#Soon! Soon! the plans are in motion! we're taking the steps!

[obeymeluv]

Being Clever with the Fae (Malleus x Reader, Lilia x Reader, Sebek x Reader)

Pre-established relationship implied. You tell the Diasomnia boys that your world planned for ways to outsmart faes. You pull your trick but you're not sure who won.

Warning: Pepaw Bat's gets a little spicy so be careful.

I'm taking liberties with Sebek's part because he's a neutral for me and I don't know that much about him.

You and Malleus had talked about fae folklore more than once. He was delighted to know fae had something of a presence in your world but was wildly horrified at the misinformation. Out of everything you told him, only a handful were correct:

Don't give your name unless you trust that fae because names have power

Iron will hurt some fae but not all. Iron is more harmful to nocturnal fae than day fae.

Being rude to fae may be the end of you altogether

Partaking in fae food means you open yourself up for a wager

Yes, fae like to play tricks. Expect them and be wary.

Stepping into a fairy circle will summon the fairy who made it.

Just about everything else was wrong. That's why he and Lilia were teaching you what not to do if you came upon the various fae in Twisted Wonderland. Thus far you'd only managed to memorize what herbs kept smaller creatures at bay and how to curry the favor of the various faeries that helped out at NRC. Your current assignment from Lilia was filling out a map of different fae territories and classifying them as 'safe' for humans or 'unsafe'. Each territory had a tree they would love to craft from or loathed to be near and you were expected to know that, too.

Strange stuff but apparently it was important.

They liked to break up the bigger chunks of information with smaller, digestible things like etiquette so it felt more manageable. Malleus was currently instructing you on how to part from a fae in a formal setting as to not incur their wrath.

"Again, Child of Man," he's bowed down until eye level with you, one hand holding yours.

"Light shake, eye contact, nod, slide foot back, squeeze the hand, turn." he's parroting your motions until you turn away. He, instead, draws himself to his full height and observes as you pretend to walk away.

"Excellent," he nods. "But ensure you don't slouch while leaving. It will make some feel as if you don't hold them in high regard."

"That's so--" you roll your eyes. He simply lifts his brow as if to question your mild frustration. You puff your cheeks out and he laughs.

"We can be a bit particular." he agrees.

"To a fault." you smirk.

"Oh?" he's intrigued, eyes twinkling.

"Yeah," you smile. "In my world the fae were known for being literal with their word so you always had to keep something clever in reserve."

"Do tell," Malleus' grin goes from practiced and polite to genuine. A hint of fang shows.

"It's kind of specific though. Depends on that old joke about fae wanting to come for the first born."

"That's not really a joke," Malleus crossed his arms. You can't tell if he's offended or not. "We like the younglings. We're always looking to bring more around to the fae ways. In fact, fae make fantastic guardians because--"

He had a lot to say and you felt the beginnings of a lecture creep up. In some way you felt like you were in trouble. To save yourself, you said, "Just pretend. Then I can show you what we do."

Malleus pretended to make a deal with you. It looked a bit intimidating and official with the magic pulsing in the rickety floorboards of Ramshackle. They were groaning. Shadows danced along his face as pieces of his signature thorned briar wove around your joined hands. "In exchange for the repairs around Ramshackle, you will give your firstborn to me."

You pull him in, his green eyes searching curiously for any hint of what's to come. "Sure! How soon do you want to start working on that? Or do you want to wait a little while?"

All at once the floorboards fell quite. The hum of magic died with a rattle that broke the briar into tiny pieces. A few fell at your feet, the others shooting off into various directions.

Oh. Did he not understand? You thought it was clever! Maybe he was too sheltered to--

His laugh is kind of a snort at first but then you hear it honest and lilting. The hand holding yours slides up your arm and snakes around your waist. You're lifted until your hands find purchase on his shoulders and your legs wrap around whatever they reach. Your heart goes from your chest to your throat when his gloved hands slide down to your thighs as he walks you to your sad couch.

"Now is fine," he's careful to hold his weight above you, silky hair spilling around you and tickling your cheeks. His eyes are bright and boyish, a deadly compliment to his kissable lips.

Well, that technically backfired but if this were a real situation you'd make out just fine because he'd chosen to make out with you instead of curse you.

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

Lilia wanted to focus on physical protection as much as written knowledge when it came to handling fae. You still couldn't wrap your head around the idea of him being a general but he had old photos, a weird mask, and a massive magearm to prove it. You'd picked up quite a few self-defense moves and practiced them regularly. He wanted them to be second nature to you. So here you are, in a designated training room within Diasomnia.

"You just want to cuddle me," you teased, in the familiar position of him being behind you with an arm around your neck. One elbow was planted in your shoulder, the other clasping it at the forearm to make a little prison for you. He gave a reprimanding squeeze, ever mindful of the pressure since you were fully human. Lilia gave a huffy laugh, trying to relax his smile into something more stern as he wove his fingers into your hair. You flinched at the tug and slapped his arm lightly.

"Focus," he couldn't deny himself the simple pleasure of whispering into your ear. If you asked him, it was to throw you off balance and distract you. "What could you do now?"

You thought about just leaning back into him, pressing against him, but you knew that wasn't what he meant. Capitalizing on this moment of closeness, the stillness, to huck him over your shoulder and into the floor crossed your mind but then you'd have to give him a back rub later.

Not that you minded that, either.

"We could make a deal," you leaned back to whisper in his ear even though it hurt your neck a little. You could tell by the way his bangs fluttered that he'd jerked in surprise. Was that a little pink on his cheeks? Before you could nip his pointed ear, Lilia leaned you forward and took his elbow off your shoulder, opting to hold you in a bearhug instead.

"Acceptable in this situation," he managed, clearing his throat when his voice cracked a little. "Although this exercise is supposed to be combat related."

"So make the terms. I can't negotiate a deal that doesn't exist." you try to break his hold, shimmying your shoulders and sliding your feet to see if you could slip away. He lifts you off the ground with an ease that doesn't seem possible with his short, lithe body. You hang there against him as he thinks.

"Your life for that of your firstborn."

A bit dark, wasn't it? Kind of rude, really, you thought. But, your train of thought continued to ramble, he did find Silver somewhere so it didn't seem too unusual that he'd want a kid. Either that, or he was messing with you because you told him that whisking away kids was something fae were known for in your world.

"You can't have a firstborn with your clothes on." you joke.

"That's not true because I found Silver with my--" Lilia drops you when he realizes what you've said. You weren't expecting him to drop you and didn't catch yourself, hissing as you land on your knees. Before you can start complaining or poke fun at him for being an old man he's locked the door. You're bowled over as he rushes over to you, pinning you on your back as he peppers kisses along your throat and collarbone.

He's several bites in and you’re halfway undressed when you think you hear a knock at the door. Lilia begrudgingly peels himself off of you, licking blood from the corner of his lips.

"Father? Are we not going to train today?"

"M'fraid not, my boy," Lilia turns his attention back to you, opening your legs to slip between them. "But you'll be getting a new sparring partner in about nine months."

His red eyes are glowing. They're absolutely beguiling.

"Do they come with therapy?” he hears Silver mumble as you look up at him through your lashes.

He pounces on you again. It was a brilliant, filthy tactic. He's not exactly mad about it. You've earned favor with one fae, at least, and he will protect you from the others.

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

Sebek is a hard worker. He's a product of his environment; he has Baur's straightforwardness, Lilia's dedicated regimens, and his mother's impressive teeth and jaw strength. Lilia thought the best way for you to learn some of the self-defense tactics was to fight someone your size.

Sort of. Sebek seemed to be the better choice since Silver was too sleepy to be a constant threat. And, in Lilia's mind, you should have an easier time fighting a half-fae versus a full fae.

You never noticed how muscular Sebek was until you were under him. He's got corded arms and you can see the muscles of his shoulders flexing under the Diasomnia shirt he chose for the exercise.

You've never seen him in casual clothes! He actually looks very nice. Not as buff as Jack but sturdy in his own way; his chest is broader than you imagined. A solid man.

More than capable of being Malleus' body guard.

You groan as he knocks the air out of you a little. He's on top of you, pressed into your back. He's got one foot braced against the floor, leaning his weight into you. Your arms are pinned at your side courtesy of the one he's snaked underneath you.

When did he flip you over? Asshole, you scrunch your nose in frustration as your cheeks begin to burn. He's an asshole that means well and won't go easy on you, though. He makes sure you learn. You try to inch out from beneath him but he angles his shoulder down and grabs his own wrist, dragging you back to him.

"You're supposed to do something in this situation!" he grumps, "You know how to break this hold!"

You do, but he's heavy and it probably wouldn't work. And he's had a literal lifetime of training versus your handful of months. You've tangled your legs together and used his half-lean to put him on his back. Your kicking like a tipped-over bug and almost free when you remember that his fae half is crocodilian and you might have triggered his death roll tendency.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Sebek's pupils change, the dark of his eye slitting and boring into you. His throat strains like he's growling but you don't hear anything. It trembles against the back of your neck and you're reminded in that moment of just how much bigger he is than you.

How he folds around you and encompasses you.

He opens his mouth, teeth glinting and sharp. "You've bested me," you admit, swallowing thickly as his teeth hover near your shoulder. "Make your deal."

You somehow turn yourself around in his unrelenting squeeze.

Sebek huffs as if he's insulted and you swear you see his teeth dull. His pupils begin to fill out. He's usually loathe to acknowledge his human side, as he'd much rather be full fae, but it serves him in this instance. "I'm not a true fae. Such a thing wouldn't work on me!"

"You have to pretend! Lilia's teaching me how to deal with the fae! You just won't hurt me as much. Maybe." you dare to flash that teasing grin at him and Sebek nearly tears into his own lip because he doesn't know what to do with that wiggly feeling you give him.

Him? Hurt you? Not on purpose. It would go against the core values his grandfather AND Lilia taught him! Any fae caught abusing their spouse would be drawn and quartered, made a public display of. Any human man who chose to do so was no man at all!

Sebek's face feels almost painfully warm. He can feel the heat spreading from his cheeks to his ears. "In an act of benevolence inspired by the great Prince Malleus, I shall spare your delicate human self in exchange for a child. Is that the cliche rubbish you desire?"

Some of his once slicked-back hair has fallen down on his forehead, between his eyes, as if it's disappointed in you too.

"You think our child would be cliche rubbish? Cliche Rubbish Zigvolt? That does NOT sound good! I'm naming the firstborn, you're just helping make it."

"Wha--but I--that's not!" Sebek doesn't know what to say and he hasn't been trained for this. He's careful not to shove you away but untangles himself like a thrown ragdoll. He rolls over sharply, totally fine with hiding his face in the floor. His green hair is in disarray and his arms are limp, stretched out to either side of him.

You laugh, climbing onto his back and raking your nails down it gently. He makes the noise. You're not sure what it is but you've heard it before. It's deep and somehow soothing. He relaxes underneath you as you continue to scratch his back, throwing in a squeeze to his muscles every now and then.

It's not until you're in what would be the small of his back (if he wasn't build so solid and thick) that he raises his head, folds his arms up, and rests his chin on his hands. "You're safe." he can't bear to turn his head and look at you right now. If he did, you'd see how...how...weak and mushy he looked. Sebek snorts through his nose, arching his back in surprise as your hands slide all the way up until you flop on his back and your arms hang off his shoulders.

"Thank you, o' kind Zigvolt!" you hug his neck. "This delicate human appreciates it!"

"And I...appreciate...you." he mumbled slowly, the words a little foreign to him. More scary than foreign, honestly. That heartwarming shyness evaporated in an instant when he pinned you and began a stern lecture about how you should NOT offer to conceive a child with ANY OTHER FAE and what YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE INSTEAD.

You weren't surprised by this. Sebek lectured Silver all the time and Lilia said he was a very informed pupil. You, too, would be informed as it didn't seem like he was letting you go anytime soon.

[aceofroses-queenofstars]

wheee

[isuggestforcefem]

Forcefem February story: Nicole saves Ethan

Part one - Nicole

It began as it usually did. Nicole, a poor helpless orphaned young woman, with a story to make the most stoic of men sob, and such a great excuse for her to join the town. The town's eldest was wary of her. He knew, she thought. Or at least, he suspected something. Nevertheless. That wouldn't stop her. This wasn't her first, anymore. Nicole knew how to handle herself. Keep herself en guarde.

It did make her job less fun, though. She had barely any respite, needed a consistent story and a consistent character, every moment of her waking day. And she couldn't work at night, lest they see the light of her room.

Angela had been very lovely, on this part. The old woman had allowed Nicole to stay in her ex-husband's study, as it hadn't been used in years. Angela had lost him, she would say, on the lonely nights. He had walked out one day, and never came back. Taken by the night, she would say. Nicole wondered if she knew, too. She wondered if the creaks of wood she heard from behind her door were Angela, watching her, spying her.

All that to say it really wasn't a fun time. She yearned for the plan to enter motion. It had already been a month! Usually, she could have had cleared step one in a week, at most, but clearly, Diana's choice of town still lacked. She'd have to talk about it with her, once she was back. Even though Diana was her best friend and most trusted ally at the Academy, she still lacked a lot of technical skills. Maybe that was why the administration still refused her application for solo missions. "I ought to help Diana out", Nicole thought to herself. Her friend was her senior in experience and yet Nicole risked graduating before her.

Nicole approached the mirror. She was still as beautiful as ever. Surely, this face would be enough to sway most hearts. Her hair was undone. She grabbed her hairpin, held a strand of hair, and clipped it onto her hair. Suddenly, a swirl of magic took control of the brunette's hair, assembled it in a neat ponytail. She messed with it a little bit. Better not make it look too neatly woven. She had an image to keep up. She grabbed her dress, Angela had washed it for her. What a treasure of a woman. She almost felt guilty to betray her trust in this way. But then again, she always did. It never stopped her.

Going down the stairs, Nicole yelled "I'm ready!". Angela's brother had asked for a helping hand. It did upset her plans,, but she had to keep up appearances until the end. She could still do it tonight. She would do it tonight. She had faith.

The day seemed to never end. She had been gathering herbs for hours by now, but still Angela's brother showed no sign of going back home. At least the sun was still high. Finally, the man spoke to her. "I think we're done for today, you can go back." "Oh thanks," she said, without a trace of emotion in her voice. Finally, speaking her soul.

This place was boring. The local pub served frankly disappointing alcohols, and was only inhabited by things that were more of the decaying corpse than they were of the person. The town's center was usually occupied by a group of gangsters - guards - that looked at her like she was a piece of meat. Whatever. This would soon be over.

There he was, her target. A boy named Ethan. He had little presence, few friends. Nobody would miss him. Nobody would care.

She would.

He had short black hair, wore a white shirt and brown pants. She had seen boys like him by the dozen, and all of them had became beautiful, happy girls. He would follow.

"Hi," Nicole exclaimed brightly, with a little wave, "I'm here early! -Nicole! Hello, I am glad to see you. -I have a gift for you!" Saying this, Nicole reached for her bag's contents. There was a choice to be made; four rings from which to decide the step to take.

[totaly-obsessed]

Love, Tears, and Laundry

Leah Williamson x reader request

-> Leah comes home to find her oldest daughter upset, leading to heart-to-heart talks and a plan for a weekend getaway.

-> Thank you very much @alotofpockets for giving me the idea and help through the process!

-> Word count: 2.500

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

While the Leah that stood on the pitch was fierce and stoic, a smile often missed on her beautiful face, the Leah you knew at home was quite different. Sure she was still fierce, but in a protective way, but she was much more soft than anything, so soft for her four girls.

At eight years old, Lilly was the oldest, followed by six-year-old twins, Emma and Olivia, and they were the light of the footballer's life, joined by you, her wife of course. Three kids of such different characters definitely filled the house with more life than it had ever seen before.

It had been a long day for your wife, a tough matchday with following meetings going over the game before everyone forgot what happened. Leah had been so excited to go home and see her girls again, but as soon as she opened the front door she knew something was off.

Emmie and Ollie sat in the living room, complete silence filling the house. Not a single little girl stormed towards her.

“Did you two watch the game?”

Silence.

“Oof tough crowd. Where's Mumma?” Tiny hands pointed up the stairs, grave expressions on their little faces. These aren't the happy little girls Leah had expected. Usually, they ran to the door, happy to greet their mother after watching her win on the telly, if they couldn’t be there in person.

The first room Leah checked was Lilly’s, who sat in the tightest corner of her room, one of her favorite books in her hand, granting her mother just a short glance, before she went back to her book, completely ignoring the defender.

This was officially the frostiest atmosphere she had ever come home to.

After going through the entire house she finally found you in the basement, sobbing while doing laundry.

You were sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of clothes, shoulders shaking with sobs as you clutched a crumpled piece of paper in your hand. Leah's heart sank at the sight of you like this, her own worries about the girls momentarily pushed aside by concern for you.

"Hey, baby," she murmured softly, kneeling down beside you and gently wrapping her arms around your trembling form. "What's wrong?"

You looked up at her with tear-filled eyes, the distress evident in your expression. Without a word, you handed her the paper, and Leah unfolded it, her brows furrowing as she read the contents.

I really hate you right now Mommy.

"Oh, love," Leah whispered, her heart aching for both you and Lilly. She pulled you into a tighter embrace, offering what little comfort she could in that moment. "We'll figure this out together, okay? We're a team.”

Seeing you like this pained the defender - what had happened that you were handed that note?

“What happened, love?”

She had now sat down beside you, pulling you close to her side. A warm hand stroked your back in soothing motions, while the other guided your head into your wife's neck. The smell was familiar and comforting, simultaneously hiding you from the world - even if the world right now was just the laundry room.

“Lilly and I picked the twins up from training, got ice cream, and then went home.” You had to take a second, sobs still wrecking your body, as Leah tried to wipe away a steady stream of tears with small kisses all over your face. “Emmie and Ollie put your game on, just in time for the second half, and then Lils started shouting at them.” 

The blonde defender had trouble understanding you in certain parts, voice still thick with sadness. Lilly shouting at her sisters? A hard picture to imagine.

“A-And then I stepped in, she stomped upstairs and came back with the note, and -” a painful sob wrecked your body “and she yelled ‘I hate you’ in my face Lee.”

This sounded a lot more serious than Leah had expected if she was being honest. “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, my love. How could she? You’re the best mother there is!”

Your tears subsided, but there were still wet streaks running down your puffy cheeks, breaking Leah’s heart even further. “I’ll talk to her. Wanna get a nice, warm bath?” A quick sigh left her mouth when she saw your shaking head. She should have known. “I can’t Lee. Have to finish this laundry.”

After thankful kisses from you, and helping you up, Leah made her way back up the stairs, passing the living room, where Emma and Olivia were still sitting quietly.

“I’ll go talk to Lills, yeah? Are you two okay here?” Both blondes nodded, not even looking at their mother. “We’re fine Mumma.”

With slow steps she walked up the stairs, playing a full 90 minutes was much harder now than it was when she was younger. She didn't just spend all her energy on a pitch, she had three beautiful daughters to play with and to parent - that takes a lot of energy.

“Lilly?”

She didn’t receive an answer, but quiet sobs led her through the long hallway all the way to the end where the room of her oldest daughter was. The colorful, hand-painted door was slightly ajar, letting the blonde know that it was pitch black inside.

“Darls? Are you in here?” She was no longer in her corner with a book.

The sobs got louder the closer she got to the bed, and after a quick tug at one of the colorful blankets that formed a mountain on her oldest bed gave the location away when she heard a surprised gasp.

The room got quiet, Lilly hoping that her mother would just leave her alone if she acted like she wasn't there. But Leah picked her up from her mattress, still wrapped in multiple soft blankets like she was a toy in a claw machine. 

Her oldest gave a small “Eeek!” of surprise before slumping into her mother's arms. Leah gave her best to make it playful, acting like she couldn’t find Lilly’s face, tickling her feet and talking to her hand before she finally unraveled the blankets. 

You always liked to say that looks wise, your oldest daughter could have been Leah’s twin. The blonde hair, the fair skin, and the twinkling eyes that usually were on her face. She also laughed the same and possessed the same hard-working spirit, determined to be top of the class while trying out as many hobbies as she could.

But right now, there was no smile on her face. Her little face was all red and puffy, tear streaks still on her cheeks, while her eyes were still glassy. And in that moment Leah was glad that you didn’t see the girl in her current state, knowing that it would have broken your heart even further. Right now she looked more like you - matching sad faces.

“I think we need to talk Lills.” With a whine, the eight-year-old tried to bury her face in her mother's shoulder after climbing on her lap, but the defender knew that she needed to have an actual conversation with her daughter. As gently as she could Leah pulled the small blonde from her hiding spot, sitting her down opposite from her on the bed.

“I’m sorry Mumma.” Small hands wiped at never-ending tears until Leah gave her a tissue and the water bottle off of her nightstand.

“What are you sorry for, darling?”

Lilly had gulped down nearly the entirety of the bottle before giving it back to Leah, who just watched in surprise at how thirsty her daughter was. Seems like crying takes a lot of energy out of such a small human.

“I- I was mean to Mama an- and I shouted. Was mean…”

With a soft coo, Leah pulled Lilly in for a hug, small arms squeezing her as hard as they could while soft puffs of air hit her neck.

“Thank you for apologizing Lilly, but I am not the one you should say that to darling.” Her oldest nodded, she knew that, but she also felt bad that Leah now had to calm her down. And she knew that Mama wasn’t doing too good either, she really had been mean. “I know Mumma. I will apologize to Mama, promise.”

“Can you tell me what happened, that you said those words to Mama?”

Leah could feel the deep breath that Lilly dragged in, before she sat up, leaving her mother's warm embrace. She gathered herself before trying to explain what happened.

“Mama and I picked up Emmie and Ollie from training, and I wanted to go to the bakery, but they wanted ice cream. A- and Mama said, that they deserved it for training so hard, b- but -” She took a little break from talking, her voice shaky as she was getting herself worked up again.

Leah handed her the water bottle again, warning her not to gulp it down. “But I wanted a croissant so badly, an’ I’ve been training real hard too.” She really had been training a lot, also following in her Mother’s footsteps but more in the gymnastics department as football wasn’t her thing.

“In the car, the twins were loud, like really loud Mumma. An’ Mama told ‘em to stop, but they didn’t” Sadly that was a regular occurrence that Leah had no clue of, her schedule didn’t allow her to pick them up or drop them off at training, so the energy after training was something new to her.

“At home, I wanted to watch my show - the one with the doggos, but Mama said that we had to watch you on the Telly. An’ I already missed last week and before that.” The defender kept nodding at her daughter, making little hums, to show her that she was still listening without interrupting her story.

“Mama didn’t want to watch my new floor skill that I learned yesterday. Said she was too busy makin’ dinner and laundry at the same time. Then you came home.” Lilly was done with her story, taking deep breaths and another gulp out of her bottle, finishing it off.

“Thank you for telling me, darling. But when did you shout at Mama and give her the note?” Now she knew why her daughter was sad and needed to figure out why her wife was sad. So she had to fish for the little details Lilly let out of her story.

The small blonde tried to avoid her mother's eyes, which looked a lot like her own, just less red and puffy. “When she didn’t wanna watch me.” Slowly Leah could make sense of what had happened.

“So you yelled at her, that you hated her, and gave her the note before you came up here?” Lilly’s head hung deep in shame when she nodded, She really regretted what she had said to her Mama. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to go and say sorry to Mama? Explain how you feel. Then we can talk about how we fix this, but you really hurt Mama.” 

“Yeah.”

Hand in Hand the two blondes trotted down the stairs, where the living room was filled with a little more life than it had been before, but you were still nowhere to be seen. But the twins were quick to tell their big sister that you were in your and Leah’s bedroom.

“Mama?” The room was dark when she pushed the door open, gripping the handle like her life depended on it. When she looked back at Leah she just got a thumbs up with a wonky grin, trying to gesture to her that she should go in.

“Yes, Darling?" She could hear your shaky voice, it was so similar to her younger sisters, that it was almost uncanny. Lilly had also never seen you cry because of sadness before - aside from sad movies, while your wife kept laughing at you.

With slow steps your oldest daughter made her way to the bed, stopping just in front of it as she held her hands out. Tears started to form again in your eyes - Leah does the same thing when you’re sitting on the bed or the couch. She stands in front of you and holds your hands while keeping intense eye contact, letting you know that her entire focus is on you. And now Lilly does the same. She really is an observant little girl.

“I wanted to say sorry Mama.” Her small hands were clammy and warm, showing her nerves as she gave her best to keep her voice steady. “And I would like to explain if you’d listen to me.”

“Of course darling.” You had pulled her up on the bed and instead of just sitting and looking at you, she promptly pushed you into the pillows and cuddled into your side, her eyes still focused on your face.

The 8-year-old poured her heart out to you, just like she had done to your wife, who was now trying to keep the twins busy with little ball games in the living room while you and Lilly talked in the comfort of your bed. 

Leah felt like a creep as she pressed her head to her own bedroom door after giving you 30 minutes together, trying to listen for any sounds that could indicate more tears - but it was silent. With a gentle knock, she opened the door.

Lilly was sprawled out on top of you, eyes still open as she quietly whispered her gymnastic stories to you, while one of your hands brushed through her hair. Leah was honestly surprised that both of you were still awake, this had been a lot.

“Hi, girls!” Her oldest daughter sat up quickly, opening her arms, gesturing for her mother to join you on the bed. “Baby I wanna say something real quick, okay?” Lilly nodded her hair still a mess, no matter how much you bushe’d it with your fingers.

“It was never our intention to ignore you, or your needs and wishes - and Mama and me, we are very sorry.” A smile took place on Lilly’s face, she could see and feel that both you and Leah genuinely meant it. “Thank you for apologizing.” You couldn’t help but laugh at how much she sounded like her mother, with the same tone, eyes, and light smile on her lips.

As gently as you could you caressed her cheek, brushing over it with your thumb as your daughter leaned into your touch. “And we are very proud of you, and we are super glad that you told us - even if the way there was a little complicated.”

All three of you had to giggle but stopped abruptly when something loud crashed downstairs. “What do you think of me calling Grandma and see if she’ll take the little troublemakers for the weekend, and we’ll do something together? Just the 3 of us?”

The smile finally reached Lilly’s eyes again, as her grin mirrored that of the defender. “Yes please, Mumma!”

[audliminal]

It's Just a game, Right? Pt 7

Masterpost

It's just a game, right?

Tim turns his head at the soft their of a grappling hook, and a moment later Steph has joined him on the roof of the building.

"Not much happening tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," Tim responds as he watches traffic pass on the street below. She is right; the night so far has been unusually calm. It's a distinct contrast to last week- it seemed like every night some big villain was pulling out some ridiculous plan or other, but somehow they had all been stopped without serious harm. Of course, there are still plenty of rogues still scurrying around Gotham but there's no murmurs of anything coming from any of the big hitters for the moment.

"You don't sound very sure about that," Steph says, stepping up beside Tim and elbowing him lightly.

"Yeah," Tim answers. A flashy silver car cuts someone off and the resultant horn echoes harshly.

"Okay, you're being weird. What's up?"

Tim shrugs.

"Guess I'm just used to emergencies," Tim shrugs. He knows Steph wouldn't be weird about him bringing up Bernard, but he really doesn't need any of his fellow bats thinking he's compromised or overstressed. God knows he doesn't need anyone else pestering him about getting enough sleep, like he's staying up on purpose.

"Okay..." Steph trails off. "I mean I guess it has been pretty hectic for a while. Takes a bit of time to come down from all that?"

Tim is saved from having to respond by the sound of Oracle cutting into comms.

"Red Robin, Spoiler, looks like a store robbery in progress and you're the closest. Head for the intersection of 25th and Oak."

"Got it," Tim answers and doesn't wait for Steph's response, already halfway through the motion of taking off for the next building.

Pretty soon they're both dropping in on a pair of goons. One of them is aiming their gun directly at a frazzled-looking employee, who doesn't seem interested in putting up a fight.

Two-on-two makes it an incredibly easy fight though, and it's almost over before it begins, with both of them able to sneak up on the distracted thugs as the cashier hurriedly pulls money out of the cash register. Once they're both in position, it's easy enough to grapple, disarm, and restrain them in a flurry of movement, and the criminals never get a chance to even process the arrival of the bats.

"Not today, I think," Steph says as she handcuffs her guy. "Threatening people with guns is a real dick move, y'know?" Tim gets his guy handcuffed and turns to the startled employee.

"Cops on the way yet?" He gets a frantic nod, and Tim surveys the shop as he waits for the sirens. They'll bounce just before the cops get here, but until then, he wants to look around for any signs of something bigger. The two would-be thieves seem too shocked and terrified at the appearance of bats to be proper goons, but they could still be bait, or a distraction of some kind. And the shop itself could theoretically have been targeted. But by the time the sirens are closing in outside, he's not spotted signs of anything sinister.

"Right, the police are almost here, so we're gonna bounce!" Steph announces as Tim walks back towards her. "Tell your boss I said he should give you hazard pay for the night, 'kay?" and then she bounces out the same way they came in. Tim nods once at the employee and then follows.

He changes directions once he's on the rooftops again, though. His phone had buzzed about six times in a row while they were waiting, and that means it's probably Bernard. And he really doesn't want to explain the arg thing to anyone yet.

Once he's far enough away from anyone, he pulls his phone out, and sure enough, he's got six text messages from Bernard.

Dude

Babe, holy shit

Like seriously

This is fucking crazy

Like I cannot believe they replied to us

Us!!!

Attached to the series of texts is a screenshot, and Tim feels the anxiety coalesce into something abruptly solid in his chest.

At first glance, he can't tell what language it's supposed to be. It looks like it might be Romantic in origin, but a couple spellings look almost Slavic in nature, and there's only two and a half lines, which really isn't much to go off of.

It's certainly an interesting development, to say the least. He should be excited. This is a new clue for the mystery, after all.

No way! Tim sends back.

Yeah! U busy? Comes the immediate response. And like, technically the answer is yes, Tim supposed. But Steph literally just pointed out how calm things are tonight, and he can already tell he won't be able to focus, with this news.

"Um," Tim clicks on his comm. "I think I'm gonna call it for tonight."

"Something wrong?" Bruce asks immediately, all gruff-batman-voice.

"No, just- it's slow tonight, and Bernard wants my help with something so I thought, um. If you want me to finish my patrol, I can." He can't help it. Even now, he always kind of feels like he isn't doing enough to be a good vigilante.

"Nah, kid. I think we'll be fine without you." Hood answers, unsurprisingly.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah go make out with your boyfriend or whatever."

Tim smiles at Hood's usual ribbing. He's almost gotten used to it; mostly he can keep himself from blushing too violently when anyone teases him about Bernard.

"Okay. I'll make sure to get my report submitted by eight, promise." Tim is already en route to the nearest safehouse where he can change out of the suit, when he remembers he hasn't responded to Bernard yet.

Heading home rn. My place or yours? He hits send and then takes off once more. Excited to see his boyfriend, and determined to work through the newest puzzle.

[lee-laurent]

All Wrong - Luke Hughes

Summary: Jack needs some help from Sadie, but Sadie finds another Hughes brother much more interesting.

content: fluff, angst, fake dating, kissing, making out, teasing, dirty jokes, underage drinking

wc: 11.6k

notes: HERE IT IS! MY LONGEST FIC EVER!!!! enjoy!!

"Sadie, it's not like I'm asking you to marry me. It's just for the summer so she leaves me alone," Jack pleaded from his spot on the girl's couch.

"Just tell her you're not interested or that you have a girlfriend. This seems overboard."

"That won't stop her. Trust me."

"Then why would me being there change that?"

"You're intimidating, Sadie. You'll look at her once and she'll run home like a puppy with its tail tucked between its legs."

"Jack..."

"Sadie, please! Didn't you say your parents had been on your ass about having a boyfriend? See this could benefit both of us."

"I-"

"Sadie!" Jack's tone had shifted from being teasing to almost desperate. "You don't get it! This girl... she doesn't take 'no' for an answer. Trust me... I've tried."

Sadie crossed her arms over her chest, settling further into the couch. "So your brilliant plan involves be pretending to be madly in love with you instead? Egotistical much."

"Shut up. If you're there, she'll see we're serious and she'll back off."

"And you don't think this is going to backfire? Or, I don't know, create a whole mess of awkwardness between us?" Sadie tilted her head, waiting for his response.

"It'll be fine. We're friends, right? We've kissed when we were drunk. We can handle a little fake dating for a few weeks. Plus, the thing with your parents... win-win?"

She sighed, feeling like she was fighting a battle she was gonna lose no matter what. She had mentioned it in passing--how her parents were always asking why she wasn't dating anyone. But this? Fake dating Jack? It sounded like the plot of a rom-com gone wrong.

"I don't know, Jack."

"Look, we'll just keep it simple. I won't make it weird, I promise. We'll hang at the lake house, do the whole 'couple' thing, and by the end of the summer, it's done. You're free. I'm free. And maybe we can get a few laughs out of it."

It sounded insane. Jack was her friend--her close friend--and she could see in his eyes how desperately he wanted her to say yes.

"You really think this will work?"

"Trust me. She'll be running away by the end of the first week."

With a heavy sigh, she finally nodded. "Fine. I'll do it. But you owe me."

"Deal! I owe you big time! But you won't regret this, Sades. It's going to be great!"

She wasn't so sure. It felt so much more complicated than Jack was letting on.

~~

A couple weeks later, Sadie found herself standing on the driveway of the Hughes' lake house. She was standing next to Jack, picking at the chipped nail polish on her fingers. She genuinely felt like she could puke.

"Relax, Sadie," Jack grinned, holding their suitcases. "It's gonna be great."

She narrowed her eyes, but didn't respond. His grin didn't falter, and he motioned with his head for her to walk toward the house. The second her foot hit the first step, the door flew open and Ellen came out with a smile on her face. A smile scarily similar to Jack's.

"You must be Sadie! It's so nice to meet you," she said warmly, wrapping the 21-year-old in a tight hug.

"Oh, uh, yeah. That's me," Sadie stammered, trying to return the hug without looking too awkward. It was one thing to pretend around Jack and whoever this scary neighbour girl was, but in front of his family was a whole other can of worms. It felt so much more real.

