#This isn’t directed towards anything in particular

[sing-me-under]

HAVE SOME GODDAMN EMPATHY. DEAR MOTHER OF GOD, BLESSED VIRGIN MARY, HELP US ALL. THE INTERNET NEEDS IT.

[divagrace]

How Sweet Pogue reader met Rafe!

Soft RafexSweetPogue reader

Summary: Rafe is known to hate Pogues. All of them are nuisances to him. Until one particular girl catches his eye. He asks Topper if he knows her name and only for Topper to tell him that she’s a Pogue.

Warnings: Nothing!

Enjoy 🫶🏻🫶🏻

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ *ੈ✩‧₊

The beach party was in full swing. People were drinking, dancing, and partying their asses off. Rafe on the other hand, was busy trying to make sure Topper’s psychotic girlfriend, Ruthie, didn’t start any more fights with people. She was literally insane.

“Topper. Control your girl. She’s being a fucking lunatic.” He bites out to Topper. Crazy ass bitch. He thinks to himself. His eyes scan the beach, making sure everything is going smoothly. Then all the sudden, his eyes land on you.

You’re wearing a bright pink tank top, it’s spaghetti straps fighting to hold in your boobs that are threatening to spill out from you jumping around. It shows just a sliver of your tan waist, but it’s enough to make Rafe want to wrap his arms around it. Your toned legs are clad in a pair of jean shorts and beaded brackets decorate your arms.

You look so carefree, so happy. Dancing around with everyone. Your smile is stunning. It takes Rafe’s breath away in the best way possible.

Rafe turns to Topper. “Hey, who is that?” He asks him. Topper tries to see who Rafe is pointing to.

“Dude, there’s about 20 people you could be pointing to right now.” Topper says sarcastically.

“Her. The girl in the pink tank top and jean shorts.” Rafe says growing impatient, even though he knows Topper had a point. It’s a giant group of dancing teenagers and Rafe could have been pointing to any of them. But he needed to find out who this girl is.

“Oh. Man that’s Y/N. She’s hot but I would never mess with her. She’s a Pogue, the Pogue princess as many people refer to her.” Topper spits the word out with disgust. Rafe’s eyes widen.

Now he remembers. Of course he knows how the Pogue Princess is. I mean, he’s the Kook King.

Well you being a Pogue isn’t going to stop him. He may hate Pogues but most of them are annoying and make stupid decisions. He’s never even heard of you so you must be normal.

Rafe walks over to you confidently. When he wants something, he gets it. And you’re no different.

When he lightly grabbed Y/N’s arm, she was startled and turned around to see who the culprit was.

She was even more surprised when she was met with Rafe Cameron staring down at her. Y/N along with everybody else knows that Rafe doesn’t interact with Pogues unless he has to. And typically it’s in a violent way.

Rafe has never done anything bad to her before. Honestly, she doesn’t get out too much anyways. Usually her dad and her are scrubbing down their little shack, and if not, she’s out at the beach tanning and surfing.

Y/N just lives her life to the fullest. Her family is dirt poor, the only reason they have a roof over their heads is because her grandpa built her house when he was younger. But other than that, life is all about the experience for her. She tries to be kind to everybody and will never ever judge someone for what they look like, or how they are. That’s why many people in town refer to her as the “Pogue Princess”.

But she has no hard feelings towards Rafe unlike many other kids on the cut her age. She doesn’t blame them though.

“Hi.” Rafe says. He can smell her intoxicating scent. She smells so good. Like vanilla, warm and sweet. The breeze is making her scent drift right to his nose.

“Hi!” She giggles and its music to ears. “Do you need something from me?” She asks him.

He lets go of her arm and runs a hand through his buzzed hair. But something caught his attention, there was no judgment, no nasty look, or condescending tone in her voice that was directed at him. Most people in town couldn’t even look at him without wincing. Whether it was from fear or disgust. So naturally, Rafe was drawn to her.

“Well I just wanted to come talk to the prettiest girl on the beach.” He said with a grin stretching across his face. Y/N’s face burned with a blush.

“You think I’m pretty?” She shyly asked him

“I think you’re the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.” He leans down and whispers in her ear.

The red staining Y/N’s cheeks turned to a dark crimson. Y/N has struggled with her appearance for a long time. Growing up in a town surrounded by pretty girls can mess with your head. The compliment meant a lot to her.

Rafe and Y/N shouted over the loud music, talking to each other about everything. Y/N was dancing and swaying to the music, and Rafe was trying to keep her still so her words wouldn’t jumble up while she was bumping around.

After a while, Y/N got tired. She smushed her face into Rafe’s chest.

“I’m tiredddd.” She complained. Rafe wrapped his hands around her forearms and guided her to a big piece of driftwood down the beach. Now they were away from the craziness of the party.

Rafe was looking at Y/N with something in his eyes that she couldn’t quite decipher.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She’s asks him.

“Can I go on a date with you?” The words fly out of his mouth before he can even register what he’s saying. Y/N’s mouth falls open.

“What?” She asks.

“Can I take you out? On a date. Tomorrow.” Rafe says. Now his words are collected and put together.

Y/N teases him a little. Taking a long time to come up with an answer. Even going as far as tapping her pointer finger on her chin and making it look like she’s thinking about it. Obviously there is only one answer.

“Y/N.” Rafe mutters.

“Of course I will!” Y/N happily says, finally giving up on her teasing. A sigh of relief escapes Rafe. Like she was really going to say no.

“Thank goodness. Here’s my phone you can give me your phone number so you can send me your address.” Rafe says while fishing his phone out of his pocket and opening his contacts app.

Y/N’s whole mood changes. More red flush adorns her cheeks, but not out of the fact that she has butterflies or is nervous, it’s out of embarrassment.

“What’s wrong?” Rafe asks her. He noticed her mood change.

“Ummm. I don’t have a phone.” She says.

“Why are you grounded or something?” Rafe asks her.

“No, it’s just my parents can’t afford to get me a phone.” Y/N says embarrassed.

Rafe’s eyes widen. He has never experienced a life without having some sort of electronics thrown in his face. Ward had always tried to buy his and his sister‘s love with either the newest gaming console or tablet or iPhone.

“Oh. Well that’s okay. You can just give me your address and I’ll write it down in my notes app.” Rafe says. It’s obvious that she is uncomfortable about not having a phone, so he doesn’t want to make it something it doesn’t have to be.

“Okay.” Y/N says and then proceeds to tell Rafe her address. She’s glad he didn’t make a big deal out of the situation. I mean it’s the 21st century almost every kid her age has a cell phone, especially in the Outer Banks. But unfortunately, her parents don’t make enough money to be able to give her a phone. So she goes without one. The only way her friends can communicate with her, is verbally.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow, 6pm sharp. Wear something comfortable.” Rafe says and smiles.

“Okay. I’ll be ready” Y/N beams up at him.

“Can’t wait baby.” That’s the last thing Rafe says before walking off and disappearing into the crowd of teenagers.

What just happened? They both wonder to themselves.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

First one! 🫶🏻

[jarofstyles]

Benefits II

Hi my ducklings, here is part two to Benefits.

Or, Y/N is shy about the agreement they’d made and Harry isn’t afraid to call her out on it.

first part to Benefits Here

Check out our Patreon for early access and 230+ exclusive posts!

WC- 3.4k

Warnings- asshole h, degradation, mean!Dom, slight humiliation, exhibitionism, name calling

---

As she stood at the bar sipping her drink and keeping up with the chatter of their friends, she could feel his eyes on her. It was a sensation she was becoming quite familiar with. She knew he was watching her from across the room, his dark gaze following her every move, and it made her skin heat under the surface. It was exactly why she made sure to arch her back slightly, ensuring her ass looked its absolute best in the tight jeans she was wearing.

The memory of his strong, brutal hands gripping her hips, guiding her movements as he took her from behind sent a shiver down her spine. Taking another sip of her drink, she tried to act casual despite the fire of arousal pooling in her core. Every so often, she'd glance in his direction, catching his unfaltering gaze before looking away with a barely there smile. The thrill of knowing what they'd shared, knowing what it felt like to have his mouth and hands on her while he pressed her into the sheets, all the while keeping up appearances in front of their friends, was intoxicating.

Harry did look particularly delicious tonight, his broad shoulders and muscular frame emphasized by the fitted shirt he was wearing. She remembered the feeling of those strong, inked arms wrapped around her, holding her close as he whispered filthy things in her ear that had her blushing just thinking about. No one had ever treated her the way he had. The way his broad body had covered hers, pinning her down as he claimed her so thoroughly. She squirmed slightly, pressing her thighs together as a wave of want washed over her.

Said tight black t-shirt showcased his tattoos beautifully, the sleeve of ink snaking down his left arm. She remembered tracing those tattoos with her fingers as he lay beside her, recovering after they’d both found release. He’d been surprisingly polite post sex considering his usual demeanor, making sure to clean her up and keep her steady, giving her a snack and taking her back to hers in his car to make sure she got home safely. But she didn’t need to think about that. His well-built arms were on display, the muscles flexing subtly as he cradled his beer bottle. She remembered the feel of those arms and hands, every blow, knead, squeeze, stroke and paw, the thrill of being held down still buzzing in her stomach.

It was crowded out tonight though, and she lost her window in seeing him much too soon. The bar was growing warmer by the moment, the press of bodies and the stifling atmosphere becoming a bit too much for her in particular- especially with the added heat of her body that was unable to let go of the illicit memories swirling through her cloudy brain. Excusing herself from the group, she slipped out the back door onto the quiet, dimly lit alley behind the bar. She leaned against the brick wall, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of the cool night air, taking a second to unbutton the top two buttons of her blouse, fanning herself to try and cool down.

It was hard to concentrate on anything when was so lost in her thoughts- so much so that she didn't hear the door open. Startled, she looked up to see Harry walking towards her, the door swinging shut behind him. "Fuck! You scared me.” she hissed, clutching at her chest. Her heart pounded in her ears as she took in his towering form, the shadows cast by the dim light behind him only serving to emphasize his size.

“Didn’t mean to.” He murmured, arms crossed against his chest. The same arms she had been drooling over the whole night. “Y’alright?” Tilting his head, he looked her over before returning to her face. “Or did you jus’ want me to follow you out here.”

She bit her lower lip, considering his words. "No, I...I just needed some air. It's so hot in there," she explained, gesturing vaguely back towards the door. Her eyes flicked down to his biceps, something he had to be aware he was doing to her. It had been apparent that he was far more observant than she was, and he was using that to his advantage. She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze once more. 

“Y’didn’t text me this week.” He stepped closer, pulling the pack of cigarettes from his pocket along with the lighter. “Were you busy? Or did you just want me t’fuck off?”

She shook her head, eyes widening a bit as she reached out to take the cigarette he offered. He lit it for her, his fingers brushing against hers as he did so. "I wasn't busy," she admitted, taking a long drag on the cigarette. "I just...I didn't know if you wanted to hear from me or not." She looked up at him through the haze of smoke. It was weird to be confronted like this, to know someone else had so much power over her body in ways she doubted he could control. "I didn't want to assume."

Letting out a snort, he reached for the cigarette in her fingers, ignoring the lipstick on it and brought it to his lips. Letting her words linger, he took a pull before exhaling the bitter smoke and letting it drift away. “It isn’t an assumption. Told ya I wanted t’be friends with benefits. Left it in your court.” He didn’t want to seem like a complete ass just running to her for sex, but… “Should’ve called me. Texted, whatever. Could’ve had a little fun instead of runnin’ off to the alley cause you’ve been squeezing your thighs half the night while lookin’ at me when you think m’not.”

Y/N blushed furiously, taking the cigarette back from him. "I- I wasn't," she stammered, avoiding his piercing gaze. "It's just...hot in there." He raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. Like he could read right through her brain, analyze every filed thought she had put in there- even If it wasn’t very well organized. Harry knew better and there was no use in hiding it. She sighed, taking another drag. "Fine. Yes. I've been...thinking about last weekend. A lot." She met his eyes, her own filled with defeat.

“Good. So have I.” He leaned against the brick as he watched her smoke. “We should keep doing it, like I said. Y’don’t have to wear the jeans that hug your ass and give me looks across the room t’get what you want. You can jus’ tell me you want to be fucked.” Letting out a hum, he reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Would’ve been happy to do so. Been worked up. Think both of us coulda’ used the stress relief.”

Shivering at his words, her body reacted to the raw, blunt way he spoke. Something about it had her feeling it down to her toes. No one else spoke to her like that, let alone so vulgar in the way he did, but it didn’t meant she didn’t like it. Y/N took another drag of the cigarette, her fingers trembling slightly. "You're insane." She muttered, but there was no heat behind her words. "Fine, I'll let you know. Next time." She dropped her gaze to his lips, remembering how they felt against hers. Against her neck. Against her thighs… God, why did he make her feel this way? It was alarming. "And for the record, I like these jeans. Not everything I wear is for your attention." The jeans definitely were for his attention, though. She just wouldn’t admit it.

“Wasn’t complaining about the jeans, Sweetheart.” They did hug her perfectly. Then again, most things did if she bothered to ask him his opinion. “I wouldn’t complain if you let me inside of ‘em tonight. Though…” Dragging his finger down her hot cheek, he curled it around her chin to tilt it up. “I think you’d let me if I wanted to.”

She let out a soft hum as he tilted her chin up. "And what if you wanted to?" The thought of him pushing her up against the wall right here, hiking down her jeans and taking her roughly, was almost enough to make her beg. "Would you? Want to, I mean." Her voice was quiet, her breath catching in her throat as he looked down at her.

The reward for the sweet voice she gave him was one of his rare smiles, shaking his head at the girl that had made tonight far more difficult than she needed to. “Mm. I’ve wanted to since you walked in. But we don’t have enough time t’fuck considering one of the nosy brats will come looking.” He looked to the door and back to her. “So you can choose. Y’want me to slip my fingers into that pretty cunt? Or do you want to suck my cock.” It wasn’t a matter of being selfish, either. Harry had to have been oblivious to not have noticed how much she liked it last time. Called her his ‘pretty cockslut’, all the same.

Y/N glanced at the door, knowing they wouldn't have much time before someone came looking for her. It was a shame, too, because she had been wanting it all week. If her stupid insecurity hadn’t gotten in the way she was sure she’d have been able to get more than that prior to tonight bit… beggars couldn’t really be choosers. "Fingers," she breathed. "Please, just your fingers. I need it." She was desperate, her body aching for his touch. She reached out, grasping his wrist and pulling his hand to her waistband. "Now, please."

“Greedy.” He clicked his tongue. “Makin’ demands. Who says you could call the shots, hm?” His hand not captive by hers grubbed her chin firm, squeezing it enough to ensure he had her attention. “I’m the one in charge. S’all your fault, anyways. Could’ve gotten fucked half the week if you’d put your big girl panties on n’texted me.” The taunt had its desired effect as she rounded her eyes up at him. His fingers undid the button, palming over her tummy before slipping the fingers down and into her panties. “But think you caught me in a good mood tonight. Let’s see… How wet are you, mm?”

Her breath hitched as his calloused fingers pushed down into her underwear, slipping through her cunt with little hesitation. "It is your fault," she attempted to sass back, trying to regain some semblance of control. "For looking so...so menacing and hot." 

He chuckled darkly at her choice of words, his finger finding her soaking entrance and slipping inside. “Shut the fuck up, sweetheart.”

She moaned softly, her head falling back against the brick as it filled her. "Oh god, Harry." His single digit was the equivalent of two of hers. She’d tried well enough to recreate any feelings he’d given her that night throughout the week.

His fingers slid into her with ease, coating them in her arousal. She was absolutely drenched, clenching around him greedily, her body betraying just how desperately she had wanted his touch all night. Her juices smeared on his fingers and palm, the evidence of her desire unmistakable. "Fuck, you really are soaked, Y/N." Teeth grazing his lip, he crowded her against the wall, towering over her. “A little pathetic, don’t y’think?”

She whimpered needily as curled them just a tad, her hips rocking against his hand. "I can't help it," she gasped out, her voice thick with lust. "You just...you do this to me." Her hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer. "Please, Harry. I need more." The wet squelching sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of her dripping cunt could be heard if you listened close enough, stepping out into the alley.

“I know y’do. Needy little whore.” He cooed, making the word sound sweet. “Gonna have to be quick. Think you’re going to be able handle going back in there with all of ‘em, knowing you just got fingerfucked in the back alley? Like the slut you are?” Harry could tell just how much she liked it. He’d known just by her first interaction with him that she’d like this, but knowing they were compatible only made this even more fulfilling.

Her legs trembled lightly as he quickened his pace, his thumb swirling around her swollen clit. "Y-Yes," she stammered, her mind foggy with desire, his thick finger adding another inside to make her tear up. It was pathetic, as he said, but it wasn’t something she could help. It was just how he affected her. "Please, just...more. Harder. I'm so close." She could barely think straight, let alone care about the embarrassment of returning to the group. All she could focus on was the heat pooling in her belly and the intense pleasure he was wringing from her body. 

When it was over and her face was hot, her panties sticky, and her cum on his hand? She’d probably feel those nerves about facing everyone after being finger fucked half dumb in an alleyway. Especially after begging for it, loving the feel of his fingers digging into her jaw to keep her face tilted up towards him so he could watch her face- but that was part of the thrill, wasn’t it?

“Already?” He laughed in disbelief. “Fuck me. You really are filthy. Can’t believe it.” Curling his fingers up into her, he did what he could with the denim keeping his hand trapped. “Think m’gonna take you home after the night wraps up. Let you sit with your sticky cunt and think about how silly you were to not call me when you needed me so bad you’re making a mess out here. Think you still need t’suck me, don’t you?”

She let out a muffled cry as he curled his fingers upwards, her inner walls clamping down around him. "Yes, yes, I need it. I want to." she whimpered, feeling his fingers lessen on her face and making her head falling into his chest. Her release was building rapidly, the coil in her belly tightening with each thrust of his hand. "Harry, please, I'm going to-"

“You’re going to what?” He taunted, pulling her head back by the hair. “C’mon, good girl. Those lips are good for more than sucking cock, aren’t they? Y’like to talk all night to everyone else. Talk.” 

She choked out a moan as he pulled her head back, her body shaking with the force of her impending orgasm. "I'm going to cum.”

