asks, her heart aching as her daughter’s face screws up as she tries to suppress a sob, “Where are your friends-”

“They aren’t my friends,” she sniffs, wiping her cheeks again, “They made that very clear,” her chin wobbles and Emily clenches her jaw and clears her throat, pushing down the anger that threatens to rise up it, the need to find a bunch of 14-year-old girls and give them a piece of her mind briefly overwhelming, “They kept kind of leaving me out but I thought I was just imagining things. Then we came to eat, they sent me to get a table whilst they got food. And I watched as they just…left,” she looks up at her, “They just left without me. I tried to follow at first but then I lost them so I came back here in case they just went to the bathroom. I texted the group chat and then they told me they’d been picked up by Kayla’s mom, and that there wasn’t room for me in the car.”

Emily finally reaches out for her, her motherly instincts overriding any attempt to not embarrass her daughter, and she places her hand on her back to rub a soothing circle there, “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry.”

“I thought they liked me,” Grace sobs, leaning forward and pressing her face against Emily’s shoulder, curling against her like she hadn’t in years, “I have no friends.”

Emily has to close her eyes to stop herself from crying, and she stamps a kiss against the top of Grace’s head. She soothes her until she calms down, switching between kissing her forehead, whispering that she was right there with her against her skin, and rubbing her back. Once Grace is a little calmer, her sobs calming down into sniffles against her mother’s neck, Emily finally speaks, “I can call the school, have a teacher talk to their parents-”

Grace pulls back and shakes her head, her eyes wide as if she can’t imagine everything worse, “No,” she says, wiping her cheeks, “I want to pretend this never happened. I’ll just…” she blows out a breath and chokes on a humourless laugh, “Sit on my own for lunch on Monday I guess.”

Emily knows not to push it, so she doesn’t. Instead, she nods and encourages Grace to lean against her again, enjoying the closeness her daughter was allowing her - something that felt infinitely selfish given the circumstances. All she ever wanted was to make sure her kids were loved and happy, and that if they ever weren’t for some reason that they knew they could come to her and Aaron. That they wouldn’t look for love in all the wrong places and wouldn’t have to live with the consequences like she had.

“Being a teenager is hard, honey,” she says, “I can’t promise it will get easier any time soon, but it will get easier eventually.”

Grace scoffs, “Right, like being a teenager was ever hard for you,” she says, tilting her head to look at her and rolling her eyes when Emily furrows her brow, “Come on, Mom. You’re gorgeous. You’re confident. You have so many friends, and Dad acts like you hung the freaking moon.”

She sighs and tucks some of Grace’s hair behind her ear, “That’s now, Grace. When I was your age…I had no friends,” she says, “Your Grandmother and I moved around a lot. I was always the new kid. That’s a hard gig.”

Grace nods, “I guess.”

“And your dad was a theatre nerd,” she says, her heart blooming in her chest when she drags a surprised smile out of her daughter.

“No way.”

“It’s true,” she replies, “It’s how he met Haley. I think there are some photos in the attic somewhere.”

Grace laughs, “Okay, I have got to see those,” she says before her smile starts to fade, “What do I do on Monday?”

Emily wipes her cheek for her, “You go to school, you hold your head up high and you do your best,” she smiles, “And, if you want me to, I can get your Aunt Pen to mess with their cell service or something.”

Grace laughs again and nods, “I’ll let you know.”

She squeezes her against her side again, kissing her forehead, “Did you eat anything?” She asks, and Grace shakes her head, “How about we buy all the tacos we can carry and we take them home to share with your sister and Dad?”

Grace nods, “As long as we can get some Baja Blasts too.”

Emily smiles and kisses her temple, “It’s like you read my mind, sweet girl.”

___

They spend all weekend trying to cheer her up. Lucy spends every possible second with her sister, even suggesting they have a sleepover in her room like they did when they were small and inseparable.

Emily is able to keep her anger in check until the girls are asleep, snuggled up together in one bed. Aaron has to stop her from calling all of the girl’s parents, reminding her it’s not what Grace would want, and when she suggests going to the school with her badge and gun on display Aaron reminds her why that’s a bad idea too.

She promises him she’ll be calm when she picks Grace up from school, but she isn’t sure it’s a promise she can keep if she’s upset again. If she runs to the car with tears in her eyes, insisting she’ll never go to school again, Emily isn’t sure she’ll be entirely responsible for her actions.

She’s as surprised as she is delighted to see Grace all but skip to the car, a wide smile on her face as she climbs in, “Hi Mom.”

“Hi,” Emily replies, smiling at her as she watches her clip her belt into place then push the strap past her shoulder, “How was your day?”

Grace sighs as she rests her head back against the headrest, “It was okay,” she says, turning to look at her, “I did what you said - ignored them. Held my head high. And…I made a friend.”

Emily smiles, “You did?”

Grace hums, “There’s a new girl who started today,” she says, smiling softly as their eyes meet, “She’s called Emma. I figured she could do with a friend too.”

Emily chuckles, the sound catching in her chest as she sucks in a breath, taken aback by her daughter’s kindness and empathy. She reaches over and tucks some hair behind her ear before she cups her cheek, “I’m very proud of you, baby.”

Grace’s eyes go wide as she touches her, leaning away from the touch as she looks out of the window to see if any of her peers had seen the affection between mother and daughter, “Mom, how many times do I have to say, not on school property?”

Emily clears her throat to stop herself from smirking and nods, switching on the car’s engine so she can drive away from the pickup spot, but not before she makes a point of straightening out Grace’s seatbelt to make sure it lays flat on her shoulder. “Right, sorry honey.”

“Mom.”

#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss fan fic #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fanfiction #hotchniss #emily prentiss fanfiction

20 notes · View notes