"We're so excited to have you here! Jack never stops talking about you."

"Doesn't he?" Sadie smirked, turning around to glance at her 'boyfriend' who was pretending he couldn't hear the conversation.

Before she could ask anymore, Ellen was leading her into the home with a hand on her back. "Come in! I'm just finishing getting dinner ready, and the rest of the family should be here soon. Quinn and Jim were picking Luke up from school, so the three of them will be here around 9."

"Moose's coming?" Jack piped up, dropping their bags on the floor. "I thought he wasn't gonna make it this year."

"Changed his mind last minute. We'll all be together," Ellen grinned, wiping her hands on a dish towel.

"I'm gonna show Sadie around upstairs, we'll be back down for dinner in like ten minutes."

"Sounds good. I left some fresh towels for you on Jack's bed."

"Oh. Thank you."

"No worries. You two go get settled."

Sadie followed Jack up the creaky wooden stairs, her mind still spinning from meeting Ellen. Everything about the situation felt real. Too real. Way, way too real.

"Your mom is... intense," she muttered, walking into the hallway as Jack pushed open the door to the room they'd be sharing for the summer.

"Yeah, well, that's Mom for you. She loves you already," Jack grinned, throwing himself onto the bed. He stretched out, folding his arms behind his head as if he was relaxed as ever. Like they weren't lying to his entire family.

Sadie sat awkwardly on the foot of the bed, scanning the room. It was cozy. A few posters on the walls, hockey-themed of course, and an old wooden dresser in the corner. The window overlooked the lake and Sadie thought she could fall in love with the idea of living here for the summer pretty quickly.

"So, we're sharing this bed, I take it?" she raised an eyebrow.

Jack chuckled, patting the matress next to him. "Come on, Sades. We're dating, remember? Gotta sell it."

She rolled her eyes, scooting up to sit next to Jack. "Just remember this is fake. No funny business, Hughes."

"I know, I know. Jeez. I already told you, I'm not gonna make it weird. Just for the summer. Then we're free."

She shook her head, already regretting everything. She had agreed to the plan, but now that she was there, standing in their home, sharing a bed--it all felt too close for comfort.

"Speaking of Luke. You didn't mention that your brothers were gonna be here."

"They're chill. Don't stress. Moose has been busy with shit at Umich and Quinn in Vancouver. They'll just be happy to relax. Plus, they don't usually care about talking girls and stuff. So they won't grill you. If anything, they'll give me shit for dating someone so out of my league."

"I'll believe it when I see it, Jack."

Jack snickered, standing up and walking over to the side of the bed she was on. He leaned down, his tone teasing. "Come on, Sades. Let's go down and eat dinner like a happy couple."

"You're so fucking annoying."

~~

Dinner went surprisingly smoothly. Ellen had a special way of making everything seem casual and lighthearted. Jack, of course, had been his usual... charming self, playing the role of the perfect doting boyfriend. He was good at it, touching her back lightly, pulling her chair out for her, and even dropping the occasional kiss on the top of her head.

It should've made her cringe, but instead she found it... comforting?

Ellen had asked the usual 'parent' questions--how they met, what Sadie was studying, if she liked hockey (which of course she had to answer yes to, knowing full well the consequences of not liking hockey in the Hughes household). Sadie played along, forcing herself to laugh at Jack's shit jokes and add details to the story they'd created on the drive up.

"Jack, why don't you take Sadie down to the dock and watch the sunset over the lake" Ellen suggested, clearing the table of plates. "It's beautiful tonight."

"Good idea, Mom," Jack agreed, standing up and taking Sadie's hand with a grin.

"Sure, sounds nice," Sadie forced a smile, trying not to feel awkward holding Jack's hand in front of his mother.

They walked out towards the dock, the cool air helping lift the weight of the day away. The lake stretched out before them, the water reflecting the orange and pink hues of the sunset. Sadie loved scenes like that. They brought her so much peace.

"You're doing great, by the way, Sadie."

She snorted, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I feel like I'm in some weird improv exercise. Just waiting for someone to figure out I don't belong here."

"They're not going to figure anything out," he whispered. "You've got this."

Lying to his family felt wrong, even if it was supposed to be for a good cause. Or at least a cause that Jack thought was good.

"This is going to be a very draining summer," she sighed.

"You wanna go to bed?"

"No, I need to stay up and meet your brothers and your dad."

"They'll still be here in the morning, Sades. If you want to go to sleep, nobody is gonna stop you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, come on. Let's get you some sleep."

~~

"Who's shoes are those?" Luke asked, closing the front door behind him.

"Jack's girlfriend's! You just missed her, she went to sleep about half an hour ago," Ellen smiled, pulling her youngest son into a hug.

"His girlfriend?"

"Yes! Sadie is her name. Such a nice girl. Very pretty too."

Luke looked back down at the shoes again, his mind still trying to catch up with what his mom was saying. Jack's girlfriend? The words felt so unfamiliar. Jack didn't talk about dating much, at least not in a serious way, so hearing about Sadie--a girl he apparently cared enough about to bring home--caught him so off guard.

"Yeah. Jack didn't mention much about her."

"He didn't? Oh, well, you'll meet her in the morning," she reached up to ruffle his hair, like he was still a little kid playing chase around the house with his brothers. "She's lovely. A little shy at first, but I'll sure she'll warm up to everyone. Probably just worried about making a good first impression."

Luke nodded, but inside his curiousity was growing. Shy? He hadn't heard Jack describe anyone as shy in, well, ever. Jack's type was the total opposite--bold, confident, the kind of girl that could hang with his rowdy ass friends without missing a beat. This Sadie girl was starting to sound a lot different than that.

"Well, let's get you boys fed before we all call it a night," Jim said, patting Luke's shoulder as he passed. "Your mom saved us some leftovers from dinner."

Luke followed his dad and Quinn into the kitchen, but his thoughts were still on the mysterious girl that had apparently stolen his brother's heart. Jack had never even mentioned a Sadie before and suddenly she was at the lake house. It all felt off.

~~

Sadie woke up feeling as sweaty as ever. The house had AC but Jack was like a personal heater and somehow they'd ended up spooning at some point in the night. There was a thin layer of sweat between her back and Jack's chest and she felt disgusting.

Groaning quietly, she pulled herself out of his grip, using her shirt to wipe her back. Jack was still fast asleep, the duvet kicked around his feet. Typical. Jack could sleep through a fucking earthquake.

She swung her legs out of bed and padded to the bathroom, hoping a splash of cold water would make her feel more like herself. She thought about what Jack had said last night--about how nobody would figure them out. But staring at herself in the mirror, she felt like it was written all over her face.

She didn't belong here.

She threw on the first clothes she could find, a pair of jean shorts and one of Jack's many Devils t-shirts. By the time she made her way downstairs, the kitchen was already bustling. Ellen was preparing breakfast while Jim sat at the table sipping a cup of coffee.

"Morning, Sadie! Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, thanks," she forced a smile.

"Jack still asleep?"

"Out cold."

Ellen chuckled, shaking her head. "Sounds about right."

Sadie smiled, but before she could respond, the sound of footsteps behind her caught her attention. She turned just as Luke appeared in the doorway, fresh from a morning run, judging the sweat on his forehead and the way his grey shirt clung to his torso.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Luke's eyes landed on her, sharp and curious. There was something about the way he looked at her that made her feel like he was sizing her up--not in a rude way, but in a way that made her stomach flip uncomfortably.

"You must be Sadie," he made his way further into the kitchen. "I'm Luke."

"Yeah," she extended her hand to him. "Nice to meet you."

Luke shook her head, his grip firm but brief. His blue eyes lingered on hers for a second longer than she expected before he pulled away, glancing towards the coffeemaker.

"You're the one who got Jack all domestic?" he teased, grabbing a mug. "Didn't see that coming."

She laughed softly, "I don't know about 'domestic,' but... I guess I'm the one who convinced him to bring me here."

Luke smirked, like he wasn't entirely buying it. "Yeah. I guess."

Sadie got cut off again, but this time by Quinn entering the room. "Ah, so this is the famous Sadie! Nice to finally put a face to the name."

Thank God for Quinn.

~~

Sadie sat on the dock, her feet dangling over the water, her book open on her lap. Jack and Quinn had gone to get the boat from the marina and Sadie had taken the opportunity to relax a bit.

She had laid a towel under her, Jack's t-shirt removed because she was not about to get a farmer's tan. She was basking in the sun, feeling the gentle warmth of the sun on her extremely pale skin. The world around her disappearing as she flipped through the novel. She was really enjoying it until she came to a parapgraph about suspicion. It took her right back to her interaction with Luke that morning. It was like he saw right through her, could sense all the cracks in her story. She had to be careful, maybe Luke was smarter than he seemed.

But footsteps on the dock behind her broke her train of thought. She glanced over her should, expecting to see that either Jack or Quinn had returned with the car from the marina, but it was Luke. He wasn't in the workout clothes he'd been wearing earlier, now dressed in a white t-shirt and board shorts, clearly ready for a swim.

"You mind if I join?" Luke asked, the same playful charm in his voice that Jack carried.

"Sure, it's your family's dock after all."

Luke smirked, dropping a towel beside her before sitting down, his legs also hanging over the water. He didn't say anything for awhile, just stared out over the water. Sadie went back to reading, well now she was pretending to read, her main focus being on how closely he was sitting next to her.

"So," he broke the silence. "How'd you and Jack meet?"

There it was--more lying about her and Jack. Sadie knew Luke was already suspicious of her, so she had to play her cards right. She looked up from her book, trying to keep her body language calm. "Friends. Some of his, uh, his friends go to school with me. So..."

"Friends, huh?" He was testing her, waiting for her to trip up.

"Yeah, like slow burn," she shrugged. "We hung out with a big group of friends first. You know how it goes."

Luke was silent for a moment, staring down at the waves lapping the dock. "Yeah, I guess, I do. Jack's never mentioned you before."

Sadie felt her stomach lurch, but she forced a smile. "Well, we kept things on the down-low for a while. Just us. It's still... kinda new."

"Makes sense," Luke's tone made it clear he wasn't entirely convinced. He shifted, resting his elbows on his knees, staring out at the lake again. "Just seems strange, I guess. Jack never brings girls here. And then... suddenly, you."

"I guess I'm just lucky," she swallowed harshly.

For a moment, she thought he might say something else--might press her further--but instead, he stood up and grabbed his towel.

"I'll leave you to it. Nice talking, Sadie," he walked off, completely disregarding the fact that he had clearly come out to swim. She just watched him retreat. It was clear he didn't trust her, hopefully Jack could fix that. She didn't need him figuring anything out before the trip was over. That was certain.

~~

The sound of the boat engine humming across the water was the perfect background noise on a sunny afternoon. Sadie sat on the edge, occasionally letting her fingers trail through the lake below. Jack was steering them out to the centre of the water, Quinn sat up front basking in the sun, and Luke leaned casually against the small railing on the side.

"You ever driven one of these?" Luke asked, nodding towards the steering wheel.

Sadie looked over to Jack, who was too busy concentrating on his driving to respond. She smirked, "Jack never lets anyone take the wheel. He likes to be in control."

Quinn laughed, "Sounds about right. Captain Jack, over here. Watch out Sadie or he might start asking you to call him that."

"Don't give him any ideas," she groaned, flicking her gaze back to Jack. She really hoped that the banter seemed real and not forced.

"You love it, Sades! You're just mad because you can't even drive a car for shit."

"Hey! You've never given me a chance on a boat," she shot back, standing up and making her way to Jack.

"I think I have a good reason."

Sadie placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning in closer as she laughed. It felt so strange to have to be so physically close to Jack on purpose, but she was learning to fake it well. "Maybe I'll surprise you one day."

Quinn chuckled, "Honestly, Rowdy, give her a shot. What's the worst that could happen?"

"She crashes into the dock?" Jack raised an eyebrow, still smirking, one of his hands casually finding it's way around Sadie's bare waist. She stiffened slightly at first, but relaxed quickly after reminding herself to play the part.

"I'm more worried about you crashing into the dock," Sadie shot back.

Luke, who had been silently observing the whole ordeal, cracked a grin. "She's probably better at steering than you think, Jack. You're just a control freak."

Sadie stole a glance, glad to see Luke was no longer sending any weird looks her way.

"Alright, fine," Jack sighed, turning the wheel just slightly to change course. "Maybe I'll let you drive next time. If you're lucky."

Quinn snorted, "If she's lucky? You mean if she gives you head?"

Sadie's jaw dropped, but all three Hughes brothers started laughing like it was the funniest joke she'd ever heard. God, she'd never understand men.

~~

The boat had been anchored and Sadie sat with Jack near the edge. Luke and Quinn were busy talking about who could pull off a better dive, leaving the 'couple' alone.

Sadie lowered her voice, looking around to see if the other boys were listening. "Jack, I think Luke is catching on."

"Catching on? What're you talking about?"

Sadie sighed. "Earlier today, he was asking me all these questions. It felt like he was suspicious. Like he knows this whole thing is all an act."

Jack chuckled, knocking his shoulder with hers. "Sades, he's just messing with you. Trust me, he's not suspicious of anything. That's just how he is. He's probably giving you a hard time because he knows it'll get under your skin."

She bit her lip, not fully convinced. "I don't know... I don't want him to say something to your parents or--"

"Relax," he softly grabbed her hand. "It's going fine. They all like you, and no one is doubting anything. Promise."

Sadie looked around again, but Quinn and Luke were now splashing each other in the water. "I guess you're right. I'm probably just overthinking shit."

"Exactly. Now, where's the Sadie I know? I'm not a fan of this anxious, worrywart. Where's the flirty, confident, almost scary Sadie that I became friends with?"

She just shook her head, a real smile making its way across her face. Jack leaned back, stretching his arms behind him. "Come on, Sades. Let's make the most of this. Summer is supposed to be funnnn."

"Okay," she giggled. "Let's have some fun."

She quickly stood up and cannon-balled into the lake. Luke and Quinn cheered her on, as Jack shook his head and laughed. "There's my girl!"

~~

Sadie, Jack, Luke, and Quinn sat on deck chairs around the firepit, drinks in hand. It had been a long day spent out on the water, but the fun wasn't over just yet. The laughter was now coming even easier than before with the addition of alcohol.

Sadie leaned heavily into Jack's side, his arm draped over her shoulders, her head resting on him. She finally felt like herself, carefree. Jack's closeness didn't feel awkward anymore; it felt natural, or maybe that was just the alcohol.

"Alright, Sadie," Quinn said, his speech slurred slightly. "I gotta know what it's like dating Jack? He's gotta be a pain in the ass."

"Oh, you have no idea," she teased. "He thinks he's funny. Most of the time, he's just annoying."

Jack gasped dramatically, clutching his chest with his free hand. "Wow. You wound me, Sades. I'm hilarious."

"Debatable," she quipped, running her fingers along the seam of his shirt as she settled against him more comfortably.

"Okay, but for real," Luke piped up, "how'd you two even get together? I don't think Jack has ever brought a girl here."

She glanced at Jack, who winked at her before answering.

"It just happened, I guess. We were hanging out with a group of friends, like I told you guys, and then one day... I just knew she was the one for me."

"Oh, you knew, huh? That's not how I remember it," Sadie giggled.

"What's your version, Sadie?" Luke raised an eyebrow.

"Well... Jack was chasing after me for months, trying to get me to go out with him. I was playing hard to get."

Jack cackled, "That's not how it went."

"It's exactly how it went," she shot back, her voice full of confidence. "He practically begged me to go on a date with him."

Luke and Quinn were in stitches, the banter between her and Jack clearly entertaining them. Sadie felt so much more like herself. The earlier tension she felt from Luke's questions had melted away with the first sip of vodka.

Just as Sadie was about to make another joke at Jack's expense, the sound of footsteps cruncing against gravel caught her attention. She glanced over her shoulder to see a figure making their toward them. Sadie tensed.

It had to be that neighbour girl that Jack had warned her about. The whole reason this shit was happening.

The girl strutted up to the firepit, her eyes locking on Jack like he was the only person there. She didn't even acknowledge Sadie's presence, instead giving Jack a flirtatious smile as she drew closer.

"Well, well," her tone was sugary sweet. "Didn't know you were back in town, Jack."

Sadie felt Jack also tense beside her, but he didn't move his arm from her shoulders. He smiled politely, but there was no mistaking the discomfort in his eyes. "Yes, Natalie, we're here every summer."

The girl, Natalie, flicked her bleach blonde hair over her shoulder. "It's been a while. You should come over sometime. We could... catch up."

Sadie could tell from the girl's body language that she wasn't taking no for an answer. Natalie's obvious attempt to flirt with Jack was so blatant, it was almost laughable. It would've been laughable if it wasn't so goddamn irritating.

Luke and Quinn exchanged amused glances.

Sadie straightened up, pushing her body closer to Jack's. "He's a little busy right now," Sadie's voice was low but firm.

"Oh, I'm sure Jack can make time. Can't you, Jacky?"

Sadie's blood boiled. Natalie wasn't getting the message. She glanced at Jack, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, then made a quick decision. Without hesitation, Sadie reached up, grabbed Jack's face in both hands, and pulled him into a kiss. Not a soft, delicate one, but a full-on, heated make out session that left no room for misinterpretation. She was making sure that everyone knew who Jack belonged to.

Jack responded immediately, his hands moving to rest on her waist as he kicked her back, clearly caught up in the moment. It was all part of the act, but Sadie could feel the passion in it, the alcohol blurring the line between fake and real.

When she pulled away, breathless and bright red, she didn't even look at Jack. She instead kept her gaze locked on Natalie, who was staring at them in stunned silence.

"Like I said," Sadie's voice was full of cool confidence, "he's busy."

Natalie's face twisted into a scowl, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She shot Jack and Sadie one last frustrated look before scoffing and turning on her heel, storming off into the night like a child throwing a tantrum.

Quinn let out a low whistle. "Damn, Sadie. Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"That was brutal," Luke agreed.

She shrugged, playing it off like it was nothing, even though her heart was pounding in her chest. "She wasn't getting it. Had to make it clear."

Jack, still recovering from the intensity of the kiss, grinned down at her. "You sure did."

~~

The room spun slightly as Sadie fumbled with the zipper on her shorts, still giggling about how the night had unfolded. Jack leaned against the door, watching her with a lazy grin, the alcohol still buzzing in his system.

"That kiss though," Jack teased, his voice slurred as he kicked off his shoes. "You really sold it, Sades. I think you scared Natalie away for life."

"Good," she smirked, peeling off her shorts and tossing them aside, not bothering with modesty. She started tugging her t-shirt over her head. "She wasn't getting the hint. Had to go for the kill."

Jack's eyes flickered to her as she changed, the casualness of it all catching him off guard. He swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry as he tried not to stare. Sadie, half-naked, standing there like it was nothing--it was making his head spin even more than it already was.

He blinked, knowing he shouldn't have been distracted like that, especially when they were just playing pretend. But Sadie didn't seem to notice nor care. She was sat on the bed, running her hands through her hair, her laughter replaced by a serious expression.

"Jack. I was actually really nervous... earlier. With meeting your parents, then Luke asking all those questions, and then fucking Natalie showed up."

Jack shook off his drunken haze. He sat down beside her, trying to focus on her words and the fact that her skin was glowing under the light in the room. "Nervous? You seemed to have it under control out there."

"I was faking. Well, partly. Thought maybe Luke's questions about us were to find holes or that Quinn was part of his plan."

"Sades, I'm not sure how many times I have to tell you. Nobody is suspicious."

"I just didn't want to mess this up for you. The whole fake dating thing--it's for you, and I didn't want to fuck it all up by being... weird."

"You weren't weird. You were amazing. And that kiss? I think you might have convinced me we're really dating."

"So... no one's doubting?"

Jack shook his head, his hand brushing gently against her back. "Nope. That kiss probably wiped away any doubts that Quinn or Luke might've had. You sold it. Hell, I think Luke might've been jealous."

She smirked at the thought, "Yeah? Jealous, huh?"

Jack grinned, leaning his forehead against hers. "Definitely. You've got nothing to worry about now. We've got this."

There was a quiet moment between them. The alcohol buzz still hanging in the air, but it was softer now, replaced by something warmer, more intimate. Jack's hand slid up to her shoulder, his touch gentle as he pulled her closer.

"I'm really glad you're here."

She leaned into him, resting her head against his chest. "Me too."

They lay back on the bed, neither bothering to change further. Jack's arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his side as she snuggled against him. The steady rise and fall of Jack's chest beneath her cheek, lulling her to sleep.

~~

Jack and Quinn were gone for the day, some sort of offseason training session by some bigshot NHL personal trainer. The guy hadn't invited Luke, so he was stuck at the house with Sadie and his parents.

Sadie was stretched out on a towel in the backyard, basking in the sunshine, her earbuds playing some soft country music. She was enjoying her peaceful solitude.

Or so she thought.

When she turned her head slightly to adjust her sunglasses, she caught a glimpse of Luke standing on the back porch. He was leaning against the railing, looking right at her. His eyes flickered away as soon as she spotted him, but it was too late. Sadie had seen him staring.

A mischievous grin tugged at her lips.

Caught you.

Deciding to have a little fun with it, Sadie flipped onto her front, resting her chin on her folded arms. Then, with a playful smirk, she reached behind her and undid the knot on her bikini top, letting it fall loose against the towel beneath her. Luke couldn't actually see shit, but she thought it was hilarious to tease him.

After a few beats of silence, Sadie couldn't help but sneak a peek in his direction. Luke was still on the porch, but his posture was tense, clearly flustered. His eyes darted between her and the lake, like he wasn't sure where to look.

She bit her lip to hold back a laugh. Oh, this is too good.

Satisfied with the teasing, she casually rolled back onto her back and retyed her top like nothing had happened. Then she stood up, grabbing her book and towel, she sauntered back inside with a smirk tugging at her lips. She didn't need to look back to know there were still a set of blue eyes staring at her.

~~

Luke wandered into the living room, hesitating briefly at the door before walking to Sadie on the couch. His hair was still slightly damp from a dip in the lake, and he seemed almost more relaxed without Jack and Quinn there.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?"

"Go for it," she replied, looking up from her book. She shifted over to make space for him.

Luke sat down and stretched his legs out in front of him as he leaned back in an attempt to look casual. It didn't work and Sadie could still feel the tension in the air. She knew Luke was flustered about the whole backyard situation and she found it fucking hilarious.

"You're always reading," he remarked, nodding towards the book in her hands. "What is it this time?"

She raised an eyebrow and flipped the book around so he could see the cover. "I'm not 'always' reading. You've caught me reading twice. And it's just something to kill time. You know, since your brother is off pretending he's a celebrity."

"Yeah, Jack's like that. Always pretending he's the best," Luke chose to ignore her remark about him only seeing her reading twice.

"Must've been annoying growing up with him," Sadie teased.

"Oh, it was. But he's alright. Could've been worse."

The conversation continued easily from there, their voices filling the silent house with stories about their childhoods, embarrassing moments, and life in general. Luke found himself relaxing more and more as Sadie talked. She was sharp, funny, and this special energy that drew him in. The confident, teasing girl from the backyard was showing her soft side and he could see why Jack was head over heels in love with her,

Sadie yapped about her life in university, the friends she had back home in Jersey, and even some wild stories from a girls' trip to New York. Luke listened, hanging off of every word. She was cool, and not in a superficial way, but genuinely cool. She wasn't just Jack's girlfriend. She was Sadie. And she was amazing.

But with that realization came guilt.

He watched her laugh as she told a funny story, and Luke felt the pull growing inside him. He was really starting to like her. Maybe too much.

This was Jack's girlfriend. He shouldn't feel that way about Jack's girlfriend.

He knew it was wrong, but he made no effort to distance himself from her. Instead, he found himself drawn to her more and more, wanting to sit there with her, to hear her laugh again, to see the smirk that covered her face when she teased him.

"So, how about you?" she asked, snapping him from this thoughts. "What's it like being the baby? Bet Jack gave you hell."

"They both did. But especially Jack. He never, ever let me forget I was the youngest. Always had to one-up me."

"Sounds like Jack," she grinned, and Luke's smile faltered at the lovestruck look on her face at the meer mention of Jack. "Bet you're giving it right back now."

"I try." There was a brief lull in conversation and the silence that followed felt like it was charged with electricity.

Sadie held his gaze a beat longer than she should have before breaking the eye contact with a playful smile. "Well, if you ever need any tips on how to outsmart Jack, I've got plenty."

"I might just have to take you up on that."

~~

The sun lay low in the late afternoon sky making the lake look like it was sparkling. Sadie and Luke stood by the water's edge, still filling in the quiet hours without Jack and Quinn.

Sadie grinned, nudging Luke with her elbow. "Bet you can't beat me in a water fight."

"You're on."

Without warning, Sadie walked off into the water, her laugh echoing as she turned around to splash Luke. He barely had time to react before a wave of water was hitting his lower legs.

"Oh, it's like that?" Luke laughed, taking off after her.

It didn't take long before they were having a full-on war, splashing each other mercilessly. Sadie couldn't stop laughing as Luke chased her through the water. After on particularly good splash, she tried to swim away, but Luke caught up to her, his hands gripping her waist as he tried to dunk her. Sadie squealed in protest, kicking her legs.

"Let go, you cheater!" she giggled, twisting in his grip.

Luke grinned, he really liked how infectous her laugh was. But as they wrestled in the water, something shifted. His hands lingered on her waist longer than they should have. Her skin was riddled in goosebumps from the cold water, but still felt smooth under this touch, and suddenly the playful moment didn't seem quite as innocent.

Shit.

Sadie, still in the middle of laughing and trying to escape his hold, didn't seem to notice the change in him. She was completely carefree, seeing the moment for what it was--a game. But Luke wasn't feeling it anymore. His throat felt tight and pulse picked up.

His hands were still on her waist.

Luke's breath hitched, and before she could turn around and see the look on his face, he let go, stumbling backward in the water.

"You good? You're not giving up already, are you?"

Luke forced a chuckle, but it came out sounding way more like a cough. "Uh, yeah, I--uh, I think I've had enough."

Without waiting for her response, he quickly waded out of the water and back onto the shore. The evening breeze did nothing to cool his flustered state.

Sadie was still in the water, floating on her back with a smile on her face. "Aw, come on!"

He just mumbled something incoherent, grabbed his towel, and hurried back into the house without even looking her way.

~~

Luke rushed past his parents in the kitchen, heading straight for his room. He slammed the door shut behind him and flopped down onto the bed, shoving his face in a pillow. He wanted to scream, but even the pillow wouldn't muffle the sound enough from anyone downstairs.

I'm attracted to her.

The thought hit him like a freight train, the words echoing over and over again like a prayer. It wasn't just some innocent crush. He was undeniably, painfully attracted to Sadie--his brother's girlfriend.

How had he let it get this far? She was dating Jack. She was Jack's girlfriend. And yet, anytime she laughed or smiled at him, Luke felt like a fucking high schooler.

He couldn't stop it, couldn't ignore it anymore.

He hadn't meant to hold her like that in the water. It was meant to be just a harmless game, but he had taken it too far in his mind. Sadie, however, hadn't even seemed to notice. Maybe she did and she was just ignoring it. Surely that was it.

"You're such a fucking idiot, Luke," he cursed himself, but every time he closed his eyes all he could see was how perfect she had looked in that moment.

The worst part of all? He didn't want to stop feeling that way.

Even as the guilt knawed at him, he couldn't bring himself to want to distance from her. Being around Sadie felt good. It felt natural. And that scared him even more.

Suddenly, he heard laughter from the hallway outside his door. Luke froze, listening as Jack's voice joined in, low and teasing, followed by Sadie's giggles.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut, willing away the guilt. But then there was a pause in the laughter. He could picture what was happening. The way that Jack was looking at Sadie. The that Sadie was looking back up at Jack with a smile on her face, maybe teasing him.

Then... the sound of a kiss broke the silence. It was soft, but it might as well have been the loudest thing that Luke had ever heard. His stomach twisted, and he tried to shove his face further into the pillow, but it was no use the couple was back to laughing.

This is wrong. It's all wrong. But as wrong as he knew it was, he couldn't deny the truth.

He was falling for Sadie. And he was falling for Sadie... hard.

~~

The whole family and Sadie were gathered around the pool table, Jim and Ellen watching from the corner, while the "kids" took their turns at the competetive game that had started.

Sadie was standing next to Jack, leaning against the wall with a gin and tonic, that her "boyfriend" had made her, in her hand. She was watching Quinn line up his shot, her eyes crinkling as she laughed about whatever it was that Jack was whispering to her about. Jack had his arm draped over her shoulders, pulling her closer as she laughed. They looked so comfortable. So perfect.

Luke stood across from them, gripping his pool cue so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. Every laugh that Jack and Sadie shared, every playful nudge, felt like a stab to his gut.

"Alright, Sades, your go," Jack kissed her cheek before handing her a cue.

She leaned over the table, lining up her shot with Jack standing behind her, offering a few "helpful" tips. His hand rested on her lower back, guiding her aim. Quinn looked over at Luke, raising his eyebrows as if to say "look how suggestive he's being."

Luke just shook his head, trying to focus on the game. But all he could think about was how close and touchy they were being. And how it made his stomach churn with something that he could only guess was jealousy.

Fuck, it was so messed up.

"Luke, it's your turn," Quinn called.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, right," he blinked, shaking his head. He stepped up to the table, trying to compose himself as he lined up his shot. He missed it by a mile, the ball ricocheting off the side with a loud thunk.

"Wow, nice one, Rusty," Jack teased.

His jaw was clenched, "Guess I'm just off tonight."

Sadie didn't even notice, giggling as Jack asked for her opinion on their next move. Why were they acting like they were the only ones in the room? Was nobody else finding it annoying? Luke glanced at his mom. She was smiling at the young couple, a lovestruck look on her face. Maybe he was the only one that found it annoying.

~~

Sadie lay sprawled across Jack's bed, her phone held loosely in her hand as she scrolled through texts from her friends back home. Jack was in the shower, insisting he wash the lake water off his body. She had some time to kill and her friends, that weren't her friend group with Jack, were ready to gossip.

The Hottest Girls in Jersey Sadie, Alex, and Carly

Carly: Soooo, how's it going with Mr. NHL?? Alex: yeah, girl. spill. is he, like, actually boyfriend material or are you just having a hot ass summer fling??

Sadie rolled her eyes at their messages, biting her lip as she thought of her reply.

Sadie: it's... complicated Carly: Ugh, isn't it always lol Alex: we need details, sades. what's complicated? the sex? the family? Sadie: family's cool. his mom is like super sweet. and his brothers are... yeah Carly: Oh, brothers, huh? Now you like reallyyyyy need to spill

Sadie hesitated, glancing towards the bathroom door. She could still hear Jack humming to himself while the water ran. No way he was gonna come out and read her messages any time soon.

Sadie: okay, fine. it's not really jack. it's luke Carly: LUKE?! Alex: WAIT. WHAT. HIS BROTHER LUKE?! Sadie: yep. younger brother, but soooooo much more my type Carly: Girllllll, you're bad Alex: hold the fucking phone. is this the guy we're talking about here? what's wrong with jack, then? isn't he like the only reason you're there?

She chuckled to herself, it did kinda sound insane when she typed it all out.

Sadie: jack's great. don't get me wrong. but, luke... he's like more quiet. jack's more playful and sassy, but idk... plus i love a boy with curly hair Carly: You're catching feelings for his brother??? Holy shit, girl Alex: lmao this is legit some CW ass drama

She rolled onto her back, staring at the ceiling. Maybe it was a little ridiculous, but it was true. Luke was more her type. He was tall, not that Jack wasn't tall, but Luke was tall. He had the cutest nose and the best curls she'd ever seen. Jack was fun. Jack was easy. But Luke...

Sadie: it's not that deep. but yeah, ig i'm more into luke than jack Carly: Oooo Alex: you're fake dating jack tho, right? like what's the plan here?? Sadie: i don't fucking know!!! nothing's happened with luke, obviously. but like next time we're alone? i might see what happens ;) Carly: You are fucking INSANE, Sadie!!! Alex: if you're that desperate, you've got Jack right there...

She laughed out loud at Alex's message. She was definitely not desperate, but she still glanced to the bathroom door. The water had stopped. Jack would be out any second.

Sadie: trust me, i'm not desperate. luke's gonna be the move

Just as she hit send, Jack emerged from the bathroom, towel hung low on his hips.

"Texting the girls?" he ran a hand through his wet hair.

She slipped her phone under the pillow, a playful smile on her face. "Yeah, they were asking about you."

Jack raised an eyebrow, falling down onto the bed next to her. "All good things, I hope?"

She snorted, "Guess you'll never know."

He rolled his eyes, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. "Whatever. You were probably telling them how much of a stud I am."

Sadie smirked, though her mind was still buzzing with the excitement of what she'd just admitted to her friends. Jack had no idea, and honestly? That just made it even more thrilling.

~~

Jack bounded into the living room, his backpack slung over one of his shoulders. Sadie was sat on the couch, scrolling passively through Instagram, while Luke stood in the kitchen chugging a glass of water.

"I'm headed to the rink for a few hours," Jack announced, slapping his hand on the back of the couch, full of energy. "Got a little off-season workout with Q and some of the guys."

"A workout?" Sadie quirked an eyebrow. "You never stop, do you?

"That's what makes me so irrresistible, babe." He shot her a wink before turning to Luke. "You busy?"

Luke wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, setting down his glass. "Not really."

"Why don't you keep her company? You guys should hang out. Show her around town or something."

Luke flushed, his eyes flickering to Sadie, who was sat with an amused smile on her face. "Uh, yeah, sure."

"Perfect!" Jack leaned down and kissed Sadie's cheek. "Don't miss me too much while I'm gone, okay?"

"I'll try," she giggled, leaning into his touch but keeping her eyes on Luke.

"See you later! Have fun!"

And just like that Jack was gone.

"Well, looks like it's just us again," Sadie said, stretching dramatically.

"Yeah, guess so."

Sadie stood from the couch, tapping her finger against her lips as if she was thinking. "You know what we should do?"

"What?"

"Go for a swim! It's hot out, and the lake looks amazing."