“Say please.” He reprimanded. “You can do better than that. You’re so polite with everyone else too. Where are the manners for me?” The tone was condescending, cruel, and it made her want to cum. He could feel it as she pulsed around his fingers. “Where is that sweet girl, hm? Or do I only get the slut t’night?”

She whimpered, her face contorting with the effort to hold back. "P-please, Harry. Please, may I come? Please?" The words tumbled out of her mouth, desperate and needy and everything she knew he wanted despite the desperation. "I can't hold back, please. I need-" Her cry was muffled by his hand, clamping over her mouth as her orgasm hit her with full force. She bucked against his hand, her body clinging to his as waves of pleasure washed over her. Her inner muscles milked his fingers, more of her cum coating his fingers.

She let out a soft mewl against his palm as he buried his fingers deep one final time, pressing her firmly against the brick to keep her up. Holding her trembling body as she came down from her high, he gave quiet reassurance as he felt her pulse around his digits.

She sagged against him, her body boneless in the aftermath of her intense release. She nuzzled into his chest, her breath hitching as he slowly withdrew his fingers, feeling the wet smear as he pulled it out of her panties. He’d made a mess out of her. She whimpered at the loss, her eyes fluttering shut as he showed her the slick coating them. "That's...that's embarrassing." she murmured, her face hot as she leaned her head back from him to rest on the wall.

“S’not.” He muttered, sucking the wetness from his digits with a soft hum. “Told you. Think I like you a little bit pathetic. Makes my cock hard. You do a good job.”

What did it say about her that she felt slightly giddy over the thought of him being turned on by her needy behavior? That Y/N felt a thrill of excitement at the idea of being his pathetic little thing? She reached out, her hand shaking as she tried to clean his fingers with her thumb. Her brain was jumbled and the air felt much warmer now, making her take a few breaths as the pieces of the puzzle came back together as her body joined her back down on earth. "So you’re…. um, when we’re done, we’re leaving together?"

“Yeah.” He wiped the remnants of her on his jeans, using the clean hand to fix her hair. “Think you can behave long enough without my cock t’get through the rest of the night?”

She bit her lip, her eyes flicking down to the bulge in his jeans. "I'll try," she promised, her voice still holding a bit of breathlessness to it. Y/N had to wonder if she’d ever truly have the upper hand but… did she actually want to? Having him control her in ways everyone else had failed was really fucking nice. "But you can't look at me like that. And...and you have to behave too." She reached out, tracing the seam of his zipper over his cock. "Can you? Behave, I mean." She knew he was as eager as she was.

“I can.” He shot her a look, putting his hand over hers to place her palm over his cock. “M’not the greedy, crying slut here. I can wait until we leave.”

Her touch grew firmer as she wrapped her hand around his erection through his pants. "But what if I can't wait?" she taunted, her voice low. "What if I want to touch you right now? What would you do?" She leaned in close, her breath hot against his ear. "Would you push me to my knees?" She slowly unbuttoned his pants, her knuckles brushing against his hard flesh.

Her seduction was halted when she felt the large hand wrapping around her throat. It wasn’t too rough, pushing her back and crowding her against the wall with his body, but she felt the thrill as his voice emerged as a dark snarl. “I said, we’re waiting. Don’t be a fucking brat or you won’t get my cock in your throat tonight. I know you’re gagging for it.” His breath washed against her lips. “But if you ask me real sweet, I’ll let you taste my tongue before I take your horny ass inside.”

Her pulse jumped under his fingers. The threat in his words sent a shiver down her spine, even as her cunt clenched with renewed need. Y/N searched his eyes, seeing the barely restrained hunger there. "Please, Harry?" she breathed, her voice trembling. "Can I taste your tongue? I promise I'll be good for the rest of the night."

What had this man done to her? 

Usually Y/N was the one who left men begging- but this borderline asshole of a man ruined her panties just by calling her pathetic. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she knew it was something she’d worry about later. “There y’go. seems like you can listen to direction after all.” His hand around her throat tightened possessively as he crushed his mouth to hers. His tongue pushed past her parted lips, licking against hers in a filthy slick over. Y/N moaned softly, her arms winding around his neck as she pulled him closer. The kiss was wet, messy, and full of promise that made her knees feel weak. She didn’t want it to end, not even for a second- but when he finally pulled back, they were both breathless. "I'll be good. I promise."

[hivemuthur]

request: jayce and mel decided to invite their friends with them to a beach trip, viktor isn't the type to enjoy the hot sun and being sweaty, but doesn’t mind staying under the shade away from the heat, because imagine wasting the chance to see his crush in a cute bikini.. maybe a sunscreen scene too <3

Hi Anon! I miss summer so much that I wrote this for you:

Lips Burn Too

viktorxfemale!reader explicit/mature idk it's just horny. Kinda modern uni AU. Lots and lots of yearning, Reader wears a one-piece swim suit, because I find it sexier, Jayce is a matchmaker secretly, some heated kissing, very very slight dry humping, like for a second, a very gentle Jayvik nod. Also @ihopeinevergetsoberr changed my brain chemistry and Viktor is a thigh man through and through.

word count: 2,9K

author’s note: This is for the Freaktor Nation. The still comes from One Day. I listened to Contaminado by La Femme and Mykonos by Fleet Foxes writing this if you want to check it out! Also, I'm still brainrotten from D&M, so if you see Pride and Prejudice reference, no you don't. @rennethen pre-read, merci!

—

“Viktor, I beg you,” Jayce pleads, quickening his pace. For a man with a cane, Viktor is unexpectedly fast, and Jayce has to take quick steps to keep up.

“No,” Viktor replies flatly, granting Jayce nothing more.

“Viktor, look at me.” Jayce reaches out, catching Viktor’s arm to halt him. Then, to Viktor’s absolute horror, Jayce drops to his knees. In the middle of the academy corridor.

A group of passing girls giggle; one of them calls out, "Say yes!" earning the spectacle a few more turning heads.

Viktor’s mouth twitches into an involuntary smile as he leans on his cane, gazing down at his friend. “As much as I’m enjoying this, the answer is still no.”

“Viktor,” Jayce groans, bowing his head in exaggerated resignation. He sighs, rubbing his thighs as if steadying himself for further negotiation.

“Jayce,” Viktor states dryly, then asks, “Why is it so imperative that I accompany you to the beach?”

“Because,” Jayce huffs, scrambling back to his feet, “I don’t want you sulking around here while we’re all there.” He gestures vaguely toward there, as if the direction alone should be convincing. “And the sea is nice. And it’s warm. Please. I’ll bring the biggest umbrella. SPF 99. Anything you want. Just say yes,” he begs, hands gripping Viktor’s shoulders, eyes imploring.

The truth is, Jayce desperately wants to take Mel to the beach. But she, being the merciless tease she is, declared she would only go if everyone went. No particular reason—just to watch Jayce struggle.

Viktor sighs, dragging a hand down his face. It isn’t the promise of shade or excessive sun protection that gives him pause—it’s that single, fateful word: everyone.

If Jayce means what Viktor thinks he means (and he usually does), then you will be there. Which means that, had Viktor remained stubborn, he would have missed the rare opportunity to compare the version of your thighs that exists in his imagination with the reality. One in a million chance for field research. He cannot let it slip away.

Jayce watches him carefully, spotting the exact moment hesitation turns into reluctant acceptance.

Viktor exhales dramatically, purely to emphasize how troublesome Jayce is being. “Fine. I will go to the beach.”

And so, it happens the following weekend, when the sun scorches the land mercilessly, and Viktor briefly worries that his skin will sizzle under the heat—until he sees you approaching the car.

It’s nothing out of the ordinary, yet it serves as the first glimpse into his ongoing research when he realises you’re wearing shorts, granting him a tantalising view of bare skin. And in that moment, he is convinced that if anything will make his skin sizzle, it won’t be the sun’s radiation, but you.

By the time you arrive at the place, Viktor’s back is already damp—partly due to the busted AC in Jayce’s car, partly because the two of you are wedged together in the back seat, pressed close by the massive umbrella Jayce insisted on bringing for him. Your thighs brush and bump against his with every pothole, and the only barrier he has—his cane—proves almost useless in keeping any distance.

His gaze fixes on your knees, and when sunlight streams through the windows, he catches the fine peach fuzz on the inner side of your thighs. He wonders if sunscreen will cling to it, momentarily turning it white before sinking into your skin. He would like it for his hands to be the ones that make it happen.

From the parking lot, he’s handed a small shoulder bag filled with fruit and a cooling container to carry. That’s when he notices—your back is damp too. Your shirt clings to your spine, outlining the shape of your bathing suit beneath. It’s a one-piece, low-cut, ending at the small of your back and leaving the rest bare. He can’t wait for you to take the outer layer off.

The cane proves useless on the sand, forcing him to lean on Jayce’s arm for support, despite Jayce’s hands being full—the umbrella swings over his shoulder, his forearms burdened with bag straps and a deflated mattress. You and Mel walk ahead, carrying blankets and towels, laughing and holding your hats against the wind.

The beach is wild and untouched, with only a handful of people scattered across the sand dunes. It’s a raw meeting place between land and sea where the elements have shaped it with no regard for humans. Old tree barks lie bleached, half-buried in the sand, twisted like grotesque limbs. The dunes rise and fall, sleepy, with their peaks crowned by scorched patches of grass that cling stubbornly to the sunbaked earth. Here, among the hollows and ridges, the world feels utterly private—hidden from prying eyes, as if nature itself conspires to keep secrets.

A gust of warm wind rushes over, catching the hem of your shirt and tugging at it insistently, exposing the curve of your waist before you press it back down. Viktor watches the way the fabric clings to you, how the heat of the day has already begun marking the skin of your neck, turning it darker. He imagines the press of the sun’s warmth sinking deeper, how it might feel beneath his hands, beneath his lips.

Sand swallows your sandal and the heat of it licks the sole of your foot as you stand on one leg to shake it off. Viktor watches the way your calve flexes in the light, pictures himself licking over the burnt skin, easing it down. His mouth goes dry, and lids grow heavy, grains catching in his eyelashes as he tries to blink the images goading his thoughts toward dangerous places away.

The spot you choose to set up camp is a hollow dip nestled among the sand hills, high enough that when you spread your blankets, the sea is visible only as a thin strip of blue on the horizon. Once everything is settled—including the wide umbrella that rattles in the wind above your heads—Jayce grunts, claps his hands together, and declares, “Alright then,” before promptly hoisting Mel upside down over his shoulder.

“I’m taking you for a swim,” he announces playfully, securing her ankles in one hand as she kicks and squirms. Her wild curls tumble downward, brushing against his back as she protests, her laughter carried away by the wind. Viktor watches as Jayce carries her off through the dunes, their figures shrinking into the distance until the crashing waves swallow the sound of her shrieks.

He settles down on the blanket and tugs his shirt off in one boyish pull, welcoming the tickling sensation of the wind against the heated skin of his back. Rolling the fabric awkwardly into a lumpy pillow, he places it beneath his head, determined to ignore the burning stare you’re directing at him.

You let the moment linger—Viktor’s eyes are closed, his lashes resting against his cheeks, and he cannot see you, you think. The wind is gentler here, in your little cloister, sending only the laziest grains of sand tumbling across his stomach as it rises and falls with his breath. They catch in the fine trail of hair that guides your gaze from his sunken navel, down between his hips, before disappearing beneath the bridge of the waistband stretched over his hipbones.

With this sliver of privacy, you undress down to your bathing suit. Viktor’s eyes crack open, his face half-shielded by the crook of his elbow as he steals a glance, masking the little act of voyeurism. You step from foot to foot, slipping free of your shorts and shirt, and he inhales deeply, trying to remain. Just remain. Just not sink into the sand under the weight of this sight.

Your thighs are as lovely as he imagined. And oh, your hips are dipped in a way that tempts his hands, as though they were shaped to be held. You ass cheeks slit diagonally by the swimsuit’s bottom, the parts peeking out from underneath it tempt his mouth to land there and his teeth to bite down so much that his jaw tightens.

He is so focused on making himself look as though he’s not looking that he doesn’t notice the sudden spurt of cold sunscreen on his stomach until it makes him jolt.

“Ah! What’s this?” he exclaims, spreading his hands apart.

“You’ll burn,” you tease, setting the bottle aside after applying some—oh…—to your thighs. And whatever Viktor had conjured in his mind does not compare to reality. Your fingers sink into your skin, leaving faint white streaks that catch on the fine hairs, turning them silver under the sunlight. When you shift just beyond the shade of the umbrella, the cream finally disappears, leaving only a satin glow and the scent of summer clinging to you.

“We are in the shade,” he mutters, transfixed, struggling to drag his eyes away.

“It doesn’t matter. You’ll fall asleep, the sun will shift, and you’ll burn,” you say knowingly, motioning toward the bottle, though the amount you’ve already placed on his stomach is more than enough for his entire chest. He still hasn’t done anything about it, and it inches lazily toward the waistband of his trunks.

“I’ll have you know that I already did this before we left,” he counters, but instead of rubbing it in, he simply picks up the bottle, inspects it for a second, then tosses it aside. “And I’d burn anyway with this inferior protection.”

You snort. “Oh, please. SPF 99 is just marketing. Fifty is enough.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.” The sound is barely more than a hum as you twist your arms, straining to reach your shoulder blades.

“Do you need help?” The words tumble out before he can stop them, and the bottle is back in Viktor’s hands in an instant. You nod, then glance over your shoulder just as he warms the lotion between his palms. You attempt to tease him—“So thoughtful—”

But the words die in your throat when the back of his hand brushes your hair aside, sweeping it over one shoulder.

“I am,” he says quietly. Then, a palm full of sun screen presses against the nape of your neck and stays. The heel of his hand rests on one side while his fingers stretch across to the other, spanning the delicate space where your pulse flutters, quickened beneath his touch. To his utter joy.

“Thoughtful,” he finally murmurs into your ear. And then he rubs it in—both the words and the cream. His hand slides from your neck lower and to the sides, dipping underneath the straps, rubbing the balls of your shoulders. You roll them back instinctively and inhale deeply hoping that the sound drowns in the sea.

Lower he goes. To your shoulder blades and between, where muscle meets bone, and Viktor is so painfully quiet that silent breathing becomes harder and harder to achieve. His fingers bleed not only thoughtfulness, you realise, but tenderness. It seeps into your skin, when he dares to slide beneath the material and tease your sides, and oh—the small of your back. Flat palm comes there when he pulls the stretchy band away from your body and explores, calloused pads ghosting over your sacrum.

“It’s cut rather low, isn’t it?” he hums in an attempt to offload the tension.

You chuckle, grateful and muse, “Hmm, good thing I didn’t put it on backwards then.”

“I think it depends on perspective,” he huffs a laugh and before you can answer, adds, “All done.”

You turn to face him and swing your legs over one of his. “What about you?” you ask, pointing at his belly painted white.

“I don’t know,” he breathes, so quiet that you itch to move closer. You shift again, moving one of your legs so that now you are sat with your knees bent over his thighs, your torsos facing each other.

“Do you need help?” you ask, matching his tone.

“If you’d be,” he swallows, “so thoughtful.”

His tummy sucks in involuntarily when your fingers dip into the pool of sun screen gathered at the waistband. You pull it away from his navel, scoop it up and Viktor breathes out, “Oh.” His head falls forward, foreheads nearly touching. Your hands glide up, over the flat plane below his stomach, whitening the sparse hairs there before reaching the ridges of his ribs making him exhale loudly through his nose, as he does nothing to hide what kind of effect your touch has on him.

Palms smooth over his chest, brushing his nipples, and he huffs an embarrassed laugh but still says nothing. Not until you reach his neck, where your fingers meet at his nape, tracing the hairline, then his earlobes—and that’s when he exhales a quiet, “Oh, fuck,” slipping through parted lips.

You hum, letting his forehead press against yours. Your thumbs move with intent in slow circles over the freckles dusting the column of his throat, the one above his upper lip, and the delicate skin beneath his eye. Then you inhale, a soft, measured sound, and murmur, “I’ve heard that lips burn too.”

“Is that so?” Viktor whispers, his nose brushing against yours.

Gentle fingers, bearing little to no lotion now, ghost over his mouth, and his lip quivers under the pressure. You rub, stretch, tease the tender flesh until it slips from your touch and bounces back into place. His jaw slackens, inviting—waiting—and then, when you least expect it, his tongue flickers out, hot and wanting.

Oh. You think you’ve reached the edge of indulgence, but then he redefines it for you—his lips close around your fingers, and he sucks.

“Oh, fuck, Viktor,” you moan, shameless, shifting closer. Your thighs close around his ribs, and he shudders, hips jerking forward, pressing the thick, insistent heat of him against you.

His hand closes around your wrist, thumb stroking the pulse beneath your skin when his tongue curls around the tip of your fingers, tracing every ridge and every sensitive dip. He sucks, drawing them deeper, the wet heat of his mouth sending a bolt of warmth rivalling the sun down. His teeth graze—just lightly, teasing—before he soothes the spot with another languid swipe of his tongue.

A sharp inhale catches in your throat. "Viktor—”

Your name hovers on the edge of his breath as he pulls off, lips parting with the softest pop. His pupils are dark and blown wide, fixed on your mouth like it holds the answer to something he’s been dying to know. He licks his lips before murmuring, “What about your lips?” His voice is rough, almost hoarse, and he swallows hard, the bob of his Adam’s apple visible in the dip of his throat.

You blink, breath uneven, caught between teasing and the cramp twisting your stomach. “I don’t know, Viktor,” you say innocently. Your fingers brush your own mouth, still slick from his. “If you’d be so thoughtful.”

Viktor leans forward, twisting his fingers into your hair, his free hand slips bravely to squeeze your ass and then hook into your hip, just as he wanted. And indeed, it’s made to be held, the lovely hip of yours. His lips cover yours entirely, wet and filthy as he cocks your head back so his tongue can dip in properly. You can taste the balm of you and the salt of him as you slide your hands up his ribs again, graze your nails against his neck to finally settle into his hair. Viktor fills your mouth with moans, and they all taste so sweet you could melt.

A low groan rumbles against your chest when you roll your hips against him, hist body answering with a sharp involuntary thrust. Sand tickles your ankles as your hook them over each other behind Viktor’s back and press on him hard and Viktor swears to God, he’s about to roll you over and fuck you, because he can’t stand it, when—

“Jayce! Get out of the water, you’re burned!” Mel’s voice reaches you from the nearby.