Luke hesitated. He wasn't sure he could handle that again. But before he could come up with an excuse, Sadie was heading toward the back door.

"Come on! Don't make me swim alone. I might drown."

By the time he made it down to the dock, Sadie was standing at the edge, her back to him as she looked out over the water. She had stripped down to her bikini--a simple black one that fit her like a glove.

Luke shook his head. He had no right to stare. Jack's girlfriend, not his. Get a grip.

"Took you long enough, Luke. Thought you were going to bail on me."

"Just... taking my time." He managed a weak laugh.

"Uh-huh." She dipped her toe in the lake, testing the temperature. "Water feels amazing. Bet I can beat you in."

She dove in without even waiting for an answer. She resurfced a few feet out, shaking the water from her hair and grinning at him. "What're you waiting for?"

Luke hesitated for just a second longer before diving in after her. The shock of the cool water cleared his head. That was until he surfaced and saw Sadie floating nearby, her hair splayed around her like a halo.

"See? Told you it feels amazing."

He swam a bit closer, but decided to keep his distance. "Yeah, guess you were right."

Sadie flipped onto her stomach, treading water as she swam to him. "Relax." She nudged her shoulder with his. "You look so tense."

Her tone was light, but the promixity of them felt almost dangerous. "I am relaxed."

"Bullshit. You look like the tensest motherfucker ever," she splashed him, the water hitting him square in the face. "Come on. Loosen up."

Luke sputtered, wiping the water from his eyes. "Oh, it's gonna be like that, huh?"

"Just sayin'... life's too short to be serious all the time," her hand brushed his arm as she floated by, leaving goosebumps in her wake.

Her touch was light, casual, but it still made it so he couldn't think straight. He wanted to keep his distance, but she wasn't making it easy in the slightest.

"You and I should do this more often," she mused.

"What? Swim?"

She scoffed, "No. Hang out."

Was she messing with him? Or was she being serious? He couldn't tell with her. Her teasing had been light and innocent until now. Now every word that left her mouth felt like it had a second meaning.

"I... I don't know."

What kind of shit response was that? God, he looked like an idiot.

She swam closer to him, stopping when she was right in front of his face. "You don't know? I think you do, Luke."

He could feel her leg brushing against his and his whole body felt like it was one fire despite the cool water. He should've pulled back, but he couldn't. He was frozen.

"Ha! You're cute when you're flustered."

For a moment, he felt himself lean in, as if there was an invisible force pulling him to her. But just as quickly, Sadie pulled away, climbing back onto the dock and swaying her hips as she headed back to the house, leaving the boy completely flabbergasted.

~~

Jim and Ellen had left for a special dinner out and Jack had quickly suggested a game night, complete with alcohol and whatever games they could find in the basement. Luke had agreed, only because he knew he could drink, and that might make being in the same room as Sadie more bearable.

"Alright, team," Jack tossed a can of beer to Luke, who caught it without looking "Game night is on. Hope you're ready to lose, Qball."

"Yeah, yeah. You always say that, but I'm the one who wins."

"You guys don't stand a chance. Right, babe?" Sadie grinned up at Jack.

"You bet. Dream team right here."

Luke looked at them, all snuggled up together. He blinked a few times before chugging the rest of his beer. Jack laughed, "Alright, Lukey." He tossed him another one, getting ready to explain the rules of the game.

By the third round, Jack had pulled Sadie into his lap, his arms wrapped around her waist like a seatbelt. They were laughing, whispering inside jokes, and exchanging kisses, acting like they were the only people in the room.

Luke tried to focus on the game, but he found himself looking up to see Sadie running her fingers through Jack's hair, her other hand squeezing his thigh.

He wanted to believe that she had meant something by the little act she'd put on at the lake. But seeing her all over Jack made him feel like he'd never been so wrong. She was clearly into Jack. She didn't mean anything by it. She's just... being friendly.

So why did it feel like more?

"Can you guys like chill?" Quinn spoke up. "We're trying to play a game, not watch you two make out."

"Oh, come on, Quinn. We're just having fun," Sadie giggled.

"Yeah, don't be a buzzkill," Jack added, pressing kisses to her neck.

"There's having fun, and then there's..." Quinn paused, his voice laced with annoyance. "You're practically having sex in front of us."

"Jealous?"

"No, Luke and I just don't wanna see that."

"Whatever."

"Your turn, Luke."

"Right," he muttered, grabbing the dice and rolling it halfheartedly. The alcohol wasn't helping, dulling his senses and making everything worse. He kept glancing at Sadie, hoping for some sign that she was aware of what she was doing to him, but she didn't even look his way.

The final straw came when Jack, clearly tipsy, pulled Sadie in for a long, slow kiss right in the middle of Quinn's turn. Jack and Sadie were known by their friends for their drunk kisses, but his brothers really didn't want to see it.

"I'm done. You two aren't even playing!" Quinn threw his hands up.

"Fine, fine. We'll stop! Happy now?"

"No. I'm going to bed before I see something even worse."

"Uh, yeah, me too. Night guys," Luke nodded, following his oldest brother.

"Bedtime?" Jack laughed.

"Yeah, bedtime, I guess."

~~

Luke hadn't gone to bed. He couldn't sleep. His brain wouldn't shut up. It had been a couple hours since game night had ended and he felt more sober than he was before he started drinking. Maybe he was insane. Maybe Sadie had driven him to his breaking point. She was so goddamn confusing. And--

"Hey."

"What're you doing out here? Shouldn't you be with Jack?"

She shrugged, closing the sliding door behind her. "He's passed out. I wanted to come find you."

"Sadie, you really shouldn't--"

"I know what you're going to say. But I think you're wrong."

"Wrong?"

Sadie moved in, her hand reaching for his, her fingers tracing along his wrist. "You're overthinking things, Luke."

His breath hitched as she leaned in, her face inches from his, her lips so close he could feel her breath. He should've pulled away. He should've told her to stop.

But he didn't. He couldn't.

Instead, Luke closed the gap between them, his lips crashing against hers in a desperate, longing kiss.

She kissed him back, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. Her touch sent sparks through his body. But those sparks made reality set in.

He pulled away, his chest heaving. "No. This is wrong."

"What?"

"You need to stop," he stood up suddenly, almost making Sadie fall over. His voice was full of anger. "This... this whole thing is fucked up, Sadie. You're Jack's girlfriend."

She stared at him for a second or two before, to Luke's surprise, she started laughing.

"What the hell is so funny?" Luke snapped. "I'm going to tell him. I'm going to tell Jack everything. He needs to know what you've been doing."

"You don't get it, do you?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Jack and I aren't really together."

"What... what do you mean?"

Sadie sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "It's fake. The whole thing--it's just an act."

"An act? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Jack needed me to play the part of his girlfriend for the summer," Sadie explained, her tone casual as if everything she was saying was normal. "Natalie, the neighbour girl. She's obsessed with Jack. And she won't take no for answer. So he asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend so she'd leave him alone."

"So... this is all fake?"

"Yep. We've just been playing the part, that's all."

"But... you guys... you were kissing. You're all over each other."

Sadie shrugged, her smile turning sheepish. "That... that's just something that happens when we drink. No big deal."

"No big deal? You guys were making out in front of us, and you're saying it doesn't mean anything?"

"Exactly. Jack and I are close friends. That's all it is. No feelings involved," her tone was so matter-of-fact it made Luke's stomach churn. "All for show. We figured the more real it looks, the less people will question it."

"So... you don't have feelings for him?"

"For Jack? No. We're friends. Nothing more. We've been friends since he joined the Devils. And yeah, we get a bit... affectionate when we drink. But it's never been serious."

"Then why... why were you flirting with me?"

"Because, Luke... you're the definition of my type." She reached out and brushed her hand against his cheek. "Didn't think it was that hard to figure out."

"But Jack..."

"Jack doesn't care," she cut him off. "He's the one that suggested I hang out with you more. He's clueless. He only cares that I keep Natalie away from him."

"So this whole time, you've been..."

"I've been flirting with you. And you've been trying soooo hard to resist. It's kinda cute."

He had been so sure that what he felt was wong--so convinced that he was betraying Jack. Now... now he didn't know what to think.

"This is... this is insane."

"Maybe. But it's also kinda fun. Don't ya think?"

Luke didn't know how the hell he was supposed to respond to that. Everything he thought he understood had just been flipped upside down, and now he was standing there with Sadie--Jack's not-so-girlfriend--who had just admitted she'd been flirting with him for days. Part of him wanted to kiss her again. The other part was screaming at him to stop because even if they weren't dating, it still felt like he was lying to his brother.

"I... I don't know what to do."

"Don't have to do anything. Just think about it, I guess. I'm not going anywhere. Jack's got me stuck here for a while."

She winked, turning toward the door, leaving Luke alone with his thoughts once again.

~~

Jack was up, chatting with his parents over breakfast, Sadie sat next to him looking as carefree as ever. Luke was watching her silently from across the room, his mug of coffee in his grip.

She glanced over at him and smiled like nothing had changed. But everything had changed. And Luke knew he needed to talk to her. He hated pretending things were normal when they weren't. His mind was playing the kiss on repeat and the way she'd admitted her relationship with Jack was just for show.

It all felt like a weird dream.

When Jack got up to grab some more cereal, Luke saw his chance.

"Sadie," he whispered, "can we talk? Alone?"

She raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jack who was now rummaging through the fridge for some milk. "Sure. Lead the way."

Once they were inside Luke's room, Sadie leaned against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. "What's up? I see Mr. Serious is back."

"I just... I need to understand how this is supposed to work. The whole thing with Jack. You and me. All of it."

"What's there to understand? Jack's clueless. He doesn't know anything. Not that he'd care anyway."

"You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is," she shrugged. "You're overcomplicating it."

"I don't know if I can keep this up. It's driving me crazy."

"Is it? Because it didn't seem like you were too hard of a time last night on the porch."

"Fuck it," he muttered.

He grabbed Sadie by the waist, before he could second-guess himself, crashing his lips against hers in a kiss full of pent-up frustration and desire.

Sadie definitely didn't second-guess anything, kissing him back as her hands ran up to his hair. Any boundaries that Luke had tried to build had been torn down, but he didn't care. He couldn't stop.

They stumbled backward, his hands sliding down a bit to her hips. The kiss deepened, becoming more heated with every passing second. The rest of the world melted away, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing as they broke apart just to kiss again.

The bed hit the back of Luke's knees and they collapsed onto it, lips still locked. For one of the first times since Luke had met Sadie, he wasn't busy thinking about right or wrong. He wasn't thinking about Jack or the consequences of his actions. All that mattered was Sadie, the taste of her lips, and how tight her fingers were gripping his hair.

Just as things were about to heat up further, Jack's voice echoed from the bottom of the stairs.

"Sadie? You up there?"

She pulled back instantly, her lips swollen from the kiss. "Shit," she whispered. "I should... I should go."

Luke didn't say anything, his eyes half-lidded. Sadie stood up, adjusting her shirt and hair as she shot him a smile "Sorry, Luke. Duty calls."

She looked back at him one last time as she opened the door. "This isn't over."

What had he gotten himself into?

~~

It had been a couple days since Sadie and Luke had shared their first kiss, and they'd been sneaking around ever since. Little touches when no one was looking, stolen kisses behind closed doors. The more they got away with, the more daring they became.

That afternoon, Jack had been outside messing around with Quinn by the dock, while Sadie had slipped away, telling Jack she needed to grab something from inside. Luke had been alone in the house, trying to clear his head. But the second Sadie entered the living room, everything went out the window.

And suddenly, they were tangled together on the couch, lips locked. Sadie gripped the front of his t-shirt, tugging gently. It was just them in that moment, tension building higher and higher, and Luke couldn't stop himself from enjoying it.

Then the door slammed.

They pulled apart just in time to see Jack standing in the doorway, his eyes wide with shock. The expression on his face was confused, almost dazed as he stared at them.

"Uh... what the fuck?" His tone was sharp, but not angry--more like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Luke's hands fell away from Sadie as he shot up from the couch, his face flushed. "Jack, I--"

Jack cut him off, pacing the room, his eyes shooting between them as he tried to piece everything together. "How long... how long has this been going on?"

Sadie just waited for Luke to speak.

"Luke, how long?" Jack repeated.

"A couple days. It just... happened."

"A couple days? And you just didn't think to say anything?"

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but Jack's attention shifted to Sadie. "Does he know? About us?"

"Yes, Jack. I told him. He knows it's all fake."

"So... you knew? You knew it was fake, so you decided..." Jack gestured wildly between them, pacing again, his hands tugging at his hair. "I don't get it. I don't fucking get it."

"Jack, I didn't mean for any of this to happen--"

"Didn't mean for what to happen? You didn't mean to start sneaking around with my fake girlfriend? Or you didn't mean to fall for her?"

Jack wasn't yelling. He wasn't angry. He just looked... confused. Hurt, maybe? And that just made it all so much worse.

"J, listen. This whole thing--it got out of hand. Luke and I... we didn't plan this. Just happened."

"But you two... were just... you were just making out on the couch! How does that 'just happen?'"

Sadie rolled her eyes, "Just does."

"Clearly! I mean, I thought everything was fine. I thought everyone was just hanging out, and meanwhile, you two are making out on the couch?"

"I'm sorry, Jack. I..."

"I'm not mad. Just... what the hell, guys? I don't understand."

"J, it's not like that. You and I--we're just friends. You know that. This shit with Luke... it's different."

"Different how?"

"Dunno. Just is."

Finally, Jack let out a long sigh, running a hand down his face. "Okay. Okay, fine. You two... you do whatever. I just... I need a minute to process all this."

Sadie opened her mouth to respond, but Jack held up a hand, stopping her. "Seriously, just... gimme a minute. I'll be outside if you need me."

Luke collapsed onto the couch, his head in his hands as Jack retreated outside. Could this get any worse?

~~

The rest of the day had been weird and silent. Sadie had spent it journaling and reading, giving both brothers the space that they needed. But as they got ready for bed, things were the most awkward they'd ever been between Jack and Sadie. Jack moved around the room, grabbing his phone charger and tossing it onto his nightstand, while Sadie stood by the dresser, pulling a t-shirt over her head. Neither of them spoke, both waiting for the other to break the silence.

"So... are we going to talk about this?" Sadie finally gave in.

"Talk about what?"

"You know what," she gave him a look. "About you walking in on me and Luke today."

"What's there to talk about? I mean... I get it. You guys--"

"Are you jealous?" she interrupted, her voice timid. "Like, even a little bit?"

Jack blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Jealous?" He furrowed his brow. "No. I don't think so."

"Not even like... deep down?"

"Honestly?"

She nodded, urging him to continue.

"No. I don't feel jealous. I mean, maybe if I did... I'd be way more upset about it all. But.. I dunno. I've only ever seen you as a friend. Same way you see me. A close one, sure, but still... just a friend. You know that."

"Yeah, I do. But you were really thrown off earlier, Jack. You seemed so... I dunno.... confused?"

"Yeah. I think it was more just the shock of it, ya know? Didn't expect to walk in and see my brother making out with my fake girlfriend."

She let out a small laugh. "So it's not weird for you? At all?"

"I guess it's weird in the sense that... I knew that you and Luke would get along. I just didn't think you'd get along this well."

"Yeah, I didn't exactly see it coming either."

"But no, I'm not mad or anything. Honestly, I think you and Luke fit each other way better than you and me ever could. I'm just surprised... I guess."

"Surprised how?"

Jack sighed, leaning back against the headboard. "I just never thought that... bringing you here would lead to you two... doing whatever this is."

"We haven't really figured it out," she rubbed at her arm.

Sadie climbed into bed first, pulling the covers over herself. Jack followed suit, but as they lay there side by side, for the first time since Sadie had arrived, he made no move to cuddle. No arm draped over her waist. He just laid there, staring at the ceiling.

"You don't want to cuddle tonight?"

Jack hesitated, then sighed for the millionth time that day. "It's just... it feels weird now, I guess. Knowing you've been doing... stuff with Luke. It's different."

Sadie bit her lip, and for the first time she felt that guilt that Luke had been feeling. "Jack... I'm sorry. I didn't mean for things to get so complicated."

"Nah, don't worry about it. It's not like you did anything wrong... really. Things are just different now... that's all."

Jack rolled over, facing the other side of the bed, leaving a noticeable gap between them. Sadie stared at the back of his head for a moment, feelings like she should reach out and say something. But it was too late, Jack was already asleep.

~~

Sadie and Luke sat at the end of the dock. The whole day had been awkward and Sadie felt even more out of place than she had when she first arrived.

"I don't want to make this weird," Sadie said, her voice soft, but her eyes locked with Luke's. "I really like you, but if it's gonna screw up my friendship with Jack... we should stop. We have to."

"I like you too. More than I thought I would. But yeah, this whole thing with Jack... it's too complicated. I don't wanna hurt my brother. I'd feel so guilty."

"We have to end things. It's not fair to him. Or us."

"I don't want to end things though," Luke admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "This... it's not just about the physical stuff to me. I feel something with you, Sadie. Something real."

"I feel it too. But I can't mess up things with Jack, so maybe it's better if we end things now before they get more complicated."

Jack, who had been on his way back inside, had walked past and heard his friend and brother talking. He leaned against a tree, piecing together everything they were saying. His stomach turned. But it wasn't anger. Or jealousy. He wasn't upset. It was relief. Luke and Sadie really liked each other. It wasn't just some sneaky hookup. It wasn't fair to make them feel guilty for something that wasn't even real to begin with.

"Hey."

Sadie and Luke both jumped, practically leaping out of their skin.

"Jack, I--"

"You don't have to explain anything. I heard what you guys were saying. And look, it's fine. You don't have to end whatever this is."

Sadie blinked in surprise. "You're not upset?"

Jack shook his head, a smile forming on his lips. "No. I'm not. I'm actually happy for you guys."

"Happy for who?" Ellen's voice joined the conversation.

"Jesus, is everyone listening to us?" Luke whispered to Sadie.

Jim and Quinn were close behind Ellen, also curious to what was happening on the dock.

"Luke and Sadie."

"Luke and Sadie?"

"Yeah, they're in love."

"We're not in--"

"Luke's in love with your girlfriend?" Quinn asked.

"About that..." Sadie rubbed her arm awkwardly.

"Sadie and I aren't really dating. We're friends. Close friends. She was just trying to help me get Natalie off my back. And I was helping her get her parents off her back," Jack admitted.

The family stared at him for a beat, then burst into laughter.

"Are you serious? All this was just to keep Natalie away?"

"Pretty much."

Ellen, still smiling, looked at Sadie and Luke, then back to Jack. "You know, Jack... I thought from the start that Sadie was a better fit for Luke anyway."

"Looks like you this turned out well for everyone," Quinn laughed.

Luke turned to Sadie, sliding his fingers between hers. "So... now that the truth's out... what do you think?"

"I think we've got time to figure it out," she giggled, leaning her head on his shoulder. And finally after weeks of being there, Sadie felt like she belonged.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Musician Age Gap AU Pt 12

Lena's entire body seems to buzz as they hover in the wings offstage, waiting for the cue to proceed. She bounces on the balls of her feet, fingers twisting together with uncharacteristic nerves, completely unlike the staid presence she'd run into under the National City arena.

"You okay?" she asks hesitantly.

"I've never shared new music live before," Lena confesses. "What if they hate it?"

"Nah," Kara dismisses. She smiles. "They'll love it, cuz its you."

If nothing else, the novelty-- the privilege-- of witnessing a live performance of a never-before-heard song would ease any negativity the song itself might earn down the line. Even Kara herself hasn't had a chance to hear it.

The nearest stagehand motions one minute to go. Finally, Lena stills, taking a moment to breathe deep.

"You've got this," Kara promises, before stepping away.

The lights dim, then go out entirely as the pre-show music quiets. In its place lifts a deafening roar from the crowd. Its so dark Kara doesn't see Lena move into position. One minute she's there, and the next an overhead spotlight snaps on to illuminate Lena centerstage, arm stretched high.

She waits for the din to just start to fall away, and then she's off without a single shred of her anxiety from just moments before. Her movements are strong and confident as she strides across the stage, playing to the crowd in just the right way to get them pumped and engaged for the next two hours.

Her first song is the same from the National City show, as is the second, and third. Kara doubts anything has changed, no doubt so rehearsed Lena could do it all in her sleep, singing included. But watching it again feels an all new experience.

It steals her breath away, and she only comes back to herself when Lena slows, reaching for a mic stand. This is it.

"I know you guys came here prepared to sing along with every word," Lena begins, even her speaking voice rich like velvet. "Which I'm sure you can sing better than I can at this point."

She earns a raucous burst of laughter, and prompts a giggle from Lena.

"But I'm afraid this next one is going to be all me... cuz I've a little something new for you tonight."

Kara thinks she might have lost her hearing, ears ringing in the answering explosion of cheers. Lena patiently waits for the opening to continue, grinning all the way.

"It's pretty self-explanatory once you hear it, but here's the thing: you know that ex who keeps reaching out? Believe it or not, I have one."

Another round of laughter, and a little bit of hollering.

"I thought I blocked him on everything, but I must have missed something, because guess what I got?" Lena pauses for comedic effect. "A cashapp payment for three dollars and thirty three cents."

Laughter fills the arena, and Lena joins with a delighted giggle. "The note of course asked me to call him, but... I don't know. What do you think?"

Cries of No! and Don't do it! echoed from various areas of the audience, and Lena nods.

"I think we're on the same page then. Three dollars and thirty three cents doesn't earn you a phone call..." Lena leans in close to the microphone. "But it might just earn you a song."

The audience laps it up, eliciting even more whooping cheers. Lena nods, half to herself, and half to the audience.

"Let's hit it!"

As soon as the music starts, Lena shifts effortlessly back into performance mode. Kara listens, bopping along to the bouncing beat and playful lyrics. Playful but scathing, it turns out, listing off all the reasons this mysterious ex will never see her again.

From her spot in the wings, Kara sees the crowd dancing, not singing but cheering and spinning and bouncing and absorbing it all with reckless abandon. She registers Lillian's approach beside her, but doesn't so much as glance at her. Whatever Lillian thought about Lena's plan, it was working. Tomorrow, all the world would care about is getting their ears on this new song-- and they would love it.

"You have no idea the bullet she just dodged for you."

Kara does look over at that. Her brow furrows sharply, and Lillian smirks as she watches her daughter perform.

"This time tomorrow, the world is going to be so busy sleuthing out which of her ex's this song is about, they won't even remember your name."

Onstage, Lena finishes her song with a boisterous laugh, letting the fresh cheers roll over her. Lillian turns to Kara, leaning in close.

"So when you ultimately decide this fantasy isn't for you, remember that a twenty four year old is the reason you'll still have a real life to go back to."

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring Part 2

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 20,217

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, thigh grinding, mutual masturbation, belt spanking, some very mild violence (reader is mostly a helpless bystander nvxcnvde), a pinch of angst for spice

A/N: okay, I promise I’ll work on the next kinktober prompt now 🙈 and also we're just gonna' pretend Wriothesley has an actual belt somewhere on his person, I eyeballed the hell out of his official art and started to doubt myself buuuuuut I was already fully committed to the bit so dvdknvgkdngg

⭐

“Good morning, your grace!” 

Looking up from the sheaf of papers in his hand, Wriothesley swivels his head around to watch you disembark from the elevator with a noticeably eager skip in your step. He quirks a brow at it and fully turns to greet you at your approach. “Good morning, little miss. You certainly seem to be in a good mood today.” 

You can’t quite keep the smile off your face as you come to a stop in front of him, practically vibrating in your excitement. “Of course I am! Todays the day I finally get to meet with some of the inmates and get started on our new program, what else would I be?” 

He smiles at that. “While your enthusiasm is quite commendable, I must remind you not to get your hopes up too much. The group that volunteered for this is a — mixed crowd, so to speak. I’m not exactly sure what sort of reaction you’re going to get.” 

Drawing a stilted breath, you square your shoulders and give him a brief nod of understanding. You knew he was just being practical and realistic as always, but you felt good about this. Optimistic. You were positive your efforts would soon pay off in a very real, very tangible way, and at last justify all the grief you’d suffered at his hands just to get here. For weeks now you’d been meeting with him, discussing, planning, organizing and fine tuning a plan of implementation, all while wrestling with your own self control where the duke was concerned. There wasn’t any use denying that you liked kissing him a great deal. In fact, it seemed to be your new favorite activity, amongst other, less wholesome things … 

Even now you could feel the urge to go up on your tiptoes so you could tug him down to your level threatening to overpower your common sense, but there were much more important matters at hand. You’d told yourself this over and over again, repeating it like a mantra to steel your resolve and keep your mind focused on matters of business instead of giving in, and it was going to pay off. Today. Here and now. You could feel it. 

“I understand, your grace. I will make sure to keep my expectations appropriately tempered.” 

Wriothesley looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe that, but he relents without further pressing you on it. His boots sound impossibly heavy on the steel plated flooring as he half turns, motioning you ahead. “Let’s be off then. Did you bring everything you need?” 

“Yes, your grace.” Clutching your worn leather carry case in hand, you fall into step beside him as he leads you down the long winding corridor. 

The Fortress of Meropide is somehow both stuffy and chilly at the same, the air thick but infused with the cool temperature bleeding in off the water that surrounds it. You’d learned your lesson the first time you came here (in more ways than one) and had opted for a light jumper over your blouse to stave off the ever present note of cold which you could take off if you got too warm. That seemed like a not far off possibility when you were internally quaking with nerves, both eager and anxious, but for now at least you just keep your attention on him while he gives you a brief rundown of who was supposedly going to show up for this little meeting he’d arranged for you. 

Sixteen inmates had signed up. Not even half of that number were finished with their sentences, the vast majority still actively serving time, and you can’t help but feel a little disappointed about that. You’d of course hoped to give those who had made the conscious decision to stay at Meropide a chance to reconsider integrating back into overworld society but you try to remind yourself that this was only the first preliminary phase of a much greater project. If things went well today, there would be plenty of time to work with the others. 

“Ah, and before I forget.” He says, sending you a meaningful look. “Someone by the name of George should be in attendance, if he bothers to show up. He’s a little rough around the edges but don’t let what he says get under your skin. He’s had his sentence extended twice now and as I’m sure you can imagine he’s a bit grumpy about that.” 

“Understood.” You give the clutch of your bag a fierce squeeze. “May I ask why?” 

Wriothesley thinks that over for a beat. “The first time was due to excessive fighting outside of the regulated channels. We have a three strikes policy here, as I’ve mentioned before. I suspect he was trying to assert himself as the top dog in his block but he ran into a bit more opposition than he was expecting, so he had to start using his fists instead.” 

“And the other?” 

“He tried to take one of the sponsor representatives hostage and use her as a bargaining chip.” 

Your eyes go big. “Oh.” 

Smiling one of those rare but incredibly flattering genuine smiles, he reaches out to lightly nudge your elbow. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there the whole time to keep everything under control and make sure nobody gets out of hand but the ball will be in your court, little miss. I’m just your guard dog today.” 

You hate the way fluster slowly creeps up your neck but you valiantly stamp it back down as you shyly avert your gaze elsewhere. “Thank you, your grace. I … I really appreciate you doing this for me.” 

“I know you do. But don’t thank me just yet. Wait until after we see what kind of response you get.” 

That gentle warning niggles at the back of your mind like the tickling whisper of sharp claws brushing your skin, and your stomach gives a little flip. You were nervous to meet with them face to face despite being excited to get started. Working in the public affairs office and spending most of your time at a desk didn’t exactly prepare you for hands-on encounters such as this, but between your unfaltering conviction and Wriothesley’s ever present cool demeanor at your side you keep your head held high. 

Up a short flight of metal steps and down another steel plated hall, you find yourself stepping into a small room that, based on the rickety old tables tightly packed into the cramped space, looked like it was perhaps largely used as a card room. You can’t help but feel a dull rush of relief at finding it yet unoccupied by anyone. Unable to fight the urge any longer, you reach out to snag Wriothesley’s sleeve and he sedately turns to look down at you. 

Shuffling closer until you were practically pressed right up against him, you offer him an imploring look as you go up on your toes. “Your grace …?” 

Something distantly sparks in his eyes and, humming softly, he carefully bends down to press his mouth to yours in an altogether chaste kiss. But even for as innocent as it is — not nearly as heated as some of the kisses you’d exchanged with him in recent memory — it still inspires a flood of warmth in you that races down your body. Sighing softly, you lean further into him and give yourself over to the stilted, hard press of his lips on yours. 

It lasts for only a brief moment though, and your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks when he pulls back just enough to speak. “Don’t be scared.” He tells you quietly, so gently it makes your heart wrench. 

“I’m not scared, just … nervous, is all. I think.” 

Humming quietly, he gives you another quick, lingering kiss that makes your bottom lip warble against your will. “You’ll do great. I know you will, but even if you should happen to fall I’ll be right there to catch you. Just like always, right?” 

Your face was quickly starting to become unbearably hot. Oh, how you wanted him so badly, even if he was the most confounding, frustrating man you’d ever met. “Will — will you have me later? When we’re done …?” 

Wriothesley goes still, just looking at you for a drawn out moment, but you’re a little too embarrassed to be saying something so shameful out loud to meet his gaze anymore. Flutteringly, your hand comes up to anxiously tug at the fur collar of his coat under the guise of straightening it for him, even though you really wanted to use it to tug him in against you. 

Finally, at length, he draws a carefully tempered breath. “How do you want me to have you, little miss?” 

The violent shudder that abruptly tears through you almost has you going cross eyed. “I - I’m not sure, I just … I feel like such a mess inside and everything is confusing, and I don’t know what it is exactly but I want you to — to - -“ 

“Oh, sweet girl,” He exhales slowly, and you jolt when one of his hands finds your hip. Giving it a tight, possessive squeeze to make you tremble, he drags that oppressive palm further back and around to grab a pinching handful of your ass. “Do you need me to ground you in place? Is that what you’re asking me for? Huh?” 

You sway unsteadily, feeling terribly faint when it seemed as if you were being smothered under his weighty presence. The heavy, rough calloused hand gripping your backside through the seat of your pants, the body heat bleeding off of him in waves to settle into you; the smell of him swarming your senses to settle on the back of your tongue and leave the masculine taste you’d come to recognize solely as the duke’s cloying in your throat. It was all too much. 

Much, much too much. 

Whimpering softly, you force your attention up to look in his face, still hovering mere millimeters from yours even when doing so proves to be quite the struggle. “Yes.” It’s little more than a faint whisper. “I want … I need you to reorient me. It feels like I’m — lost out at sea. I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

With a barely audible, rumbling growl, Wriothesley closes his fingers around the meat of your ass hard enough to make your breath hitch in your chest. “You need your head cleared so you can focus all that energy you have where it belongs. I’ll give you that outlet, as much as you require it. I have no problem giving you a guiding hand, little miss. You know that.” 

Your mouth warbles in a jittery smile, unable to keep it at a bay even when you try very hard to stop it from spreading across your face. You didn’t fully understand it yourself, what you were asking for or what you needed. All you’d seemed to grasp over the short time you’d known him was that Wriothesley made you feel good. Almost inexplicably so. Even when he was being infuriating and condescending towards you, even when he’d give your poor bottom a handful of stinging swats at the first sign of attitude to remind you to behave yourself, it still didn’t detract from this flutter low in your gut. There was something deeply gratifying about being with him like this, in this particular dynamic, and for as little as you know what to make of any of it, he seems to know exactly what it is you instinctively crave from him. Why you keep seeking him out this way. 

The sapphires in his eyes shutter with what you’re starting to recognize as desire in his otherwise implacable facade and he leans in again, issuing an anticipatory breath into the scant space separating you. His mouth finds yours, as sure as any compass points north, drawing a threadbare moan from the depths of your shuddering gut. You lean into him, lips carefully parting to kiss him back, and — the shuffling sound of heavy approaching footsteps echoing off the metal walls has you wrenching back from him so fast your head spins. 

Eyes going impossibly wide, you quickly slap him away in your fluster and rush to extricate yourself from his person. Chuckling softly, as if he wasn’t at all concerned about being caught in such a compromising situation, Wriothesley lets you go, but not without a playful swat to your ass when you move to brush past him. You yelp at the mild sting but keep your attention ahead as you hurry over to deposit your bag on one of the tables so you can dig in it and give your racing heart a chance to calm down. Even now you somehow manage to be surprised at how utterly unapologetic he was about everything! 

Forcing your lungs to expand on a deep, steadying breath, you listen to the approaching shuffle behind you until an unmistakable shift of occupancy in the cramped room indicated that you were no longer alone with the duke. You keep your head down just a moment longer, both to ensure you had your expression under control and to also listen to the way Wriothesley amicably greets the inmates. You’d never gotten to see him interact with them before and, rather than coming off like the strict, hardass warden you’d had a first impression of, he almost seems to talk to them like they were … friends? Or at least on friendly terms with each other. 

Could it really be that you were the only one unlucky (or lucky, depending on how you looked at it) enough to bring out that side of him? But why would that be …? 

Slowly, more people start to drift in and you have to make a concerted effort to shove those thoughts to the back of your mind so you can stay focused on what really matters. You take your time neatly organizing your stacks of papers, the forms you’d carefully composed on the typewriter in the affairs office, and make a concerted effort to greet everyone with a smile when they move away from the duke to find their seats. Some of them are rather friendly when they respond, but others simply look at you without a single word and not so much as a backwards glance. No matter, though. You didn’t exactly come here to make friends. 

All in all, only seven inmates show up. A pair of shady looking brothers, one woman and the rest are men who just disinterestedly eye you up and down with varying levels of annoyance reflecting in their eyes. You can’t quite shake the feeling that they’d expected someone a bit more impressive than the slight, eager-faced woman wearing a jumper and slacks standing before them now, and it probably didn’t help that you looked downright diminutive standing next to Wriothesley either. Oh, well. You were just going to have to try and make the best of it. 

“Hello, everyone,” You chirp, a little higher in pitch than you’d intended thanks to your jittery nerves. “It looks like we won’t be getting anyone else today, so let’s get started. I’m very excited to be working with all of you.”

Resounding, echoing silence and a wall of blank stares. 

You waver slightly, but recover admirably. “I’m from the office of public affairs, and recently I’ve been working with his grace here to come up with programs for the prison that can help or otherwise enrich the lives of the inmates here. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to come see me, and I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to speak freely. This preliminary meeting is first and foremost going to function as a feeler so we can get an idea of what sort of activities you'd like to see offered at the prison in the future.” 

More silence. More staring. 

You can feel your face starting to grow warm even though you’ve also broken out into a cold sweat, and you flounder for something else to say. Far be it that you’d expected them to jump for joy and lift you in the air over their heads in celebration or anything as preposterous as that, but you had anticipated at least some kind of response. What were you supposed to do when they wouldn’t even speak so much as a single word to you? It’s not like you could get anything of worth out of this if you were the only one talking. 

Suddenly, Wriothesley shifts beside you and the soft creak of his boots makes your pulse nervously jump. “I expect all of you to show our guest some respect today. I'm not sure why you would sign up for this if you had no intention of participating, so let’s get it in gear. If you have something to say, now is your chance to say it.” 

The brothers sitting nearest to you bend their heads close and exchange a quick, muffled conversation between themselves, but you’re a little too rattled by the tone of Wriothesley’s voice to make out what they’re saying. Ah, so it wasn’t just you then. Good to know. 

“What sort of activities are we talking here?” One of the men in the rear suddenly speaks up, snapping your attention back into the present. 

“O - oh, yes. We were thinking things like trade skills and daily lifestyle necessities that could give you a better sense of independence while you’re here. Things like sewing or cooking, or - -“

“Why would we need any of that?” The only other woman in the room chimes in. “Meropide works just fine as is and the system already in place provides us with all of that.”

“Well, yes, but - -“ 

“Yeah, what do I need to know sewing for when I could just as easily pass it off to someone who already knows how to do it?” One of the brothers, the larger and seemingly more cantankerous of the two, adds on, making you pull your mouth into a firm line. 

“That’s exactly why.” You assert in an equally firm voice. “The prison’s internal functionality works like a well oiled machine, doesn’t it? Why want for anything else when everything is already right where it needs to be. Just like cogs, everyone fits into their role and they fit it well. You all keep Meropide running as it should, there’s no doubt about that. But each and every one of you has a life beyond the role you take on here. You aren’t just cogs, and you aren’t just part of the greater machine. I want to give you a chance to be independent of that clockwork, even if it’s only for an hour or two each day, and remind you that there’s still something beyond these tin walls.”

You draw a steadying breath, carefully taking in the faces sitting before you. It looked like a few of them were starting to come around, or were at least curious enough to actually hear you out now, and that bolsters your courage by some margin. You could do this. You would. 

“I know how easy it is to get comfortable with the lifestyle here. His grace has taken the time to explain to me in great detail the ins and outs of the prison, how everyone lives on a schedule, what freedoms you’re allotted and what has restricted access. I’m aware that there is a great deal of self governing here in the fortress, which is precisely why I want to give you all an opportunity to deviate from that routine. It might be fun, right? Having a little bit of your old life back?” 

A few looks are exchanged between some of the inmates, a soft murmur rising up, and your heartbeat starts to quicken. Next to you, Wriothesley snorts a quiet laugh before moving back to lean against the wall, leaving you feeling strangely alone and exposed standing there by yourself. You shoot him a quick, harried glance over your shoulder but he just crosses his arms over his chest and nudges his chin at the small congregation. When you turn back around, you’re more than a little surprised to find the other woman leaning towards you in obvious interest.  

“I always wanted to be a seamstress some day.” She abruptly announces, startling you slightly. “My mother taught me when I was younger, but I never got a chance to really hone the skill. Is that really something you could arrange?” 

You swallow your nerves, hearing Wriothesley’s reminder not to get your hopes up in the back of your mind, but it was so hard not to when she was looking at you like that. You wanted to help her. More than anything else, you just wanted to give them something more to live for. 

“I believe we can. His grace and I have already reached out to a few businesses, and a few of them have expressed willingness to volunteer their services to the prison. I’m sure if everything goes well and word of mouth starts to spread, we could convince others to do the same as well.” 

“I did always want to be a chef.” The larger brother admits somewhat sheepishly, and you smile. You couldn’t help it. 

This was really working. 

It doesn’t take long to have a full dialogue going after that. Even with the one or two stragglers still wary and uncertain about introducing any real changes to the system the overall reception seems to be resoundingly positive. You talk with them, discussing what they’d like to do, what they’d like to potentially see implemented, and through it all Wriothesley just hangs back against the wall, watching over everything like a silent sentry just at your back. He even stays true to his word and lets you be in charge even when tempers seem to flare up in disagreement every so often instead of snatching the reins from you at the first sign of trouble. All it takes is a sharp look from him or a low word of warning, and everyone grudgingly settles back down, which was not something you’d expected to relate so much with them about but you do. It almost feels like a strange sense of solidarity in a way, and you were immensely glad to have him on your side like this. 

Everything goes so well, in fact, that by the time a real problem raises its head, you almost overlook it completely. The man in the far back corner hadn’t said much at all over the course of the last hour and some change, but you’d felt his burning gaze on you the whole time. He appeared to be the most opposed to the program you’d presented to the group, but you hadn’t been able to squeeze the reason out of him yet which is why you eventually defer to your hand typed forms. You’d thought it would be a good idea to have them put their thoughts down in writing in case they felt too shy to say it out loud, and you hoped your careful planning would pay off in this. 

You’re in the process of handing out the papers to everyone along with the pencils you’d brought along, slowly making your way over to him last, and he tips his head back as if in challenge at your approach. You had a sneaking suspicion who he was, of course, but you still offer him a cheerful smile as you move closer. 

“I know you haven’t said much today, but I hope you’ll share any thoughts you have on the form. It’s really helpful to have different perspectives on things like this.” You tell him, holding out the sheet. 

“Can’t write.” He rumbles, making your hand falter. 

“Oh.” You hadn’t even considered that being a possibility. “I - I’m sorry. Maybe we could see about starting up classes so you can - -“

“Don’t want em’” 

You blink at him owlishly, trying to make sense of his surly attitude, but Wriothesley calls over from the other side of the room before you can think of something to say. “Watch yourself, George. I’m not going to give you another warning.” 

Ah. So your suspicions were correct. 

You start to pull back, decidedly unnerved by the way he clearly wants nothing at all to do with you, but then you see the look that flashes across his eyes. Like a street hardened dog that was ready to bite in retaliation. You almost hate yourself for it, but your heart irreparably softens and you turn your head to send Wriothesley a reassuring look. “It’s alright, your grace. I don’t mind.” 

He begins to open his mouth to say something but you whip your head back around, speaking before he can further insert himself into the conversation. 

“Please don’t worry about it, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know not all of us have been given the same kind of opportunities in life. Where are you from, George?” 

The grizzled man sends you a slow look, the muscles in his jaw working with what you think is probably irritation, but you refuse to back down or give up on him. He was still a person deserving of respect and dignity no matter how much he might hate you. 

“Fleuve Cendre.” He says at length, and you feel a distant twang of understanding in the back of your mind. The underground sewer systems in the Court of Fontaine were not always the best place to grow up so it made sense, in a way. 

“I see. Well, if you’re at all interested I can make every effort to arrange for someone to come teach you how to write, or maybe I could even do it myself. Does that sound like a good idea?” 

He suddenly leans forward in his chair, getting right in your face, and it takes everything you have not to go scuttling back though you do give a startled jerk in surprise. “Not a chance! I don’t want your stinking charity, lady!” He practically spits at you, vitriolic and full of malice. 

“Charity?” You incredulously echo him, but he reaches out to viciously grab your wrist before you can think of anything else to say. 

“That’s right! You think I need you looking down on me or something? How about I tell you exactly where you can shove it instead!” 

You open your mouth to say — what, you don’t know, but a shift of motion in your peripheral stops you in your tracks. Snapping your head up, you’re not the least bit surprised to find Wriothesley quickly closing the distance with long, purposeful strides, but it still horrifies you and your heart promptly jackhammers straight up into your throat. 

“Wait!” You shriek, holding your uncaptured arm out as if to stop him. Like you even could. He’s like a solid wall moving towards you and you could already see how this was going to play out, your eyes going round as saucers seconds before a violent wrench on your arm takes you right off your feet. 

In a sudden rush of movement that you can’t even begin to process or comprehend, you abruptly find yourself pinned to the front of George who’s shot up out of his seat. Wriothesley comes to an immediate halt, just short of being within arms reach, and you stare up at him in unseeing disbelief as George shuffles back to press himself into the corner, using you like a shield. You’re distantly aware of an eruption of chaos in the rest of the room, likely a result of everyone rushing to get out of the way, chairs loudly scraping and clattering against the floor, but you feel strangely numb to it all. 

The only thing you can manage to think at that moment is that you were going to be in so much trouble once everything was said and done. 

“Don’t touch me, you bastard aristocrat!” 

“Wha — h - hold on a minute!” You squawk, feet kicking uselessly at the floor in a blind attempt to find some traction. It’s no use though, and your shoes just slip and slide against the papers you’d dropped in the shuffle. 

“I thought we already went over this, George. You know taking hostages isn’t going to get you anywhere except straight into solitary.” Wriothesley intones, and the surprisingly calm, leveled quality of his voice surprises you slightly, prompting you to bring your head back up. But the look you find in his face, the icy heat curling in his eyes, is anything but tranquil, and your stomach twists in dread. 

You’d never seen him look like that before … like he could really kill someone. 

“I don’t want to hear it!” George snaps, nervously clutching you against him — as if you were going to stop anything! “I’ve had enough of this place, and I’ve had enough of all of you! Always looking down on me like I’m less than dirt!” 

“No one is looking down on you.” Wriothesley says, clearly trying to reason with him. “Just calm down and let her go. I know you’re having a hard time adjusting, and I’m sure having your sentence extended didn’t help with that, but this is only going to make things worse for you in the long run. You can’t bargain your way out of this.” 

“Maybe so, but I could kill her!” 

“You what!” You shriek, nails sinking into the arm pinned across your front, but they both summarily ignore you. 

“That’d show you not to mess with me!” George continues on. “I’m serious, you know! I’ll do it!” 

“And why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” Wriothesley shoots right back. “If you’re hoping to spend the rest of your life in Meropide you don’t have to do this to accomplish that. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” 

“Dammit, I want out of here! I can’t stand this place! No sun, no fresh air, no sky! It feels like I’m going crazy down here!” 

“Then let her go. You still have a chance to return to the surface someday and you’ll get to see the sky as much as you want then, but that’s not going to happen if you keep this up. If you extend your sentence much further, you’re just going to seal your own fate. Permanently.” 

That actually seems to give him pause, and you hold your breath in anticipation of the pin dropping even when your chest strains and aches in protest. You almost didn’t dare to hope that he would actually listen to reason when you were viscerally aware of all the impotent rage and unrealized frustration coursing through his body, making him shake against you. It didn’t appear to be a bluff, at least not where you were standing. You think he really could kill you if pushed far enough, but … slowly, his hold on you eventually starts to relax. 

“I don’t want to be trapped under the ocean for the rest of my life …” He murmurs, a brief glimpse of cognizance returning to him after that manic flash. 

“Then hand the young lady over to me and let’s be done with it. I think this has gone on long enough, George.” 

Carefully reaching out for you, Wriothesley takes a step forward. His ability to stay cool and collected even in a situation like this surprises you a great deal, of course, but you find some amount of comfort in his unflappable demeanor. It helps you stay calm, in as much as you’re able to at least, and a dull wave of relief washes over you when George reluctantly pushes you away from himself, shoving you straight into Wriothesley’s waiting arm. 

You almost don’t believe it as his hand grabs around your waist and tightly gathers you up against him, angling you further from the inmate. It felt like you were dreaming. Numb to everything that had happened over the last few inexplicably short moments, you turn in his hold just in time to watch Wriothesley snag George’s wrist before he can pull it back all the way. 

And just like that, he snaps the bone with one solid twist. 

The sickening crack! that rings out makes your stomach lurch up into your throat. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Slamming Wriothesley’s office door open hard enough to make it bang against the interior wall, you storm inside so mad you could just scream! 

He comes in behind you at a leisurely pace just a moment later, taking his time to close and lock it, but you’re a little too caught up in the absolutely blinding surge of anger you’re trying to wrestle with to question it. Seething viciously, you start to pace the perimeter of the room. It’s all you can think to do. You wanted to scream at him, kick him, slap him, spit at him! What was wrong with this man that he would ever think that kind of violence was okay? 

“Are you alright?” He eventually asks you, just standing there in the doorway watching you stomp around his office as if it were a perfectly normal sight to see. That evenly tempered, almost blase tone of his voice just makes you see red though, and you finally round on him with a wordless shriek. 

“Why did you do that to him?” 

“He was dangerous.” Wriothesley says it like it should have been obvious. “I think he made that quite clear, don’t you?” 

“It doesn’t matter! He’d already let me go, you didn’t need to hurt him like that! It was just excessive at that point, you damn brute!” 

“That doesn’t mean he couldn't still hurt you. You’re not stupid, little miss. I know you’re aware of just how differently that could have played out if he hadn’t listened to me, and I wasn’t about to risk him changing his mind and having the means to lash out. You’re acting like I killed the poor guy.” 

You couldn’t seem to process his logic and, with no other choice, you return to your fitful pacing. “I don’t understand you. It doesn’t even make any sense. You say you care about your inmates but then you turn around and do something like that?” 

“I care about you too.” 

Stopping dead in your tracks, you slowly turn to look back at him again. The chill that creeps over you is suffocating, threatening to choke you up on the spot. “No. Do not do that. Not right now!” 

“But it’s true.” 

“I don’t care if it’s true!” You shout, impulsively closing the distance so you can jab your finger into the center of his chest. “You broke that man’s wrist, your grace! That was uncalled for! If you cared about him, or the others, or me you wouldn’t have done something so — so unnecessarily violent! He was just … he was just scared, is all. I think.” 

Wriothesley reaches up to carefully take your hand off him and you flinch at the contact but still let him do it because … because you don’t know why. You’re well aware you should be yanking out of his hold like he’d scalded you, skin crawling at just the touch of those rough worn fingers, but you can’t quite bring yourself to do that right now. Not when it felt like you were moments away from shattering to pieces right there in his office. 

“You think?” 

“I don’t know. Not really, but … he could have hurt me if he wanted to, right? But he didn’t. He only used me like a shield because you were coming, and he panicked. I can’t really blame him for that. I’d be scared too.” 

“I bet.” He murmurs, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the backs of your loosely curled knuckles. Grimacing at the gesture, unable to reconcile it in your mind — this soft version of the duke and the brutal prison warden — and you quickly look away. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy with how I handled the situation. I probably did frighten you, and you have my sincerest apologies for that as well, little miss. But you have to understand that I was protecting you.”

“I didn’t ask to be protected!” You seethe. “Least of all like that!” 

“Be that as it may, I still did what needed to be done. I already told you once, didn’t I? I’m your guard dog. You were in danger and I acted accordingly. It’s not fair of you to be so upset with me when I was only doing my job.” 

“But there must have been another way - -“

“There wasn’t. Believing any different is just naive and childish. You need to let go of this little fantasy you have that everything can be solved peacefully if you’re just nice enough. That’s not how the real world works.” 

You jerk your attention up with a low snarl, but he just looks at you with the same unreadable expression as always. He wasn’t the least bit sorry, nor did he feel any real regret for what he’d done. Not only that but he would have done it again without a second's hesitation. You could see it in his face, clear as day. He may as well have been saying it out loud for as little he tries to hide it. 

“It doesn’t work with violence either.” You finally rattle out, shaking in his hold. 

“I’d say my methods are a bit more effective than yours. You’re safe, aren’t you? If anything, you should be thanking me.” 

Your pulse spikes as you wrench your hand free and slap him as hard as you can, popping him right across the mouth. Wriothesley doesn’t even flinch and that just makes you angrier. Going up on the tips of your toes to get as close to him as you’re able to, you hiss at him with every bit of vitriol you can muster. “Is that thanks enough for you, your grace?” 

Terse silence descends over the room, interspersed only by your heavy breathing. At length, he finally draws a short, clipped breath. 

“I’m going to give you one chance and one chance only to apologize for doing that. I do hope you make the right decision.”

Veins turning icy, you bring your hands up to shove at his chest and push yourself away. “You wouldn’t dare. Not right now. Not when I’m so mad at you I could just - -“

He’s on you in an instant. 

For someone so big he certainly moves quick, and you barely have enough time to suck in a ragged, gasping breath of air as he roughly grabs under your arms and hauls you right up off your feet. The sudden rush of movement makes you nauseous, your stomach flipping end over end. Throwing your head back, you suck in a mouthful of air to scream. 

Wriothesley abruptly drops you back down to the floor before you can follow through and the sudden impact makes sharp, splintering pain race up your legs. That split second hesitation on your part is all he needs to get a hand over your mouth and your eyes go big in wild terror as he all but drags you by the back of your jumper towards the chaise lounge against the far wall. You wrench against his hold like a trapped animal, desperate and mindless as you shriek behind his palm, but the sound comes out muffled. Distant. There’s nothing at all you can do to stop it as he pulls you over and plops down on the cushions before yanking you down to kneel between his feet. 

You wince at the way your knees slam against the unforgiving ground but you don’t get a chance to fully process the hurt. He bends over you and reaches back to grab the back of your pants, using them to yank you up and brace you over his thigh. His hand stays locked around your mouth though, making it hard to breathe when you were sucking in quick, panicked gasps, one right after another as you frantically try to shove at him. 

His hand abruptly cracks across your ass with enough force to leave you seeing stars, and you wordlessly shriek into his palm. Winded and lurching, you instinctively try to angle away from him but the way he’s got you trapped between his legs makes it impossible to get very far. He hits you again, right on the mark, and hot tears immediately rush up to flood your eyes. Wailing in pain and impotent frustration now, you blindly reach up to shove at his arm. 

Wriothesley’s fingers just tighten around the lower half of your face though, securing his hold on you, while the other hand continues to rain down on your bottom in quick, blistering succession. Even through your pants it makes your toes curl achingly tight as you writhe there on the floor, rocking against his leg with each punishing blow. 

You couldn’t believe him, doing this to you in a situation like this! It was one thing when you were being bratty or stubborn, or hardheaded, and you’d even come to rather enjoy those intimate sessions with him in which he’d gradually break you down piece by piece before building you back up into a whole, complete person again. It was strangely relaxing, comforting even. Therapeutic. But this was something else entirely. You were mad for a good reason. You’d hit him for a good reason! It wasn’t fair that he could spank your ass red and raw, but you couldn’t even slap him once without incurring his wrath. 

So caught up in the tumultuous surge of emotions assaulting you all at once, you almost don’t realize when the tears start tracking down your face. They burn against your heated skin and pool in the seam where his hand is sealed over your face from the nose down, gathering there before eventually dribbling over his blunt knuckles. He has to feel it, has to know you’re crying, practically sobbing, but still he doesn’t stop. He just keeps spanking you, again and again, again, until the throbbing pain scorching across your defenseless backside seems to reach incomprehensible levels that have you struggling just to think through it. 

And you try to, desperate to cling to your anger and your fear, the betrayal you’d felt when he broke that poor man’s wrist right in front of your very eyes with hardly any effort at all to show for it. You hadn’t thought him capable. Even now when he was lighting your ass up it seemed like an entirely inconceivable notion for him to be capable of that level of cruelty. But it’s next to impossible to hold onto any of those thoughts or feelings when you were so swept up in the pulsing thrum of hurt he’s inflicting on you and slowly, ever so slowly, your mind starts to go blank. 

Evidently feeling you go lax against his knee in acceptance, Wriothesley’s voice starts to drift over you and it seamlessly penetrates the fog hanging over your head to dig straight into your brain. “I’m not sure who you think you are,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “But I have to say,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “I’m actually rather impressed you had the guts to do that,” whap, whap, whap, whap “I suppose that’s why I like you so much though,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “You're so damn bullheaded you just don’t know when to quit.” 

Groaning deliriously into the meat of his hand, you mechanically bring your hand down to clutch his pant leg in a death grip while the other blindly stretches back as if to protect yourself from his strikes. He pauses above you as your trembling fingers creep across your bottom, drawing a clipped, mildly annoyed breath. 

“Move your hand.” 

You wail something that might have been a ‘no!’, incomprehensibly muffled, and he clicks his tongue at the petulance. 

“Don’t test my patience with you any further, little girl. You have no idea just how much I can really make it hurt if you want to be cute.” 

Noising a sound of surprised confusion, you hastily retract your hand in favor of shoving it up against his stomach and pushing at him with renewed determination, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Leaning forward, he reaches down the front of your body to fumble with the buttons on your pants. You squeal a muffled protest and try to angle away again to no avail. It takes him a prolonged moment to get them with the use of only one hand, but eventually he has your slacks undone and he starts to roughly shove them down your quaking thighs. 

“You know,” He says almost conversationally, as calm as ever while your internal panic was just ratcheting higher and higher. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, so let me explain something to you. There’s a right way and a wrong way to go about things, and somehow you always seem to consistently pick the wrong choice. I don’t mind so much that you’re upset with me. I still don’t think that was very fair of you, but you’re entitled to your own opinion. I’m certainly not trying to take that away from you.”

He’s finally got your pants bunched around your knees but, rather than spanking you over your panties next, he instead starts to yank those down too. A violent shudder tears through you at the implication, the suggestion, your blood running so hot for him it has you swaying there on the floor even as you give your head a weak shake. If he was skipping the usual buildup then he must have been rather upset with you indeed. 

“But as always you get too carried away. You won’t stop until you push me enough to end up over my knee, getting your butt spanked like a child.” He swats your bare ass for emphasis, making you shriek and sob at the pulsing sting as much as the resulting jiggle it causes. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Huh?” 

You nod your head frantically, noising behind his hand, and Wriothesley gives your face a dull squeeze of warning. 

“I’m going to take my hand away but I promise if you scream you’re going to find yourself getting hit with something much worse than a hairbrush, do you understand me?”  

Another nod, even more wild than the last. 

Slowly, his fingers loosen and then tentatively fall away, leaving you to gasp wretchedly at the flood of fresh air. You slump against him and try to catch your breath, wet little hiccups making your back bow. “I … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — shouldn’t have hit you!”

“I’d say that’s an understatement.” 

Forcibly pulling yourself up even though it hurts to do so, you twist on your knees to peer up at him. Your lower lip promptly wobbles when you see the hard way he’s looking at you but you just sniffle and reach up to wipe at your tear stained face. “You made me so mad! And you never take me seriously! I tell you something and it seems like you always just brush me off!” 

Wriothesley watches you shake and heave for a drawn out moment before sedately slouching down, elbows shifting forward to brace against his knees so he can lean over you. The gesture makes you feel so incredibly small and insignificant, a borderline hysterical sob bursting out of your mouth which you quickly cover with your hand. You screw your eyes shut, trying to calm down, but he just hovers over you like that in complete and utter silence until the shudders wracking through you get too uncontrollable and you start to sway dizzily on the floor. 

His nearest hand finds your back and smooths over it in comforting circles, wrinkling your jumper in the process. Sucking in a thin, gasping breath, you instinctively rock forward as if to heave but all you do is cough like some sad, pathetic broken little thing. 

“Calm down,” He murmurs, giving your trembling shoulders a firm pat. “You’re going to make yourself sick carrying on like that. Will you listen to me?” 

Sniveling, you blink through the thick sheen of tears making your vision swim and nod your head with a faint whimper. His hand stills on your back, keeping you in place as he leans further down to your level and tips his head so he can see your face. 

“I wasn’t brushing you off. I understand why that upset you and I’m nothing if not sympathetic. Really, I am. If you want the honest truth of it, I regretted it almost as soon as I did it. I’ll have to apologize to George later and have a real long talk with him about what happened, but I’m not going to apologize for protecting you. You’re under my charge regardless of if we’re in the city or your house, but especially when you’re here. If something happened to you on my watch, that would be a resounding failure on my part. Can you understand that much, at least?” 

You hesitate and then nod your head again, not quite trusting yourself enough to speak yet. Wriothesley gives you an approving squeeze and another idle pat that makes you whimper softly. His hand was so big it felt like it was taking up almost the whole of your back … 

“I didn’t mean to scare you … you know that, right?” 

“Y - yes …” 

“Good. Because that I will apologize for. It was unnecessary. I should have completely removed you from the situation first before acting but he just had me so mad, I wasn’t thinking straight, and … honestly, I probably owe you an apology for that too I had some reservations about letting him come to the meeting of course, given his track record, but I thought maybe it would help him adjust a little better if he had something from the overworld to keep him busy. Preoccupied.” 

Gingerly, you shift on your knees so you’re knelt directly under him rather than braced up against his leg, and you lift your hands to hesitantly slide them across his strong jawline. Wriothesley let’s you do it, much to your thrumming relief, and you carefully tip his face towards you until just a scant breath separates his nose from yours. 

“What’s going to happen to him now?” 

He just looks at you, and your face slowly starts to crumple. 

“Please don’t let him get into trouble.” You plead, unable to bear the thought of his sentence being extended because of you. “It was just a mistake and I wasn’t hurt. He didn’t do anything wrong, your grace! Not really. Please, please don’t punish him.” 

Stiffly, he sighs out through his nose. “And there you go being naive again. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to protect him at this point. He’s sealed his own fate.”

“But that’s … that’s terrible! If I hadn’t been there — if you hadn’t let me come here that never would have even happened! I’m the one at fault here, aren’t I? I’ll take the punishment in his stead! That would be fine, right?” 

“Lovely girl - -“ 

Wriothesley reaches out with his other hand to cup your face and you try to pull away, a fresh wave of tears springing up in your eyes, but he holds you fast. Tipping his head, he seals his mouth over yours and swallows down the muffled wail you let out. Even when the rolling beads of moisture start to track down your damp face, he just kisses you and kisses you until you finally start to stir underneath him some indeterminable amount of time later. 

You have no idea how long you’ve been sitting there on the floor but your legs are numb and prickly when you finally move, shifting forward to lean into him. Your breaths are still a little ragged through your nose but you start to kiss him back, tentatively slow at first and then with growing confidence. Growing hunger. The emptiness inside you is quickly filling up with a white hot, molten need, and you groan thickly into his mouth when you feel your pussy give a muted throb of interest. It matches the ever present sting across your ass, in a way, and you feel both in stunning high definition as you carefully raise up to meet him. 

Gradually easing back when you find your balance and sit up straight, Wriothesley brings his hands around to cup your ribcage. He squeezes, rucking up your jumper and blouse in the process but, as always, he doesn’t try to relieve you of it. That he was still willing to go about this on your terms, at your pace, fills your chest with a strange helium feeling, and you try to follow after him when he eventually pulls back all the way, whining low in your throat at the loss. 

“Come here, pretty girl.” He murmurs, tugging you up to stand and you do so with a great deal of haste even when your sore legs threaten to give out under you. Bracing a hand on his broad shoulder to steady yourself, you carefully step out of your sagging pants and underwear when he stoops down to pull them over your feet. 

Carelessly tossing your clothes aside, he grabs around your middle again and easily tugs you into his lap. Your heart pounds a wild beat inside your chest when you realize he’s centering you over his leg, and you quickly scramble to get into position. There’s no denying the excitement you feel searing your veins now, the speed at which you’d come to love this particular activity surprising even you. It felt like you were irreversibly addicted to it, and you moan very softly when your bare cunt presses down into his thigh. Pelvis tipping upward, you steal a quick glance down at yourself, still amazed at how broad and thick his leg looks under you. It’s not exactly hard to imagine something else forcing your thighs into a wide spread around him but that still scares a little more than you were willing to admit. 

Gently pulling you forward so that your cunt rocks down to settle squarely against his pant leg, Wriothesley gathers you right up against his chest and bends his head to yours again. You moan into the searing hot kiss and bring your hands up to clutch at him, the toes of your shoes bracing on the floor to give yourself leverage as you settle into a slow, mind numbing pace with him. 

It truly feels like your brain is melting when the stilted friction on your pussy soon makes you tremble and shake for him, panting heavily into his mouth. You’re distantly aware of the stiff tension in his body but Wriothesley just lets you find your pleasure on him without trying to take advantage of your muddied, intoxicated state. His hands roam over your body in a continuous caress, pinching, squeezing, kneading with rough calloused fingers, but he doesn’t wander to your chest or between your legs. He’d only touched you there once, back in that cramped little alley, but thinking back on it when you were moving with him like this … maybe you should invite him to touch you there again? It would probably feel good, and grinding yourself on his leg was such a slow, tortuous process. 

Or maybe you could try touching him? 

Turning your head to suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air, you take a moment to steady your nerves. You’d never crossed this line before, never been brave enough to take the plunge but, oh, you were so curious and your pussy positively clenches at the thought of feeling him under your palm. You wanted to touch him. You needed to. 

“Y - your grace …”

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?” He breathes into the scant pace separating you from him, head tipped back to look at your from this slightly elevated position. 

An intense shudder works through you at the thought of actually doing it, of actually saying the words, and you loose a keening mewl as you stubbornly turn your head to look elsewhere. You couldn’t look at him and say it, you just couldn’t! 

“Can … ahhn, would it be permissible for me to, um — t - touch you as well?” 

His thick fingers give a muted little jolt of surprise where they’re squeezing around your waist, and you tightly screw your eyes shut when he leans in to kiss the side of your neck. “Oh, little miss. You don’t have to ask. You can touch me as much as you want.” 

Trembling there on his lap, you hesitate to do it but finally gather enough courage to drag your hand down off his shoulder. Shyly watching the slow descent of it down his broad barrel chest, over his stomach, all the way down to the center of his lap. You give a tiny little jerk when you see the stiff outline pressing up against the interior, the motion of your hips inelegantly stuttering as you take in the shape of it, the size. It was indeed quite large, your heart nearly giving out entirely in your overwhelmed horror, but … but like this it wasn’t quite so bad. Not as scary as if you were perhaps looking at it straight on. 

Timidly cautious, you press your fingers over the outline and Wriothesley breathes out a thick, heavy sound that is suspiciously reminiscent of a growl. It seems to vibrate through you, pulling a quiet whimper out of your throat, but you force yourself to stay focused. Your curiosity was a little too compelling to get sidetracked now, and even your mindless rutting against him slows to a complete standstill while you feel along the length of him, just familiarizing yourself with the press of it against your hand. Even through his slacks it seems heavy and it’s so incredibly warm that you feel a dull, sympathetic tremor deep inside your cunt. 

Evidently realizing just how distracted you were, Wriothesley pulls back from your neck enough to look down at himself as well. “Is it so fascinating?” 

“A little bit …”

He laughs, sounding mildly strained. “If you’re curious I’ll teach you about it, but I won’t make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. In this, at least, I’ll play by your rules.” 

And he’d done such a good job respecting your boundaries thus far … perhaps it was alright to test the waters some. To give in to this primal urge coursing through your system, making you feel indescribably hot and mindless. 

“Would it really fit inside me?” 

The hushed noise he makes sounds so wounded it actually startles your attention up, and you take in his pained expression with great big eyes. 

“W - what? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Please don’t start getting defensive, now of all times.” Grunting, Wriothesley grabs under your arms as he shifts back further against the lounge so he can rather gingerly recline back, pulling you right along with him. The careful motion stretches you out across his body to rest against his chest, prompting you to readjust the way you're straddling his thigh to keep your thrumming cunt pressed up tight against it. Letting out a shuddering exhale, he shifts underneath you just so before tipping his face down again. “If you say things like that you’re going to make this go crazy, and I’m not so sure you’re ready for that yet. Try rubbing it, like this.” 

You can’t quite stop the squeak of surprise that bursts out of you when he reaches over to grab your stilled hand. Redirecting you to the center of the bulge, he manually squeezes your trembling fingers around him and your skin positively crawls with an eruption of goosebumps when you feel it pulse against your palm. Wide eyed and quaking, you slowly bring your gaze back down to watch him guide your hand up along the rigid length and then back down again. You’d never before seen anything quite like it, but there was a very real, very primitive part of your brain that abruptly clicks on at the sight of it. 

“Will it hurt?”

“No.” He grunts, still dragging your hand up and down, up and down the length of him. “It feels good. Like when you rub that cute pussy all over my leg. You can squeeze it, if you want.” 

Experimentally, you do just that and the responding twitch of Wriothesley’s cock has your cunt repeatedly clamping down on nothing, a harried, deeply frazzled whine rising in you. It was like you were cumming, but not really. You felt close, though. As if just touching him like this, feeling the hot, pulsing need of him in the palm of your hand was stoking your own fire. Building your own pleasure up into something that was very nearly palpable. 

More confident this time, you give him another squeeze, and he makes a rumbling, needy sound in the back of his throat. Consumed with your own wanton need, you turn your head to look at him again and a distant thrill of surprise rushes through you when you find those deep sapphires watching you. Not your hand on him, but you. 

“Am I really making you feel good, your grace?” 

“Very much so.” 

Smiling, you lean up to press your mouth to his. He watches you do it, accepts your kiss, and a stilted puff of air rattles out of him to dance over your lips. You’ve never seen him hold himself quite so stiffly before but he starts to kiss you back just a heartbeat later, slowly at first and then with more demanding force behind the motion. Just like every other time he pulls you into his pace with ease, soon dominating the exchange while his hand continues to stroke yours over his trapped cock. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling impatient like this, indescribably needy, and you wriggle yourself down on his leg in search of more friction. Wriothesley gladly obliges you, curling his leg up a little higher to press more firmly into your cunt to make you keen at the sensation. 

As you start to ride him again, the hand that had remained carefully on your back this entire time starts to drag lower, tracing the curve of your waist and further still to smooth over your reddened bottom. You suck in a sharp breath at the sting but it just seems to make your pussy clench and drool even more obscenely. Rearing back against his hand, you give his length another tight squeeze to pull a low groan out of him. 

“You are a real menace, pretty girl.” He softly chides you, pulling back just enough to look in your face. “For as prim and proper as you like to act, you’re certainly an insatiable little thing.”

You start to apologize for it, but then think better of it. “Do you like it, your grace?” 

“More than I’d like to admit.” 