“Shit,” you squirm, still holding his face. “You—oh God. Lay on your stomach,” you offer eyeing the tent in his trunks, apology seeping from your tone.

“Shit, indeed,” he chuckles, cheeks flushed, and he sighs, as if considering if it’s worth the risk after all. Moment lingers, but he finally untangles his legs from underneath yours and with a grunt splays flat on his belly, a book marking his innocence opens on a random page when he makes himself look engrossed in it.

Mere seconds later, Mel, looking like she was just made by the gods, emerges over the crest of the sand dune, Jayce right behind her, his nose and shoulders glaring red. His still-cold body slumps down next to Viktor in the shade. He pokes Viktor’s calf with his toe and asks, “So? Not too bad, is it?”

“Who said it was going to be bad?” Viktor responds, his nose buried in his book.

“Well, you— Ow!” Jayce hisses when Mel spurts a cold gush of sunscreen onto his back.

Viktor only smiles, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Oh no. I love the beach,” he says, grinning stupidly. “Most ardently.”

“Good to know, V,” Jayce smiles, knowing. “I’ll make sure we come more often.”

[sheaabuttaababyy]

Regret - JU and RR

Jey x Faith x Roman

Warning: Lots of Angst, masturbation, slight fluff

Sobs left Faith body as Josh sat across from her, silent. Guilt written all over his face. She wiped her tears, but it was no use. Fresh ones streaming down her face as she looked at the man sitting in front of her.

"Why? I don’t understand. I’ve been there for you for everything your ups and down. Whenever you needed me I was there. Now your leaving me for her? The one who broke your heart that I healed?" Another sob leaving Faith’s mouth at the end of her sentence.

Josh winced at her words, not knowing what to say. "I-im sorry, I didn’t mean any of this to happen." He gripped his mullet feeling stressed.

Faith scoffed standing up, anger building up inside her. "The fuck you mean you didn’t mean for this to happpen? You been fucking your ex for months while we’re engaged and got her fucking pregnant. And now here you are telling me you are leaving me to go build a family with her!!!"

"Faye, I know your mad and you every right to be, but I have to be there for my kid. I know it hurts but Emma is different now, she isn’t the same girl who used to break my heart and use me for my money. She loves me.

"I LOVE YOU, IVE ALWAYS LOVED YOU THROUGH EVERYTHING. I never cared if you had money or if you were broke I Loved you Josh, and this is how you repay me!?"

"I’m sorr-"

"It’s always I’m sorry, oh I’m so sorry for hurting you, fuck you piece of shit. Your nothing you fucking cunt. You and that walking std deserve each other. I hope she gives you a fucking disease from how many niggas she fucks daily" Josh blinked not believing what he was hearing. This wasn’t the sweet faith he knew.

"Just get the fuck out my house and give me my fathers ring back" Eyes going to his left hand, where the ring sat on his ring finger. Slowly twisting the black band off, he held it in his palm, it quickly getting snatched out his hand.

"Take this mothafucka too, give it to that bitch" Taking her engagement ring off throwing it directly at the forehead at her now Ex-fiancé, bouncing off and falling in his lap. He picked it up holding it in her direction. "You can keep this, it’s still yours"

"I don’t want it. I don’t want anything you gave me or anything that has a trace of you. I want you burned out my Brain, no reminder of you" Josh stared at her in disbelief, his chest starting to feel heavy.

"The fuck you just sitting there looking stupid for? Get. The. Fuck. Out" finally standing up, he got up going towards the front door before leaving, his eyes now burning.

3 months. 3 months since that night and Josh’s life has been, hell.

Currently he was sitting in his living room, staring at nothing in particular. "Joshyyy pooh" Emma’s loud annoying voice, was heard making him roll his eyes. "What?" He knew he responded harshly but he didn’t care, she’s been on his nerves.

"I need some money" of course, money. It was always money with her. "I already gave you so much already. Where did all that go?"

"I spent it all on shopping" she spoke like it was nothing. "You shopped for the baby too right? Cause that’s what most of the money was for"

"Why would I use the money you gave me for the baby?" Josh looked at her as if she was dumb. Which she was.

"Emma don’t piss me off right now. You literally said that’s why you needed it"

"Oh I spent that on a Birkin bag" she giggled, pissing him off even more. "Pleaseeeee" she got on her knees pulling on his shorts. His face was straight, not reacting at all. Once she got his pants and boxers down, she took ahold of his soft dick.

Five minutes of trying to get it up, but it was still on soft. "What is wrong with you? It’s been three months and your dick still can’t get hard" Josh just shrugged not even bothering to look at her as he grabbed his phone. It’s been like this for months now, everytime he tries to do anything sexual with Emma, his dick could never get hard anymore.

She huffed scrabbling up to get back on her feet. "Can I just get some money now? I tried at least." Josh shook his head, eyes still on his phone. "No" Emma let out a frustrated scream, stomping to the front door, leaving the house.

"Finally" Joshua whispered relieved that the cause of his headache was gone, as he logged onto his fake account on instagram. Immediately he went to Faiths page scrolling through her pictures.

As he continued to scroll, his dick jumped seeing her pretty face and body. "Fuckk" he clicked on her bikini picture, grabbing his dick that was now standing hard and tall.

He spat on his hand, bringing it back to his lower half, stroking himself. "Fuck, Faith. Why you gotta be so sexy" he groaned tossing his head back, imagining it was her he was fucking. Remembering how her sweet moans were, how her ass would ripple each time he fucked her from the back, how good her pussy tasted on his tongue. His eyes shot open feeling his nut coming, his eyes fixated on his phone, looking at the picture of her.

"Aghhh fuck" he shouted his hand moving faster. His body stilled, stomach flexing as ropes of cum shot out his tip. "Fuckk faithhh" he whimpered, coming down from his high. He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. What the fuck has his life come to?

Looking back at his phone he was about to exit out but noticed her new picture. The fuck? He clicked up the picture of her sitting on pink flower petals.

Faithmonae ✔️

Liked by Trinity fatu, Roman Reigns, Kehlani and others

FaithMonae✔️ My man really went all out for me🥹❤️

KennedyRyan New man!?!?

WWE_gossip Tea for meeee

Natnatpat Aww period get spoiled sis

Tinamonae Being treated the way you should. I know that’s right

Josh’s head flooded with a million questions, new man?? Who the fuck is this? Who did this for her? Has she really moved on from him that quickly? Getting up he went to the washroom to clean himself as he called his twin.

"Yoooo, what’s up?" Jon’s voice came through, but Josh had no time for funny talk. "Who the fuck is Faith’s man?" Jon went silent on the other end, irritating Josh further. "Stop playing with me Jon, who is he? I know her an Trinity still talk and she tells you everything."

"I don’t know man" the older twin replied. "Stop fucking lying to me!"

"you better watch your tone, before I do sum you won’t like. Plus I’m being for real i don’t know, she won’t even tell Trin who it is."

He rubbed a hand down his face feeling overwhelmed. This was all too much to take in. Josh knew he fucked up. Putting her through everything, leaving her for his Ex who did him wrong and is doing it again. He fucked up.

But he never expected her to move on. Especially this quick. "Tell Trinity to ask. Ima find out which fucker tryna take her from me."

"Bruh leave her alone. You already put her through so much shit, she’s finally moving on. Finally happy don’t ruin that for her."

Closing his eyes he listened to his brothers words. He should leave her alone, but he can’t. He wants her back. "You know I can’t do that Uce. I need her. All of this made me realize how much I need her, she’s my other half. I’m miserable without her."

"Well who’s fault is that?" Josh put his head down in shame. "Mine"

"Exactly. You need to focus on the child you put in that whore. If it even is yours."

"It is mine!" Josh shouted feeling anger. "I know how Emma is I get that. Her ass wouldn’t go that far and lie though, I know that for a fact."

"Right… anyways I gotta go lil bruh, talk to ya later"

Josh found himself driving to his twins house, as he got there he saw his cousin Joe and little brother Joseph already there a hanging out in the family room.

4 tequila shots in and he found himself spilling out everything he was feeling to them. "I took care of her, let that bitch stay in my house. Gave her everything she wanted, just for the baby to be someone else’s." He darkly chuckled taking another shot. The burning in his throat, feeling too good to him at the moment.

"5 months ago I thought I was gonna be a dad, I was ready to see my baby girl. And s-she" he swallowed back the sob that was built in his throat, washing it away with more alcohol. Remembering the day he was in the delivery room with Emma as she gave birth, the baby coming out looking nothing like him at all. And even freshly out you could tell, even the doctors and nurses knew it. And the way Emma cried as Josh questioned it. He knew for a fact it wasn’t his child.

"She lied to me. Used me. Again. I left the best thing that ever happened to me, to raise a child with her that wasn’t even mine" he gripped the tequila bottle not even bothering to pour it in the cup anymore.

"I mean you put yourself in this position. You made the decision to go back to her and fuck her. Even if she didn’t lie about this whole baby thing, you still fucked up, and ruined everything with Faith" Joe’s voice rang out, making everyone in the room look towards him.

Josh snarled, listening to his words. "I know man"

"Do you? Cause you treated Faith like shit. Fucking around with that dumb bitch Emma. She literally cheated on you multiple times when you were together." Joe let out a laugh before continuing. "You were so lucky to have Faith, she’s a woman every man wanted. Beautiful, smart, loyal, caring. She helped you at your lowest times, she’s the reason why you were doing so good in your career. Now look at you. A fucking bum, with a fucked up life." Joe stood up feeling slightly angry, still not believing how dirty his cousin did her.

"I told yo ass if you don’t treat her right, don’t get mad when someone else does. And look at you now, your mad cause now someone is treating her how she deserves and it isn’t you that’s doing it." Josh stood up, his cousins words triggering him. He knew he was right.

"MAN SHUT THE FUCK UP" Jon and Joseph quickly rushed between the two as they sized eachother up, looking ready to fight one another. "Chill chill" Jon pushed his twin slightly back. "Nah he got me fucked up" Josh threw the bottle at the wall causing it to shatter.

Joe stepped back, grabbing his keys off the glass table. He walked pass his cousins stopping at Josh. "Your pathetic" he smiled in his face before, going to leave out the house. Door slamming shut leaving the three brothers in silence.

2 months since the big fight with Joe. The two didn’t talk at all. Josh’s been busy, trying to focus on wrestling, it not going so well. He’s been lacking, he knew it and the world noticed too. He’s been trying to get in contact with Faith sending her messages, emails, calls from different numbers, but she hasn’t responded to a single one.

Josh pulled into a 90s themed diner, one that he and Faith used to go to all the time, when they were together. Getting out the car, he walked towards the diner before stopping In his tracks. The sight in front of him breaking his heart. Watching through the window he saw Faith and Joe laughing flush against eachother in a booth, feeding each other, small kisses between each bite, happy smiles planted on their faces.

His eyes burned with tears seeing them together. feeling betrayed and hurt. He watched Faith get up from the booth placing a loving, kiss on Joe’s lips, as she turned around to walk away, he didn’t miss how he slapped her ass making her giggle.

Body on fire, shaking with anger, he took long strides, going inside the restaurant. He stopped towards his big cousin, who was drinking his coffee, legs spread apart one arm across the booth seat. A smirk planted on his face seeing his upset lil cousin. "Sup cuzzo"

"What the fuck are you doing with her here, why are you kissing, hugged up, dammit everything!"

Unfazed Joe took another sip before. "We’re together" he spoke casually.

"How could you do this to me? You know I still wanted her? Wait You the fucking guy who got her all those pink flowers?"

"Correct"

"You went after her three months me and her separated?" Josh slammed his hand on the table, causing it to shake.

"Actually. I went after her 2 days after y’all called it a quits"

"Ima kill yo ass." Josh said lowly gritting his teeth. His eyes drifting off to his cousins left hand, a Black band resting around, on his ring finger. The same one he wore around his, a time ago.

Joe smiled, looking into his cousins eyes. "Do it." Sending him another smile, his eyes landing behind Josh, a wider and genuine smile taking over his face.

"Babeee, my feet hurt I think I need a massag-" Josh felt his heart stop hearing that sweet, angelic voice again. 13 months it’s been, since he’s heard it.

Faiths voice faltered seeing her ex. "Oh, hi" she spoke awkwardly, her eyes darting between the two cousins. "Faith" he let out a loss of words seeing her in-front of him.

His eyes drifted downwards, landing on her stomach that was slightly swollen, her hand protectively over it, a big diamond, decorating it. Josh felt sick, like he was going to pass out. Not only was his big cousin, dating her. They were engaged and are having a baby together."

"No" he whispered. Joe quickly stood up, already knowing Josh was going to cause a scene. "Baby go to the car I’ll be right there" passing Faith the keys, he gently guided her to the exit.

"But-"

"Sweetheart. Please."

Her eyes went to Josh who looked like was going crazy as he mumbled to himself. "Okay, please be quick" nodding his head, placing a kiss on her lips, mumbling a quick "I love you" against them, before she left the building.

"You got her pregnant man" Josh pushed Joe’s chest, hyperventilating.

"Hey, hey! Look at me." Gripping the back of his neck her put his forehead against his. "You never deserved her, ever. You took her for granted, this would have never happened if you did your part as a man and Treated her right. You can’t be upset with me, and you Damn sure can’t be mad at her. You did this" Joe spoke harshly, before pushing Josh back, his ass landing on the booth chair.

"I love you little cousin, but I love her more. Me and Faith are going to have our little boys in 3 months so please, for the love of god. Let us be happy, let her be happy. That’s the least you could do" pulling 3 hundred dollar bills, he placed it on the table as a tip, before, leaving.

Josh put his head down on the table, a cry leaving his body.

"Sweetheart, I thought I told you to go into the car" Joe said walking towards Faith who stood outside the entrance of the diner. "I know, I know. I was just worried about you" he took her hand placing a kiss on the back of it.

"Don’t worry about me, you know I can beat anyones ass" his playful tone, making her laugh. Reaching the car he opened the passenger door , helping her get in. Rubbing her stomach, he bent down placing a kiss on it, doing the same to her lips, before rounding the car to get in the driver seat.

Inside the diner, Josh watched with a heavy heart. Seeing Joe and faith together, sharing looks of love just like they used to. Tears fell down his face as he saw their car drive away, leaving him feeling broken and alone. A big reminder of what he had lost.

Author note: Well damn.

🏷 @charmed-dreamssss @usoinked @mselenalovebug @theusotwinzcom @bloodlineslut @trippinsorrows @catxo @whowrotethenote @uceyliyahh @adoreesun @christinabae @mjonthetrack

[jesse-pinko]

It’s literally not my fault that the themes of Breaking Bad become that much stronger if you read Walter as a closeted gay man… like where to even start okay it’s 2008 and this guy is so, so insecure in his masculinity and so, so resentful of his picket fence family life. He’s done what he was “supposed” to do by societal standards and he still doesn’t feel like enough of a man compared to his brodude brother-in-law specifically. He can’t escape the feeling that something is missing, that it’s all a charade, and he finds it hard to believe the rest of the people in his life really are content with this lifestyle. Nobody seems to understand, and he hates them all for not seeing how unhappy he is. He gets his cancer diagnosis and is suddenly acutely aware that he feels burdened and unfulfilled by the life he’s built for himself, and that time is running out to change things.

It’s when he sees Jesse Pinkman fall half naked out of a window that everything changes. He’s pretty, and young, and floundering without guidance or a support system. He desperately craves human connection and lacks the self-esteem to take his life in any particular direction without someone instructing him. He’s grieving his aunt, the only person he had looking out for him, who died of cancer. He already views Walter as an authority figure. He’s alone.

And with Jesse around, Walter doesn’t have to come to terms with anything about himself that might challenge his masculinity, because it isn’t an equal relationship. Because he’s still “the man” in this dynamic, the one with the power, the one calling the shots, the dominant one, the firm hand. Moreso than in his relationship with Skyler, who refuses to be bullied into the role he would assign her, that of the submissive, subservient little wife who looks to him for guidance and permission. As a criminal, Walt can express care for another man in the only way that traditional masculinity would deem acceptable; through violence. His love language is violence. Violence toward Jesse and violence on Jesse’s behalf. He runs over two men with a car for Jesse. He kills Jane and Mike, a romantic and paternal threat respectively, because they were going to take Jesse away from him. He tries on occasion to verbalize their relationship into something more traditionally familial, as if saying it might make it true, but it never quite fits the mold exactly. He reasserts, over and over again in what he later admits is a lie, that he is doing this for his family, that everything he does is an extension of his masculine role rather than deviant from it. He would kill and die for Jesse, he does kill and die for Jesse. In fact, in a story of self-actualization that still has Walt cling to his delusions of grandeur up until the very end (almost as though becoming Heisenberg wasn’t actually self-actualization so much as an escapist fantasy) his arc concludes with him actually self-actualizing by committing one last act of violence on Jesse’s behalf. In Ozymandias, he tells Jesse about Jane as a way of playing into Jesse’s worst fear that Walter never cared about him, that everything they did to and for each other meant nothing. Walter’s last act on Earth is a refutation of that; it’s an admission of care. His last act of self-actualization was a confession of love for another man.

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer dotes on a mama!reader

・❥ Caring for an infant isn’t easy, but luckily, you’ve got a charming king willing to do anything for you.

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

x: reader is fem, no use of y/n.

xx: it’s here! a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, but lots of think you’ll enjoy it! keep your eyes out for some pretty art i commissioned inside!

~ 15k words

When you welcomed your daughter into the realm, and finally reached that next long stretch of motherhood, you had prepared yourself for the many changes that accompanied the new addition.

For example, your sleep schedule flipped entirely on its head once you realized that newborn babies slept only a few hours intermittently, which meant a good, long night's rest did not exist anymore. 

You found yourself putting your daughter down for a nap at six in the morning, having spent the previous night breastfeeding and soothing her cries. Sometimes, her wailing lasted several hours, and you began to worry if she had a hellish form of colic. You prayed it wasn’t that, because that would mean it would worsen for the next month or so.

The first few weeks were spent holed up in your room, away from the loud noises and constant active state of the rest of the hotel. It was pretty easy, seeing as it was basically a studio apartment, save for the kitchen, which was an exhausting walk down the hall, even more so than when you were pregnant. 

“Ya look terrible, mama,” Angel Dust had grimaced with a laugh when you appeared like a ghost late one night inside the much posher lobby, your complexion sunken and drained as your feet dragged across the red carpet.