Your breath catches at that and you lurch on top of him when a warning tremor tears through your shuddering body. “Will … will you bounce your leg against me?” 

“Of course.” Eyelids drooping to attractive halfmast, Wriothesley presses his forehead against yours and tenderly nudges at your nose. “Shall I spank you while I do it? Something tells me you’d like that an awful lot.” 

“Ooh … yes, your grace, please spank me.” 

Another rumbling groan rises in him, eyes drifting shut as if in great pleasure. You don’t get a chance to linger on how positively devastating he looks like that because he presses his thigh up into you, sending you lurching with a faltering, deeply wounded sound. The motion of his leg jostles you slightly, prompting you to clutch at him all the more fervently — one latched around his cock and the other clinging to his neck — and you toss your head back with a high pitched squeal when he suddenly swats your ass without warning. You waver, hesitate for only a blink of the eye, and then you’re driving your cunt down to meet him with fast mounting urgency. 

“Oohh, gods —“

Swat! Across the other cheek to make the meaty swell bounce. 

A deeply flustered sound punches its way out of your mouth, hips swiveling desperately. “Ahhn, ahh! Y - your grace! Nggnh!” 

Swat! The first cheek again, this time with a possessive squeeze afterward that makes your toes curl. 

“I’d say I could never get tired of watching you bounce that pretty pussy on my leg, but I’d hate to discourage you from wanting to try anything else.” 

Your tense fingers impulsively squeeze down on his cock, making his chest hitch, and you seethe through your teeth at the quickly cresting waves of ecstasy washing over you. You were close, so close. 

“Please —“ Swat! Swat! First one cheek and then the next, in rapid succession. “Ooh! God! I - I want it, your grace! I want it!” 

Swat!  

“What do you want, lovely girl?” Wriothesley grunts, his own voice faltering now. 

“I - I want this!” You give his length a desperate squeeze, so lightheaded and dizzy you barely even know what you’re saying anymore. 

Swat! 

“It’s already yours, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready for it, you’ll have it.”

The thought alone of taking him deep inside your body makes every single muscle in your shuddering frame lock up, and you lurch to a sudden standstill on top of him. Your mouth drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out when he just keeps bouncing his leg on your drooling cunt, quicker now. A little harder. You sway unsteadily as your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably around him, chest heaving with the gasps you frantically try to suck in but you can’t quite seem to get enough air. It felt like you were smothering under the intense pressure, hanging right on the precipice. 

Swat! 

“Cum for me, cum all over my leg and let me see that pretty face you make.” He practically growls, grabbing a tight, pinching handful of your ass to really drive the sting home. 

It’s that sharp, toe curling throb of pain that tips you over, and you cum with a gutted lurch. Wheezing, you arch against him so hard your spine aches in protest but you can’t stop it. Your hips judder wildly and your knees nearly give out from how hard it slams into you all at once, but he clutches you tight in his arms while you spasm and writhe, squealing in mindless delight. It’s all you can do just to keep your voice down, painfully aware that the two of you were not in the privacy of your flat, but you manage, somehow, to get through it without shrieking at the top of your lungs. 

You’re so exhausted and drained by the time the tremors finally ebb and fade that you collapse on top of him with a deeply frazzled groan. Giving your bottom one final, lingering squeeze, Wriothesley drags his hand back up to rub across your back and a faint shudder ripples through you when you feel him bend close to place a brief kiss to the top of your head. 

It was … really nice, actually, sharing such a quiet, intimate moment with him. It wouldn’t be hard to get used to it. In fact, you dully realize, you kind of already were. 

“You’re such a good girl for me sometimes.” He murmurs into your hair, his voice warm with praise and affection alike. “It just makes me wonder why you can’t be so good all the time.” 

“That would get boring.” You dazedly slur, making him chuckle. 

“That’s true. There’s no fun in it without a little power struggle first.” 

You hum a noncommittal sound, already half dozed off where you’re spread out on top of him when a muted twitch under your loosely curled palm makes you jolt. Blearily lifting your head from his chest, you glance down to find him still rock hard in his pants and your brows quickly draw together in confusion. 

“You didn’t - -“

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away.”

“But - -“ 

“Hush. Just do as I say for once and let it go.” Reaching up to palm the back of your head, he forces your cheek back down to his chest and holds you there even when you weakly try to struggle out from under it. “You really aren’t making this easy on me, you know that? Saying all that nonsense and now this. It’s nothing for you to be concerned about, little miss. Not yet.” 

Your mouth pulls in a pout even though he can’t see it. “Will you teach me more later?” It’s little more than a mouse squeak when you were so tired, so exhausted after everything that had transpired today. 

Wriothesley seems to think on that for a moment before softly pressing another kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll teach you everything in due time. You just need to be patient. I don’t want you to get so caught up in the moment that you rush into something only to regret it later. As I said before, I’m a guarddog. I'm not interested in biting the hand holding my leash.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You aren’t sure when, exactly, you fell asleep, but you wake up on the lounge some time later, finding yourself blinking up at the ceiling of his office in a bit of a daze. You’re a little disoriented at first and then you remember where you were. Everything that had happened. The meeting with the inmates. That horrible incident with George. The sound slap you’d given Wriothesley right across his stupid smug mouth. The way you’d crawled into his lap and … 

You bolt upright with a soul sucking gasp. Your instinctive panic is immediately interrupted, however, when you realize his coat is now pooled in your lap, and you blink down at it with owlish surprise. He’d given you his jacket while you slept? 

“Ah, you’re finally awake. I was wondering how long you’d be out for.” 

Startling, you twist around on the lounge to look over at the desk where you find Wriothesley reading over a small stack of paperwork in his hand while the other lifts a steaming cup of tea up to his mouth. You could smell it from where you were sitting, the rich aroma drawing you a little further out of your half asleep stupor and a bit more into reality. Archons, you felt like you were dying of thirst. 

“You wouldn't happen to have an extra cup for me, would you?” 

“Of course I do. Don’t be silly.” Setting his own back down after taking a sip, he sedately glances over at you from across the room. “I even grabbed some sandwiches and cookies for you from the cafeteria. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.” 

You immediately realize that that was an understatement. You weren’t just hungry, you were famished! 

But when you move to get up, pulling his coat off your lap, you abruptly come to a screeching halt. Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, you stare down at your bare legs in abject disbelief. “Where are my pants?” 

“Don’t sound so alarmed. I put them somewhere safe.” 

“Well, I’d like to have them back!” You snap, shooting daggers over at him. 

Humming as if in thought, Wriothesley drops the paperwork on top of the desk and reclines back into his chair. “I don’t think so. Not just yet anyway. I’m not quite through with you yet.” 

A shudder races up your stiffening spine, and you nervously gather his heavy jacket close to your chest, clutching at it. “W - what does that mean? I thought you said you’d let me decide when I was ready?” 

He barks a quick laugh. “I don’t mean that. I’m talking about your punishment from earlier. We got a little sidetracked, didn’t we?” 

“Oh.” Heaving a long suffering sigh, you roll your eyes and move to stand up. Keeping his coat held to your front, you slowly shuffle over to the desk to stand in front of it. “Is that really necessary? I understand why you had to do it, even if I don’t agree with your methods.”

Idly tapping his finger on the sturdy wood, he just silently studies you for a long moment. “It’s not exactly about agreeing with me.” He says at length. “I’m still waiting on an apology, for starters.” 

You promptly shrink in on yourself. “You hit me all the time …” 

“No, what I do is spank your bratty little bottom to sort you out. I don’t hit you across the face, and I never would unless you asked me to.” 

“Why would I - -“

“Do not try to change the subject. I told you once before that I’m not so easily distracted, didn’t I?” 

He tips his head to one side as if to further drive his point home, and you feel your cheeks start to warm. “You’re like a dog with a bone.” 

“Ah, so you have been paying attention then. Good. I know firsthand just how smart you really are so I do expect you to start figuring things out, the more time we spend together. And I do hope that you’ll continue to share more with me.” 

You hesitate at the first inkling that something was not quite right here. He was talking about more than just the slap, wasn’t he? But what else could there be that he wanted to talk about? 

“I do enjoy spending time with his grace,” You say slowly, warily. “Even if he does make me feel uniquely harassed half of the time. And I’m sorry for hitting you. You’re right that there’s a difference between the two. I tried to hurt you out of anger, while you do it to —“ 

Wriothesley chuckles when you search for the word only to come up empty handed, the smile tugging at his mouth equally roguish and charming. “To correct you. I can’t deny that you can be a little frustrating sometimes, but I’m sure the same can be said of me. In fact, I know it can. But I don’t hit you in anger. Not when I’m nearly double your size and weight. To allow my self control to slip even slightly would be … reckless indeed, because I could seriously hurt you. I’m always careful to make sure I’m fully aware of what I’m doing and how hard I’m doing it before I ever put my hands on you, little miss. I hope you know that.” 

Your back straightens when it suddenly hits you. That’s what he was worried about? 

“Are you afraid I won’t want to see you anymore after the way you … broke George’s wrist earlier?” 

A long stretch of quiet settles over the office, perfectly still and perfectly quiet. 

“A little.” He says at last. “I couldn’t exactly blame you if that was the decision you came to, but I’d still be a bit — disappointed to lose you. A lot, actually. I enjoy our time together too.” 

You swallow. Hard. “Your grace, I … I won’t deny that you scared me earlier, but it’s not like it was the first time. You’ve made me nervous and frightened, and happy, and sad, and so incredibly confused I could just tear my own hair out sometimes, but — I was more frightened for George than myself, if I’m being honest. I was scared you were going to hurt him.” 

“And then I did.” He says simply, and you nod. 

“Yes. Frankly, I was horrified. That’s why I got so mad at you. I never thought you’d actually be capable of something like that, and I guess I didn’t really know how to react. But you’ve never made me feel like I was truly in danger. I’ve never worried about you breaking my arm, or snapping me in half even though I’m sure you easily could. I’m not scared of you, your grace. I just … I don’t want to see you hurt anyone else, least of all because of me.” 

He lets that settle for a drawn out beat, clearly turning everything over in his head, before decisively leaning forward to grab up the teapot sitting on a tray at the corner of the desk. “Well, I can’t exactly promise you that. Should the need ever arise again, I won’t hesitate to protect you. Especially if it’s one of my inmates trying to cause you harm. But with that being said,” He starts to pour out a second cup, also taken off the tray. Your eyes voraciously wander over to the little plate covered with a tin lid, knowing there were promised sandwiches and cookies hiding underneath, and your stomach churns in hunger. “I solemnly swear that from here on out I will do everything in my power to avoid it ever coming to that. If we can stop it from reaching that point then surely both of us will be satisfied. Does that sound like a reasonable compromise to you?” 

“Yes, your grace.” 

“Excellent. Then come sit on my lap and help yourself to some food and tea. I’m sure you’re starving.” 

For once you only feel slightly hesitant to heed his command without needing to be told twice, and you eagerly shuffle around the desk to join him. You’re able to hide the nudity of your lower half behind his coat which you keep tucked around your waist even as you get settled on his legs. It was a seat you were quickly (perhaps even embarrassingly so) getting used to, and the thick arm that snakes around your middle to secure you in place was likewise becoming something comfortably familiar as well. 

The first thing you reach for is the plate, stretching across the desk to pull it closer so you can peel away the lid and find out what’s inside. A handful of neatly sliced sandwiches of a few different varieties greets you, as well as a small pile of assorted biscuits. You don’t hesitate to snag one up and pop it into your mouth, humming in delight at the taste. Chuckling softly, Wriothesley gives you a brief squeeze around the middle as his other hand slides over to pick up the abandoned stack of papers again. 

“Are you aware just how adorable you can be at times?” 

Humming in agreement, you covetously go for a sandwich next. “His grace flatters me.”

“Brat.” Giving your tummy an affectionate pinch, he turns his attention to the papers. “Another question, if you would be kind enough to humor me. Are you aware that you’ve earned yourself a few fans here in the prison?” 

You freeze in place with the dainty little triangle lifted half of the way to your waiting mouth. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Belle, the woman at the meeting earlier, slipped this note into my mailbox some time ago. She apologizes for what happened with George, and she wishes you a speedy recovery with hopes that you’ll return soon to start your sewing classes. You’re welcome to read it for yourself if you’d like.” 

Slowly, you lower the sandwich and reach out for the paper. You’re more than a little surprised to find it says exactly what he’s relayed to you. “Wha — but I don’t understand?” Dropping the sandwich altogether now, you numbly flip to the next page only to find a second letter written in two different but equally terrible sets of handwriting. Those brothers. 

“Don’t pay them much mind.” He murmurs as you scan over the, frankly, perplexing note. “They’re trouble, but mostly harmless. I won’t go so far as to say they mean well, but …” 

Thoroughly perplexed, you flip to the final page. This one is rather neat and tidy, and relievingly concise, but you can’t quite place who it would have come from. All it says is that they hoped you wouldn’t be scared off by what happened, and that they looked forward to the program being a resounding success. It was of course very flattering but rather unexpected. A bit confounding, if you were being honest. 

“Who wrote this one?” 

“His name is Gaspard. You probably didn’t notice, but he was making puppy dog eyes at you the whole time.”

Flustered heat promptly crawls up your neck to settle deep in your cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humor leaves much to be desired, your grace?” 

“Oh, I’m actually being quite serious. I thought for sure if I was going to have to pry someone off you it was going to be him.” 

Another teasing pinch at your waist accompanies that and you sigh out through your nose, trying very hard not to let his foolishness distract you. “May I ask what he’s serving time for? This handwriting looks very well practiced, and his spelling is perfect.”

With a quiet hum, Wriothesley leans to the side to brace his chin in the palm of his hand. “He’s in for embezzlement.” 

“Embezzlement!” You squawk, beyond horrified. “B - b - but if it’s the man I’m thinking of, he was so polite and quiet! I thought he was just shy so I didn’t want to draw too much attention to him!” 

“Those are the ones you have to watch out for the most.” He laughs. “You’ll learn that in due time. The ones like George are mostly all bark and no bite, unless you back them into a corner. Gaspard’s type is way more dangerous because you can never be quite sure what they’re thinking.” 

More than just a bit ruffled, you defensively clutch the small stack of letters to your chest. “So then I suppose that would put you in the latter category?” 

“Hm … I suppose it would.” 

With a click of your tongue, you set the papers aside and primly return to your sandwich. “Regardless, I think it’s clear how we should proceed. We need to get a seamstress out to the prison as soon as possible for Belle, and I’m sure we can find a willing chef for those two troublemakers as well.” You pause with the little triangle almost up to your mouth again, hesitating a moment before slowly lowering it once more. “That is — if you’d still like to work with me going forward. I’m sure you probably have some reservations after what happened today, but I promise I’ll be more cautious next time and - -“ 

“Hush. I’m not going to take it away from you like a toy you’re not allowed to play with anymore. You’ll still have your little program and I’ll still work with you to help you implement it. You’ll just have to be a bit more closely supervised with it going forward.” 

“… you are truly detestable sometimes.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

Wriothesley thankfully lets you eat in peace after that, and your stomach is quite glad for it. You happily scarf down two sandwiches and another cookie to go with your cup of tea, but you quickly begin to feel full. Eventually, you find yourself leaning back against his chest with your head resting along his shoulder, and you just quietly watch him work through a different stack of papers, this one much more formidable than your measly pile. You were going to cherish them forever though, even had half a mind to go out and have them framed immediately, but that seemed a little excessive, even for you. 

The intimate atmosphere and the close proximity with him almost has you dozing again, but the large hand idly rubbing over your tummy keeps you more or less grounded in reality, you sigh, very softly, when he eventually gives you an attention grabbing pinch some indeterminable amount of time later. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me again, are you?” 

“No, your grace. I am only resting.” 

“Good.” He says rather amicably, setting the sheet in his hand down. “Because there’s still the matter of your punishment to go over.” 

Groaning, you let your head loll back against his shoulder to look up at the ceiling. “You really never let anything go, do you?” 

“It would be remiss of me if I did. More importantly though, I wanted to show you something. Do you remember what I said earlier, about getting spanked with something much worse than a hairbrush?” 

You immediately lurch on top of him, skin crawling at just the thought as you try to jump up off his lap and escape, but Wriothesley just tightens his arm around you to keep you pinned even when you inelegantly flail. “Wait — that’s not fair, your grace, I — ow!” 

The hard slam of your knee against his desk has you whimpering in pain, and he quickly takes advantage of that stunned moment to haul you back and secure you more firmly in place. “That’s what you get for jumping to conclusions. Let that be a lesson to you.” Sighing, he presses his mouth to the top of your head in a lingering kiss while you try to shake out the hurt from your leg. “Troublesome girl.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you right now!” You snip, still rubbing at your bruised knee. “And what were you even talking about? I don’t think I deserve to be struck with a stick or a measuring rod, or — or - -“

“You don’t, you’re right about that. But I want to show you what comes after the hairbrush, if you’ll let me. I’d like to think having that knowledge in the back of your mind might give you enough incentive to make better decisions in the future, but given how hard headed you are … maybe it won’t.” 

Huffing, you petulantly cross your arms. “You only want to show me?” You didn’t trust it at all. Not one bit. 

“I planned to actually strike you with it, of course. Otherwise it would just be an empty threat and you’d have no baseline to gauge how far you’re willing to go just to throw a fit over something. But how about this? I’ll make you a deal. You like when I do that, don’t you?” 

You were loath to admit it out loud but you did indeed, and your pussy slowly clenches with interest. Damn him straight to the abyss and back. “I’m listening.” 

“Good girl. I figured you would be.” Another kiss pressed to the top of your head, his breath displacing some of the flyaways there. “You get to choose then. Would you like me to round off your punishment with my hand and twenty strokes of the hairbrush, or would you prefer to take six from the mystery implement?” 

Twisting around in his hold, you look up at him in abject shock. “Only six?” 

“Only six.” He confirms. 

“And you won’t tell me what it is first? Is it really that bad?”

“No, and no. It’s just a different kind of pain, is all. Something you aren’t used to. I strongly suspect if I told you beforehand, you’d be too frightened to take it on and would instead gladly subject your poor bottom to a much worse fate than it needs to suffer.” Drawing a stilted breath, Wriothesley slips one of his hands under the jacket to caress along your bare thigh, warming the skin under his palm. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already been appropriately corrected. There’s no need to actually take you over my knee unless you leave me with no other choice. The second option is preferable for both of us, first and foremost because I intend for it to be a warning more than anything. The choice is yours though, little miss. I am but at your beck and call.” 

You snort at that and pin him with a wry look. “Sure. I might believe that when pigs fly.” With a shake of your head, you turn back around so you can slump against him, listlessly picking at the fur trim on his jacket in your lap while you think it over. One was obviously the better sounding choice but … didn’t that mean it was a trap? 

Big, burly arms squeezing around you, Wriothesley bends close to kiss your temple, your cheek, down to your neck. They’re soft and fleeting, decidedly, chaste, and yet they still make your pulse start to thrum a little faster. You really were regrettably weak for him. It just wasn’t fair.  

“May I add an extra term onto our deal?” 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“If I choose the second option, will … will you play with me afterward?” 

He seems to hesitate against you, no doubt catching onto your meaning. “I was planning on doing that anyway. I always make sure you get rewarded at the end, don’t I?” A lingering kiss pressed into your temple. 

You were really starting to become hot and flustered again, and it shows in the way your voice strains slightly. “I don’t mean like that. I — I think I want you to touch me, your grace.” 

This time he really does go still. A long beat of quiet punctuates the moment, and then he shifts against you, speaking across the side of your face. “Where do you want me to touch you, pretty girl? Between your legs?” 

Just hearing him say it makes you shudder from your head straight down to your toes, and you fitfully twist on his lap so you can tip your head back to look at him. “Everywhere, sir. Between my legs and — my chest too. If you want.” 

“Of course I want to, silly thing.” Breathing out a rather terse exhale, he tips his head to kiss your mouth but it is regretfully short lived, and you whine softly when he retreats again. “I need you to clarify something for me first though, so I know exactly what it is you’re comfortable with. Do you want to get completely undressed for me or would you rather I touch you through your shirt?” 

“O - oh.” You hadn’t thought about it that far, and you shyly avert your gaze. Although you did want to feel his hands on your breasts, the thought of being completely nude with him was a daunting one indeed. It was silly, of course, but that seemed like something of a big step and a potentially awkward one at that. “I … I don’t know if I’m ready to get naked yet so — through my shirt?” 

“Through your shirt it is.” He agrees, pressing his mouth to your cheek in a hard, reassuring kiss. It makes you squirm, just a little bit, how willing he is to humor you in this way, but you think that it probably means more to you than you even fully realize. “You’re a good girl, you know that?” He murmurs against your skin. “I’m so proud of you for being honest with me. I know that’s not always easy for you to do.” 

“Enough already.” You huff in embarrassed fluster, making him chuckle. 

“Don’t start getting cranky. I don’t want to have to really spank you if I don’t have to.” Finally, he pulls all the way back to give you some space, patting your leg under the jacket. “Alright. Stand up and put your hands on the desk for me. We’ll do this standing up.” 

Suddenly confused, you hesitate just a moment before rocking forward with no shortage of hesitation. He didn’t often strike you while standing. Usually only when he was made to grab you to stop you from scuttling away and a chair or other wasn’t readily available … 

You try not to think about that too hard though as you find your feet with his coat somewhat awkwardly clutched to your front still. He reaches around to take it from you and you reluctantly let it go, shivering when it falls away to leave you bared from the waist down. Shuffling forward a step, you then reach out and slowly place your hands palm down on the desk while he stands up behind you, pushing the chair further back to allow for some space. 

Wriothesley presses up close behind you then, making a fresh shudder work down your spine as he leans over you to gently reposition your palms a little further apart. He reaches down to take your waist next so he can carefully bend you forward with your legs squared, nice and firmly rooted. You aren’t quite sure what to make of it all but his hands feel decidedly nice on you, and you just sigh very softly when he moves back. The following moment or two of rustling further leaves you stumped, especially when you catch a soft metallic click on the air, and you have to try very hard not to turn around and look. He seemed quite sure whatever it was would startle you a great deal but … 

When he eventually comes up beside you again, you turn your head to look at the hand he holds out towards you. Your brows make a prompt, very expeditious trip up to your hairline. 

“Wha — y - your belt, sir?” You warble out on a squeak, genuinely flabbergasted by this revelation. 

He chuckles faintly, snapping your wide eyed attention up at him so fast it nearly makes your head spin. “That look on your face is exactly why I didn’t tell you outright but it sounds worse than it actually is. At least the way I’m going to do it is.” 

“W - which would be?” You ask, nervously glancing at the folded over strip of leather with a great deal of fast mounting horror. 

“We’ll start off slow and work our way up in intensity, but even by the end I won’t be using too much force. My goal isn’t to actually hurt you, just teach you. See, the thing about this is it covers a wider area. I can strike you across both cheeks in one swing, and the relative flexibility of the leather means it carries a sharper sting with it as well. I don’t think it’ll take much to have you dancing on your toes, so I probably won’t even end up using a fraction of my strength when all is said and done. Does all of that sound agreeable to you, little miss?” 

You work to swallow down your nerves and almost choke on it. “I … I suppose so. But — if I really can’t take it, will you stop?” 

“Of course I will. I have no interest in brutalizing you or anything of the sort. That being said though I’m confident that you’ll do just fine. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.” 

A wholly mirthless laugh punches out of your throat. “I’m really not sure about that, your grace.” 

“Then let’s find out.” 

Transfixed, you follow the motion of the folded over belt when he lifts it in one hand and then slaps it down into the waiting palm of the other. You startle at the loud, meaty whap! and suddenly your blood turns to ice. You can feel yourself slipping under alarmingly fast, whatever the incomprehensible shroud was that blanketed your mind every time you ended up in these situations with him, but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to do much to shield you from the full brunt of it in this particular instance. 

Trying very hard not to shake when he steps behind you, you tip your face down to stare blankly down at the desk. The tension thrumming through your body is thick enough to suffocate and nauseatingly cloying. Just thinking about him hitting you with that was enough to make you sick … 

“Oh, and just a word of advice.” He tacks on, standing about a step behind you by the sound of it. “Try to breathe through it as much as you can. That will help more than anything else.” 

“… yes, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

His fingertips brush across your ass then, and you jolt so hard you almost come right up off the floor. Wriothesley just takes a moment to coo at you though, chiding you softly for being so jumpy, but it was a little hard not to be! You felt like you were going to vibrate right out of existence, and the heavy weight of nervous anticipation was not making it any better. You’re such a mess of nerves and sharp adrenaline that you barely even notice the way your skin prickles under his hand, still hot to the touch and tender from your earlier spanking, and you wince slightly as he rubs over your bottom. It seems like a cruel thing to do, getting you sensitized and warmed up for his belt like this. 

“I’m going to start.” He finally warns you as his hand retreats, and you immediately brace for the deafening crack and the splintering pain to go with it. 

To your flinching surprise, however, the belt just lightly swats across your bottom with a soft little pap! and you absolutely hate the way you still violently lurch, having expected much worse. Your cheeks immediately flood with heat as he laughs softly behind you at the big reaction. 

“I told you we’d work our way up. That’s one. Count for me, pretty girl.” 

You obediently open your mouth but you only make it so far as drawing a breath to respond when the belt slaps across your ass, a little harder this time. You notice the sting he’d mentioned immediately, as well as the insidious reach it has across the swell of both cheeks, but all it does is make you rock forward on your toes a bit. You’d never admit it out loud to him, but he was right. This wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be. 

And that was precisely why you didn’t trust it. 

“… two, sir.” 

“Good girl. Your bottom looks mighty cute like this, by the way. I think I could get used to seeing you bent over my desk.” 

You clench your teeth, half in annoyance and half to brace for the next hit. If they kept steadily increasing like that … 

Whap! 

This one subtly jerks you forward with the impact and you wheeze over the desk, trying and failing to process just how sharp the sting really is. It leaves you dizzy, a bit stunned in the aftermath as prickling fire welts up over the swell of your bottom. It has your toes curling in their shoes, skin crawling with needle pinpricks as you work to steady yourself. Okay, that was marginally worse than his hand but still not quite as bad as the hairbrush. 

“Ooh … three, sir …” 

“You’re doing very well so far. What do you think of it?” 

You weren’t entirely sure you were properly equipped to answer that question at the moment, but after a short beat of consideration you finally say, “I see what you meant. It’s a different kind of pain, but it’s not terrible.” 

“It could be.” 

You snort. “I bet it could.”

Wriothesley shifts behind you making you instinctively brace for the next hit, but it never comes. Instead, he speaks again after a drawn out pause. “Do you really trust me not to get carried with it, and to know your pain threshold better than you do?” 

That seemed like an odd question to ask after all this time, but you decide you can humor it as you readjust your feet with a quick shuffle. “I do, your grace. You push me sometimes but you’ve never actually crossed that line. Until you do, I trust you.” 

“That’s very generous of you.” He murmurs, a note of humor in his voice now. “Incidentally, I think you should know that I trust you as well. I suppose that makes us even.” 

A dull trickle of surprise washes over you, but before you can fully process what he’d said the next strike comes with a considerably louder crack and it startles an ‘oh!’ out of you. Rocking forward on your toes, seething, you gingerly shift your weight from one side to the other but it does absolutely nothing to dispel the throbbing strip across your backside. It really was insidious how it could catch the meatiest parts of your ass in a single blow, and you carefully try to stretch it out with a dramatic curve of your spine. 

“That’s quite a show you're putting on for me right now, pretty girl.” Wriothesley drawls in a low tone that sounds like silk in your pounding ears. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your top off? I’m already seeing quite a lot …” 

Whimpering faintly, you shyly squeeze your thighs together and straighten slightly. “Don’t be a pig …” 

“My apologies. It’s so easy to forget my manners when you’re presenting such a cute pussy to me like that. I’ll be sure to mind myself.” 

“Ooh … will you touch it, your grace?” 

“Yes. Gladly. But only after we’re done.” He says. Then, much more softly, “It will be a reward for the both of us.” 

You draw a steadying breath and force your constricting lungs to expand with it as you carefully resume the position he’d put you in, or something close to it. “Four, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

This time you know the swing is coming because you can hear the displacement in the air, and it seems to catch you in a particularly vulnerable spot, because you dance up on your toes with a frazzled yelp. The sting of unshed tears in your eyes quickly joins the splintering sensation across your decidedly sore bottom, and you sniffle rather sadly at the hurt. You understood now why he’d set the count to six, and you were immensely glad for it. 

“F - five, sir …” 

Wriothesley’s hand abruptly finds your shuddering back and you jolt before stiffly relaxing into his touch. Gently, reassuringly, he drags that massive palm across you in slow, coaxing circles. “There, you’re almost done. I’ll let you decide when you’re ready for the last stroke.” 

You can’t decide if that makes it better or worse, but you take a moment to collect yourself, just taking slow, deep breaths, just like he’d said to. It does help, a little bit, but the searing line across your ass is very hard to ignore. You were undoubtedly scared of what was coming and, yet, his steady presence at your side was a comforting one. You could do this. You knew you could. Not for him, but because of him. 

Gingerly easing your body out of its defensive hunch, you carefully move back into position again.  “I’m ready, sir.” 

Your first sign that this was going to be awful is the fact that Wriothesley keeps his hand braced against your middle back and just shifts to the side. Your second is the sharp sound of it cutting through the air. 

Whap! 

Pain explodes across your entire body unlike ever before. You lurch with a wounded, faltering animal sound, unable to even scream, it was that bad! Your knees instantly turn knobbly and you practically collapse with a strained, gasping sob, but he’s right there to catch you. So lost in the swimming daze of blind agony, you barely register him holding you around the waist to keep you upright and somewhat steady, but the soft press of his mouth against your shoulder somehow still manages to catch your attention. It pulls you back into the physical world, bit by bit, at a sluggish pace, and the sound of his crooning voice soon penetrates the numbing fog to mist over you. 

“— such a good girl, I’m so proud of you for taking that so well. You didn’t even scream, and I thought for sure you would on the last one. Do you have any idea how much strength that took? You’re such a precious thing.” 

Groaning dizzily, you slowly start to straighten up under his helpful guidance, and you don’t protest when he gently steers you back towards the chair with a hiccuping mewl. You’re glad for it, in fact. You just wanted to crawl into his lap and cling to him for the rest of the day. Night? You weren’t even sure what time it was. How long had you fallen asleep for? 

You feel well and truly delirious as he sits down and gets situated behind you before reaching back up to tug you into his lap, and you viciously seethe the moment your throbbing ass brushes his pants. Making a valiant effort to arch up off him and escape the pressure, you openly sob when he just pulls you right down. You writhe at the pain, twisting in his arms but then — you abruptly realize where his hands are headed. 

Choking on a stuttering gasp, you tip your tear stained face down with a confused little whimper to watch his palms drag up the front of your body, further rucking and irreparably wrinkling your jumper in the process. They smooth over the curve of your breasts and then pause to give them a savory squeeze, and you shudder intensely at the sensation. You’d never been touched like this before. Not by anyone, and it surprises you how sensitive your chest is under the weight of his hands. Your nipples immediately spring up even under your clothes, and you fitfully turn your head to rest across his shoulder with a half strangled wail. 

“These feel so good in my hands, pretty girl. Is this what you wanted me to do? Hm?” 

Screwing your eyes shut against the onslaught of so many sensations all at once — the pain and the pleasure so horribly intermingled that you could hardly tell them apart anymore — you offer a quick, jerky nod. “Mhm!” 

Wriothesley breathes out a terse sigh against the side of your head and nuzzles further into you while his hands keep fondling your breasts. “Good. They seem sensitive. There are a lot of fun things we could do with that information, you know. I have a few — toys you might be interested in later. Do you like having your pretty tits played with? You certainly look like you do …” 

Whining low in your throat, you shudderingly arch to shove your chest further out, and he takes advantage of that to squish them up and together. A deeply frazzled moan rattles out of you when he jostles them for a brief moment before letting them go so that they bounce back into place. He groans, very softly, as he quickly cups around the swell of them again, just holding them in his palms for a moment while he bends close to kiss you. 

You’re sinking alarmingly fast, much too fast to make any sense of it, and you clutch at his shirt in a fitful, twisting death grip. He doesn’t even seem to notice, just hungrily kissing you for a tortuously long stretch before eventually pulling back with a stilted exhale. Meaningfully, he sends his gaze lower and you follow his lead, slowly looking down at yourself just to find your tits straining up even through two shirts and a brassier. You issue a low, wounded sound, watching through the impossibly heavy fall of your lashes as he brings his hands up to delicately pluck at the stiffened buds. That alone is almost too much, both the sensation and the visual, but he really starts to tug on them. 

“You like that, do you?” He chuckles at all your sensitive quivering. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m more of an ass man myself, but these are nice too. Very nice, indeed. They fit so nicely in my hands, almost like they were made for them. And your nipples … oh, sweet girl, are you going to cum just from having me play with them?” 

That didn’t seem to be as much of a preposterous suggestion as you would have otherwise thought when you were currently wrestling with the thrumming tension that spikes through your body. You’d never felt quite so hot or overly sensitive, and you keen at the growing need threatening to swallow you whole. 

Evidently catching on, Wriothesley drags one of his hands down across your front, over your belly and straight down to dip between your trembling thighs. You feel him experimentally touch over your slit for a brief moment, familiarizing himself with it, before pressing his fingers into meaty lips to spread them. You rock violently in his hold and instinctively curl your legs out wide even when they weakly twitch in the air, keeping them spread for him. You’re not sure what you were expecting in your punch drunk state of mind, but it shocks a flustered yelp out of you when he slips in to tease over your clit. It has you twitching, twisting and writhing against him for everything you’re worth. The calloused pad on the tip seems to catch at soft flesh even with the excessive slick coating you and he tauntingly nudges at the delicate little pleasure button, just drawing it back and forth, up and down for a moment, before starting to press down more firmly. You promptly go cross eyed, lurching in his lap with a gutted moan. 

The direct contact felt so good … so good you could hardly even stand it, and it brings fresh tears to your eyes. You liked rubbing yourself on his thighs. Thought you’d liked that the most and that you couldn’t like anything else better — but this was overwhelming your already cotton stuffed head alarmingly quick, and the way he continues to pluck at one of your nipples did not seem to be helping you in the slightest. You were going to vibrate right off him if he kept that up! 

“Y - your grace! Ooohhnnggh!” 

“Do you enjoy that, little miss? Hm?” He nuzzles against the side of your head, pressing idle kisses to your temple again. 

“Ahhnn … yes! I do, your grace! I - I feel like I’m gonna’ — oohh!”

With a soft chuckle that makes his chest vibrate against your back, Wriothesley reaches across to the other breast to give it a savory, pinching knead. Fitful and needy, you impulsively reach down with trembling hands to grab the hem of your jumper so you can yank it up to bunch under your chin. He obliges you by grabbing at your tit again, through just the thin layer of your blouse now, and you somehow manage to shake even harder when he digs his fingers in to tug at the brassier underneath. It’s hard to do indirectly like this and he jostles you slightly with the effort, but you still feel the exact moment your stiff teat slips out of the top of the cup and you just shake even harder. 

“I bet you do. Such a sensitive little girl you are …” Pulling in a carefully tempered breath, he abandons that tit much to your blubbering disappointment and reaches over to do the same to the other. Pinching through fabric to grab at the lacy material underneath and nudge it down enough to leave both nipples cutting up directly into the fabric of your shirt. You writhe on top of him with a back bowing shudder and blindly grab at him, his arms, his shirt, the now rumpled collar of his button up, whining a low plea. “Hush. I’ve got you. Bring your hands up for me and wrap them around my neck. Think you can do that for me?” 

Offering a stilted nod, you do as he’d asked without question or even much thought to the matter. Later you might wonder why you’re so obedient and pliable with him like this, but in the heat of the moment you find nothing but pleasure, and deep satisfaction at the rumbling noise of approval he gives you when your arms stretch up to curl over his shoulders in a loose hold. The position proves a bit awkward when you can’t get a very good grip on him, but the reason for it quickly makes itself known. Your tits lift under your shirt with the upward motion to jut further out, and his blocky hand quickly descends upon one, pinching the tightly coiled teat to leave you moaning in equal parts distress and delight. 

“Ooh, isn’t that a lovely sound? You really are going to be the death of me … let me show you something nice now. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

The blocky fingers on your clit slowly retreat and you hiss at the loss only to choke on it a heartbeat later when he firmly presses them over your slit. He gives them a sedate rub and your pelvis involuntarily jumps, pressing up into them with a juddering twitch, eager for more. Desperate for it. 

“There, now move with me, pretty girl. Just like you do when you’re grinding this sweet pussy on my leg … that’s it, move your hips. Back and forth. Just follow the motion of my hand — see, you’ve got it. Keep going and don’t stop until you’re shaking for me.”

You suck in a thick, heavy gasp as you bring your swimming attention back down to look at the way you’re spread open on top of him. The wide stretch of your legs is shameful and a little embarrassing even now, but your cunt looks so small and dainty rubbing against his big hand while your thighs quack around it and you can’t quite bring yourself to care about it right now. Wheezing, you rock your pelvis up to follow the friction of his rough fingers before swiveling back and — you outright choke when your sore ass grinds down on him in the process. The faintly raised welts seem to crawl and sting with renewed fervor at the brush of his pants, the hard press of his cock digging up into you in search of the hot, wet warmth between your legs. Your pussy squeezes wildly at the sharp pain, drools yet more sticky slick to coat you in an obscene amount of liquid arousal, and you quickly do it again. Up against the firm pressure of his hand and then back again to rub your sore bottom on him. 

It doesn’t take long for you to start quaking in earnest like this and you cling to him desperately as the tension in your body rapidly swells, threatening to bowl you right over if you weren’t careful. But as always Wriothesley’s hold on you is absolute, and you’re free to shake and twist as wildly as you want without having to worry about falling. The hand on your chest alternates between your breasts, squeezing, pinching, tugging at your nipples, each in turn, to leave them feeling raw and sensitized through your shirt while the other keeps guiding your pelvis through the stuttering motion. Maintaining it becomes more difficult with the steady locking of your muscles as warning tremors wrack through you, but he remains an ever steady presence around you and it’s so easy to get lost and swept up in his pace. 

Your cunt tilts up against his hand and then your ass nudges back to make dull throbs of pain erupt across your bottom. 

Up against his hand with a sticky glide that does absolutely nothing to stop his rough skin from dragging against petal soft folds, then back to feel the weight of him digging into sore flesh that burns at the friction against his slacks. 

Up against his hand, back against his cock. 

His hand, his cock. 

Wriothesley’s hand and Wriothesley’s cock. 

The coil snaps. Just like that. 

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, you wail through your soul shattering release as quietly as you can manage. You seethe, you hiss, you groan, low and faltering. You squeal and you wheeze, bucking uncontrollably with a frantic desperation that he takes in stride. His hold on you doesn’t falter, and he neither grunts or flinches even when you spasm on top of him without heed. He’s like a solid wall underneath you, and he pets you through it all until you finally, at last, start to come down from it some moments later one jagged piece of you at a time. 

Going boneless with a haggard noise of deep sated pleasure, you just lay there for a long while and let him caress over you to leave pleasantly warm tingles in the wake of his hands. It’s comfortable like that, there with him. Sitting in the stillness of his office in the buzzing afterglow of release, simply listening to each other's heartbeats for a long time. He was right to say this was something he could get used to, because you could too. 

And strangely enough that thought doesn’t frighten you half as much as it probably would have at one time. 

“You’re a very good girl for me, you know that?” Wriothesley says at last, finally interrupting the quiet. 

Snuggling deeper into his body with a content little sigh, you tip your head back to look up at him from just a scant few millimeters away. “You’re very good to me as well, you’re grace. T - … thank you for that.” 

A slow smile tugs at his mouth to accompany the almost wry quirk of his brow. “Oh, am I now? Well, you’re very welcome, of course, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t half expect a different sentiment.”

You frown at that, unable to stop it. “You are easily the most frustrating, blockheaded man I have ever met, and I won’t deny that, but you — you’re kind to me, aren’t you? In your own strange way.” 

“I try to be.” He relents, his gaze drifting lower to fix upon your mouth. You can tell he’s thinking about kissing you again by the way his eyelids droop to attractive halfmast, but you reach up to cup the strong ridge of his jaw before he can follow through on it. 

“Can I … be kind to you as well, sir?” You give your butt a pointed little wiggle down onto the hard length straining under you, and his brows draw together as if in great discomfort. 

“As much as I would like that,” He intones rather thinly. “And for as much as I am tempted, I would rather teach you about that somewhere a bit more appropriate than in my office. At your home. In the comfort of your own bed, if you would permit it, sounds ideal to me.” 

You hesitate to respond just a moment too long, still a little overwhelmed at the thought of sharing your bed with him despite the eager thrum you feel at the suggestion, and he takes the chance to gather you against him in a tight squeeze. 

“There isn’t any rush, sweet girl. Whenever you’re ready, you will have me. I just want to ensure you receive the care and attention you deserve first and foremost, and I also want you to feel safe. Your bedroom will represent that final boundary and when you’re prepared to invite me into your life like that, that is when I will take you. That sounds fair enough, doesn’t it?” 

You want to tell him you are ready, that you want him now, you’re sure of it. Your body and mind alike both seem to crave the intimacy of skin on skin contact with him, while your heart … 

Oh, you simply couldn’t think about that right now. 

“Yes, your grace.” You murmur instead of any number of other things you could have said to him, wanted to say to him. Needed to say. “That sounds fair.” 

“Good.” Wriothesley gives you a reassuring pinch to make you squirm slightly in his arms. “Then I think with that settled it’s about time you and I considered making things somewhat official. Do you think you can stand to be seen with me in public in a non professional capacity for an hour or two?”

Going still against him, you frantically try to parse what he’s asking, what he’s getting at. Make it official? “What do you mean, my lord? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“I’d like to take you out to dinner, little miss. On a date.” 

Your face instantly lights up like a firework. A date? With the Duke of Meropide himself? 

Oh, but you suddenly felt terribly faint. 

“I … I think I’d like that, your grace. Thank you.” 

“Wonderful. Then that is what we will do.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[toomanyideasandfandoms]

It's okay, silly! Tbh I forgot Neuvi existed but hey it's fine-

Anyway! I wonder what Arlecchino would think of Fontaine (and specifically Neuvi and Furina) taking care of the creator post-failed execution and helping them heal! Maybe Father could bring a couple of the younger children to kinda soothe (and also emotionally manipulate a bit but it's okay-) the creator with like the innocence as if saying "Look at how they love you! You'll stay with them right? :)"

I'm so sorry i'm having a Furina/Arle/Noelle brain rot rn- (Just thinking about the angst potential in these three in both sagau and otherwise ahhh)

Anyways have a good day!

🍌anon

Oh good!

Omg wait Arlecchino...tbh I think she is probably why most deaths within Fontaine happened now thinking about it.

Because while I know most like to have the Fataui be the good ones that can see the truth in their aus...tbh it doesn't make much sense to me. Mainly because while they want to fight against the Heavily Principles, they still are influenced by them because of their laws. So Tsaritsa would definitely order all members to kill any imposters on sight. So they would actually help the hunt.

But if we're talking during the healing phase then Arle definitely would be contributing by potentially letting them let steam out via fighting. Of course she would keep a close eye to make sure they don't get hurt, even wouldn't hesitate to harshly take their weapon away if sensing even a hint of a possible self infliction of harm. But anyway, she definitely gives me vibes of "aren't you tired of being nice, don't you wanna go apeshit?" for some reason.

Also yes she definitely uses the children to manipulate the creator (post healing, so all good again if we ignore that fact that they're not hostage in Fontaine) to keep their attention away from others. Or even use the fact that the creator is physically attracted to her to her advantage (like me, she can step on me any day-*SLAP*).

Though if I think about it a bit, her reaction to finding out what was actually happening would probably make her seem more stoic then usual. I mean she would be devastated don't get me wrong, but I get a sense that she would move past it quickly for the sake of getting plan healing the creator set in motion as quick as possible. Like her, Neuvillette, and Furina are like the three masterminds over this. Though that's not gonna stop her from asking the creator for forgiveness (but after they heal, when they're sound of mind again).

I can't really say more? Mainly because I'm admittedly not caught up with the game at all dhekehfj I haven't played in months and idk if I will any time soon (though the fact that Arle coming soon AND Sethos being shown is tempting me). But I still love the characters and the, which is why I made the au both for my own creativity and become I like putting the characters I love in various situations.

[the-morningstar-family]

Oh no, Willa!

At first Alastor turns away, as the shadow tries to wake him, still too much asleep to consider the implications. But with the second attempt he resurfaces enough to concouisness to realise that something must be wrong.

He almost jumps up, quickly slipping into his bathrobe.

Lucifer, groggy: “Mnhg? Al?”

Alastor: “My shadow woke me, something is wrong”

Lucifer: “What's wrong?”

Alastor: “I'm about to find out…”

Lucifer rubs his eyes, and steps into his ducky slippers half asleep. They follow the shadow to the kitchen. The hellhound's still on the floor, trying hard to catch her breath between the sobs.

Lucifer: “Willa?”

She whips her head around, staring at the king, trying to get out some words. She can't, too caught up in her panic.

Alastor: “Willa dear, you need to take a breath”

Meanwhile Lucifer uses his magic to vanish the many glass shards. Alastor kneels down to help Willa with her breathing, while his partner gets something for the little cuts on her hands.

Alastor: “There you go, that's better”

Being finally able to breathe better, she gulps down air greedily. She only planned to get some water, this leaving the ventilator upstairs.

Soon her hands are cleaned up as well.

Alastor: “Let's get upstairs, mh?”

Willa, whispering: “... I can't get up”

The hellhound stares to the floor, looking thoroughly drained. Alastor shoots a look the the king, who looks equally worried. But the angel recovers quickly.

Lucifer: “I'm gonna pick up, okay?”

She nods, and with a swift motion, Lucifer gathers her in his arms.

The walk upstairs is quiet and suffocating. And because things aren't complicated enough, Felix looks out of the door. Confused and worried about what's going on.

Willa: “Honey, why are you up?”

Her voice is tender, if hoarse. The boy shrugs.

Felix: “I heard noise…”

Alastor: “It's alright, we're handling it. Come now, I'll bring you back to bed, alright?”

Luckily, the child doesn't argue, and follows the overlord obediently.

Lucifer helps Willa into bed, put the ventilator on, and tried to generally make her comfortable. But if there ever was an embodiment of bone tiered, her demeanor right now would be it.

Lucifer, softly: “Do you need anything else?”

She stares away from him, ears hanging lower than Lucifer had seen before.

Willa: “It's getting worse…”

Lucifer: “... I'm so sorry”

She looks at him, eyes shining. Her mouth opens, but no words escape. She closes her mouth and eyes. Trying to deal with all if this.

Willa: “Thank you…”

Lucifer: “Of course - do you want anything else? Really, it's no bother!”

It's not fair. The king doesn't know if he could've healed her. Even when his powers worked flawlessly, there were things he couldn't fix. But now? He can't even try.

Willa just shakes her head.

Lucifer, tentavely: “Maybe… try and catch some sleep?”

A listless nod confirms it. After a few moments of not knowing what to do, he bids her goodnight, stepping out of the room back to the corridor.

Lucifer: “Fuck”

[something-tofightfor]

On Deck Part 3: Ducks on the Pond

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 7,433

Rating: NSFW - smut, language, feelings (maybe. just a little)

Summary: Having Jack in your house is more than a little overwhelming - but when you realize that it's what he really wants, everything changes.

Author’s notes: 

This chapter was a hell of a lot of tun to write. Trying to strike a balance between what I know happens and what is happening here was a struggle; hopefully you enjoy.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand what's going on - we're not getting overly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out.

“Ducks on the Pond” is another term used to describe runners in scoring position. To be considered “in” this position, a player must be on either second or third base due to previous play action. When this happens, any batted ball that results in a hit is likely to score one - or more - of the runners. These players are ready and waiting for the current batter’s action.

He parked in the driveway next to your car, turning his head to look through the window and at you. Did I actually invite him back to my place? Jack waited to get out until you were standing in the driveway, motioning for him to follow. I did. Shit.

There was no other way to describe it: you were nervous. But you were also excited - and you hoped that that emotion was the one that would win out. I didn’t think it would get to this point. I never really believed I’d get the chance to have him here.

He was quiet as he entered your house, but by the time you’d set your bag and keys on the counter, Jack was talking again - and you liked the way that the sound of his voice filled your home. “I like this place.” He’d stopped to take his shoes off by the door, glancing up as he undid the laces. “Smells nice.” He straightened up, looking around at your front hall and into the living room. “It’s real lived in.” 

“I moved in when my uncle offered me my job.” You crossed your arms over your chest, stepping back toward him. “I don’t … plan on staying here forever, but it’s worked out for me so far.” Shrugging, you gestured with one hand. “It’s just me, so it’s all I need. I’m sure it’s smaller than yours, though.”

“I actually just have a condo here.” He sniffed, reaching up to scratch the side of his neck. “It’s nice, but it’s nothin’ fancy. Not real big either. My place back in Texas?” Jack groaned. “That’s home. And it’s a hell of a lot bigger.” You’d seen the pictures he posted online - nothing seriously revealing, but still enough to give you an idea of what his houses looked like.  “And I’ve been livin’ out of a hotel while I rehab, so this is much bigger.” He winked. “You gonna give me the grand tour?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I… come on.” You gestured for him to follow you, wincing as soon as you turned your back. Of course he doesn’t want to stand around and talk. He came here for a reason. No matter how much fun you had with him that day, Jack’s interest in you was likely purely physical. He’s not here to be a friend. “Bathroom’s right here.” You pointed, clearing your throat. “And my bedroom’s -”

Jack said your name, the sound of it freezing you in place. As he spoke, asking you to turn around, you felt his hand on your back before it slid over to your hip and was joined by his other one on the opposite side of your body. What is… He waited until you were facing him again to continue, his tone softening. “Are you nervous?”

“A little.” There was no point in lying to him, and you figured things would go smoothly as long as you were on the same page to start. “I’m not … this isn’t something I do often, and especially not with someone I just met.” 

“Can I make it a whole lot easier for you?” He stepped closer, his hands still on your hips. “No pressure. I didn’t come back here with you because I expect anything, even though it was implied.” He smirked at you, but the expression wasn’t unkind. “I would like to kiss you again, though. And since we’ve already gotten the first one out of the way, I figure the second will -”

You moved quickly, leaning in and tilting your head - and when you met Jack’s lips with yours, some of your nerves dissipated. His hold on you tightened, Jack groaning - but then he pulled away, his eyes wide. He looks shocked. Should I not have … oh, no. “Jack?”

“Didn’t seem too nervous there.” He winked again, straightening his shoulders. “Good. That’s real good.” You agreed, your eyes flicking over to the side and then back to him, your smile growing. “Do you want to keep going and show me that bedroom, or go back to -”

“I’ll show you the bedroom.” You bit the inside of your lip, eyes locked with his. “We’re already pretty close.” He laughed quietly, his fingertips brushing against yours when you turned away and started walking down the hall. “It’s a little messy, so -”

“You should see mine.” He entered behind you, Jack’s voice low. “I hate puttin’ clothes away, so I always have two baskets: one clean, one dirty.” You huffed out a laugh, scanning the room for anything embarrassing while Jack kept going. “And my underwear drawer? Pfft. Nothin’s folded. Socks either.”

“I figured you’d have someone doing your laundry for you. Maybe a housekeeper.” You leaned against your dresser, crossing your arms and watching as Jack took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Your schedule has to be really busy, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do is clean your kitchen or the bathroom or -”

“I do have a housekeeper.” Jack winced. “But she doesn’t touch my bedroom or my laundry.” Interesting. “You got me pegged, huh?” 

“It was just a guess.” You uncrossed your arms and pushed forward, heading for where he sat. “But… yeah, maybe I do.” He smiled at you, the expression genuine and reaching his eyes. “And Jack?” He hummed, waiting. “Laundry sucks, so I can’t say shit about the two baskets thing.” 

Jack’s laugh filled your room, and before you realized it was happening, he reached out for you and hauled you into the bed with him, both of you rolling onto the mattress. You braced yourself with both hands, ending up on your back. When you felt Jack’s weight atop you, you gasped, the sudden realization that Jack Daniels was in your bed flooring you. 

“You alright?” You nodded, staring up at him. “Good.” His eyes moved over your face, Jack’s smile locked in place. “I made you a promise at that park, an’ I think it’s time you let me follow through.” 

“I do too.” Swallowing, you cautiously reached up, putting your hand on his shoulder. “If you can.” He rolled his eyes before taking a breath, and then Jack was closing the distance between the two of you. Why am I challenging him? I already know he’s going to live up to it.

Your heart thumped in your chest, the beat slightly erratic. When his mouth met yours, your lips were already parted, giving him the perfect opening. He took it, the tip of his tongue poking out to meet the fullest part of your lower lip - and at that feeling, it was you that reacted, your hold on him tightening. 

And you moaned when he pushed it between them, your mouth opening wider to accommodate Jack’s. His response was to deepen the kiss further, his tongue stroking along the edge of yours, one slow drag after another. He was right. There’s nothing disappointing about this. 

You raised your hand from his shoulder to the back of his head, but when you pushed your fingers into the silky strands of his hair and pulled, he broke away, backing off with a grunt. “That’s what you like?” I mean… yeah. “Me too.” 

“Jack, you -” You didn’t get to finish the sentence before he was kissing you again, that one slightly messier and nowhere near as deep. It was followed by a series of shorter ones, each of them purposeful. 

In all of the fantasies you’d had about Jack, none of them included the fact that he liked to make out. You’d assumed that he would have just gone for it, uninterested in foreplay and wanting to get right to the main event. But I’ve never been happier to be wrong. 

You combed through his hair again when he moved his lips from your mouth to your cheek and then down over your jaw, his mustache dragging over the thin skin it met. And you angled your head so that he could move even lower, Jack’s mouth trailing down the column of your neck until it reached your shoulder. He paused there, sucking gently, but you didn’t even attempt to speak until your felt his tongue moving over the same area, leaving a damp trail in its wake. Before this gets too far, I need to … 

“Jack, wait.” You pushed him away, and he let you - propping himself up on his good arm and giving you a chance to collect your thoughts. “I don’t want to get carried away. Do you have…” You trailed off when you felt his fingertips moving along the inside of your forearm, though this eyes remained on your face. Unfair. This is unfair, he … “Do you have a condom? Because -”

“I do.” He nodded, his expression serious. “Not specifically for today, though. I just carry ‘em with me.” That didn’t surprise you - but his next words did. “And if we’re gonna do this, I’ve got a couple rules.” Oh. Rules? What … “No pictures or video. You left your bag in the other room, so I’m not worried about that.” You nodded, deciding to wait before you replied. “Anything that can be seen when I’m in my jersey … you can’t make marks there - nothin’ from your mouth or your hands.” That made sense to you, too, and you nodded again. “I’m not gonna stay over.” He looked apologetic at that revelation, Jack licking at his lower lip briefly and then giving you a tight smile. “That’s just for tonight though, it’s not a general rule. It’s because I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow to go to the stadium, and then I’m drivin’ back before the game, so I need time to pack.” 

“OK.” Your voice was quiet, heart still beating wildly. So it means he stays sometimes. Just not this time. “OK to all of those. What -” 

“And one more thing.” Something else? “I’m gonna need you to keep pullin’ on my hair as much as you want to, darlin’, because I like that a hell of a lot.” Good. I like it a hell of a lot, too. 

That made you laugh, but it was a short sound as you leaned in closer, nodding your agreement. “You got it, Jack.” Slipping your fingers back into his hair, you pulled on the strands, which earned you another low groan from him. You liked the sound - maybe a little too much. Detouring from another kiss, you turned your head to the side and craned your neck so that you could speak into his ear. “Take off your shirt.” 

He froze at the sound of your voice, but it only took seconds for him to push his weight off of you, Jack sitting up on the edge of your bed and taking a long breath. “You gonna do the same?” He tilted his chin down, the smile creeping back across his lips. “Now’s a good time.” 

You sat up, too, but you didn’t move your hands. 

Instead, you waited to watch as Jack used his left one to grip the bottom hem of his t-shirt before pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. Holy shit, I’ve never seen anyone do that in real life before. “Jesus, Jack. That …” He grinned and then stood up, giving you the opportunity to stare as he positioned himself in front of you. 

He was gorgeous  - even more so than you’d imagined he would be. You let your eyes roam from where his jeans sat low on his waist, up and over the slight curve of his belly. Jack put both hands on his hips, which made his muscles flex again. As your eyes continued their journey upward, you bit down on your lower lip. “You see anything you like?”

“You know I do.” Humming as you eyed his broad, freckled chest, you shook your head slowly. “Can’t believe they make you cover all this up with a uniform every night.” 

“I try to show a little skin.” He shrugged. “Always keep a couple buttons undone.” That made you laugh again, and when you realized that Jack was the type to joke in the bedroom, you shivered. I’m going to enjoy this. “I think it’s your turn to do the same.” He was right. You’d stalled slightly, enthralled by the sight of him. But in order to actually take the night further, you’d need to remove your clothing, too. 

“I can do that.” You didn’t stay seated, though. Standing in front of him, you also pulled your shirt over your head, letting it drop beside your feet. He reached out, both of his hands sliding over your sides, and at the first contact of his palms to your bare skin, you gasped. “Jack, y-” You didn’t get to finish. He urged you closer, hands moving over your body so that one could settle against your lower back, the other traveling up to stop between your shoulders. 

Both of yours found their way to his stomach, your fingers curling inward. “I forgot somethin’.” He spoke quietly, tilting his head so that he could kiss your cheek. His facial hair tickled your skin with each word, Jack continuing to speak the closer he got to your mouth. “Probably don’t need to say it, but my shoulder’s still not at 100%, so we also need to be careful with that.” 

“Of course.” You agreed, and your hand slid lower, fingers catching the button of his jeans. “The last thing I’d want to do is hurt you right before you’re set to come back.” You popped the button and then moved your hand to the zipper. As you undid it, he dragged the edges of his nails across your skin. It made your back arch and pushed your chest against his, which is what Jack seemed to be waiting for. 

Things moved quickly from there, both of you impatient to rid each other of your remaining clothing. 

You undid the zipper while Jack unhooked your bra, both of his large hands sliding apart so that the could grab the straps. By the time you were pushing his jeans down and over his hips, he’d eased the material over your shoulders so that it dropped down your arms, the elastic catching on the crook of your elbow.

Being so exposed in front of Jack after such a short time should have scared you. It should have worried you, especially after the other women he’d likely been with throughout the years… but it didn’t. Instead, his touch thrilled you, and when he stepped out of his jeans and kicked them to the side, you opened your mouth to tell him - and were cut off with a searing kiss. 

He wasted no time, mouth locked against yours, his lips parted and the tip of his tongue prodding against the seam of your lips and waiting for you to give him access. Oh, Jack. It didn’t matter to you that what was going on was likely a one time thing, It didn’t matter that within a few hours, he’d be dressed and gone. 

Because for the time being, he was there, with you. He was in your bedroom, with his hands and mouth on you - and yours were on him. And he started this. The kiss continued, Jack deepening it as his fingers curved around the back of your neck, keeping you close. 

You broke away with a gasp, letting out a shuddering breath. I need to focus for a second. Jack’s eyes were wide, but before he could question you, you reached down and undid your only remaining button. Here goes nothing. You glanced down to watch as your pants followed the same path his had taken, sliding down your legs before you could step out of them. You caught a glimpse of him then, the material of the trunks he wore straining to contain a sizeable bulge. Ok. That looks … 

Almost as though he could tell exactly where you were looking, Jack reached up with one hand to adjust himself. At the sight of his hand against the dark material, fingers curled around himself, you sighed, licking your lips. I want to know how he tastes. “Can I -”

“No.” Jack cleared his throat and then said your name, waiting until you were looking up at him again to say anything else. No? What did I - “We don’t know each other well enough for that yet.” Yet? Does that mean he wants to know me better? “Hey.” He used one finger to tip your chin upward, his mouth lifting in a smirk. “That’s my own rule, but that doesn’t mean it applies to you too.” The tip of his tongue flashed between his lips, his eyes locked on yours. “I’d like nothin’ more than to -”

“No.” You backed away, your own smile growing. If I can’t go there, neither can you. “We should play by the same rules. Make it fair.” He looked surprised at that, both eyebrows shooting up, but Jack didn’t question it. Instead, he bent over and reached into his jeans pocket for his wallet. 

Flipping it open, he pulled a condom free and then turned away from you, setting it - and the billfold - down onto the tabletop next to your bed. You used the opportunity to stare at his back and the way his muscles flexed with each movement, his skin smooth. 

There was a smattering of freckles over his shoulders that you knew you’d think about each time you saw him on the field, but after only a few seconds he turned to face you again, one brow arched. “Bed?” You couldn’t speak, and so you just nodded in reply, forcing yourself to turn away from him and climb back in. Ok. Ok, it’s happening, and he’s going to … 

You felt his hands on you before you could get settled, Jacks’s fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your underwear and then tugging. He eased them down, and when you straightened your legs and laid down on your stomach, folding your arms beneath your head, he removed them completely. 

Jack was silent for almost too long, and when you turned your head further to see what was wrong, you gasped. He was standing next to the side of your bed, staring down at you - but instead of both hands hanging by his sides, the fingers of one of them were curled around his length, the man as naked as you were. 

Jack stroked himself slowly, and when he saw that you were watching, one side of his mouth crept upward in a sly smile. “Found somethin’ I like lookin’ at, too.” 

You were fine until he winked. At the sight of that, you breathed out his name, both eyes closing. He laughed quietly, and when you felt the mattress dip a few seconds later, followed by the brush of his knee alongside yours, you knew what he was going to do. 

He swung his other leg so that he was straddling your thighs, and then Jack leaned forward, one hand flat on the bed next to you to support his weight with his uninjured arm. He touched you with the other one, fingertips trailing over your curves and then up, and your eyes flew open at the feeling of his mouth following those fingers, pressing kisses to the exposed expanse of your back. 

You would have been content to let him kiss his way up the entire length of your body, but only moments after you felt him run the tip of his nose up the line of your spine, Jack spoke again. “Roll over.” He nipped at your skin, the edges of his teeth dragging, and before he got out the next word - a quiet please - you were moving, slowly flipping over so that you were on your back and staring up at him. 

There was a warmth in his eyes that surprised you - and you wanted to take advantage of it. “C’mere.” You brought both hands up, one of them resting against his shoulder and the other urging him to move his face toward yours. “Let me k-”

“Not yet.” Jack nipped at the heel of your hand and then ducked down, zeroing in on one side of your chest. His lips closed around your nipple and when he sucked, your back arched, fingers tightening against his arm before you gasped and muttered the word sorry, moving it down and toward the space between his shoulders. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he sucked harder and then released your skin, flicking his tongue against it a few times before you felt the graze of his teeth. 

You moaned then, wanting him to hear how turned on you were, and it was the right decision. 

He switched to the other side of your chest, mouthing his way across your sternum. When he reached your other breast, you groaned out his name, hips rising from their place on the mattress to meet his. He swore at the contact, but Jack chased your movement with his own, even as he lapped at the curve of your skin. 

You felt how hard he was - the length of him hot against your lower abdomen, a warm, sticky smear dragging against your belly with every short thrust of Jack’s hips. “Jack.” You whispered to get his attention, heart thrumming in your chest. “Jack, hey.” He raised his head at the sound of your voice, but he didn’t sit up, instead staring at you with his chin pressed against your heated skin. “You’re too far away.” Using your free hand as a demonstration of your words, you slipped it between your bodies. “I can’t reach you.” 

“That what you want?” Jack wet his lips, taking a deep breath. “You wanna get your hands on me?”

“Yes.” Dropping your hand, you pressed it to your belly. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Jack straightened up then, sliding both knees forward and then settling back so that his weight rested on his calves. Your gaze dropped from his face to his chest and then lower, and before you had a chance to talk yourself out of it, you were using both hands to push yourself up and into a sitting position, widening the spread of your legs just enough so that you could bend your knees and plant your feet to help you balance. “What do you like?”

“I’m gonna like whatever you do.” He leaned in, voice low. “So don’t you worry ‘bout that.” Those words were all you needed, your eyes closing as you met him in another kiss. That one was slow, and it was you that slipped your tongue between his lips first, the sound Jack made almost too quiet to notice. But you liked that, didn’t you. 

You wondered if he could hear - or feel - the thudding of your heart, the beat of it traitorously quick. He knows. He’s gotta know. You reached out slowly, your fingers closing around Jack - and when you stroked him for the first time, the thrust of his hips toward you was immediate, Jack’s kiss turning hungry. He held you close, one arm wound around your shoulders, the other hand pressed flat against your lower back. Wait, though. Wait a second … 

Releasing him, you pulled your hand away slowly, and when Jack mumbled your name, backing up, it was your turn to wink. “Just a sec.” Averting your eyes, you looked down, hoping that he would do the same. Am I really going to do this? The sight of him - so close to the apex of your thighs - made the decision for you. Yes, I am. You slid your fingers between your own legs, coating them. 

“Oh, fuck.” You heard him - and knew that he was watching. Good. “Can I -”

“Yeah.” You let out a shuddering breath and moved your hand back to him, your slick fingers gliding up and down his length. “Yes, Jack.” He scooted back a few inches, and though you never broke your rhythm, it changed the angle, making it easier for you to pause at his tip to swirl your thumb around and over it a few times before giving him another firm stroke. 

He rested his forehead against your shoulder and stared downward between your bodies, Jack’s breathing quick. And when he touched you for the first time, it caught you by surprise - the press of his thumb turning into a slow circle of the digit. Then it was you that cried out his name, hips jerking forward and your grip tightening around him. Fuck that feels good.

He couldn’t do much else with the way you were positioned, but when Jack lifted his head to meet your eyes again, he grinned at the sight of your face - mouth hanging open and both eyes wide. “Lay down.” He swallowed, closing his eyes and shaking his head briefly. Wait, what? “Lay down.”

“But I won’t be able to -”

“I know.” He moved his hand, letting it rest against the crease of your thigh. “Lay back.” You stroked him twice more and then did as he asked, reluctantly pulling your hand away as you settled against the blankets and pillows. You wanted to bring your hand to your mouth and pop your thumb between your lips - tasting even the slightest bit of him. But he said no. He said not this time. And so you didn’t, getting comfortable and raising your hips as you waited to see what Jack would do, both hands resting by your sides on the blankets.

He repositioned himself, too, moving so that he was kneeling beside you before urging your legs further apart with one hand. It had only been a few minutes since you’d climbed into bed together, but time slowed as Jack twisted his wrist and slipped three fingers between your legs, two of them spreading you open and the other pushing slowly into you. 

He focused on what he was doing, the smile never leaving his lips, and even though you wanted to watch, you couldn’t. Your eyes closed and you turned your head to the side, mouth open as your hips rocked forward and into his touch. One finger inside of you turned into two, each thrust of them a little deeper than the last. 

He knew what he was doing - that much was clear - but Jack wasn’t trying to make you come. Instead, he was focused on pleasuring you, opening you up carefully. Because he’s big. Swallowing, you opened your eyes and forced out a breath, turning your head to watch him again. 

For a brief second, you considered saying fuck an even playing field and telling him you wanted his mouth. Jack would have done it without question - you could see the look in his eyes, watched the way he licked at his lips while his fingers pumped in and out of you. Even just the thought of it turned you on, and you wondered if he could tell. 

You wanted to know what it felt like to have him between your thighs, and could very clearly imagine how good the rub of his mustache against your sensitive skin would feel. Not tonight. Not this time. Not - 

“I need to fuck you.” His voice broke you out of your thoughts and when you met his gaze, Jack’s chest was heaving. “Grab the condom.” You groped for it without looking away and when you handed it over, he accepted it with one hand, the other still on you. “I can’t…” He groaned, closing his eyes and pulling his fingers out. You inhaled through your nose at the loss of contact, but Jack didn’t keep you waiting. The sound of the condom opening was followed by a quiet hiss as he rolled it on and then held it in place, squeezing himself. “I can’t hold myself up.” 