He had just arrived home from a long day at the studio, his expression equally as drained but his demeanor much livelier than your zombie appearance.

You probably did look terrible, in your oversized pajamas that no doubt had stains of baby spit-up and breast milk. You looked unsightly, a mess, that pregnancy glow extinguished like a flame as you tiredly frog blinked in Angel’s direction. 

“Need… to clean the milk bottles… before she wakes up,” you mumbled, lifting three small, dirty baby bottles to view.

“Ya need any help?”

“No, thanks. M’fine,” you waved him off with a yawn, slowly crossing the room towards the kitchen doors. 

There was no reason to bother him with such a task, it was your baby, and he already had enough to deal with at the studio.

“Well, have a good time then. I'm jus’ gonna call it an early night an’ head ta bed,” Angel replied, bidding farewell as he turned and left the lobby. 

Your head twisted to catch a glimpse of his figure turning the corner, surprise crossing your features at his sudden departure. Usually, Angel Dust had a couple of drinks after work or went out to party until the early hours of the morning. 

Tonight, the only thing on the spider demon’s mind was to curl up with Fat Nuggets and sleep those troubling emotions away.

He had been drinking far less lately, or, at least, had been keeping his habits away from the hotel ever since the new hotel was built and your daughter was born. No more did the pornstar burst in after a night at the studio, eyes red and speech slurred as he spoke gibberish and laughed at nothing in particular. 

Even though it was Hell, you were determined to keep the gateways into a chaotic life away from your daughter. She was going to have the best quality of life possible in such a place, and you were vocal about your disapproval of those habits, especially in a place that’s supposed to be free of such sin.

When Cherri began staying longer and longer at the hotel, you were apprehensive at first with how much deeper she seemed to be in ‘the life’. Would she sink further into the depths after Sir. Pentious’ death? It wasn’t easy for someone to deal with both grief and guilt at the same time. 

Fortunately, she had the support of the residents inside the hotel, and she was finding healthier outlets than a thin line of white powder to quell her pain. 

You were grieving too, even if you hadn’t known Sir. Pentious that long in comparison to the others, the little time you spent with him was all but enough. 

Sir. Pentious was kind, and courteous, and made the best cookies you’d ever tasted. You had a connection with the snake demon with your shared enjoyment in cooking, and you welcomed the assistance of his Egg Boiz taste-testing your delicacies. 

Now, he was gone, and the emptiness of his departure was palpable inside the hotel. His loyal egg companions now dwindled to just one singular yolk, the rest having sacrificed their shells along with their selfless general. 

Frank, who had survived solely because he had guarded you at the hospital, returned home to an empty nest and no boss.

You weren’t sure whether the little guy could understand how double death worked, but the way he stared longingly at Sir. Pentious’ portrait in the lobby that he knew his old family was gone for good.

Charlie had done her best to integrate him into the staff, him a room service attendant. He stayed your faithful helper in that way, summoned to your door by the newly installed service button whenever you needed.

“Sorry for bothering you, Frank,” you had smiled down at him, poking your head out from the inside of your room, your daughter latched onto your nipple, “But I’m out of toilet paper and I'm kind of busy right now. Could you go grab me some, please?” 

“Sure thing!” He replied chipperly, lifting his hat courteously from the top of his shell before he scampered down the hall and out of view. 

He’d return with your items of request, as he did for all the rest of the residents. It kept him busy, allowing his one-track mind to stay away from thinking hard thoughts about what was lost for too long.

Those hard thoughts plagued you as well, as you dealt with the grief of losing a friend and the mood swings that began to take over you. The hormonal changes that came post-birth was also something you prepared for, the ‘baby blues’ as most would call it.

It had started as mood swings, the typical sudden bursts of emotions that accompanied your pregnancy, and the ones that liked to show their face around your period. Suddenly, you’d find yourself shooting a glare at a particularly noisy conversation outside of your door, or find your eyes welling up with tears at the slightest inconvenience.

A mix of sleep deprivation and postpartum hormones was not a good one, and you were determined to keep this weakness away from your friends. 

What if they thought you weren’t doing a good job as a mother? All that time, energy, and resources that were used to help you and your baby. They’d think it was all a waste, caring so much only for you to end up a disappointment. 

Was that… how your ex had felt when he chose a whore over his lover and child?

Those thoughts began to plague you, and your anxiety heightened with every passing day. The idea that their judgments on your parenting would be harsh had you withdrawing for longer periods inside your room, and farther away from your friends.

Unfortunately, you weren’t able to keep your feelings completely hidden from them, and you realized quickly how erratic your emotions actually were.

One day, Vaggie had swung by to inform you that they had ordered some pizza, and you were welcome to have some too. You were busy breastfeeding your baby at the time, and had to wait until she was sound asleep to sneak out of your room and into the kitchen. 

When you finally arrived, your stomach growled with giddy anticipation as you passed by the others who had mostly finished their plates, your lateness obvious. The lobby was filled with chatter, all the residents gathered for a nice meal and to catch up on anything new that had transpired during the week.

When you reached the partially open pizza box inside the empty kitchen, that delicious scent wafted to your nose and you licked your lips hungrily. Gripping the lid, you lifted it quickly, your mind already picturing whatever goodness lay inside. 

Was it the classic pepperoni that couldn’t go wrong? Maybe it was from that new pizzeria down the block with their best-selling macaroni and cheese… 

Your train of thought derailed, your gaze narrowing at the contents inside the box. 

A singular slice of pizza was all that remained inside, your most hated topping sprinkled atop the now-cooled cheese. 

Your lip curled at the sight, irritation flickering across your face at the lonely slice. You heard laughter from the conversation behind you, and that only had your eye twitching.

You had lived with these guys during the most intense months of your cravings, and they were aware of what kind of pizza you devoured in an instant and which ones had you gagging. And, only one slice? Had they forgotten about you, even though you had told Vaggie you’d come down after feeding the baby? 

You were itching to commit some sort of violence, which had you steeling your arms from lifting the box and chucking it against the wall. 

Those intrusive thoughts had you rubbing your temple with a frustrated sigh, before lifting a hand to begin plucking the disgusting toppings from the slice. 

As you placed the last of it onto the cardboard, you grabbed the pizza and threw it into the microwave nearby. Your foot tapped impatiently against the marble tile as the slice spun slowly inside the appliance, your thoughts spinning along with it.

By the time you had made it out of the kitchen with steaming food, your tolerance for social interaction was drained, and it seemed a better idea to just eat in your room. 

Passing by a few familiar faces, you only greeted them with a tight smile, walking fast enough so that they’d assume you were busy and it would be less likely for them to invite you to chat. 

Right as you were about to turn the corner into the hall, plate in hand, a figure rounded the corner and smacked into you head-on. Your chests collided, and you felt the plate slip from your grip, you snapped your head up to see the familiar apple-cheeked woman meet your gaze.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Charlie gasped, right as the pizza slid off your plate and began to free-fall down to the carpet.

Your eyes widened, and Charlie tensed as the pizza splat face-down, the tomato sauce beginning to ooze from the sides like a bloody scene and your hand began to tremble.

At first, those intrusive thoughts were prodding you to snap at her, but you held your tongue. That anger quickly morphed into gloom, and your eyes cast down longingly to the overturned slice.

Your lip quivered, and your chest heaved as you took a shaky breath to keep those tears from falling. Charlie’s brows furrowed and she slowly matched your expression as guilt squeezed her stomach. The banter around you quieted, but your gaze was firmly on the woman in front of you. 

Fuck, that was the one thing you were looking forward to today. You couldn’t lose your composure in front of the princess, however, that would heighten her concern, and she already had enough on her plate with the new clients.

“Here, let me get Niffty to clean this up and I can get you some more piz—”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” You interrupted her, a quiet growl laced in your wavering words as you chuckled humorously, “There isn’t anything left, this was all you guys cared enough to save for me.” 

Charlie’s eyes widened at your tone, before she opened her mouth to speak again just as Niffty walked forward to clean the mess. Looking down, you took notice of the large glob of sauce that had landed on your top, and you clenched your fists in frustration.

“If you excuse me, I have to get changed now,” you huffed, spinning on your heels to face the hallway, not giving the princess any time to press further as you briskly walked away.

That hot, salty liquid began to spill down your cheeks right as you entered into the long corridor, and you desperately tried to wipe them away. Your face was rubbed dry in a desperate bid to silence the tears.

What was wrong with you? It was one slice of pizza, yet your heart ached like your lottery ticket was one number away from winning. Charlie’s expression had proved your mask was beginning to crack, with the mix of concern and surprise toward your change in demeanor. 

Motherhood isn't easy, that had been clear since day one, but you had hoped your emotions would have stabilized by now. It seems that sleep exhaustion and maternal hormones just don’t mix very well, huh?

That incident had been so embarrassing, that you kept to yourself the rest of the week, only venturing out when necessary, which had you spending most of your time with your daughter. 

Your baby couldn’t speak yet, and wouldn’t for quite a while, which meant you had to speak for her. Usually, you attached words to the silly little faces she would make at any action you or another demon did around her. 

The one time you switched her bottle from breast milk to formula, she didn’t seem too happy about it with how big of a stink eye she sent you chugging down her dinner. Peaches was only a month and a half, but her expressiveness was that of a moody, hormonal teenager.

You spent many hours cooped up with her, sometimes, you needed to have a little fun and play puppeteer one evening as the two of you lounged on your bed.

You squished your daughter's cheeks, making tiny little duck lips as you pitched your voice higher, “Yes, Mama, I promise to sleep through the whoooole night this time!”

“Wonderful,” you beamed, using your other hand to pat her approvingly on the stomach, “And you’ll drink your whole bottle without fuss?”

“Yes, Mama! And, I wi—”

“What are you doing?” An amused, honeyed voice came from across your room.

You froze, turning towards the open doorway, your fingers still pinched around the baby's lips as your eyes widened at the familiar face.

There, standing leisurely against his cane, was the casually dressed ‘Big Boss of Hell’. Lucifer’s blonde hair was slicked back, a few curls framing his statuesque features. Those warm, golden eyes and skin that practically shimmered against the waning daylight from your window.  

He tilted his head with a soft, playful smile, as he drank in your figure. The red evening light basked the bed with a warm glow that lit your eyes up like diamonds, enhancing your maternal elegance as you bonded with your daughter. 

Your love for her was obvious, and that always had Lucifer’s heart fluttering, seeing something so pure exist in such a grim world.

Slowly, you slid off the bed, your smile widening every step closer you took towards the king as you crossed the room. Somehow, even in your melancholic state, his presence always seemed to have you energized and bouncy.

“Your Majesty,” you batted your lashes, coming to a stop at the doorway before leaning casually against it. 

“M’lady,” his grin widened into a wide, teeth-glinting smile as he lifted his hand to present a caramel-coated apple nestled snugly atop a thin, wooden stick. Your stomach growled on cue, and the scent that wafted to your nose had your mouth watering.

“Looks like that glow hasn’t left you yet, if I do say,” he replied, his eyes flicking across your figure before meeting your gaze again.

You only shook your head with a breath of laughter, reaching forward and plucking the delicacy from his grip and turning it in your fingers.

“Charlie says she hasn’t seen you for a few days, you really should go and get some fresh air once in a while,” Lucifer continued as you widened the doorway for him to enter, shooting you a stern glance as spoke. 

Is he talking right now? You quirked a brow as he slid past, lifting the offering to your lips and taking a large, hungry bite out of the treat. 

Lucifer’s eyes were on one being in particular, swaddled snuggly across the room on your bed. His gaze lingered on your daughter for a few moments, before he turned to face you again. 

“How is everything going?”

“Good,” you lied. 

“That’s great to hear,” his warm smile widened, and his eyes flicked back over to your daughter, before snapping back to you. 

Lucifer’s cane twisted between his fingers nervously as he opened his mouth to speak, before disregarding his thoughts and clamping his mouth shut with a small huff.

You only titled your head at that, your lips curving into a more genuine smile as you watched him. 

Children were such a soft spot for Lucifer, you could tell the way his demeanor changed instantly when he was in the presence of a baby. His voice turned to velvet whenever his gentle tone gained from experience in soothing their little ears.

You couldn’t imagine how beautiful lullabies sounded with those vocals of his, the very thought making you melt like butter. Although, you haven't gotten the chance to hear them yet. 

His parental instincts seemed to have resurfaced with the birth of your daughter, and that natural affinity for caring for the innocent and helpless buried along with his angelic began to emerge with each passing visit.

He kept his love at a distance, at first. Almost as if he was afraid of getting attached to such a tiny being, like the emotions that came along with it were a deadly force that could take him out far quicker than angelic steel.

Was it because the baby wasn’t his? Did he think you didn’t want him around your child? Maybe, one day he assumed you’d take the baby and leave, and those growing would only break his heart along with your departure. 

You just needed to prove him wrong. 

“Come on,” you finally nudged him with a laugh, setting the apple on a table nearby, before beckoning him to follow you towards the bed. 

It seemed as if Lucifer had been waiting for your approval, as his demeanor lightened at your words and he slowly followed you. His steps were light and quiet as you neared the side of the bed, stopping just as he settled beside you. 

“Peaches! You’re looking quite radiant this evening,” Lucifer greeted with a flourish, as he leaned over the side of your bed, and your daughter’s eyes widened at the familiar face.

Your eyes flicked up to the fallen angel at his words. Peaches, the nickname he had come up with. Shockingly, a name that didn’t derive from apples, ducks, or the circus.

“Well, aren't you just a peach, so quiet and easy for your mama!'' Lucifer had cooed to the little one her first days in Hell, she lay in your arms as he softly brushed a thumb across her chin, “So adwowable wit those chubby wittle cheeks.” 

Your baby had only frowned at the strange man’s touch with a half-lidded gaze, but soon she’d learn to get used to Lucifer’s presence, as he never disappeared for too long without visiting his three favorite girls. 

You had a real name for your daughter that was chosen after her birth, but that could be reserved for when you’d have to pull out the full name card during arguments in her teenage years. Peaches had been a simple phrase that seemed to stick, and even if you weren’t fond of the cute addressal, you wouldn’t dare ruin his first attachment to your daughter.

Peaches had only stared up at the porcelain figure invading her space with a curious gaze, no doubt wondering who this silly was, and why he always left her gifts to fawn over. 

Like the first day you came home from the hospital, he presented you with a beautiful red, silken bassinet, with intricate gold lines woven into the detailed design, enhancing the elegance of the crib. Its plushness looked very comfortable for your daughter, and you adored that Lucifer got you something in the first place.

Another time, he brought you a golden mobile that depicted ducks flying rhythmically in circles, ones that threw vibrant, warm lights across the walls late at night, soothing the girl’s late wakings before they woke you at times. 

That seemed to be Lucifer’s love language towards your daughter, always presenting her with toys and other little gizmos he cooked up inside of his workshop. Finally, the fallen angel had found purpose for the dusty space, instead of constantly tweaking the same old, yellow rubber ducky day after day.

“For you, a fan-favorite from the vault,” Lucifer hummed as he snapped his fingers, and a stuffed goat with devilish horns and bat wings materialized in his hands.

Right as he pulled the plush from behind his back, Peaches became enamored with it, kicking her legs in excitement as the stuffed animal was held high for her to get a full view. Her motor control was still poor, and she couldn’t grasp the amusing creature, but its colorful fur and dragon-like features were something to gawk at in the little one’s eyes.

“Look, she’s smiling!” You beamed beside the fallen angel, heart melting as you watched the little girl’s mouth open with a squeal at the offering, “I think that’s her biggest one yet!”

“It seems I’m just a natural at this kind of thing, huh?” Lucifer winked playfully your way, before he levitated the toy just above your daughter’s head, whose attention was solely on the little goat plush, “I think she’s even starting to like me, too.”

‘You’re such a good daddy, please let me make you one again.’

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” you replied instead with a simple nod, before turning on your heels to hide your goofy smile and retrieve the caramel apple once more.

You plucked the apple from the table, before biting another large chunk from its side. The flavors swirled in your mouth, and that fog in your mind lessened a little more with each bite.

You watched from a short distance, as Lucifer’s index finger pointed towards the air above your daughter’s head. With a flick of his wrist, a trail of golden sparks shot from his fingertip and upward above their heads, before exploding into a flurry of sparkles that sent golden shadows across the room.

Peaches was digging the light show, her eyes fixated on the floating spectacle before they flickered out of existence. 

“Anything else going on?” The king finally spoke, turning his head slightly to catch a glimpse of you. 

“Not really, just taking it one day at a time,” you responded absentmindedly, lifting the coated apple to your lips to take another bite. 

“Are you free tomorrow?” He blurted, smile cracking wider as straightened himself against his cane. 

You froze, brain short-circuiting as those words processed in your head. You, free? As in, available to partake in some sort of activity with Lucifer?

“Yes, technically…” you trailed off, gaze flicking to your daughter, giddy on her bed as she watched the stuffed goat, “But I can’t just leave the baby alone all evening, she needs me.”

“She doesn’t need you, she’s fine with someone else for a few hours,” he waved off your excuse, before throwing another trail of sparklings into the air, and they exploded in a flurry of golden glimmers above the baby’s head, “I’m sure Charlie would love to spoil the kid for a few hours anyway, don’t you trust her?” 

“Yes…” 

“I was thinking,” Lucifer continued, beginning to take a few slow, deliberate steps towards you, “Nothing too crazy, just a nice, quiet evening with good food. Maybe throw some of my good wine into the mix, what do you say?”

He sent you a sultry, half-lidded gaze as he sidled closer to you, the caramel apple in your grip lowering from your lips as Lucifer enraptured your full attention, heat blooming across your cheeks at his expression. 

“If that is what His Majesty wishes, then I cannot refuse such an offer,” you struggled to keep your voice from wavering, the heat in your cheeks creeping farther down your body.

“But do you want it?” He pressed, only a foot away from you now, his lips upturned in a smirk at your flustered expression. 

Apparently, those horny hormones had also stuck around after your pregnancy. Having such a gorgeous, ethereal figure so close to you made your heart skip a beat as butterflies fluttered in your stomach. 

“I… think that is a very lovely offer, and I would enjoy being able to spend time in just your company,” you finally replied carefully, a smile blooming across your lips.

“Perfect!” Lucifer clapped his hands together, his eyes glinting with glee as he took a step away from you, back toward the bed.

“Goodbye, sweetheart,” The king cooed softly to your daughter, as he plucked the stuffed goat from the air, “Take good care of this little guy, he’s a special one.”

Lowering the plush, Lucifer placed it gently against your baby’s chest, and her chubby little hands came up to wrap firmly around the toy. Ungracefully, the goat was lifted to Peaches’ lips before she opened her mouth to begin suckling on its ear.

“I bet that tastes delicious,” Lucifer laughed, and you smiled fondly at the duo with a tilt of your head.

The fallen angel took a step back from the bed after a moment, before he lifted a hand and snapped his fingers. That familiar white, brim hat materialized from thin air into his grasp, and he turned to you with a smile.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I'm a very busy man and have other matters to attend to,” Lucifer sighed dramatically, brushing past you towards the doorway. 

“I have no doubt,” you shook your head with a laugh, following him towards the end of your room.

Lucifer reached the open doorway, before turning to face you again. He met your gaze for a few moments, before he leaned forward in a bow.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening, m’lady,” he hummed with delight, adjusting his hat against those beautiful golden curls as you smiled warmly.

“Is there a dress code for our little outing?” you responded with a mischievous grin.

The king only sent you a playful wink, before he stepped out of view and the soft thuds of heeled boots against carpet faded as he disappeared down the hall.

That interaction with Lucifer stewed in your mind for the entire night, as well as into the early morning. Your thoughts drifted to the previous conversation as you snuck down the hall and into the lobby to grab breakfast from the kitchen.

The others were fairly busy, so you were easily able to travel unseen. Angel Dust was working overtime at the studio for a new porn flick, and Charlie was using the extermination to push her hotel further into the spotlight and attract new clients. Vaggie always went along with her, and Alastor was probably up in his fancy new radio tower, doing whatever it was he did up there. 

It was only Husk who remained, always behind the bar, shining the bottles and whistling a strange blues tune. He had begun to rope in his drinking as well, choosing to pick up a bottle much later in the day than usual. It was the early morning hour, when you passed by the bar with breakfast in your hands, and the sober bartender turned to you.

“How’s the kid doing?”

“She’s fine, growing very fast too, gaining more control over her movement every day.”

“That's nice,” Husk’s lips curved a smidge, as he placed the glassware neatly underneath the counter, “Haven’t seen you in a while, glad to know ya ain’t dead or nothin’.”

“Yes…” You said slowly, mind racing for a good excuse, “She has just been fussy lately, so I’ve been tending to her.”

“You should bring her out one of these days,” He lifted his eyes from the glass in his paws, meeting yours with an unreadable expression, “I’m sure the others would be happy to see her.”

You couldn’t tell whether Husk was using the term ‘others’ as an inclusion of him as well, you knew the furry demon had a heart somewhere beneath those layers of fur and grumpiness.

You nodded your head at his words, taking a bite of your breakfast, thoughts drifting as you chewed. You’d have to ask Charlie about babysitting anyway, and you couldn’t avoid her forever.

Maybe, knowing that you were going out with her dad, she’d be thrilled to shoulder the responsibilities of a newborn for a single night, or, she could hate it… which was something you desperately tried not to think too hard about, for your sanity.

Needless to say, Husk was right, your daughter really brought the best out of your friends, as they melted in her vicinity. None of the residents at the hotel had any problem looking after the adorable little demon.

Charlie had stood quietly in the lobby, humming a tune as she rocked the baby softly in her arms. Vaggie stood beside her, tilting her head as Peaches’ eyelids began to droop at the gentle motions.

“They’re as cute as the ones in Heaven, maybe cuter,” The fallen angel spoke with a smile, her hand lifting towards the little girl’s head, before tiny fingers wrapped around a single digit and clamped tight.

“And strong too, wow,” She laughed, trying to gently dislodge her finger from the steel grip.

In the hallway behind them, you turned the corner into the lobby, anxiously fiddling with your appearance as you neared the trio. Dressed in a wine-red outfit, you stumbled slightly in your heels as you navigated over the plush carpet. 

Finally, you were actually able to fit into fashionable attire. Your stomach was no longer inflated with an eight-pound baby, and the aching of your once swollen feet no longer bothered you to continue venturing the world in socks and flip-flops.

“You look really nice in that outfit!” Charlie beamed as she turned at the sounds of footsteps, and Vaggie nodded beside her. Your daughter’s eyes widened at the exclamation, before moving to your figure, tracking your figure as you joined them near the bar. 

Angel Dust was lounging on a bar stool, swishing alcohol absentmindedly inside a martini glass as he scrolled on his phone. He glanced up at the sound of Charlie’s voice, before catching a glimpse of your outfit with a knowing smirk.

“Someone is dressin’ to impress,” he playfully nudged Husk’s shoulder over the bar counter, who turned his head from the bottles he was organizing to sneak a peek. 

Everyone knew who you were trying to impress, and when you came back, they would no doubt prod you for any juicy details. 

You stopped in front of Charlie, smiling as you adjusted your outfit again. You had spent the past few hours getting ready, which also included multiple outfit changes because you were never satisfied with your appearance. You needed to look good, really good if you were going on a date with the king.

Why would Lucifer want anything to do with you? You had nothing to offer, just tired eyes and a baby on your hip. There had to be better options, surely. Just because the man never went anywhere other than his manor and the hotel, didn’t mean there wasn’t a line of demons wanting to fill the place of Charlie’s mother.

Lilith. You tried desperately not to think of her, for your own self-esteem. You had seen pictures of her, in old magazines and glimpses of family portraits in Charlie’s room. Lucifer spoke of her when talking about his daughter’s childhood or humorous memories, but he seemed to keep the reminiscing of her specifically curt around you. 

You struggled to understand why, did he think you’d react poorly to the mention of his ex-wife? Except, It wasn’t your place to act that way, though. She had been married to the king for thousands of years and was the mother of his child. She was the Queen of Hell for crying out loud! Not to mention, drop-dead gorgeous, had a fantastic voice, and cared deeply for her people’s wellbeing. 

In comparison, you were a sad sack of potatoes. At least, in your opinion. 

Self-conscious thoughts like these had slowly begun to fester during your early pregnancy, and peaked when your stomach resembled a watermelon, and, for some reason, it had decided to make a nest in your brain postpartum. Laying more seeds of anxiety and dejection deeper within your mind.

But, when Lucifer was around, it was like you could finally breathe again. His energy was warm and inviting, like taking a sip of the finest liquor and that buzz in your brain thirsting for more. It felt like snuggling your face into soft sheep's wool, nothing but comfort and relief from the harshness of the realm. 

Even if the fallen angel was no longer welcomed inside Heaven’s gates, he still retained that ethereal grace that made you feel like you were committing the largest sin just by staring too hard at those soft lips of his.

The king cared about you, in a way nobody did. He was the only demon in your group who had any experience with raising a child, and he was your support when it came to understanding the same stages of parenthood you were currently going through. In a much lesser light, of course, he had never actually birthed a child and suffered the effects of such a–literal–mind altering experience.

Tonight, you’d be able to have Lucifer all to yourself, and you were determined to make the most of it. 

You had held back from making any advances towards him for so long due to that golden band on his finger that glinted painfully in your eyes. A reminder of his attachment to his ex-wife, and the fragility of your close bond. 

What if Lilith were to come back? Would he choose her, and distance himself from you? What of you then, being dragged by the heartstrings for so long just to have them snapped in your face at his rejection?

That thought had terrified you, so you kept your feelings hidden, and let Lucifer set the pace on how far things would go. You were determined to start changing that, starting tonight.

As you came to a halt in front of Charlie and Vaggie, your daughter cooed softly, and you reached out a hand to run gentle fingers across her cheek lovingly.

“Okay, I think I’ve got everything taken care of. Bottles in the fridge you just need to warm up, first aid kit in my room, and I’ll have my phone on ring in case there’s an emergency,” you nervously triple-recounted everything in your mind.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this,” Charlie sent you a confident nod of her head, her fingers tightening around your baby as her smile grew.

It is then you come to realize how good of a big sister the princess could make if she were to have a younger sibling. Your heart swelled at that, as you imagined your daughter at least finding companionship in the young woman. Charlie looked like she could really pull off a stellar children’s tea party.

“I know you do, you’re always so responsible,” you replied warmly, and the princess's eyes widened for a moment, before her lips upturned into a grateful smile as you lowered your hand from your daughter’s face.

“So, where are you going?” Vaggie inquired.

“I don’t know, he just told me to wait outside my balcony door. Which means I should probably head there now, if everything is fine out here.”

“We’re good, toots!” Angel Dust called from behind Charlie, throwing his head back before downing the rest of the liquor in his glass, “Go have some fun!” 

You nodded, before wishing farewell to your daughter and the rest of the demons in the lobby before turning on your heel and heading back towards your room. 

“I hope those two have fun,” Vaggie said as you disappeared around the corner. 

“I have to use the bathroom, will you take Peaches for me?” Charlie turned towards her girlfriend, only for Angel Dust to shoot up from his seat with a large grin. 

“I would like to hold the baby!” He strolled up to the duo, and Charlie glanced over to Vaggie, before shrugging and carefully holding the little girl towards the demon. 

“C’mere, cutie!” Angel Dust beamed, arms outstretched to take the child as she kicked her feet in little baby glee. 

“You love your uncle, Angel, dontcha’?” He cooed, lifting the baby with secure hands underneath her armpits, before he leaned in and rubbed noses.

Peaches sneezed, and Angel Dust positioned her to sit in his lap at the bar counter. Husk leaned across to get a better look, before taking a claw and reaching it towards the baby.

Gently, he squished her chubby arm, trailing down towards her hand. Husk didn’t have time to retract his claw, before a tiny hand wrapped around the cat’s finger and refused to let go.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” He grumbled as he allowed your daughter to stay latched onto his digit.

You had just made it inside your room, adjusting your appearance one final time as you reached the balcony doors. Grasping the handle, you pull it open to slip outside, the lights from the city illuminating the balcony’s white tiled floor.

You turned your head to search for the fallen angel, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, you were left to twiddle your thumbs, eyes casting towards the demons strolling the streets down the hill in the neighborhood below.

Lucifer didn’t forget about the date… did he? He was getting much better at being on time, but you still could not help to worry. 

“Hey.”

You jumped with a gasp, spinning to face the familiar voice. You had to grip the chair beside you to keep from stumbling in heels, your gaze lifting to meet those familiar, yellow eyes.

Lucifer was perched across from you on the balcony’s thin railing, one pair of his large wings stretched wide, throwing shadows across the tiles beneath your feet. The other two he kept folded at his sides, white against the crimson underbelly of his open wings.

They practically shimmered in the waning light, their shape and color unique to only one kind of being, an angel. Husk’s wings could not compare to the exotic beauty before you, and you struggled to keep eye contact with its owner as you examined the rare sight.

“Lucifer!” You scolded playfully, your eyes tracing across every feather that rustled slightly against the gentle breeze, “You scared me! What are you doing up there?”

“I apologize for the fright,” Lucifer chuckled, rising to his full height as he balanced across like a tightrope, closing the distance between the two of you, “I just thought I’d give you a peek of what tonight has to offer.”

His wings beat softly for balance, before they folded in slightly and the fallen angel lowered himself back to sit on his feet, smiling mischievously as he lowered a hand in a gesture for you to take.

“First, you should take off those heels. They look really nice, but I don’t think you’re going to be able to climb up here with them on.”

You furrowed your brows, suspicion in your gaze as he extended a hand for you to take. What was your darling king planning? 

“Why exactly am I climbing onto the railing?” You kicked off your heels, and you shivered at the cold flooring against your skin.

Your bare feet planted on the cool tiles for a few moments, before your fingers laced with Lucifer’s, and he effortlessly lifted you to stand beside him.

“Well,” He started, his fingers brushing up your wrist to grip your forearm, before steadying you with a flap of his wings, “I just thought you wanted a better mode of transportation to our little dinner than walking in those stilettos.”

“And what ‘mode’ are we talking about here?” You turned to him with widening eyes, realization slowly dawning on you.

Lucifer’s grin only widened, and you gulped. He really was serious about taking an evening flight, and you mentally prepared yourself as your gaze lowered to the long drop beneath you. You steeled your gaze towards the fallen angel, who scooted even closer.

“Are you ready?” His honeyed voice whispered in your ear, and you felt like exploding at the feeling of his touch across your waist.

Were you? Never did you guess this was what he had planned, and never did you imagine finding yourself being able to travel with your feet off the ground. Adrenaline began to pump through your veins the longer you stood there in thought.

With one final deep breath, you moved your hands to grip tightly against Lucifer’s dress shirt, and nodded your approval. Lucifer’s hold on your waist tightened, and you screwed your eyes shut just as you felt him pull you forward and off the side of the railing.

The wind whipped past your ears, your eyelids still locked shut as you clamped your mouth shut to keep from screaming. The two of you were falling fast, and for a moment you imagined Lucifer unable to lift in time, and you’d become a splatter against the grass.

Instead, you heard his other two pairs of wings unfurl and spread above you, the thrumming of heavy flaps and the feeling of being lifted once more had you cracking an eye open. The wind whistled its natural tune, and your eyelids fluttered open to see your legs dangling beneath you. 

You were very high up, as Lucifer glided across the outskirts of the city, those vibrant, flashing strobe lights that lit up the sky above V Tower passed in a multicolored blur. 

You were flying! Free and uncaged from the stress back on the ground, that weightless feeling was something you’ve never experienced all your years in Hell. The adrenaline rush that hit your body had you laughing in the thrill as the fallen angel dipped and rolled. Cars passed below you, and you waved to the pedestrians walking on the streets underneath your feet, if they even noticed your presence.

“Having fun?” Lucifer called from above, and you cocked your head up to meet his playful gaze.

“More than I ever imagined!” You replied, the wind carrying your voice to the king’s ears.

“Good, now hang on!” He laughed, and his wings tightened against his body, causing the two of you to dive with greater speed towards the buildings below. 

Your grip on Lucifer’s shirt tightened and he pulled you closer as he sped towards an illuminated rooftop below. 

Rather carefully, your feet hit the cold bricks beneath, and Lucifer released his hold around your waist to land beside you. His wings folded against his back, and with a split-second flash of golden light, they completely vanished from his frame. 

Lucifer began to walk toward the center of the rooftop, beckoning for you to join. Taking a few steps forward, your eyes follow his path, before widening at the scene. 

Powerful magic had transformed the space into a romantic, candle-lit dinner right out of the movies. The string of bulbs that cast warm light across the small, cute table before you held an intimate glow, paired with the soft, classical tune that filled the air.

A single, elegantly shaped candle stands at the center, casting a warm, flickering light that dances across your face. The table was adorned with a lace-trimmed cloth fluttering gently in the breeze. On top, there's an assortment of delectable treats—cheeses, fruits, and a selection of fine chocolates.

The backdrop is breathtaking, with the city spread out below, its lights twinkling like stars in the distance. The distant hum of traffic and city life is a soothing contrast to the quiet rooftop ambiance. 

Lucifer only smiles at you, before he pulls a chair slightly from the table and gestures for you to sit. You oblige, settling into the comfortable padded seat as he pushes the chair back in place.

He settled into the seat across from you, and you leaned over the table slightly to take a look at the charcuterie board lined with various cheese, meats, and chips. Your stomach growled, and you plucked a few items from the board and placed them on the white plate sitting before you. 

“Is everything to your liking?” Lucifer hummed, as he popped a slice of prosciutto into his mouth, before meeting your gaze.

“This is really nice,” you smiled, lifting your eyes to trace the string of lights that zig-zagged across your head, “I had expected you to just take me to a fancy restaurant, not something like this.”

“I like the atmosphere of places like these much better. Less noisy and more.. personal,” he replied, lifting another meat slice to his lips  “I just thought you needed time away from that suffocating little room, the both of us, really.”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, this was very kind of you.”

Lucifer smiled softly, and heat spread across your face at his staring. You took another bite of cheese, and the king’s eyes flicked across the table and his brows furrowed.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something…” he started, rubbing his chin deep in thought, before his eyes widened as he perked, “That’s right, the wine! Waiter!”

The king snapped his fingers, and you turned your head in confusion. The rooftop was empty, save for the two of you, who could possibl–

Your thoughts were interrupted when footsteps echoed across the gravel, and a figure dressed in a black and white tuxedo strolled forward toward you. It was… another Lucifer, and your mouth dropped slightly at the familiar face, whose curly mustache bounced as he grinned.

A red bottle of wine materialized in the double’s hands, and with a loud pop the cork lid flew across the rooftop. Fizz spilled from the bottle for a few moments as the waiter stopped beside you. Lowering the bottom, he poured the empty glass in front of you to the brim, before standing straight once more.

“For you, ma chérie,” Lucifer #2 spoke with a perfect French accent, before bowing respectfully to you. 

He sent you a playful wink as he slid over to your Lucifer’s side, and lowered the wine bottle. Lucifer watched his glass fill, before shooing away his double, who backed away from the table and vanished into the shadows.

You lift the wine glass to your lips, taking a long sip of the dark red liquor. Its rich, apple flavor danced on your tongue as warmth bloomed from your stomach. 

“This is amazing! When you were talking about good wine, I didn’t think you meant this good,” you beamed, that buzz already tingling in your brain as you took another sip.

“An old recipe that’s been sitting in my cellar for, well… a few thousand years by now,” Lucifer swirled the wine in his glass, before lifting it to his lips.

As you nibble on the delicate offerings, conversation flows effortlessly between you both. The topics range from silly memories and active interests, punctuated by laughter and shared glances. Lucifer's eyes hold a warmth and depth that matches the glow of the candle, his demeanor a mix of confidence and vulnerability, as he shares with you details of his past.

Time seems to stand still as you savor each other's company, the burdens upon your shoulders vanishing for the moment, as you keep your gaze fixed on the gorgeous face across from you. The night feels infinite, filled with promise and the simple joy of being together.

Unfortunately, time passed much quicker than you hoped, as the sky above was blanketed in darkness at the late hour. Even with the giddy buzz from the wine, exhaustion was still creeping up your spine, and your eyelids were growing heavy.

Lucifer and you both stood at the same time, and when the king joined you at one end of the table, he lifted a hand toward you. It was a gesture for you to take, and when your eyes lowered, you found that the golden band usually around his finger was nowhere in sight.