It hadn’t even occurred to you. Of course he can’t. Holding himself up would be … “Ok.” Nodding, you moved to push yourself up again. “Ok, so I’ll get on top, I -”

“No.” Jack stroked himself once, pushing his shoulders back. “I’ve got a better idea.” Gesturing with his free hand, he pointed. “Lay down on your side.” 

You thought about it for a few seconds and then did just that, rolling onto the side that would allow him to keep his injured arm free. Jack got into position behind you, his body pressed against yours. One arm slid between you and the mattress and then bent at the elbow to cross up and over your chest. He wants me close.“Wh-”

“Relax.” He kissed the back of your shoulder and then squeezed your arm. “I’ve got you.” Reaching down, he gripped your thigh and then eased your leg up and back, urging you to drape it over both of his. “This alright?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a smile on your face as your eyes closed. “It is, Jack.” He squeezed your hip and then reached between you, guiding himself into place. You held your breath in anticipation, and Jack didn’t keep you waiting. Nudging his hips forward, Jack slipped partway in - and your body did the rest. 

Rocking your hips back at the same time he pushed forward ensured that he was buried in your heat in a single, smooth stroke. You gasped at the feeling, but that reaction was nothing compared to Jack’s. He didn’t speak, instead turning his head and then ducking it so that he was pressing his lips to your throat, breath leaving him in rapid pants that warmed your skin further. 

He only gave you seconds to adjust and then he pulled back slowly, hips easing away from you before he urged them forward again, setting the pace. He gripped your hip hard, fingers digging into your skin, and for a few minutes, you let yourself get lost in him - in the way he felt and sounded and the way he was touching you, the hand on your chest sliding down so that he could cup one breast in his palm, squeezing just enough that you could feel it. 

He groaned against your neck and then bit down - not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make you whine. While you reacted to that, he moved the hand from your hip down, returning it to the space between your legs.  

That angle was better - and Jack wasted no time in zeroing in with his fingertips, circling against you with quick, precise motion. It felt good - better than good, if you were being honest - and your body fell into rhythm with Jack faster than you anticipated. But something’s… Opening your eyes, you frowned. Something’s missing.

It was just sex. You knew it was just sex, and you understood the need for the positon; Jack’s health and well-being the most important things to consider. But … “Hey, you alright?” Murmuring the words into your ear, he slowed the motion of his hips and hand, though he didn’t stop either of them entirely. “You got real… stiff.” 

“Yeah, I …” Closing your eyes, you reached up with one hand, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. “I’m fine, I just …” Moving your hips backward to meet his as he thrust forward, you sighed. “I’m not used to not doing anything, and I feel like I should b-” 

“How ‘bout this?” He kissed the underside of your jaw, saying your name as he sunk back into you. “Next time, you’re in charge?” Next time? So that means… He circled his hips slowly, but didn’t pull out, leaving you completely full of him - and waiting to see what he’d say next. “How’s that sound?” 

Twisting your upper body so that you could look up at him, you took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds … acceptable.” He laughed at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It was just a natural reaction - Jack’s response to a humorous comment - but it made your chest tight, nonetheless. I want to make him look at me like that again. You reached up then, your hand sliding along the side of his neck and then further back and into his hair, the roots damp with sweat. Jack got the hint, leaning forward until he could kiss you again. 

That time, he bit down on your lower lip, taking it between his teeth and tugging before he released it, mouth sealed over yours. It was a familiar kiss - much more familiar than you’d expected with him, but it helped to put you at ease. You nodded slowly as you kissed him back, fingers tightening in his hair as Jack’s hand resumed its previous pace - and so did the pace of his hips. 

You wanted to prolong things - wanted to extend the time you’d get to spend in bed with him, but your body had other ideas. In the space of only a minute or two, you felt the heat gathering low in your belly, your breathing quickening by the second. Jack’s hips snapped against yours, and when he groaned, you felt the vibration before he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against the side of your face. 

He was sticky with sweat, but it was the sound of his voice you focused on. You weren’t even sure that he knew he was speaking, but each word went straight to your core, your fingers closing around his forearm as your mouth fell open. “Feels amazing. So fucking good. Wanted you all week.” You did? He groaned and tilted his head so that he could kiss the top of your shoulder, and you moaned at the feeling of the edge of his nail as it grazed your skin, the motion of his hand slowing. 

That got to him. 

Jack’s hips stuttered, and when your eyes opened, you realized that it wasn’t going to be you that came first. “Oh, fuck, Jack.” Lifting your hand again, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling harder than you had earlier. “You’re right there, aren’t you? So fucking close.” He nodded, each of his exhales hot against your sticky skin. “Let me feel it.” You sighed again, turning your face away from him to press it against the blankets and biting your lip as you arched your back, forcing him in deeper. “Feel you.” 

He came without warning, a low, almost strangled moan erupting from his lips as his hips slowed, the muscles in his thighs tensing along with the ones in his abdomen. You felt the heat through the thin latex, Jack filling the condom as the pressure of his fingers between your legs increased. “Feel that?” He groaned the words out, his voice uneven. “Made me come fast because I wanted you so goddamn bad.” He grunted, continuing to move. “‘S’your turn now.” 

“Yes, I -” You stopped when he latched onto your shoulder again, the pressure of his teeth firm. Your hips jerked backward and toward his, the combination of everything he was doing too much to hold off your own orgasm any longer. 

But unlike Jack, you were vocal about it, his name tumbling from your mouth over and over even as your muscles seized around him, the heat uncoiling and spreading through your body as your hold on him tightened. Oh, fuck. 

Jack’s hand slid back down your chest and settled over your heart, and when he released your skin from between his teeth, you felt him smiling against it, even as the movement of his fingers stopped and his hips slowed. “Fuck you feel good.” Yeah, so do you. Both of you were breathing hard, but it was Jack that moved first, swiping his fingers in one more slow circle against you and causing you to jerk backwards and press against his body before he pulled his hand away. What is … 

You got your answer moments later when his damp fingers trailed over your thigh and then your hip before moving between your bodies to steady himself  as he withdrew. Humming as he pulled out, you brought your hand up to rub at your face while you caught your breath, already steeling yourself for the loss of him behind you. “Jack, I -”

“Shh.” He eased free, a long exhale hitting the back of your shoulder. “Can you move?” Move? You want me to get up? “Face me, I mean?” The question shocked you, but you did what he asked, moving your leg first and then carefully turning in his arms. “You good?” 

“Good? Yeah.” Fighting the urge to lift your hand and push the hair away from his forehead, you narrowed your eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be good?” 

“Donno. That was pretty quick.” He swallowed, the tip of his tongue emerging to wet his lips. “Didn’t mean for it to be.” You didn’t? “Sorry abut that.” He used his right hand to touch your shoulder, his eyes dropping to the skin and his lips turning downward into a frown. “I know I said you had to be careful, and then I just -”

“Don’t apologize.” You did reach up then, fingers brushing over his temple and easing the hair away from his face. “I liked it.” His eyes widened and then Jack laughed, ducking his head to kiss you quickly, his hand gripping your hip. “A lot.” Instead of backing away after the kiss, Jack stayed put, his mouth hovering just above yours. You wondered what he was waiting for - if he wanted you to say something else or if he was about to speak again, but instead of giving you too much time to consider, he acted. 

It caught you by surprise when he kissed you again, his tongue licking over the curve of your lower lip. You didn’t keep him waiting, though, angling your head and opening your mouth for him. If you only had a few minutes left before he was gone, you were going to make the most of them - and if Jack wanted to kiss you like he had no intention of leaving your bed, you sure as hell weren’t going to stop him.

Eyes closed, you kissed him back, one hand absently moving over the curve of his shoulder and then down, trailing along the muscles of his bicep. You would have liked to continue exploring his body, but Jack broke the kiss with a sigh, shaking his head.

“I’ve gotta go.” You knew it was coming but it still hurt, the sting of knowing that he was just going to leave canceling out some of the elation you felt at being in his arms. “I fucking hate to just …” Jack trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I wish I could stay.”

“You don’t have to do that, Jack.” Bringing your hand to the front of his body, you spread your fingers against his chest. “I get it.” You repositioned your shoulders, nodding. “Places to go, suitcases to pack, baseball games to play.” His eyes darkened briefly, lips falling back into a frown - but Jack recovered, smiling as he nodded at you. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” He got up as soon as you gave him permission, one hand holding the condom in place while he rolled away and then got out of the bed. You watched shamelessly as he crossed the room and then left it, pushing the door all the way open and disappearing into the hallway. As soon as you heard that door close, you sighed, rolling onto your back and covering your face with both hands. 

“Holy fuck.” You needed to get up, too. You needed to get out of the bed and get dressed, so that when Jack came back into the room, he didn’t find you laying where he’d left you. There would be plenty of time to think about him and about the time you’d spent with him after he was gone. I wonder if he’ll think about me, too. 

That question motivated you enough to get you on your feet. 

After you’d used the towel from your shower earlier to clean yourself up, you pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, glancing at yourself in the mirror after you were dressed. He’s going to need to come back in here, and he’s naked, so… 

You padded down the hallway and knocked softly on the door, letting him know that you’d be downstairs. But you didn’t wait for a reply, heading briefly into your second bathroom and then into the kitchen, pulling two bottles of water from the fridge. You downed most of one before he appeared in the doorway of your kitchen, once again dressed, though his hair was still somewhat unruly. I like it like that. 

“That for me?” He pointed at the second bottle and you nodded, sliding it across the counter. He drank from it, keeping his eyes on you. It was awkward, but only slightly, and when he finished with his water, Jack swiped a hand across his mouth and grinned at you. “Thank you, darlin’.” 

“Of course.” You sipped, shrugging. “A bottle of water is the least I can do.” 

“No, not for that.” He scratched at his cheek, keeping his eyes on you. “For today.” He’s thanking me for sex? Your expression must have fallen enough that he saw it, because Jack immediately circled the counter to where you were standing, reaching out to wind an arm around you. “No, not like that. I’m not thankin’ you for … shit. I sound like such an asshole, don’t I?” He paused, glancing up. “It was real nice to not feel like this was just a hookup because of who I am.” Oh. Oh, that’s different. 

“You’re welcome.” You reached for his hand, linking your fingers together and squeezing. “I had fun today, too.” His smile widened at your words and to your surprise, Jack pulled you into a tight hug, letting go of your hand to hold you close. You hugged him back, turning your head and pressing your cheek against his broad chest. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.” 

The words slipped out before you could stop them, but Jack agreed, taking a step back and saying your name quietly and looking directly into your eyes as he continued. “I’d like that.” There was nothing left to prolong his leaving, and when Jack turned away and toward the hallway, you followed, though not closely. “I’ll be back up here later this week, if everything goes well.” He put on one shoe and looked up at you, nodding. “Can I call you?” 

“Sure.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you bit the inside of your lip. “That would be great.” You wanted to say more, but chose not to. And when Jack stood up, patting his back pockets to make sure he had everything, you leaned against the wall, watching. I have to lock the door, it’s not like I’m hovering. “Drive safe, Jack. You’re gonna be on the road a lot this week.” 

“Yeah, I am.” He reached for the doorknob then, fingers closing around it. But before he pulled it open, Jack spun back to face you and crossed the small space, crowding you against the wall. “I know I have to go, but …” He trailed off as you tried to process what was happening, but before you could get your bearings, he was kissing you, the wall at your back and his body pressed to your front. 

Is this fucking happening? He pushed his tongue between your lips, letting out a quick breath through his nose, and then Jack’s hand slid beneath your shirt and up. His fingers splayed wide against your side, though they curled inward when you nipped at his lower lip, tugging on it. It is. And he started it and… 

You broke apart with a quiet gasp, and after Jack pressed another kiss to your mouth, he said your name, tone serious. “No maybe about it. I want to do this again.” 

Straightening up, Jack winked at you and then moved to open the door, lips curving up into the smile that you were all too familiar with. Ok. Ok, yeah. Yeah, me too. 

“Yes.” It was all you could manage - one word in a breathless exhale - but it seemed to be all he needed, because you got another grin before he stepped outside in the the still-warm darkness of the mid August summer, closing the door behind him. 

---

[stayteezdreams]

Oops?

Plot: When you and Han participate in a treasure hunt, things don't go as planned when you end up getting locked in a closet together.

Pairing: Han Jisung x Gn!Reader

Requested By: @backintomykpopphaseagain

A/n: it was originally just supposed to be crack/fun (as requested), but it also became fluffy as well

Warnings: Reader gets locked in a storage closet? That's about it.

Words: 1.5k

Han practically skipped along beside you as you read over the paper in your hands.

"Okay, so from what I can tell from the clues, the next item is in a storage closet."

Han groaned softly "Do you know how many closets are in this building?

"No, but I think we're gonna find out."

Han sighed dramatically, but quickly began heading towards the nearest storage room, energy bursting from him.

You couldn't help the giggle that erupted from your lips as he yanked open the door and dramatically bowed, motioning for you to enter first.

Leaving the room soon after, not finding your item, you wondered just how long this treasure hunt was going to take.

"Why am I even involved in this team bonding exercise again?" You asked after you checked your fourth closet.

"Because Seungmin is visiting family and couldn't do it, Chan wanted even numbers."

You hummed under your breath as you headed down the stairs towards the lower floors of the building. You noticed immediately that it got quieter, and the lighting darker.

"Ew, why is it so creepy down here?" You asked as you headed down a long hallway.

You glanced at Han who had a similar look on his face as he shook his head, and pretended to shiver in fear.

Seeing another closet, you stopped to read a sign on the door.

'Door broken. Do not close when inside.'

"Maybe it's in here."

Opening the door, you held it open before Han grabbed it "You look, I'll hold it."

Stepping in, you switched on the light and looked around. The room wasn't very big, but the shelves were full of objects. As you began to look around, you didn't notice as you backed towards a tower of boxes. Hitting it with your elbow, you gasped as the tower began to sway.

As you turned to grab the tower, stopping it from toppling, Han, without thinking, jumped forward to help. As the tower became steady, you and Han locked eyes, just as you both heard the door creaking closed.

Realization crossed your faces at the same time as you both lunged for the door, only to hear it click closed just as you reached it.

You both froze for a moment before Han took the handle and tired it, jiggling it multiple times as he pushed and pulled the door.

Furrowing his brow, he looked slowly over at you with a regretful look on his face.

"Oops?"

You sighed as you pressed your forehead against the door. Unable to help it, a laugh bubbled out, catching Han by surprise. You turned your head to look at him, and he couldn't help but smile, before laughing with you.

"I can't believe that just happened" You said between chuckles as Han copied you by pressing his forehead against the door, as he messed with the door handle again.

"It wouldn't really be a problem if Chan hadn't taken our phones before we started."

You groaned "Ugh, that's right, he did take them."

You turned and looked around the storage closet before you spotted something brown hidden behind a box.

"What are the odds someone finds us down here?" Han asked as he turned towards you.

Pulling the object out you turned back to him "Well seeing as this as both our next object and one of Hyunjin and Changbin's, pretty good."

Han's eyes widened as he looked at the two objects in your hands. In one hand you held Han's Quokka Skzoo with a blue scarf around it's neck, in the other hand, Hyunjin's ferret skzoo with a red scarf, each symbolizing your teams colors.

"So now we just have to wait?"

"Yeah! Though-" recalling how long it took Hyjunin and Changbin to even figure out what their first clue meant you felt doubtful "It might take a while."

"Why?"

"It took them until we found our third object to find their first one."

"Oh God you're right." Han sighed as he slid down the wall "We're gonna die in here."

You laughed softly as you sat down as well "Maybe someone will notice our disappearance before then."

As five minutes turned to ten, and then ten into twenty, you and Han both bean to grow worried. Trying to distract yourselves, you played game after game, in an attempt to also kill your boredom.

You and Han tossed a paper ball between you, bouncing it, trying to keep it in the air as long as you could. As Han nearly fell over trying to reach it, it hit the ground and you both let out sighs.

"Fifty-six, not a bad streak." You hummed, but made no movement to grab the ball.

Han stayed lying on his side on the ground as he looked at you. You noticed his eyes lingering a bit longer than normal.

You tilted your head "What?"

"I'm trying to think of a game we could play."

"Who can scream the loudest so someone can find us?" You suggeting half-heartedly.

Han rose his brow and you rose your hand "Please don't, I already have a headache"

He huffed out softly as he sat up "What about, what if?"

"What?"

"What if. I give you a scenario like...what if a zombie apocalypse broke out tomorrow. And you tell me what you would do."

"Oh." You thought about it for a moment "Sure okay. Is that the first what if?"

"No no, let me think of something else."

After a dozen bizarre scenarios you stared up at the ceiling trying to think of another.

Han stared at you for a few minutes, before looking down at his feet, which were now flat against yours as you both sat with your backs against opposite walls.

He pressed his feet against yours to get your attention "I have one."

You gave him your attention and he suddenly felt shy "What if...one of the members had a crush on you?"

You felt your heart jump at this. It was so different than the ones he had given you before.

What if you found a genie and he only gave you one wish.

What if you could only save one of us in a fire.

What if you were turned into a fish.

But now this one? This time it seemed serious. Did one of the members have a crush on you? Was it the same member you had a crush on?

"I- would give them a chance, I suppose."

"A chance?" He asked curiosly

"Yeah. Maybe. Depending on who it was I think."

"Okay. What if it was Bang Chan?"

"Uhm, I don't know. We're more like siblings than anything, I'm not sure."

"What if it was Lee Know?"

"I would be surprised, I don't think I'm his type."

"What if it was Changbin?"

You let out a somewhat bewildered chuckle "Han"

You thought you might know where this was leading. You thought maybe, just maybe, Han was the one who had a crush on you. Would this be the day you revealed you had a crush on him too?

He chuckled "Okay okay, just one more."

"...Okay"

"What if, it was me?" his voice was softer than before, filled with uncertainty.

After a moment of silence, as your heart hammered in your chest, you spoke softly "Then I would say I felt the same."

Han nearly stumbled as he moved to his knees, his eyes widening "Really!?"

You jumped back slightly at his sudden movements and loud voice, but you chuckled "Yeah?" you twiddled with your fingers "Is it you that has a crush on me? I mean, you were being serious about the crush thing right?"

He nodded fervently as he moved to sit beside you "Yeah, yeah. I just. Really didn't know if you felt the same."

You let out a soft laugh as you looked down at your hands, suddenly nervous that he sat right beside you.

"So..." he said softly

You looked up and met his eyes, as he stared deeply into yours before he spoke "What if- what if I asked you on a date?"

A small smile ghosted your lips "I'd say yes."

He opened his mouth to speak as a smile started to form, but before he could talk, you both jumped when the door was yanked open.

Looking up, you saw Hyunjin and Changbin appear, bickering as they stepped into the closet. Seeing you, they halted, confusion across their faces.

"What are you doing in here?" Hyunjin asked as Changbin stepped in with an amused yet confused look on his face.

Seeing the door beginning to close, you and Han both jumped up "The door!"

Changbin and Hyunjin turned back, startled as the door clicked shut, leaving a resounding silence over you all.

"Oops." Changbin muttered.

You and Han, frozen in place, both let out a loud sigh as you dropped back to the floor, backs hitting the shelves behind you.

Hyunjin and Changbin began trying to door handle, pushing and pulling just as Han had done before.

"Why did you close the door"?" Hyunjin began as they started to bicker.

Feeling Han's hand suddenly slip over top of yours, you looked over at him as an amused and knowing smile pulled at his lips.

You may be stuck in a storage closet for who knows how long, with three of the loudest people you've ever met, but at least something good came out of it.

xx End xx

I have taglists for any member (or everyone) if you want to be tagged in future fics/content if anyone wants to be added :)

[sydsaint]

Summary: The Bloodline finds a surprise waiting for them in the locker room during a Smackdown show. But Solo is the only one with insider knowledge as to why the reader is there.

"Thank you, Mr. Aldis. Pleasure doing business with you." You grin at the new Smackdown GM as he unlocks the locker room door for you. 

"Of course, Miss L/N. I trust that this little favor won't get back to me anytime soon?" He asks you with a discreet smile. 

You laugh and grab the doorknob to the locker room. "You can count on me, Mr. Aldis. I'll see you around boss." You wink at him. 

"Take care, Miss L/N." Aldis nods. "I wish you well in whatever endeavors you've got planned in there." He adds before he walks away. 

Aldis walks off and you glance one last time at the sticker placed on the locker room door. The Bloodline. You slip inside the room and shut the door behind you. 

Inside the spacious locker room, you make a pass around the room looking at everything set up for the Tribal Chief and his family of goons. Once you've lost interest in messing with stuff, you plop down into the leather seat that you always see Roman sitting in during promo's, and the waiting game begins. 

Around 15 minutes later, Roman, Solo, Jimmy, and Paul all head to the locker room for Smackdown. Jimmy grabs the door for Roman since he's at the front of the pack and swings it open. 

"What the hell!?" Jimmy locks eyes with you as soon as the door is opened. 

"What's wrong?" Roman steps up next to Jimmy and peers inside the room to find you lounging in his chair on your phone. 

You peer over your phone with a casual smile and wave a free hand at the group. "Evening, everyone." You greet them. 

"Get out of that chair!" Jimmy crosses the room and comes to a stop right in front of you. "How the hell did you even get in here?" He questions you with a growl. 

"That information is strictly need to know, Jimmy." You reply. "And you don't need to know." 

Roman remains in the doorway whispering with Paul and Solo stands at their side silently. You watch them whispering to one another and roll your eyes. "Roman! Paul! No need to keep secrets! We're all friends here, right?" You tease them and move into a sitting position. 

"Solo." Roman turns to his younger cousin. "Take care of this. Now." He demands in a firm and annoyed tone. 

"Yeah, Solo. Come handle your business." You continue your teasing with a grin. 

Jimmy steps off to the side and you watch Solo move across the room with purpose. He comes to a stop in front of you and stares down at you with that sour expression of his. "You gonna get up? Or you gonna make me move you?" He asks you. 

"This chair is insanely comfortable." You reply with a giggle. "So I think that I'll stay." You lean back into the leather. 

You watch Solo's mouth twitch and you know that he's fighting for his life to hide an amused smile from Roman. The two of you stare at one another for a moment, but you don't budge from your seat. Fed up with your games, Solo leans down and hauls you out of the chair with ease. He tosses you over his shoulder with no wasted motion and makes his way back across the room. 

"What do you want me to do with her?" Solo stops in the doorway with you still tossed over his shoulder. 

"Ooo, yeah, what's my punishment for daring to sit in the boss's chair?" You laugh. 

Roman glares at your abhorrent behavior and sneers at you before he turns back to Solo. Make sure that she gets back where she belongs. And find out how she got in here in the first place." He orders Solo. 

Sikoa nods and heads out the door with you. The locker room door slams shut as you are being carted off and Solo takes you down the hall a ways before he lets you go. You get set back on your feet and smile at him. 

"You're insane." Solo comments as he crosses his arms at you. 

"You weren't answering my texts." You shrug. "And I wanted to talk to you." You inform him, 

Solo grits his teeth and shakes his head at you. "If you wanted to talk all you had to do was come by the locker room and ask for me." He reminds you. 

"I know." You nod. "But what's the fun that?" 

Solo lets out another frustrated sigh and gestures for you to start walking. "I lost my phone at the airport." He explains. "That's why I wasn't answering you. What was so important anyway?" He asks you. 

"I was going to tell you that Austin and Grayson have been bothering me again." You answer. "But since you don't seem to care," You tease him. 

"Again?" Solo growls, reaching for your hand. He pulls you close to him without warning. "How many times do those losers need to see me with you to get the hint?"

You shrug, snaking an arm around the back of Solo's neck. "What can I say? I'm just that alluring." You joke. "But really, Solo. I know it's a pain in the ass, but those two need to be taught a lesson. It's the only way they'll leave me alone." 

"Yeah, I know." Solo sighs and leans down a bit to close the remaining gap between the two of you. He kisses you gently before letting you go. "Head on back to the girl's locker room and stay there for the show." He asks you. "I'll take care of Waller and Theory."

"Thank you, Solo!" You beam and kiss his cheek. 

Solo rolls his eyes playfully and gives you a small push to get you moving. "Mhm. And hey, no more breaking into the locker room!" He adds firmly. 

"No promises!" You call out. 

[archiveoftara]

Dilemma

Part 1

"How do I look?"

You stood there fidgeting with your necklace.

Lucy let out a small gasp, "Absolutely stunning."

You stared at your reflection, admiring the fabric clinging to your curves. You'd bought this little black dress ages ago, its hem stopping just above the knee. Shyness had always kept you from wearing it, but Lucy insisted you put it on tonight.

"By the way, what's the occasion anyway?"

"Oh you will soon find out."

"Lucy. Y/n" George yells from downstairs.

"We're getting late."

You bid your friends goodbye as you leave for the mystery place.

After a peaceful taxi ride, you find yourself standing in front of a fancy restaurant.

Am I at the right place?

A rush of cool air hit your face as you stepped into the restaurant. You felt your heart pounding against your ribs. You took another moment to calm yourself while you took a quick scan of the room.

And then, you saw a familiar wave cutting through the sea of faces. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

Anthony Lockwood? What is he doing here?

"Lockwood?"

"Y/n." His voice, rich and warm, cut through the low hum of the restaurant.

He pulled out a chair with a smooth, practiced motion, the epitome of old-world charm. Classic Lockwood

"You look ravishing."

A warm blush crept onto your cheeks as you whispered a small "thank you" to Lockwood. His eyes, intense and captivating, held yours for a moment too long, making you feel both flattered and a little overwhelmed. You forced yourself to look away or else you would have a heart attack.

"So do you, Lockwood," you compliment the handsome agent. He's always in formals, but today he looks different. Dashing and hot in a deep navy blue suit with a white shirt and a silver tie.

"So it's just you and me I guess."

"Just you and me." He said.

Little did you know, your best friends were perched like hawks at a nearby table, their eyes glued to your every move.

"What would you like to have?"

With a peaceful dinner and plenty of laughter and conversation, you felt incredibly happy to be spending time alone with him. It might be the first time you've found yourself in his company without interruptions from your other friends. You don't want to seem ungrateful, but you're actually really enjoying his company.

The fellow agents' eyes were locked on Lockwood, their silent demands echoing across the room. George and Lucy, their faces etched with urgency, were subtly urging him to spill the beans. A cold sweat broke out on Lockwood's brow as he met their intense gaze, his throat suddenly parched.

"I've been meaning to tell you something for a really long time"

"Yeah, go ahead." You smiled.

He took a deep breath and began

"Y/N, I've been trying to find the right words for what feels like forever." He takes your hand. "Every time I look at you, my mind goes blank. From the moment you walked into my life, I've been captivated by your laugh, your intelligence, everything. I've admired you from afar, but now I can't pretend anymore. I'm in love with you. Will you please give me a chance?"

Your heart pounded in your ears.

Lockwood? LOCKWOOD?

The words hung in the air, thick with disbelief. Your hotshot, clumsy boss was confessing his love? Your mind raced as you tried to process the shock.

A lump formed in your throat as a tear escaped your eye. Managing a small nod, you tried to compose yourself.

"YES!"

You turn around to find Lucy practically levitating in her seat, her eyes wide with excitement. George wore a smug face that said it all.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"Finally we are free from all the yearning and pinning." Lucy sat beside you.

"Congrats mate, you finally became a man and confessed." George pats Lockwood's shoulder.

"It was all your plan?"

"We're so sorry for lying to you," George started, his face flushed. Lucy nodded frantically. "We had no choice. Lockwood here is a bigger scaredy-cat than a kitten."

A soft smile touched your lips. The shock was slowly replaced by a warmth that was both unexpected and comforting.

Your eyes met his, and in that moment, you saw a side of him you never saw before.

And there, in that moment, amidst the chaos and laughter, something sparked.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something beautiful.

I'm sorry it's not the best ending. I'll try better next time. I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to leave a comment. I love talking to you. I'll see you in the next chapter. Love you xoxo 😘😘

Word count: 794

[dexterity8]

Worthmore

11 — Vicissitude

Hogwarts hummed with the quiet stillness of night, its grand halls now emptied of bustling students and lively chatter. Only the occasional flickering torch or the faint echoes of a shifting suit of armor broke the silence.

And then—the chime.

The great clock tolled its final note for the evening, a solemn, resonant sound that rolled through the stone corridors like a distant thunderclap. The weight of curfew settled over the castle, locking its students within the safety of their common rooms. But April was already wide awake, anticipation pressing against her ribs so intensely she thought it would suffocate her.

During dinner, Ominis had tried—one last time—to dissuade her. His voice was calm but insistent, laced with quiet concern. But she had merely smiled at him, unwavering, her decision long since made.

And now, it was time.

When the rest of her dorm mates had long since surrendered to sleep, she set her escape plan into motion. Every movement April made was deliberate, precise—the practiced art of a rule-breaker who was only just discovering she had it in her. She slid out from beneath her blankets, feet pressing soundlessly against the cool floor. Each breath was measured as she tiptoed past slumbering figures, past the lull of dreams and into the waking night.

The common room almost looked eerie this empty, bathed in the soft glow of the moon spilling from the windows as April reached the door. With one last glance over her shoulder—half-expecting to hear someone call her name—she stepped through, pulling it closed behind her with barely a whisper of sound.

Then, with a quick, deliberate flick of her wand—Disillusionment.

The magic washed over her, wrapping around her form like a second skin, a perfect cloak of deception. Her presence melted away into the castle's stone walls, rendering her nothing more than a ripple in the air. It was exhilarating, in a way—this kind of defiance. A thrill, a secret, a challenge.

Well, perhaps not much of a challenge. Because her escape was seamless.

Surprisingly so.

Navigating the castle's corridors proved easier than she had imagined. The prefects made their rounds, their wandlight casting long, vigilant beams through the halls, but April remained unseen, slipping past them with barely a breath of hesitation. Even Peeves, who'd been floating idly near a staircase, failed to notice her, his usual mischief wasted on the empty air where she stood.

By the time she slipped through the great oak entrance doors and into the crisp night air, the tension in her shoulders eased. She'd done it.

She was free.

And soon, so would Ollie be.

She flicked her wand again, and the magic concealing her melted away, leaving her visible once more beneath the vast, moonlit sky. The stars overhead were endless, scattered across the sky like celestial freckles. And the moon—full and luminous—watched her knowingly as she bolted to Professor Howin's cottage, her excitement simmering uncontrollably in her veins.

Ollie, who'd been curled in his pen since she'd left, perked up instantly when she ran over. The moment his wide, gleaming eyes locked onto hers, a chirp of recognition left his snout.

April grinned, slightly breathless. "Hey, little guy."

She unlatched the gate as quietly as possible, the metal hinge barely making a whisper. When the door cracked open, Ollie didn't hesitate—he trotted straight to her, nuzzling her leg with a joyful warble. His energy had shifted entirely, the melancholy that had weighed him down since that morning now shedding away.

April let out a soft laugh, kneeling to scratch beneath his chin. "I take it you know where we're going."

Ollie trilled.

"Come on, then."

She straightened, gesturing for him to follow. With each step away from the castle, her excitement grew, the thrill of it all bubbling beneath her skin. Above them, the full moon beamed like a watchful guardian, illuminating their path as they made their way toward the forest.

April had never felt more alive.

And when they reached the clearing—the very spot where she had found him all those years ago—she exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

This was it.

She turned to Ollie, her voice unguarded and encouraging. "Go on, then."

For a moment, he hesitated. But then—

He danced.

It was instantaneous, as if he had merely been waiting for permission. His small, sturdy frame moved with a joy so pure, so uninhibited, it was infectious. He pranced and twirled, leaping in elegant, sweeping arcs, his luminous eyes reflecting the moon's glow. The silver light caught on his fur, making him look almost ethereal, like a creature spun from stardust.

April's heart ached at the sight.

Because he was happy. Truly, undeniably happy.

And so was she.

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, pure and unrestrained. Before she could think better of it, she joined him, her feet moving in reckless abandon.

She chased him, twirling through the moonlit grass, her breath coming in joyful gasps. Ollie spun and hopped around her, his delighted chirps filling the air, matching her laughter in perfect harmony. The wind rushed past them, cool against flushed skin, and for the first time in forever, she felt utterly, completely free.

Nothing else mattered.

Not her responsibilities. Not the rules she was breaking. Not the ominous warning that had loomed over her all day.

They spiraled, danced, weaved around each other, filling the silent night with joyous, unfiltered laughter.

April couldn't remember the last time she had laughed like this. Her lungs burned from running, but she didn't care. Her feet ached, but she hardly noticed. Every ounce of her was too lost in this euphoria, in the sheer joy of existing in this night, in this space, with the little creature who had somehow become her greatest companion.

Between breathless giggles, she rambled—more to herself than to anyone else. "This is perfect. Absolutely perfect." She twirled, arms outstretched, staring up at the endless sky. "See, Ollie? No tragedy, no misfortune. Just us. Just this."

Ollie trilled in agreement, prancing beside her.

April's smile softened.

"I love you, you know that?" she said between breaths. "Words really can't explain how much I care about you, Ollie."

Ollie chirped, his large, gleaming eyes blinking affectionately at her. He didn't understand the depth of her words, but he understood her.

She had spent so long aching for something she didn't even know she was missing. The comfort of companionship, the reassurance of presence. And looking at Ollie now, she realized—

Maybe she'd been seeing herself in him.

Abandoned, perhaps not by both parents but feeling the isolation in equal parts regardless. This must've been what her mother felt like, relishing in the joy her daughter brought her despite the absence that lingered.

But right now, she didn't want to think about that.

Because in that moment, they were everything to each other.

And nothing—nothing—could take this from—

SNAP!

The sharp crack of a branch shattered the fragile tranquility like a mirror breaking under force. April's heart leapt to her throat as she turned on instinct, eyes wide, breath caught. And then she saw them.

Three figures emerged from the black maw of the forest, their silhouettes cutting sharply against the moon's pale light.

Poachers.