Your eyes widened, and something stirred inside you. You didn’t waste any time in reaching forward and lacing your fingers with his, his touch soft and warmth bloomed from his fingertips. 

What now? Should you just lean over and kiss him? No, not on the first date, that’s silly! It must have been the buzz of the wine making all those intrusive thoughts seem very logical as you locked eyes with the king for a few moments.

But… was it really the first date? Sure, you had never spent time together so.. intimately before, but he was there for you a lot during your pregnancy. Helped you cook, filled your day with entertainment, and cared for your health, all he did by choice. 

Which is why you felt so weird asking for his help now, he had already done so much, any more and you’d feel utterly… useless.

It seemed like Lucifer wanted to say something, his brows furrowed slightly, lips moving as if he was just moments from speaking. He held his tongue though, sighing softly in the breeze as he turned his head towards the vibrant cityscape.

You followed his gaze, glimpsing the large, digital billboards a few streets away depicting lude models and VoxTek advertisements. 

“Are you sure you’re doing okay, with the baby and everything? You know you can always ask me for help, right?” Lucifer's words caught you off guard, and your head turned to meet his gaze.

Was he catching onto how much you were really struggling? You bit your lip, mind racing. You had tried so hard to seem normal, but the truth was, you felt like a different person after your baby. These emotions that refuse to leave you in peace were only creating a deeper divide between you and everyone else.

Your daughter was beautiful, and you loved her so much. But, she was still a mentally draining, constantly hungry being that begged for your attention 24/7 in the form of harsh, deafening wails. It seemed to be improving, hopefully.

“I think so,” you answered honestly, using your free hand to rub your shoulder soothingly, “It was tough for a while, but I think whatever has been bothering her is going away. Everything should be much smoother from here on out.”

Lucifer looked at you for another moment, as if he was finding it hard to believe you. He didn’t press further, instead giving your hand a supportive squeeze before tugging 

“Ready for round two?” He smiled, his wings unfurling from behind his back as stepped onto the edge of the roof beside him.

You only laughed as he pulled you close to him and the two of you fell off the side of the building. Lucifer’s wings stretched wide as they lifted the two of you towards the sky, your worries in the wind once more.

You should have knocked on wood when you told Lucifer your daughter’s crying fits were improving, because only a few days later, it was quite the opposite. Peaches has been overcome with another intense round of colic, and her screams bounced across the bedroom as you rocked her gently in your arms.

You had spent the past hour trying to soothe her cries, to no avail. Tears pricked at your eyes as you lifted a binkie towards her mouth, it took a few moments for the little girl to even notice her outburst, before she clamped her mouth around it and began to suckle. 

Her crying turned to whimpers, which soon faded into sniffles as she suckled on the pacifier. You exhaled a sigh of relief, as you slowly lowered her into the red bassinet beside you. Carefully, you positioned her comfortably on the plush bedding, placing a small blanket snugly around her toes to keep her from waking from the cold, before you straightened again. 

What could she possibly be feeling that you were unable to help her through? You weren’t telepathic, and the mystery was only driving you mad. 

You needed fresh air, and your daughter’s wails were finally silenced long enough to be able to disappear for a few minutes and recollect yourself. With caution, you took quiet steps across the room towards the balcony doorways that were concealed behind dark red curtains. Slowly, you reached through the thick fabric to grasp at the handle, before pulling it open just a crack to slip through.

The door closed softly behind you with a barely audible click, and that large breath held in your lungs finally expelled with a heavy sigh, heavy with emotions you so desperately wanted to release from your mind in any way possible. If it meant collapsing to the ground and flooding the balcony with the outpour of unsung frustrations.

You felt so useless. Your daughter was in some kind of misery, and the effects of the constant jump to tears were starting to take a noticeable effect on the infant. She just seemed so tired, practically pleading for you to end whatever misery she could possibly be facing.

You were at your wit's end, and you stared out into the distance, your breath quickening as tears threatened to fall. You just needed some time alone, time to think, and maybe, just maybe, it was time to ask for hel–

“Boo!” A sudden voice near your ear pulled you back into reality, and your heart slammed into your chest.

This time you screamed, your back hitting the railing as you quickly pivoted to find Lucifer, perched atop the railing once more. His wings were gone now, and his smile was wide as he landed on the tile next to you.

“Ha! I got you good, didn’t I?” Lucifer laughed, and you tensed at the volume.

“Shhh!” You hissed, placing a finger to your lips and Lucifer froze.

“Sorry…” He grimaced, glancing at the glass doorway before taking a step closer toward you,  "is she asleep?” 

“Yes, I’ve been trying to get her to settle down all day… she’s been really fussy and it’s been hard,” you sighed, turning your head slightly to hide the emotion building on your face.

“Oh, I had no idea. I just swung by to ask you something, but I see you're a little preoccupied at the moment,” Lucifer chuckled nervously, concern written across his features at your glistening eyes and quivering frown.

You were having trouble containing all the horrible things you were feeling, and your body began to react to the pressure that was threatening to burst inside of you. Inhaling a shaking breath, you crossed your arms and held them close to your chest, your heart beating rapidly. 

“Hey... are you okay?” You felt a hand softly grasp your forearm, and that warm touch was what had you coming undone before the king.

Tears poured down your cheeks, your body shaking with sobs as you slammed a hand over your mouth to hold back the anguished, raw sounds that were begging to be set free. 

You felt utterly exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t allowed yourself to be in a really long time. The weight of your emotions crashed over you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf you in its depth. 

You felt a hand soothingly rub circles into your back, another one on your forearm as the king tried his best to show his support through silent gestures. You choked back another sob, straightening in embarrassment and you regained control of your composure. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally whispered, face twisting as you tried to compose yourself, “I’m trying to be a good mother, but it must be obvious how terrible of one I am.”

“What? Don’t say that!” Lucifer shook his head quickly, lips curving into a nervous smile as he spoke, “You’re doing a great job, nobody thinks otherwise.”

“I’m sure,” you replied bitterly, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Times like these can be really hard, I understand how you fee–”

“You don’t, though!” You snapped, lifting a hand to harshly rub your face free of the river running down your cheeks.

“Okay, maybe that's true, but I'm just worried about you, you’ve been—!”

Crying erupted from behind the door, and Lucifer’s mouth clamped shut at the sudden interruption. You jumped at the noise, one hand quickly reaching backward to grasp at the doorknob.

“I’m sorry, she’s crying again and I need to go. If you want to help so badly, come back another time!” the words spilled from your lips in a single breath, and your body moved past the threshold of the doorway as you turned away from the fallen angel.

“Wait! Please let me-!” 

The door locked into place, ceasing the desperate words from the other side. You couldn’t bear to listen any longer, embarrassed by your childish outburst of emotions.

Resting your forehead against the wooden surface, you squeezed your eyes shut, collecting yourself. Your daughter screamed for you across the room, only intensifying the ringing in your ears and pushing the tears to spill faster down your cheeks.

You saw Lucifer’s shadow behind the curtains for a few moments longer, before his silhouette backed away and disappeared over the railing. You rubbed a hand across your face as your daughter screamed, growling at yourself before you stalked towards the crib.

It had only been a few days later, when you heard your daughter's whimpers begin from across the room in her red bassinet sometime in the very early morning hours. You groaned, so comfortable in your nest of pillows and weighted blankets to heed her noisy demands.

You were exhausted, and for once there had been hope that you’d catch a few more hours before having to awake. Peaches wasn’t crying, though, not like her usual wails. You were still in the clutches of sleep, and your consciousness was drifting in and out, and the sounds around you were dampened by the dreamy state.

Then, something else joined the soft whimpers, a faint voice that had you stirring awake with heavy eyelids and sliding the plush covers from your figure. A rich, melodious tone hit your ears, delicate and soothing in the night. 

It sounded… like a violin. It was hauntingly beautiful, a lone siren in the stillness as it lulled your daughter into a deep sleep.

You lifted yourself from the warmth of the sheets, the cold air kissing your bare skin as you slid to the edge of your bed, eyes squinted to see through the darkness towards the corner. In the maroon lighting that escaped through a slit between the curtains of the balcony doors, you could make out some shadowed figure hunched slightly above the crib, your view limited by the small dining table in between you and the stranger.

Quietly, you slid over to the edge of the bed, before planting your feet softly against the plush rug underneath. You took careful steps as you snuck around the table in the center of your room, the music growing louder as you neared the bassinet.

Slowly, you peeked from behind the dining chair, your gaze followed the dappled, red light from the curtains, as they lit the features of a familiar, pearlescent skin with a ruby-like glow.

Lucifer.

His movements were graceful, like a swan, as he slid the bow across the strings, which glowed a subtle golden light as the heavenly melody left the instrument and filled your body with awe. His gaze fixed on the tiny figure nestled inside the crib, his features concentrated as he continued to play.

You only watched, silent as the lullaby began to damper, and the bow’s movements slowed. Soon, the music ceased, and Lucifer lowered the bow to his lap as he took a seat on a sofa behind him wearing a satisfied expression. Your heart swelled with emotion at the realization of the love behind his actions, and you took another step forward.

“Lucifer?” 

The king jumped at your voice, his fingers tightening around the instrument in his hold as he slowly turned his head with a large, innocent grin.

“Heyyyyy,” Lucifer replied awkwardly, lowering the violin from his shoulder, and setting it down onto the cushion beside him. 

The fallen angel met your gaze once more with an apologetic smile, rubbing his neck uneasily. He was trying to quiet without waking you, which he did the opposite, and it was rather awkward with his intrusion to soothe your daughter. You quietly moved forward, closing the distance between the two of you he chuckled nervously.

“I’m sorry for not announcing my presence, you told me to come back another time, then I just heard her crying and–”

Lucifer’s words caught in his throat, pupils dilating as your fingers came up to slowly brush across his chin, before settling to gently cup his cheek. Your thumb softly grazed across those red cheeks of his, and the tension in the fallen angel’s limbs subsided at your caring touch.

You didn’t know what had come upon you, but the craving to be close to this pure-intentioned being, in a literal and figurative sense, outweighed any thoughts of keeping your feelings at bay anymore. 

“Why are you so good to me?” You whispered, lips beginning to quiver.

Lucifer’s gaze softened, and he melted in your palm. Warmth spread across your fingers, easing the ache in your muscles and deep in your bones, as euphoria overcame you. 

“Because you’re one of the only good things left in my life,” he replied, his voice tight with emotion, as if he was choking back tears, “You, Charlie, and…”

Lucifer trailed off as his eyes lowered to your sleeping daughter, adoration in his gaze. It was pure love, the kind that lasted for an eternity. Your heart swelled at that, and lifting a hand to his other cheek, you cupped his face and smiled warmly.

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Kiss me? Well–ha–I don’t find anything wrong with tha–” Lucifer’s stammered reply was cut off once more as you pulled him forward into your embrace.

You pressed your lips to his, they were warm and soft, and you drank in the sweetness of Lucifer’s aroma, nibbling slightly at his bottom lip. You felt his hands slide to your waist, before grasping gently and pulling you flush against his chest. 

Lucifer leaned backward slowly, his back hitting the support of the sofa and you shifted to fully rest against him, your lips moving to delicately graze across his chin, and you felt his heart quicken at the touch.

Lucifer’s breath hitched slightly as your lips traced along his jawline, you lingered for a moment, feeling the warmth of his breath on your cheek. His hands, still at your waist, tightened ever so slightly. The softness of his lips beckoned, and you closed the remaining distance, meeting in a tender, lingering kiss. 

Your eyelids were heavy, and you slowly broke the kiss and let your head fall into the warmth of the fallen angel's chest, tightening your hold around him and snuggling closer.

“Thank you, for putting her to sleep,” you murmured into Lucifer’s shirt, before feeling claws slide up to your back, caressing the area softly as he hummed a reply.

The two of you embraced silently, lost in the intimacy as you listened to the gentle thrum of his heart, and he continued drawing circles in your back with pleasurable movements. You felt yourself drifting into slumber once more, and your breath slowed as you heeded your body’s exhausted demands.

“You should come stay at my manor,” Lucifer whispered above you, his chin resting gently against the top of your head. 

Your eyelids fluttered open at that, sleep in the back of your mind at his words as you lifted your head to meet his gaze with a raised, disbelieving brow.

“What?”

Lucifer’s lips tightened, and his eyes bounced across the room as he struggled to formulate a response.

“Well, I–I mean, it would be a lot better than staying here, right? I could hire you as my… private chef! That way, you would make your own money to support yourself. You could even have a whole wing of the manor if you wanted, also a big nursery, a private kitchen, and a master bedroom as big as this entire living space!”

Your mouth opened slightly, head spinning. Live in the same house as Lucifer? The royal manor to call home? Probably the most luxurious and non-hellish place to exist in all the seven rings? He sounded completely serious, and you never expected him to make such a bold offer. You’d also be able to support yourself independently by working as Lucifer’s ‘private chef’, save for the free room and board.

“And, of course, you get to permit who comes and goes in that area, so if you wanted to keep everyone, including me, out…you could do that, too.”

Lucifer’s tone sank slightly as those words left his lips, and your brows furrowed in thought. 

“We’ll you give me time to think about it?” You asked slowly.

“Of course!” Lucifer nodded with a satisfied smile, content you were even considering his sudden proposition, “Take all the time you need.”

The two of you fell back into comfortable silence, and stayed locked in an embrace for the rest of the morning, and the crimson light peeking through the curtains began to lighten with the coming dawn. Even as you drifted into sleep, Lucifer’s words lingered in your mind as you slipped from consciousness.

They continued to linger the following evening, as you spilled your heart out to Angel Dust at the bar, your face in your hands as you recalled verbatim. He sipped from his glass of alcohol, lips set in thought as he listened intently. 

Out of everyone in the hotel, you didn’t know why you went to Angel for advice, especially in dealing with romance, but you told him everything nonetheless. About going to live with Lucifer, all the help he’s been to you thus far, and the encounter with him earlier. You even gave him a brief glimpse into the… physical intimacy the two of you also had shared earlier.

“I think ya should do it,” Angel Dust said after a few moments of silence, downing the remaining liquor in his glass, before turning to you. You lifted your head from your hands, you met his gaze with surprise written across your features.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, placing one hand supportively on your shoulder as he continued, “Now I ain’t tryna be mean to ya, but… the hotel was a great place for you before the baby, but with our track record with keeping this place from being attacked by thugs and angels, it mayyy not be so good for the actual baby. Ya get me?”

You took a sip of the water in front of you, nodding slowly as the answer you had been searching for finally settled on your shoulders. You turned to face the spider demon, your lips curving into a small frown and he tilted his head at you.

“I’m really going to miss you guys,” you murmured, rubbing your hands together self-soothing.

“Oh, you’re gonna make me cry, toots! C’mere!,” Angel Dust wrapped all four arms around you, and you returned the embrace with a tight grip. 

And wow, his fuzz was soft. You finally understood the appeal as you held your friend close. Even though in retrospect you had only known the porn star for a short amount of time, the bond you shared was heartwarming and kind. One of the few relationships of Angel’s that didn’t devolve into debauchery and drugs. 

Two hours later, you stood in front of Charlie, hands once again rubbing together in an attempt to soothe the nerves that were making it difficult to hold eye contact with the princess as you filled her in on the decision regarding your future. You planned to move into the manor, and raise the baby in a place that most resembled a home, instead of growing up in a hotel room.

“You’re going to go live with my dad?” She asked slowly, her brows furrowed at your words.

You tensed. Was she apprehensive of the idea?

“Yes, but it’s nothing crazy like I’m getting with your dad or anything… haha.. yeah,” you trailed off, because you were feeling like that may turn out to be untrue sooner than later.

At least, you hoped they did. For now, it was just something along the lines of roommates, even with how silly that sounded in your head.

“Well…” She began, rubbing her chin in thought, and sweat beaded down your forehead as she continued, “I think… it's a wonderful idea! I really enjoyed growing up there, and I’m sure your daughter would too!”

Phew. You exhaled a sigh of relief, the tension leaving your body and your shoulders relaxed. 

With Charlie’s blessing, it was all you needed to give Lucifer the news. He practically jumped for joy as you gave him your answer, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

“I have to baby-proof the whole place beforehand!” he had proclaimed, racing around the makeshift room he had been staying in the past few days as he grabbed his cane. 

“She won’t even be able to crawl for a while longer,” you had laughed with a raised brow.

“I can’t afford anything less than perfect,” Lucifer shook his head, grabbing his coat and hat to get everything ready as soon as possible, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the power of creation, remember? It’ll only be a jiffy.”

The king had literally exploded into a burst of confetti, a sizzle of magic zapping him out of the room and away to the manor. You had blinked, the colored paper mache settling on your shoulders as you turned towards the hallway.

It seemed like the only thing that was left was to start packing, and so away you worked for the next few hours. 

Peaches was swaddled tightly against your chest in a makeshift baby wrap, made from a sheet of fabric that held her close and secure to you while you placed clothes and other items into organized boxes.

Lucifer had been back in a jiffy, appearing at your door right as you finished stuffing everything away into storage. It took a snap of his finger for all of your things to go poof in a cloud of red smoke, and the king had summoned a limo to take the three of you back to the manor, since traveling with magic was risky with an infant. 

You had stood on the front steps of the hotel, trying to contain the tears as you wished farewell to your friends. They watched you leave with furrowed brows, and Charlie had even sniffled once as you and your daughter climbed into the white vehicle. 

“Come by and visit us sometime!” Charlie called as the limo pulled off from the curve and you leaned out the window for a final wave as the hotel disappeared from view.

When you arrived at that glittering, white, and gold royal home, you were met with tall, imposing statues depicting regal figures from centuries past, their stony gazes fixed upon the entrance. As the limo pulled up to the front steps, you noticed the large gardens surrounding the manor, each flower seemingly in perfect bloom despite the season. Fountains sprayed later spouts of water up in the air, before cascading down into glittering pools.

“She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” Lucifer had smiled as you took your tour around the premises, examining the once-neatly trimmed bushes that lined the place.

There were no imp servants, or attendees at all really, which explained why the place was beginning to look overgrown by the hellish flora. Large red vines climbed up the manor’s side, a few even weaved across large panes of glass, windows that would have once offered a beautiful sight. 

It appeared the current homeowner was not doing a very good job maintaining the place, and you weren’t going to let this place rot any longer. You’d have to add landscaping to the job description when you felt good enough to do such heavy tasks.

Right as you stepped through those large, golden doors, you were greeted with crystal chandeliers that illuminated a giant corridor. Plush, red carpet met your feet as you a few more steps inside, your eyes tracing over the array of paintings and sculptures lining the walls, along with a few family portraits and other elegant decor. 

It was clear that the interior was designed by the women of the house, the lack of circus decor even prevalent inside the Hazbin Hotel was nowhere in sight. As you followed Lucifer down the hallway, you guessed his withdrawals had given him no strength to change the house to his liking. You stepped through a tall, open doorway into what seemed to be a parlor.

Lucifer paused, turning to you with a warm smile as you joined him with your daughter in your arms inside the living space. You took in the sight of velvet couches circling a large fireplace and a small bar snug against the opposite wall, bottles of liquor lining the racks behind the counter.

"Welcome home," he said, his voice soft as he turned. Peaches cooed softly, seemingly content in the entrancing, shiny surroundings. You followed Lucifer down another large corridor, and he began to give a proper tour of the residency.

You didn’t realize how big this place really was until he showed you the third parlor in the house. This one had more tables, seemingly for dining primarily, but with a similar fireplace nestled in one of the walls near two, red armchairs. 

When Lucifer said you’d have large, private areas, you assumed he was just being generous and giving you some of his dwellings. Now, you knew that wasn’t the case, as there was definitely enough for the both of you between three large bathrooms, five bedrooms, and two dining rooms. 

It took a few days to settle in, as Lucifer helped you unpack your things with easy magic and you found renewed energy in making the nursery perfect for your daughter.

It was clear, from day one, that the two of you weren’t going to be just roommates, when you found yourself stealing kick kisses from him as you organized the nursery, or when his hand found your waist as you rocked Peaches to sleep in your arms some days. Some nights, you found yourself playfully bantering with the fallen angel in front of the fireplace, a glass of wine in your hands as gentle music played in the back. 

Lucifer’s presence and companionship seemed to be what you needed for your emotions to begin to stabilize, along with the fact that you had practically an entire mansion to yourself, instead of sharing the living areas with a large group of demons like back at the hotel. 

The king wasn’t holed up in his home all the time anymore, as he joined his daughter in promoting the hotel and actually making an effort to go to a meeting here and there. He had a purpose now, and you noticed that subtle ethereal radiance that lined his figure began to glow brighter with each passing day.

Lucifer’s social battery was still adjusting to the changes in his daily routines, and some nights he’d return with heavy eyelids and sluggish steps, as if he had returned from a battle against Heaven.

You had been sitting in the front parlor one cozy night, a book in your hand as you waited for the king’s return. He usually wasn’t gone so long, and the dinner you had made had gone cold, so all there was to do was sit around and wait.

Your daughter’s colic seemed to have tapered off by now, as it has already been a few weeks since you arrived at the manor. This was a relief, and you found yourself sleeping much longer, your energy and patience naturally returning. 

That fear of being useless began to dissipate, now that you were able to enjoy time in the kitchen, testing out new receipts for Lucifer as his chef. He paid you very handsomely, even though you rarely did cook as you recovered from postpartum and kept busy with the baby.

You didn’t complain though, it was nice to see a paycheck that could actually cover all your groceries and bills, if you actually paid any of the bills around here... did Lucifer even have bills?

Your thoughts were cut off when the sound of heeled boots thumped across the corridor right outside the room, and the book in your hands lowered to the coffee table in front of you. 

Lucifer kicked off his boots at the door to the parlor, his hooves meeting the carpet as they dragged towards the couch you were lazing on. His blonde was hair disheveled, and some of the gold buttons on his vest were unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of what lay below his collarbone.

He looked exhausted, his eyes tiredly frog-blinking as he fell against the cushions beside you, before exhaling a long, drawn-out sigh. 

“Rough day?” You whispered softly, and he turned his head slightly to face you.

“Just.. a lot,” was Lucifer’s response, his eyelids fluttering close for a few moments as he drank in the warmth from the crackling fire nearby.

You watched the fallen angel for a few more moments, his breath rising and falling slowly as he relaxed. His skin practically glowed against the soft colors thrown across the room from the dancing flames. A thought crossed your mind, and hesitantly, you reached a hand to Lucifer’s shoulder.

You felt him tense slightly from your touch, before relaxing slowly as you gripped his shoulder and forearm and began tugging him to lay down against you. He turned his head, raising a brow as he began to lean against you.

“Come here,” you smiled warmly, as you pulled him to fall over against you.

Lucifer’s head softly landed on your lap, his face upturned towards the ceiling as you smiled down at him. He watched the orange light reflect against your skin, enhancing your already perfect features. 

You lifted a hand towards his face, before you began to gently brush your fingers through his hair. Your nails grazed against the king’s scalp and a satisfied sigh left his lips. A hum reached his ears, as you quietly filled the room, with the soft tune. 

Something stirred inside the king, and emotions began bubbling up into his throat, and he could barely contain them as his lips parted.

“Can I tell you something?” Lucifer whispered after a moment.

“Of course,” you nodded, tilting your head down to him.

“I think… that I’m in love with you.”

Those words had your hands stilling against his scalp, and your breath hitched.

Lucifer in love with you? 

Oh, the joy you felt, at finally hearing those words you only had dreamed of for so long. Your grin spreading ear to ear as heat crept across your cheeks.

“Oh, you silly man,” you laughed softly down to the nervous face in your lap, before you gripped Lucifer by the collar and pulled him up from your lap.

You leaned down and pressed your lips softly to his, and the king rose the rest of the way on his own. He pulled you against him, as his back hit the cushions and you pivoted to straddle him as the kiss deepened. 

Lucifer’s arms were snaked around your waist, and your hands cupped both sides of his face as the two of you were lost in this intimate, quiet moment of affection finally revealed.

Time flew by fast after that, once your daily routines began to settle into place. Lucifer began to step in more in raising the baby, and sometimes you’d find your daughter in his arms, and a sweet, soothing tune coming from his lips.

You’d stand there, leaning against the nursery doorway as you watched with a warm smile. Peaches was beginning to like–no, love him. You could tell when she started to let him dress her up without her usual stink eye. She was now able to sit up and speak in her own, unique form of baby talk.

“Stop moving,” You had heard Lucifer laugh one day from inside the large bedroom, “You’re making this harder than it needs to be!”

A string of incomprehensible sounds followed, high-pitched babbling from the tiny figure in response.

“Hey, don’t give me attitude, missy!” You heard playful chastising from the king, and you turned into the doorway to see his back towards you, as he kneeled over your daughter. 

Her tiny legs kicked in protest as he wrangled something onto her, and you took a few steps into the room before announcing your presence.

“Lucifer…?” You started, nearing the bed.

He jumped at your voice, before pivoting to face you with an innocent smile. Your daughter was visible now, some kind of bright yellow fabric around her head and hugging the rest of her body.

“Hey! Don’t mind us, we're just testing something!” Lucifer’s smile widened.

“Testing what?” You asked with a smile.

Lucifer’s smile turned playful as he turned back to your daughter and lifted her towards you, and your eyes widened.

Peaches was dressed in a fuzzy, yellow duck onesie. Its head was designed into a hood that was pulled over her head, the orange beaking sticking out and resting slightly on her forehead. She babbled something incoherent with an open, gummed smile, something probably along the lines of ‘Look! Don’t I look so gosh darn cute?’

“I pulled out some of Charlie’s baby clothes from storage, and funny enough they fit Peaches just fine,” Lucifer continued, placing his cheek against your daughter’s and rubbing it affectionately with puckered lips, “She is so adowable in her wittle onesie, huh?”

“Yes, she is!” You cooed, leaning forward to pinch one of her cheeks with a grin.

The three of you were beginning to turn into a proper family, and it became obvious when Lucifer started making breakfast for the three of you in the early mornings, despite paying you for such tasks.

“You know that's my job, right?” You quirked a brow as Lucifer stood in front of the stone, flipping large, fluffy pancakes in a pan, before placing them upon a steaming pile of deliciousness. 

“You have days off, don’t you?” He hummed in response, turning off the stove and sliding the plate into his hands, “Will you grab the syrup for me, please?”

You opened the cupboards nearby, grabbing the large bottle of syrup as you followed him toward the dining area, your daughter playing with a rattle on the floor near the long table. She was able to crawl now, a speedy little demon that took off as soon as you turned the other way. 

Luckily, Lucifer had baby gates to help with that, and now she was easily confined into any room for fear of escaping. Her tiny stomach growled and she lifted her gaze from the toy as you and Lucifer stepped over the gate. 

Peaches squealed with happiness, and began to crawl towards you, her hands plapping against the tile as she moved. She slowed right next to the last dining chair at the table, before her head lifted to examine it for a moment. 

Your daughter began to lift herself onto two feet as she gripped the dining chair’s leg. She was getting good at standing by herself, but she had never managed to successfully step forward and not flop back onto her butt. 

You set the syrup on the dining table, ignoring her movements as first as you helped set the table. It wasn’t until you turned to place her into the high chair, did you watch your daughter’s foot begin to lift.

Peaches took one step forward, wobbling slightly as she tried to regain balance. Your mouth dropped, and your arm reached out to grip the back of Lucifer’s shirt and tug him beside you.

“What’s going on, why are yo–” Lucifer froze beside you, as your daughter lifted the other foot and took another wobbly step forward.

She had never remained on two feet for this long, and she didn’t look like she was stopping yet. Lucifer quickly lowered onto his knees, and you joined him as he stretched out his arms.

“Peaches, come on!” He called to the little girl, who was only a foot away from the two as she smiled at the fallen angel and took another step closer.

You joined him, cheering for your daughter as she took another step, and another, and then she reached out her little arms towards the two of you. She took the final step, before she lost total balance and fell forward.

The both of you jumped forward and embraced Peaches at once, the three of you in a tight huddle of affection as your daughter giggled against your chest. 

You peppered kisses against her forehead, tears pricking at your eyes as you lifted them to meet Lucifer’s gaze. His eyes were glistening as well, and you leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his lips, your smile large and brilliant. 

It was clear now, that your little family had grown to include another, and you were so thrilled it was Lucifer. Your ex, and the fears that came with his betrayal began to dissipate from your mind, and a tear rolled down your cheek in happiness. 

From that day on, you promised to make sure that your little girl would always have a father in her life, although it seems like you’ve already found the one who would cherish her for the rest of eternity.

“Psst, Mom!” 

You grumbled incoherently, still in the clutches of sleep as the voice rudely interrupted the nice dream you had been having in the early hours of the morning.

“Moooooommmm, wake up!”

You stirred awake at the voice hissing in your ear, your eyes fluttering open inside the dark master bedroom of the manor. Someone was standing right in front of you, a short figure tapping her foot impatiently as you lifted your head from the pillows.

The room was still covered in blackness, the morning light unable to escape through the blackout curtains blanketing the large bedroom. You could see the outline of a small figure in the shadows at the edge of your bed, illuminated by the open doorway behind her.

“What is it, baby?” You rubbed your tired eyes, turning to face your daughter.

Peaches was much older now, the name long outgrown her as she aged from toddler, to child, to girl. She resembled a nine year old now, that cute baby fat gone from her limbs, and her chubby little cheeks beginning to sharpen into gorgeous features. 

“Can I go with Charlie to the mall? She said she’ll pick me up in an hour if that’s okay.”

Charlie and your daughter had been doing everything together lately, which you guessed was because of the older woman’s joy in having a little sister she could take under her wing. They may not be related by blood, but nobody could tell the difference with the bond those two shared.

Peaches often assisted her at the now-bustling hotel, learning how to best help the inhabitants of Hell through the teachings of her sisterly figure. 

“Sure, tell Charlie I said hi,” you nodded with a smile, and your daughter bounced giddily on her toes.

“Yay! Thank you, mom!” She lowered her face down to leave a quick kiss on your cheek, wrapping her arms around your neck for a tight hug before backing away, “I Love you, see you later!”

You watched her rush out of the room with a slip in her step, the door closing softly behind her. 

“What was all that about?” A voice tiredly mumbled beside you, and warm arms snaked around your waist. 

You laid your head back against the pillow, repositioning your body to face toward the naked figure beside you.

“She just wanted to go out and have some fun with Charlie,” you replied to the tired, pearly face before you, his blonde hair disheveled around him as he blinked the sleep away with a yawn.

“Those two are like glue, nowadays,” your husband, Lucifer, yawned, pulling you flush against his bare chest in one smooth motion.

You snuggled your face into the crook of his neck, placing wet kisses across his skin, earning a pleasurable noise from his throat. 

“Should we get up and make some breakfast?” You asked into his skin.

“Five more minutes,” you heard him mutter, as he rubbed his cheek against yours affectionately.

That gives me five more minutes to think about how lucky I am to have you by my side.

“Okay,” you smiled softly, placing a loving kiss against his forehead before snuggling closer, “Five more minutes.” 

woah lots of emotions in this one, good thing everything worked out in the end, eh? the art was done by indxlulu over on twt, go check out some of their other work!

what did you think? let me know! <3

tags 🏷️

@ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home @helluvapoison @th3-st4r-gur1 @concentratedconcrete @cimadreamer @marsenbie @guacam011y @maxiskindahere @purplerose291 @fictional-character-whore @0willowwisp0 @yourlocalgoldenretrieverboy @wpdarlingpan @halo-balo @chipper-chip @lvstyangel @acrazyartist @midorichoco @xoxohugslove @ivebeenthearchersstuff @indestructeible @otherthoughtsofbu

[whowrotethenote]

Warnings // Suggestions and talk of smut // Talk of murder, violence, genocide, rape, sexual abuse & sexual assault // Profanity // Slight grieving // Angst

Word Count // 5.8k

Inspo // No real inspo. It was just something about Roman in a cage that did something to me. And I rewatched Presumed Innocent on Apple TV and got in my detective bag lol.

A/N // I tried to not to be too graphic as I know a lot of people can’t stomach certain things. If you can watch an episode of Criminal Minds or Law & Order, then you should be good. Happy reading bitches!💗

Chapter Two // Disclaimer // The Tribal Killer Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist // Main Masterlist

“We’re gonna be right here the whole time. Listening to everything." Juno's direct supervisor and mentor, District Attorney Leah Williams, assured her nodding toward the numerous screens beside them. All with different angles of him. He hung from the top of the cage's bars, doing pull-ups from what she could see. She quickly averted her eyes back to Williams, not wanting to fixate on him too long. It was pointless as she was minutes away from being in the room with him face to face.

"Okay."

Williams rested loving hands on both of Juno's arms like a mother sending her child off on the first day of school would. Her eyes went big to make sure her apprentice heard and digested every word. "Its gonna seem like you're alone, but we're right here."

“I know,” Juno matched her head movements, nodding.

“He makes you uncomfortable—if he tries anything, you pull the plug. You understand?”

“This isn’t her first rodeo, Williams.” Both women smiled at one another. “I hand picked her myself,” Hunter Blanch, the Attorney General vouched for her. “She’s ready.” He threw a wink her way and her smile deepened. 

Her mission was simple. Get him to confess. To trip up at the very least. And if he didn’t? If he gave her just one reason to believe he was innocent? She was going to do what Juno always did. Follow her heart.

She’d have to make the impossible decision of whether or not she would represent him. Being the newest and youngest to join the Oakland County Prosecuting Attorney’s office, the answer should’ve been clear. Hell no.

Not only is it a conflict of interest, given her current role as an Assistant District Attorney, supposed to be representing the state; but she also didn’t know in her heart if she was even capable of defending the opposition.

Fresh out of law school two years ago, after getting eaten alive in the courtroom on one of her first cases as a Defense Attorney, she vowed to never switch teams again. It scared her right into working for the government, where she deemed it safe. But safe was just so unfulfilling.

And with this particular case and this particular suspect, she already knew. It was suicide. She couldn’t afford for her fresh career, working with the government now, to take such a hit. They’d lose. Get blown out. Her career would be over before it even started and no one would take the young, black, female attorney seriously ever again.

On the off chance that they did win, with all the attention the case has already gained, she’d be branded a legend at just twenty-eight. Her mind rewound back to just minutes ago, walking up the steps of the holding facility, trying to finesse her way through the crowd of reporters and protesters alike. National and local news stations with cameras and microphones shoved in her face. Blanch gave a brief statement.

“The Oakland County detectives have been more than diligent in finding the monster who’s responsible for the death of nineteen young women, right here in Michigan. The DA’s Office plans on doing the rest. Thank you, everyone.”

Juno fantasized about what it would look like to defend him. They’d talk about this case for years to come. Like the OJ trial. Casey Anthony. They already seen her face and knew her name. Juno Accardi. The young apprentice going in to slay the beast. But what if she was the young apprentice going in to tame it? Free it?

It was a textbook serial killer case. He was the perfect suspect. Roman Anoa'i. Thirty-eight year old, semi-truck driver, who grew up right in the heart of the area where the murders took place. He knew the area. He knew most of the girls. Even grew up with some of them.

Never married. No kids. Lived a very isolated life. Spent most of his days on the road. Routine deliveries in and out of the city, across other midwestern states, and more importantly in and out of the Isabella Reservation, where all of the victims lived or were from.

Elise White. She was the first victim found over half a year ago. A Saginaw Chippewa tribe member who was born and raised on the Reservation, Sheriffs found her body on the side of I-75 after an anonymous tip. She was completely naked, covered in her own blood, and her silhouette was outlined with red orchids. Almost like the kind that you’d find on a Lei. She was stabbed over ten times and the coroner found evidence of sexual assault occurring before and after her death.

Nineteen. That’s the number of girls he did this to. They were almost always the same. Indigenous from the Reservation, unmarried, and anywhere between the ages of nineteen to thirty-seven. The Tribal Killer. That’s the name the public had branded him before he was even caught.

It took a while for the detectives to connect the dots, but they did. He was almost always alone, so he never had a solid alibi. He already had a record. The semi-truck was the perfect location to spend time alone with the victims. He fit the description of the anonymous man that everyone recalled seeing a number of the victims with. And the things the detectives found while raiding his home and truck, sealed the deal. He was guilty before they ever even considered him innocent.

It was an easy win for the state. So, Williams handed it down to Juno, hoping to help get her feet wet and make her mark. But a young and ambitious Juno saw it differently.