She knew it instantly. The way they carried themselves—unhurried, assured, as if they'd already won. Their masks, beastly and intricately crafted, hiding faces she was certain she never wanted to see. The tallest of the three was a brute of a man, his disheveled clothing barely concealing the thick muscle beneath. His owl mask was the most unsettling of the three. Hollowed-out eyes stared at her, empty yet suffocating, as if they saw something inside her worth tearing apart.

A woman stood opposite of him, clad in layered purples, an elegant, flowing contrast to the rigidity in her posture. The sharp contours of her wolf mask caught the moonlight in glints of pale grey, her presence exuding something animalistic, primal.

And then there was the man in the center. The one who spoke first.

His attire was refined—too refined. A pristine yellow coat draped over his shoulders, polished boots sinking into the damp forest floor. His crow mask barely obscured the wild curls spilling a little past his shoulders, streaked with a single slash of white.

"You must be either very brave or very stupid to be out here alone," the man mused, tilting his head as if he were observing something peculiar. "A Ravenclaw, no less."

April swallowed hard, her pulse a rapid thrum in her throat. She wanted to run, to disappear, but Ollie stood behind her, completely oblivious to the imminent danger, and her body moved before she could think. She stepped in front of him protectively, shielding him with her own trembling form, her hands instinctively spreading out as if her small frame could ever be enough to keep him safe.

Damn it. Damn it all.

She had been so stupid. Ominis had tried to stop her. Nearly everyone had. And she hadn't listened. Now, standing here, with Ollie pressed against her back and these masked figures closing in, she knew she had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

But she stood her ground nonetheless, forcing herself to meet the faceless voids of their masks.

The man in the crow mask suddenly took a step forward, tapping his wand against the palm of his hand nonchalantly. "Tell me, little bird, do you make a habit of wandering into danger? Or are you just particularly fond of testing your luck?"

April's throat was dry, but before she could respond, the woman beside him let out a laugh—sharp, unkind, brimming with cruelty.

"Oh, she's shaking," the wolf-masked woman cooed mockingly. "Poor thing's scared out of her mind. What did you think was going to happen, sweetheart? Did you think you'd come prancing out here, all alone in the dead of night, and not run into something nasty?"

April clenched her fists, willing herself not to let their words cut deeper than they already had. This wasn't about her. This was about Ollie.

"What do you want?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper, fighting to sound braver than she felt.

The crow-masked man didn't hesitate. He raised a gloved hand and pointed, with all the indifference of someone requesting a cup of tea, at the mooncalf behind her. "That one. His fur will fetch quite a price."

April's blood turned to ice.

She shook her head before she even realized she was doing it, her body shifting to press Ollie further behind her. "No," she breathed, then louder, more forceful, "No. You're not taking him."

The man sighed, as if this was all dreadfully inconvenient. "See, we expected you to be difficult. Most sentimental types are. But we don't have time to play nice."

April knew what was coming before it happened.

She lunged, grabbing Ollie with trembling hands, ready to run, to fight, to do anything—but the owl-masked man was faster. A crushing grip seized her arms, yanking her back, trapping her. Ollie screamed—a gut-wrenching, ear-splitting sound—as the crow-masked man grabbed him by the scruff and yanked.

April lost it.

"No—NO! Let him go! Please!"

She thrashed violently, nails clawing against the owl-masked brute holding her, but he was a stone wall, immovable. Ollie shrieked and kicked, his small body writhing in the crow-masked man's grip, his panicked cries merging with April's own as she sobbed, pleaded, begged.

She didn't care how pathetic she sounded. She didn't care how weak she looked. She would get on her knees if she had to. Anything—anything to stop this.

"Please, please don't hurt him, please—"

Ollie kept crying, fighting against the grip that held him captive. April's sobs broke into breathless, hysterical gasps, her entire world spiraling into a frantic, unbearable nightmare.

The crow-masked man suddenly inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if absorbing the night air, and then—

Green light.

A flash.

A silence so thick it was suffocating.

April couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't think.

The moment stretched into eternity, her mind frozen in a space between before and after.

And then, the spell dissipated.

Ollie crumpled to the ground.

April's world shattered.

Her breath hitched, her body quaking with a terror she had never known, as she stared at the tiny, lifeless body on the ground.

His beady eyes, once so full of wonder and joy, were empty. Staring. Unseeing. Dead.

April screamed.

It wasn't a sound of anger, or even grief—it was something primal, something inhuman. A wail ripped from the depths of her chest, raw, broken, the sound of something being torn apart from the inside. It was agony made tangible, a guttural scream of sorrow so uncontrollable it rattled the very bones of the earth. She dropped to her knees, crawling forward with trembling hands, reaching for Ollie like as if she could just touch him, she could pull him back. He wasn't dead. He couldn't be dead.

But he was cold.

Gone.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

She was sobbing so violently that she could barely hear the laughter around her. The jeers.

"You really brought this on yourself, darling," the wolf-masked woman sneered. "Did you really think you could parade around with a creature like that and not face consequences? You're pathetic."

April sobbed, shaking her head violently. "No... no, please—“

She could barely register anything through the static in her head.

Nothing mattered.

Nothing—

Her body suddenly acted on pure, frenzied instinct. One arm wrenched free from the brute's grasp, and in her blind desperation, she lashed out. She struck something—someone—the woman, if the sharp intake of breath was anything to go by.

A terrible, terrible mistake.

The woman let out a low snarl. And then, without hesitation, a fist—gloved, bladed—collided with her face.

A sickening crack split through the air as metal tore through skin. The force of the impact sent her reeling backward, her body hitting the ground hard. A fresh wave of agony bloomed across her nose, wet and hot, mingling with the salt of her tears.

She could taste the blood in her mouth.

Could feel it trickling down her face, warm and sticky.

The world spun.

Somewhere above her, laughter rang out. Cruel. Unforgiving.

April Worthmore did not move.

She just lay there, bleeding into the earth, drowning in grief.

The wolf-masked woman's voice rang out again, grating and laced with venom. She shouted things April could barely understand, each syllable a knife twisting deeper into wounds both seen and unseen.

"Pathetic little girl," the woman sneered. "Crying over a dead rat like it was ever going to live forever. This is what happens when you act like a stupid, sentimental brat.”

April was too weak to even recoil when the woman crouched beside her. She didn't notice what was happening until she heard the sharp snap of wood.

The sound barely registered, but her gaze, clouded and unfocused, drifted down just in time to see her wand—her last, pathetic shred of defense—broken in two, the splintered halves tossed to the dirt like garbage. Just like Ollie.

A strangled sob caught in her throat, but she was too weak to even cry out. She wanted to, god, she wanted to, but her voice was gone. Stolen, just like everything else.

Then, the woman said something that made April's insides shrivel.

"Why don't we really teach this little vermin a lesson? I'd wager the torture curse could set her straight."

The suggestion alone sent a frigid dagger of terror through her chest. The other two poachers seemed to consider it for all of a second before deciding it was a grand idea. Why not? They had nothing better to do, and April was already nothing but a pitiful heap on the forest floor.

Her lips parted, desperate to plead, to beg, to do something—

But she didn't get the chance.

"Crucio!"

The first curse slammed into her like molten iron, searing through her veins and setting every nerve in her body alight. She screamed. God, she screamed, her voice shattering into raw, agonized sobs as her limbs jolted uncontrollably. The pain was unlike anything she'd ever known, a torture so absolute that she couldn't even think. It ripped through her, setting fire to every fiber of her being.

Then it stopped. Just long enough for her body to slump back into the dirt, twitching.

Then, another voice muttered the curse.

The second wave of pain crashed into her, even worse than the first. The world dissolved into blinding agony. April wasn't sure if she was still screaming anymore. It was too much, too unbearable.

And they didn't stop.

They all took turns, watching her writhe like some sick form of entertainment as the bright red beams hurled at her from every direction. She wasn't human to them. She was a lesson. A warning. This is what happened when you disobeyed.

Her fingers curled weakly in the dirt. Her own voice sounded so distant now, breaking apart into hoarse, helpless sobs. She didn't even have the strength to flinch anymore, her body so mangled by pain that it all just blurred together.

Maybe she really was going to die here.

And maybe... maybe that was okay.

Her mind drifted, somewhere between consciousness and oblivion, and for a fleeting moment, she thought she saw Ollie again, standing in the clearing. His beady, bulging eyes were bright with life again, filled with warmth and wonder, just like before.

She reached for him.

But then he was gone.

April’s chest caved in. Her mind was playing tricks on her. She didn't want to wake up again. Not without him. What was the point? She deserved this. This is what happens when you're selfish. When you get innocent creatures killed.

She deserved to die.

But then—

The curses stopped.

April barely noticed at first, her body still jerking involuntarily, muscles locked in agony. It took a moment for her brain to register the sudden silence, the absence of searing pain.

Why?

With the last ounce of strength she possessed, she forced her head to turn, her swollen eyes barely able to focus. The poachers were moving—no, they were leaving. Disappearing one by one into the night, vanishing like ghosts.

But they didn't leave alone.

Somewhere, through the haze of fading consciousness, she heard the unmistakable sound of something being dragged through the dirt. A heavy weight—small, limp. The realization dawned upon her, too distant to fully grasp, but it cut through her soul all the same.

They were taking Ollie.

Even now, even in death, they were stealing him from her.

A fresh sob choked in her throat, but she was too far gone to let it out.

She barely realized one of the poachers had lingered.

The man in the crow mask stood motionless, looking at her. No, not just looking—staring. And through the slits of his mask, she caught the faintest glimpse of something that made her stomach twist.

Green.

Two vivid green orbs. Piercing. Calculating.

Even through her haze, she swore there was something in them. Something familiar.

But before she could comprehend it, he was gone.

And she—

She let go.

The darkness took her under, cradling her in its merciful grasp.

And for the first time, she prayed it kept her.

[breederking]

TW teacher and student relationship, student is 18+ but still young

(Part 5)

As his pregnancy progressed, Sawyer found comfort in the predictable routine of their days. The swell of his belly grew more pronounced with each passing week, stretching the fabric of his clothes taut. He was thankful for the privacy the professor's house afforded, allowing him to grow without the prying eyes of his classmates or the judgmental whispers of the college community. The fear of childbirth grew with each kick from within, a reminder that their son would soon be making his grand entrance into the world.

The doctor's appointment was a milestone they approached with excitement and a touch of trepidation. Sawyer lay on the exam table, his belly smeared with cold gel, as the ultrasound technician moved the wand over his skin. The screen flickered to life, displaying the image of their son in stark black and white. He was a whirlwind of motion, his tiny fists and legs punching and kicking, a clear indication of his robust health. The technician offered a knowing smile, nodding in approval. "Looks like you've got a strong one in there," she said, her voice cheerful.

Dr. Daniels sat by Sawyer's side, his hand resting protectively on the side of the swollen mound of his belly. His eyes were glued to the screen, watching in awe as their child danced within him. The doctor's words echoed in his mind, a reminder of the promise they had made to each other. "He's a big boy. He's looking to be a bit larger than most," the technician continued, her voice taking on a slightly concerned tone. "I'd recommend scheduling a C-section for the next week or so."

Sawyer felt his stomach drop at the news, his eyes widening in panic. "But I-I was planning on a natural birth," he stuttered, his hands moving protectively to cover his belly. "Is something wrong?"

Dr. Daniels' grip tightened, his thumb gently stroking the side of Sawyer's hand. "It's okay, love," he said, his voice calm and soothing. "We'll do whatever's best for the baby." He turned to the technician, his expression firm. "We'll schedule the C-section. Thank you for your concern."

The rest of the appointment passed in a blur, with instructions and post-birth appointment dates flying by too quickly for Sawyer to fully absorb. The gravity of the situation didn't fully set in until they were back in the car, the quiet hum of the engine the only sound between them. "I'm scared," Sawyer admitted, his voice shaking. "I don't want surgery. And a week is so soon."

Dr. Daniels reached over to squeeze his hand, his eyes never leaving the road. "You're strong, baby," he assured him. "You've got this. And I'll be there with you every step of the way." His confidence was like a balm, soothing Sawyer's nerves. "We're going to have a beautiful son, and we're going to be amazing dads."

The next week passed in a whirlwind of preparation. They stocked up on baby supplies, the house stocked enough for a whole daycare. Dr. Daniels took care of the medical paperwork, his efficiency a stark contrast to Sawyer's fumbling attempts to navigate the healthcare system. The night before the scheduled C-section, they sat together on the couch, surrounded by baby blankets and tiny outfits, their eyes reflecting a mix of excitement and fear.

"You're going to be a great father," Sawyer said, his hand tracing the contours of Dr. Daniels' face. The professor leaned into the touch, his eyes filled with warmth.

"And you're going to be an amazing father," Dr. Daniels replied, his thumb brushing over Sawyer's plump lower lip. "Our little boy is lucky to have you."

Their eyes locked, and Sawyer felt a surge of love and need that was almost painful in its intensity. He leaned into the professor, his mouth seeking the warmth and comfort he had come to crave. Their kiss grew more urgent as Dr. Daniels' hand moved to caress Sawyer's swollen belly, his touch gentle yet firm.

Sawyer moaned softly, his hands moving to rest on his belly as well. The connection was overwhelming, a physical manifestation of the bond that had grown between them over the last 9 months. Dr. Daniels' hand slid up to Sawyer's chest, his thumb tracing the outline of a nipple that had grown sensitive with the pregnancy. The touch sent a jolt of pleasure through Sawyer's body, making him arch into the professor's hand.

The kissing grew more intense, their mouths moving in a silent symphony of passion. Dr. Daniels' hands slid under Sawyer's shirt, pushing it up over his head in a swift movement that left him exposed and vulnerable. Sawyer's eyes fluttered shut as the cool air kissed his overheated skin, his body trembling with anticipation. The professor's eyes raked over him, taking in the new contours of his body with a hunger that made Sawyer's skin prickle.

With a soft growl, Dr. Daniels's hands moved to his own shirt, deftly undoing the buttons and shrugging it off. His muscular chest was a glorious sight, a landscape of tanned skin and defined muscles that made Sawyer's mouth water. He reached out, his hands shaking, to trace the contours of the professor's pectorals, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath his fingertips. The warmth of the man's skin against his own sent a shiver of pleasure through him, his pregnant belly tightening with every touch.

Their bodies pressed together, the firmness of the professor's erection a stark contrast to the softness of Sawyer's belly. It was a dance they had performed countless times, a ritual that had become a silent declaration of love and ownership. Sawyer's hands moved to the professor's belt, fumbling with the buckle in his haste to feel the hardness that awaited him. Dr. Daniels chuckled, his breath hot against Sawyer's neck as he helped him, his own hands deft and sure.

Their clothes fell away, revealing the beauty of two men in love, one growing life within him. The sight of Sawyer's pregnant form seemed to only amplify Dr. Daniels' desire, his eyes darkening with passion as he took in every inch of his lover. He kissed Sawyer's neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making the younger man moan and arch into his touch. The professor's hand moved lower, cupping the swollen mound of his belly, his fingers tracing the line of his newfound curves with a reverence that made Sawyer's heart swell.

Dr. Daniels laid down, his cock standing at attention, a clear sign of his need for his young lover. Sawyer straddled him, his knees sinking into the soft material as he positioned himself over the professor's erection. The head of Dr. Daniels' cock nudged against his swollen pussy, the contact sending a bolt of pleasure through him. He leaned forward, his hands on the professor's broad shoulders, and lowered himself slowly, savoring every inch as the man filled him completely.

With a deep sigh, Sawyer began to rock his hips, the sensation of being filled both comforting and thrilling. Dr. Daniels' hands rested on his thighs, his thumbs tracing the sensitive skin, urging him to move faster. The professor's eyes never left Sawyer's face, his gaze a mix of hunger and adoration. Sawyer felt a swell of love and desire, his body responding to the silent communication between them. He leaned back, his hands finding the professor's firm thighs, his nails digging in as he picked up the pace.

The sound of their skin slapping together filled the room, a rhythmic symphony that grew louder with each passing second. The pressure built within Sawyer, the pleasure coiling tightly in his belly, his breaths coming in ragged pants. His body was a maelstrom of sensations, his mind a blur of love and need. He brought his hands up to his chest, his fingers finding the sensitive peaks of his nipples. He squeezed, the feeling sending a jolt of pleasure straight to his core, his body responding with a gush of milk that painted his belly, and the professor's chest.

Dr. Daniels groaned, his eyes never leaving Sawyer's face as he watched the young man's chest spurt with each bounce. The sight was more erotic than he could have ever imagined, a testament to the depth of their connection. His hands moved to support Sawyer's hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh as he began to thrust upward, meeting the younger man's movements with a fervor that matched his own.

The room grew hot with the scent of their desire, their bodies slick with sweat and the remnants of Sawyer's milk. The young man's moans grew louder, his breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as he rode the professor's cock. The weight of their unborn son between them only added to the intensity, a silent reminder of the life they had created together. The leaks of milk from Sawyer's swollen breasts grew more frequent, the warm liquid pooling on Dr. Daniels' chest, a symbol of their shared passion and the life they were bringing into the world.

Sawyer's belly was indeed heavy, a testament to the growing child within him. It rested on Dr. Daniels' abs, not even lifting as he bounced on the professor's cock. The weight of their son, pressing down on his abdomen, only added to the fullness he felt, the stretch and burn of his body accommodating the life that grew within him. It was a sensation that was both erotic and overwhelming, a reminder that he was carrying their legacy.

Their rhythm slowed, the urgency of earlier moments replaced by a tender, lingering passion. Dr. Daniels' hands slid to Sawyer's waist, his grip firm yet gentle as he guided the younger man's movements, his eyes never leaving the swell of his belly. "Let's make this last," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "I want to enjoy every second of this. You're perfect like this."

Sawyer whined, his hips still instinctively seeking more, his body desperate to reach that peak of pleasure. But the weight of his belly was a constant presence, a reminder of the life they had created together. He leaned forward, his hands finding purchase on the professor's broad shoulders. The change in angle sent a new wave of sensation through him, the pressure on his cervix intense and exquisite.

Dr. Daniels' eyes never left Sawyer's face, his gaze a mix of love and desire. He watched as the young man's eyes rolled back, his mouth forming a silent scream of pleasure. The sound was a siren's call, and the professor's hips responded, his thrusts growing deeper, more urgent. The couch thumped against the wall in a steady rhythm, the only sound in the room aside from their panting breaths.

Sawyer's orgasm built like a crescendo, the pressure in his belly growing until it was almost too much to bear. He clutched at the professor's shoulders, his nails digging into the taut skin as he threw his head back, his body bowing with the force of his climax. Milk dribbled from his nipples, a warm, sticky mess that rolled off his swollen belly, landing on the professor's chest and stomach. Dr. Daniels groaned, his eyes darkening with need as he watched the display of raw, unbridled passion.

Their movements grew more frantic, the air in the room thick with the scent of their arousal. Sawyer's cries grew more desperate, his body tightening around the professor's cock as he rode out the waves of pleasure. Dr. Daniels could feel his own orgasm approaching, the tightness of Sawyer's channel a delicious pressure that sent him over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep within Sawyer, his seed spilling into the younger man's fertile depths.

Sawyer's eyes snapped open, his vision swimming with colors as his climax hit like a meteor shower. His pussy clenched around the professor's cock, milking him for every drop of his essence. And then, with a force that surprised even him, a shocking flood of fluid erupted from his body, soaking the couch and the professor's cock. Dr. Daniels' eyes widened in surprise, but he never faltered, his grip on Sawyer's hips tightening as he continued to pump into him, filling him with warmth.

The sudden wetness between them brought Sawyer back to reality with a jolt. He looked down at his belly, the grimace on his face growing as he realized what was happening. "Oh no," he whimpered, his hand flying to cover his mouth. "Oh no, oh no, oh no..."

Dr. Daniels slowed his thrusts, his brow furrowed with concern. "What's wrong, baby?" he asked, his voice laced with worry as he felt the warm, sticky liquid on his cock and the couch beneath them. His hands held Sawyer's belly protectively.

Sawyer's eyes met his, filled with fear and disbelief. "That was my water, Mark," he managed to get out between panting breaths. "You broke my water." The reality of the situation washed over him, the contraction that hit him a moment later servicing as a stark reminder that the moment they had both been waiting for was upon them.

Dr. Daniels' expression shifted from passion to panic in the span of a heartbeat. He pulled out gently, his cock glistening with their combined fluids. "Fuck," he muttered, jumping to his feet and reaching for his phone. "We need to get to the hospital. Now. Right?"

Sawyer shook his head, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts as he tried to sit up. Another contraction hit him, this one stronger than the first, and he gripped the arm of the couch with a whimper. "It's okay," he managed to say, his voice tight. "It's okay, we have time. The contractions just started. The c-section is tomorrow. I should be okay until then at this rate."

Dr. Daniels doubted this, but trusted the pregnant boy's judgement. He knew that when it came to pregnancy and childbirth, unpredictability was the name of the game, but he also knew Sawyer knew his own body. He quickly grabbed a few towels from the bathroom, his mind racing with thoughts of what they needed to do next. His eyes took in the mess on the couch, a mix of cum and amniotic fluid, and he felt a surge of protectiveness for his lover. "Let's get you cleaned up, pretty boy," he said, his voice firm but gentle.

He helped Sawyer to his feet, supporting him with a strong arm as the young man's legs wobbled. The contraction had passed, leaving him panting and weak, but otherwise okay. Dr. Daniels took a moment to pat the towel between Sawyer's legs, wiping away the sticky evidence of their love. Then he laid the towels down on the couch, a lazy attempt to soak up the amniotic fluid. "Let's get you to bed," he said to Sawyer, guiding him by his arm. Sawyer held onto his belly with both hands, allowing his lover to direct him.

In the bedroom, Dr. Daniels helped Sawyer into some clean pajamas, the soft fabric a gentle caress against his sensitive skin. He could see the worry etched into Sawyer's features, the fear that he wouldn't make it to the hospital in time. But he knew better than to voice his own concerns. Instead, he offered a comforting smile and helped him into bed, tucking the covers around him. "Get some rest," he said, his voice soothing. "You've got a big day tomorrow."

Sawyer nodded, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. He lay on his side, his hand still resting protectively on his belly. The contractions had indeed intensified, each one stronger and more insistent than the last. Dr. Daniels noticed the tension in his body and knew that sleep would be a distant memory tonight. Instead, he stripped down to his boxers and slid in behind him, spooning him protectively. His hand rested on Sawyer's belly, feeling the tension build with each contraction.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble against Sawyer's back. "Just breathe through it, baby. You're doing great." He knew the words were hollow comfort, but he hoped they brought some measure of peace to the young man's troubled mind. Sawyer's body was a tapestry of sensation, a delicate balance of pain and anticipation that seemed to tighten with each passing second.

As the night stretched on, the contractions grew closer together, a relentless tide that showed no signs of receding. Dr. Daniels held Sawyer through each one, his strong arms wrapping around him like a safety net. He whispered encouragements and rubbed circles into his lower back, his eyes never leaving the clock on the nightstand. The digital numbers ticked by with maddening slowness, each minute feeling like an eternity.

The hours of the night melded into one long, unbroken stretch of pain and anticipation. Sawyer's breath grew ragged, his moans punctuating the quiet of the room with a desperate rhythm. Despite his exhaustion, he couldn't find the escape of sleep. Every time he thought he might drift off, another contraction would seize him, stealing his breath and his peace.

But amidst the chaos, Dr. Daniels remained a constant presence, his strong arms a comforting embrace that seemed to whisper, "You're not alone." His eyes, though heavy with fatigue, never left Sawyer's face, his gaze a silent promise of support. He felt the young man's tension build with each contraction, his own body taut with the effort of holding him, grounding him through the waves of pain.

As the night progressed, Dr. Daniels' own weariness began to show. His eyes grew heavy, his lids fluttering as he fought to stay awake. He knew he needed to be there for Sawyer, to guide him through the final stretch of this incredible journey they had shared. But the warmth of the room and the steady beat of Sawyer's breathing lulled him into a light doze.

Sawyer felt a pang of resentment as he heard the soft snores from behind him. It wasn't fair that Dr. Daniels could find even a moment of peace while he was in this agony. But he knew it was irrational. The man had been by his side every step of the way, supporting him through the highs and lows of pregnancy, loving him unconditionally despite the unconventional nature of their relationship. He took a deep breath, willing his own body to relax, to allow Dr. Daniels the rest he so obviously needed.

But his body had other plans. The contractions grew closer together, until they were coming in waves, one on top of the other, like a relentless tide that wouldn't abate. Sawyer bit his lip, trying not to wake the sleeping giant behind him. His hand clutched the bedsheets, his knuckles white with the effort of holding back his cries. The pain was intense, a burning, crushing pressure that seemed to come from within his very bones.

And then he felt it—a lurch in his pelvis, a shifting of weight. The baby was moving down, the head pressing against his cervix, beginning the slow descent into the birth canal. Sawyer's breath hitched, and he couldn't hold back a whimper. Dr. Daniels stirred, his eyes snapping open. "What is it?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.

Sawyer's voice was strained. "It's happening," he managed to say. "I think he's coming, Mark." Panic flared in the professor's eyes, and he bolted upright, the bed groaning in protest.

"Now?" Dr. Daniels asked, his voice a mix of alarm and urgency. "But the c-section is—"

"I know," Sawyer panted, his eyes squeezed shut against the pain. "But it's happening. He's coming. I need you to get my pants off."

Dr. Daniels scrambled into action, his movements jerky with adrenaline. He quickly slid the pajama pants down Sawyer's legs, revealing the bulge of their son's head, pushing behind Sawyer's swollen lips. The sight was both terrifying and awe-inspiring.

"Breathe," he instructed, his own breaths coming in shallow pants. "Just breathe, baby. I can see him. He's ready to come out."

Sawyer nodded, his teeth gritted against the pain. The contractions were coming faster now, stealing the air from his lungs. He could feel the baby's head pushing down, beginning to part his pussy lips. Dr. Daniels leaned in, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and concern. He gently pushed aside the slick folds of skin, his hands warm and reassuring against Sawyer's trembling thighs.

The young man's eyes snapped open as the pressure grew unbearable. "I have to push," he gasped, his hands reaching down to grip the bedsheets. "I can't... I can't hold it anymore.

Dr. Daniels nodded, his own excitement and fear palpable in the room. He moved to the side of the bed, his hand reaching out to hold Sawyer's. "Okay, baby," he said, his voice steady despite his racing heart. "When the next one hits, push as hard as you can."

Sawyer nodded, bracing himself for the next wave. He felt the contraction building, the pressure in his belly growing unbearable. He took a deep breath, and as the pain reached its peak, he bore down, his body straining with the effort. With a grunt, he pushed, the head of their child crowning, a slick mess of hair and fluid emerging into the world. Dr. Daniels watched, his eyes wide with wonder, his hand poised to catch the baby.

The head slowly pushed out, revealing the baby's eyes and forehead, but stopping before his nose could emerge. Sawyer's panting grew more frantic as he felt the resistance, his body begging for a break. But Dr. Daniels was there, his voice calm and encouraging. "Almost there, Sawyer. Just a little more." His eyes were focused on the emerging life, a blend of excitement and concentration.

With a final, Herculean effort, Sawyer pushed again, his belly tensing visibly with his effort. The rest of the baby's head slipped forward, a splash of liquid shooting out around the baby's neck as the entire head now rested between his thighs. Dr. Daniels caught the head in his strong hands, supporting it gently as it emerged. The sight was nothing short of miraculous, a blend of pain and beauty that neither of them had ever seen before.

"Good boy," Dr. Daniels murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "You're doing so well." His eyes never left the baby's face, watching as the tiny body began to slide from Sawyer's stretched pussy. "Keep going," he urged, his own body trembling with excitement and anticipation. "You're almost there."

The next contraction hit like a freight train, and Sawyer pushed with everything he had. The baby's shoulders, broad and stubborn like his father's, resisted for a moment before finally giving way. A gush of fluid followed, and Dr. Daniels felt the head lodge in place as the shoulders began to emerge. "He's got your broad shoulders," Sawyer managed to choke out, his voice strained and hoarse. The professor's eyes widened with a mix of pride and amusement, his own shoulders broadening with the effort of supporting the baby's head.

With the next push, the rest of the baby followed, sliding into Dr. Daniels' waiting arms with a wet slap. Time seemed to stop as they both took in the sight of their newborn son, the reality of what they had created together finally setting in. The professor's eyes filled with tears as he cradled the tiny, squalling creature, the weight of him a living, breathing testament to their love. Sawyer's own eyes were blurry with pain and emotion, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from the miracle that was their child.

The baby was indeed large, his cheeks red and puffy from the journey through the birth canal, his cries echoing off the walls. But in Dr. Daniels' muscular embrace, he looked so small, so fragile. His tiny limbs flailed, his fists clenched in the air as he took his first, ragged breaths. The sight was overwhelming, a wave of love washing over both men.

Gently, Dr. Daniels passed their son to Sawyer, cradling him against his chest. The baby looked so much bigger against Sawyer's smaller frame, his foot draping off of his body. The weight was surprising, the reality of their shared creation hitting Sawyer like a ton of bricks. He stared down at the squalling little being, his eyes wide with wonder and fear. This was their son, their beautiful, perfect son, born from his own body.

The baby's cries grew louder, and Sawyer felt a twinge of panic. What if he was hurting him? What if he didn't know what to do? But Dr. Daniels was there, guiding his hand to the baby's back, showing him how to support him. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice calming despite the chaos. "You're doing great. Just hold him close."

Sawyer nodded, his eyes never leaving the baby's face. He felt the weight of the child against his chest, the rapid thump of his heart. The baby's eyes searched for something, and Sawyer knew what it was—comfort, nourishment. He guided the baby to his chest, his nipple already beading with milk, and watched as the baby's tiny mouth latched on with surprising strength. The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the joy that flooded him as he heard the sweet sound of his child suckling.

Dr. Daniels watched the intimate moment, his eyes glazed over with tears. He felt a swell of pride for Sawyer, who had just undergone something so incredible. "You're a natural," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Our son is beautiful."

As the baby nursed, Sawyer's body began to contract again, a new sensation that had him looking up at his lover with a mix of fear and confusion. "It's the placenta," Dr. Daniels explained gently, his eyes never leaving the baby. "It's time for it to come out now." He helped Sawyer sit up, supporting his back with a firm hand. "When you're ready, push again."

With a nod, Sawyer took a deep breath and pushed, the pressure building once more. The placenta slipped out with surprising ease, landing in the towel Dr. Daniels had ready to catch it. The sight was a bit unnerving, but the relief that followed was immense. Dr. Daniels handled it with a calmness that Sawyer found reassuring, wrapping the placenta in the towel and setting it aside. "You're doing amazing," he whispered, his hand stroking Sawyer's hair. "Almost done."

The baby's cries grew softer as he fed, his tiny fist wrapped around Sawyer's finger. The connection was instant, a bond that transcended any words they could ever exchange. Dr. Daniels watched in awe, his own chest tight with emotion. He knew that this moment would change everything—their relationship, their lives, their future.

As the baby's feeding slowed, Dr. Daniels took over, carefully swaddling him in a soft blanket. Sawyer felt a pang of jealousy, but he knew his body needed a break. The warmth of his son's skin against his own was something he never wanted to forget. As the professor tended to their newborn, Sawyer took a moment to survey the aftermath. The bed was a mess of blood, sweat, and fluid, but all he could see was beauty—the beauty of creation, of love made manifest in the form of a tiny human being.

With a gentle nod, Dr. Daniels helped Sawyer to his feet, supporting his wobbly legs as they made their way to the nursery. Each step was a monumental effort, the pain of childbirth still resonating through his body. But the joy of holding their baby, feeling the warm weight of his tiny form against his chest, fueled Sawyer's determination. In the nursery, the room was bathed in soft light, the crib ready and waiting for its occupant.

But Sawyer wasn't ready to let go. He sank into the rocking chair, his eyes never leaving their son's face. Dr. Daniels knelt beside him, his strong hands resting on Sawyer's shoulders. "You did such a great job, kid," he murmured, his eyes reflecting the same love and awe that filled Sawyer's heart. "Look at this perfect boy."

For what felt like hours, they sat there, the only sound the baby's contented suckling and the occasional whine as he found his rhythm. Sawyer's eyes grew heavy with exhaustion, but he didn't dare close them. He was afraid that if he did, he might wake up and find this all a dream. But the baby's warmth and the solidness of Dr. Daniels' presence beside him were too real to deny.

As the baby's hunger was sated and his cries grew softer, the question of his name hung in the air, unspoken but heavy with importance. Dr. Daniels looked up from where he had been staring, transfixed, at their son. "What do you want to name him?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

Sawyer took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the decision. They had talked about it, of course, tossed around names like beach balls at a summer picnic, but now that the moment was here, it felt so much more significant. "I think he's a Milo," he murmured, his voice still hoarse from the hours of labor.

Dr. Daniels' eyes searched his, and Sawyer could see the hope and fear in them. "Milo," he repeated, tasting the name on his lips. "Milo Daniels." The words felt right, a perfect blend of both their worlds. The professor leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Sawyer's forehead. "Welcome to the world, Milo," he whispered. "I love you so much."

Milo's eyes fluttered open, looking at them with a newfound curiosity. His tiny hand reached out, brushing against Dr. Daniels' cheek, and the man couldn't help but smile, his heart swelling with love. "Look at him," he murmured. "He's already recognizing his daddies."

Sawyer felt his own eyes fill with tears as he watched the tender moment between the two of them. He had never felt so seen, so loved, and now they had a son to share that love with. "Thank you," he whispered to Dr. Daniels, his voice cracking with emotion. "For everything.

The professor's eyes met his, a silent promise passing between them. "You don't have to thank me," he said, his voice gruff. "You're such a good boy, Sawyer." He took a deep breath, his gaze returning to the baby. "Now, let's get you cleaned up, little man," he murmured, gently taking Milo from Sawyer's arms.

With somehow practiced hands, Dr. Daniels began to clean the baby, his eyes never leaving the tiny face scrunched in protest. Sawyer watched, feeling a strange mix of awe and inadequacy. He had never been around newborns, let alone been responsible for one. But as he saw the gentle way Mark handled their son, the love in his eyes, he knew they would figure it out together.