The night before, Juno stayed up almost until she saw the sun. Switching between a mug of black coffee and a glass of white wine. Files on top of files decorated her living room floor, the coffee table, her kitchen table and even some on the couch. All with the most minute, dark, gory and salacious details of the entire case from the very beginning. Victim one all the way to victim nineteen.

She read all of it. Once—twice—five more times, until it was burned into her memory like a fraternity member getting branded. Pictures of the victims pale-faced, naked and bloody all over her small high-rise. ME reports telling horror stories of the murders.

She didn’t know why, but she could feel it. She could feel them. All the women he killed. She dreamed about them. Saw each and every one of their faces clearly. Heard their voices. In some way it was like they were asking her to solve the case. Almost as if they were telling her that they had the wrong guy.

Williams always did warn her. She said every lawyer would get that one case. The one that would stick with them. The one that would make or break their career. They’d obsess over it. It would consume them. That’s exactly what was happening.

Juno could feel it in her bones. Whatever decision she made next would change the entire course of her life. For better or worse, was still unclear.

She hadn’t informed her colleagues, and especially not Williams her mentor, of the decision she dangled in her mind. She’d talk her out of it. Her position in the office would be in limbo for sure. No one likes a turncoat. Even the government and sleazy politicians despise that.

"Ma'am we ask that you stay at least six feet from the cage at all times. He shouldn’t be in the possession of any items, but in the unusual case that he is, we ask that you do not accept any items from him, nor offer any to him…" The armed guard recited like a robot. Juno zoned out after a while. She had heard all of these warnings before while visiting suspects. None like him, though. She didn’t know exactly how, but she could feel that he was different from the others.

After his speech the guard unlocked the steel door, but didn’t open it yet. Juno closed her eyes and breathed deep. In through her nose, out through her mouth. "Breathe, Ju," she coached herself. "He's just a man."

When she opened her eyes, the guard looked at her expectantly. She nodded, giving him the okay to open the door. Walking through it, the heels of her black stilettos echoed on the dark epoxy coated concrete like bombs.

The room was cold and black. So dark she couldn’t see how wide or far back it stretched, but every echo of her steps let her know she'd have serious ground to cover if she had to get out fast.

All she could see was him. A single light casted over the steel cage they had him confined in. The heavy door she came in slammed shut, causing her to jump and stop in place. Checking behind her for the guard was no use. She couldn’t see shit. She waited for the dramatic music of a horror film when the white blonde called out, "who's there?" It was fitting. But all she got back was the sound of her own heartbeat.

The man in the cage was unaffected. His rhythmic grunts continued as he pulled himself up and down from the bars atop of the cage. His tanned upper body shone from sweat, as it was uncovered, leaving his orange jumper falling around his waist. The entire left side of his body was burdened with the dark ink of tribal tattoos.

Juno pressed her mouth shut when it went agape watching the muscles in his back dance every time he pulled himself up. She took the last step to the cage that she felt she needed to, then took an extra step back to account for the six feet. On cue, he let go of the bars and landed on his feet with a slight thud.

A man his size looked unnatural behind bars. He was built like a superhero that could bend the bars to his will and escape if he wanted to. His muscles had muscles. Veins thick, protruding from his hands to his neck. His left hand shook and his towering frame turned in her direction, making her forget to breathe for a second.

He looked much different than the pictures the news had showcased for the past two weeks. His hair wasn’t as long, it was now shoulder length. His beard no longer clean cut, but thicker, untamed and scruffier. Still, it was like seeing the inside of the Vatican for the first time. He was beautiful. Almost in an ancient and haunting way.

“When they said they were sending in an attorney from the state,” he poked his plump lips out while shaking his head. The damp curls moving with him. “You are not what I had in mind, baby.”

He used the dangling sleeve of his jumper to wipe off his forehead and large hands. "I was thinking more like a man with a bald spot in a too big suit. Much like that piece of shit who came in here yesterday and said he would defend me."

His voice was hypnotizing. It was rough and somehow soothing. He was just above a whisper and still commanding. Juno hadn't realized how long she was watching his mouth until she saw his top lip curl into a smirk.

"Huh?" She asked, not even knowing if he said something else.

The light chuckle that left him, made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "What is your name?"

"…Juno… Juno Accardi."

"Italian?"

"My father is, yes."

It was unnatural the way he disarmed her that quickly. Just a minute ago she was planning an emergency escape route and suddenly he finessed her name and heritage in under thirty seconds. She snapped upright, reminding herself of not just the circumstance, but just how charismatic and charming serial killers could be.

She squatted to drop the briefcase she forgot she held at her feet. She could feel his eyes sticking to her with every move as she pulled out the file that had all the most recent details of the upcoming trial and stood back at full height. Flicking through the papers, she gave herself a silent pep talk. It was showtime.

“Are you aware that they’re fighting to give you the needle?” He nodded. “So, then you know the severity of this case?”

“I’on really understand what all the fuss is about.” He crossed his muscular arms over his massive pecks, leaning a broad shoulder to the cage’s steel bars. “Now all of a sudden they care what happens to the indigenous? Just a few centuries ago a whole group of them came and did the same things. Raped and pillaged an entire culture.”

“Are you saying you chose Native women because you knew you’d get away with it? That no one would be looking for them anyway?”

He chucked to himself dodging her first attempt of an accusative left hook. “No, baby. I’m saying whoever did, knew no one would give a shit really. That they’d be able to get a few down before it ever caught any traction. Imagine their surprise when they see their work on CNN. Whole world in a frenzy about a bunch of indigenous women raped and murdered, when that’s always been the case. Fucking America.”

“You seem very passionate about the topic. Genocide.”

“I just pay attention, is all.”

“Attention to detail is a shared trait amongst most serial killers."

He laughed out loud this time. “Where’d you learn that, huh? That fancy law school teach you that? Oh no, wait. Maybe that expensive historically black college?”

His revelation of where she spent nearly five years studying criminology shook her. She kept her slim face unmoved as best she could. Still, an unspoken dance of cat and mouse lingered between them. He was limited to the bars of the cage, but it couldn’t be more obvious who was in control. Her thoughts were loud to him. He could see the exact moment he knocked her off her square.

“Like I said. I just pay attention.” He gestured his head slightly down and shot eyes to her briefcase that laid on the floor by her feet. The dainty HU’19 charm hung on the side. A gift from her mother who was also Howard alumna. She’s had the briefcase for years now. Latched the charm on the hook of the strap proudly. Still, she forgot most days that it existed there.

"So," he continued placing two large hands out on the bars in front of him. "You're the pretty bitch that’s gonna prove to everyone that I killed those girls." She wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement. "The one that’s gonna get me killed." Juno didn’t even flinch at the name she was called. She had heard far worse in her line of work.

"Actually…" She licked her lips that somehow became dry. "I wanna help you."

Blanch crossed his arms, locking eyes with Williams. The lead detective on the case, Rich Wheatley, squinted at the screens before him. "What is she doing?" Wheatley asked them.

“Easy, boys. She’s just building rapport. Trust tactic,” Williams assured Blanch and the officers watching the screens with her as the energy in the room became uneasy. Although, in her mind she feared the young girl had gone rogue. She was always too ambitious for her own good. She silently prayed that all her guidance and wisdom was enough to steer her in what she saw as the right track. She had handed Juno, a fellow black woman in a white, male-dominated field, the perfect opportunity. She had no idea Juno had plans to fumble it.

Roman raised a thick eyebrow. Juno tried her best not to stare at the distracting, protruding veins on his arms, still visible from his workout. "That’s not why they sent you in here."

She shook her head. "No. No its not. But I'm doing it anyway."

“You don’t think I did it.” He stated more than inquired, like he already knew the answer.

“I don’t think you’re entirely guilty. But I also don’t think you’re innocent either.” Something between a scoff and a chuckle left him.

“I like you Juno.” He spoke her name like he knew her all his life. His darks eyes lazily scanned her entire silhouette, eliciting goosebumps to form on her skin.  She silently thanked her past self for choosing the long-sleeved button up. He wasn’t hiding the deliberate hard stop on her semi-exposed breast. A thick tongue snaked out to lick his pink bottom lip. “You’re the exact type I would go for…”

“Go for?” Her brows pinched together.

“To fuck,” he clarified. Her heartbeat quickened. “Late night at a bar. Young, ambitious, studious woman unsure of herself, that likes to bite off more than she can chew.” He set the scene for her and every word he spoke had her hanging off the edge of her seat, ready to lean into the steel bars. There was underlying sex appeal in every word he spoke. Everything about him was erotic. “Your line of work gets pretty hectic. Long days and long nights. Probably in there just trying to let a load off. I’d come up and offer you a better way to relieve the tension.”

Juno couldn’t help but to visualize the picture he painted of them. "I wouldn’t take you to my house. Nah, I wouldn’t be able to wait that long for it. I'd buss it down right in the parking lot. Bend you over on the side of the building." Williams shook her head as she fought the urge to pull the plug herself.

“You have a very nice face. Big eyes. Naturally pouty lips,” he told her before biting on his own. “I'd have to turn you around just to watch it. Wouldn’t wanna pull out but I would. Finish right on that pretty face.”

Juno swallowed the lump in her throat and nearly choked from it being so dry. Such vile words surely shouldn’t have aroused her. But no client had ever elicited these kinds of emotions from her. A murderer. It was forbidden territory.

In school she’d read about girls falling for these kinds of men. Writing them love letters as they rotted in a dirty cell. Showing up to trial in skimpy clothing to get the accused’s attention. Bundy had a whole fan club. An eighty year old Manson got married while incarcerated for some of the most heinous crimes America has seen. Women can be very strange. The things they become attracted to can change the entire course of their life and alter their psyche.

Although eliciting an most foreign feeling, Roman’s words were not foreign to her ears. She’s heard worse. Clients getting frustrated and threatening her. A prisoner she visited to conduct research having a manic episode, giving her a play by play of how they would slit her throat and then have their way with her dead body.

Ignoring the friction of her now stiff nipples on the fabric of her lace bra, she cleared her throat before speaking up again. “Is that how you got Laura Bernard?” Victim number eleven. A young single mother left her only son with her sister to go out to a bar for a drink and never came back. A week later her body was found stabbed multiple times with evidence of sexual assault. Her silhouette outlined with red orchids. Just like the ten unlucky victims before her.

The bartender and other patrons in attendance recalled seeing her talking with a large man. Not pale enough to be Caucasian, they said. They were seen leaving together. No one could remember the mystery man’s face or any other distinct details about him. The eyewitnesses were unreliable anyway. They had all been intoxicated the night of the incident.

The significance of Laura Bernard to Roman? He admitted to the officers that brought him in, that he had slept with Laura before. Just not the night of the murder. And still, he was not budging on the declaration that he did not kill her.

Juno studied his every move, waiting for a sign or some type of reaction from hearing the victim’s name. But there was no glint in his eye from reliving the murder. No twitch of his eyebrow. No rubbing of the hands. Not even that devilish smirk showed itself. Nothing.

“I’ve told the story before.” His head shook, already growing bored of reciting the same confessions. The same monologue. It was rehearsed at this point. “I met Laura at a gas station. I was making a stop to fill the semi up. She was looking for a ride into the city. I gave it to her. Told her it was free of charge. Still, she offered to give it up. I’m a grown ass man so I took it.”

“And Alyssa Haskie?” Juno pushed. Victim number eight. Nineteen year old college student home for the holidays. Went out for a late night jog and never made it home. Same fate as the others. Stabbed repeatedly with signs of sexual assault before time of death and postmortem. Corpse decorated with red flowers.

“That little bitch lied to me about her age. I don’t fuck girls who's age ends in teen. I prefer grown women.” He looked down with just his sly eyes. “The ones that wear stilettos to work.”

She shook her head, trying to stay on the road she set out, even with his constant veering.

“You knew seven of the nineteen victims. Admitted to sleeping with at least five of them. You do understand why you are the number one suspect, right?”

“The reservation is small. I come in and out all the time to deliver them shit from the city. And yes, I like to have a little bit of fun when I'm not on the clock. I get around. Is that a crime, Juno?”

“Depends. You like to have this fun before or after they take their last breath?” He ran a hand down his thick beard.

“That’s a question I'm not answering. Besides, I read that the killer does both.”

Juno crossed her arms. “You seem to know a lot about the crimes you didn’t commit.”

“Now why would I not read up on the monster y'all are accusing me to be? I’m in here all day. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. It makes the time go faster.”

Juno’s eyes bounced around the floor and her pointed heels, thinking of another angle. For every question, he had a reasonable answer. Every jab she attempted, he blocked it. He was a tough one.

“Elise White. She was your first?” Victim number one.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at when you say first.”

“Girlfriend.” She switched after he blocked another accusative jab.

“Yeah. She was." He confirmed. "My father worked with some of the sheriffs on the reservation. I spent my junior and senior year of high school living there. Going to school there. Its where we met.”

Juno nodded already knowing the story. The first victim is almost always emotionally motivated. There’s usually history there. Most times it’ll be the key to solving the entire case.

“Why’d you two split?”

A deep chuckle carried in the spacious room. He ran his long fingers through his wild beard. “You really wanna know?”

“I’m asking aren’t I?”

“…She had a lousy sex drive.” Juno sighed deeply. “I wanted to fuck everyday. Sometimes multiple times in a day. She didn’t. We broke up.” He shrugged. “Probably should’ve kept her around though. Elise was smart. Resourceful. Cooked her ass off. Would’ve made a decent wife. Shame.” As his head shook he developed a genuine look of solemn. Mourning almost. Brows pinched and jaw tight, he looked down at his feet for the first time.

“The agents that brought you in, they searched your truck and your home. Found some very interesting things.” Roman’s head cocked to the side, tapping his slender fingers on the bars, seeming almost anxious for her to recite the items recovered. “Handcuffs. Rope. Chains. Gags…” Juno pressed her lips together, not wanting to continue.

“Go on, baby. What else did they find?”

Juno’s mouth opened then closed. Flashes of the evidence photographed swarmed her mind. She imagined him sniffing them, holding them tight in his large hands, and even biting them. “…Women’s underwear. Over a hundred pairs.” It made her sick to her stomach, that every pair could've represented a victim.

“What color panties are you wearing, Juno?” He questioned in almost a whisper.

Her name rolling off his deviant tongue was the most erotic thing she had ever heard with her own ears.

Juno shifted her weight to the other leg. She was sure he could hear her heartbeat. It thrummed through her ears as her face grew hot. She's never been more grateful for her mother’s genes supplying her with Hershey colored skin.

“You seem like the type to not even wear any,” he continued. He sucked in a sharp breath and groaned with closed eyes. “Mmm.” He practically growled.

“We’re getting off topic.”

“I like that. Easy access,” he ignored her. ”But I have a thing for the lace ones. Red. My favorite color.”

“Like the flowers you left around your victims?” She countered.

His tongue rested outside of his mouth, toying with the hairs of his mustache. "Nah," he finally answered.

Still nothing. Unfazed. Stoic. No daze of daydreaming about the acts he committed. No emotion other than pure arrogance. So, she pulled her last trick out of the hat.

“Where were you on the night of March twentieth?”

Silence covered the room like a blanket. She was going for the big knockout. Victim number nineteen. The reason they had enough for a warrant. The reason where he laid his head was raided by dozens of heavily armed agents. 

Even if by some ridiculous miracle, he didn’t lay a menacing hand on none of the other victims, she was sure he had something to do with her death. Naomi Nodin.

“You know where I was.” His dark eyes told a thousand stories. It seems her thoughts weren’t the only ones that were loud now.

Their eyes danced in a silent battle. He wasn’t going to offer more than she asked for. She had to press him.

“Neighbors said they heard screaming. Two people yelling in a jealous rage. Loud noises. Glass even.”

“That’s a big swing you attempting at, baby. You sure you’re ready for that?” He squinted.

“When the police arrived, there was no glass. No mess. No signs of struggle. Whoever killed her, knew her. She let them in. She wasn’t afraid.” He slid his interlocked fingers back and forth between each other, breaking eye contact.

She had something. His entire disposition changed. Naomi meant something. Either that or the that night was just traumatizing for him. She understood. A woman he was intimate with, dead just minutes after seeing her. Guilty or not, over a dozen armed detectives busting down your front door and dragging you out of bed at two in the morning could shake anyone.

“I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me.”

Against her own will, the pictures taken of Naomi's lifeless face flashed in her mind. Her breath picked up and her eyes began to sting.

“Uh oh,” he teased. “What was that?”

“What was what?” She blinked rapidly as her nose flared.

“That,” he nodded in her direction. ”Did you? You knew her?"

Juno opted for silence, leaving him to form his own conclusions. The little voice in her head, screamed for her not to do this, but her heart was telling her otherwise.

“She told me about a man she was seeing. Slightly older. A truck driver. Not her usual type. No, she usually went for the big fish. Lawyers—doctors—politicians that preferred exotic women. And not even a week later…she's murdered, right on her kitchen floor."

Williams inspected the girl, watching everything play out from a TV screen. She was unaware that her young apprentice Juno knew the latest victim. She would’ve never gotten the case otherwise. Conflict of interest. Maybe she was deceiving him on purpose? Trying to make it more personal to get him to slip up? She threw up two hands to let an even more perplexed Blanch know she didn’t know what was going on.

"You told the detectives you two were dating?"

"That’s right."

"Were you aware that you weren't the only man she was dating?"

He flashed a daunting smile. "That doesn’t mean anything to me."

"So, that’s not why you two were arguing that night? You didn’t go there to confront her about sleeping around with other men? Better men?" Juno knew she was prancing in dangerous territory. Men like Roman didn’t do well with inferiority. He only laughed lowly to himself, shaking his head. "Just tell me the truth," she encouraged.

"I did not kill her," was his only response.

"You snapped. You didn’t realize what you did. You didn't mean for it to go that far." He shook his head and ran two large palms over and down his silky curls. "You were the last person to see her alive. Your fingerprints all over her-- the kitchen. Your DNA, left inside of her…"

His mouth twitched like he was fighting the urge to grin. It didn’t matter that he didn’t, because his brown eyes smiled for him.

“I didn’t kill Naomi…”

“Then you know who did.”

“Nope. Don’t know that either babygirl. Once y’all find them though, go ‘head and thank them for me?”

“You were the last person to see her alive,” she restated ignoring his tasteless banter. She wasn’t amused. She thought she knew everything walking in here, but he’s twisted her brain like a pretzel now. Playing mind games. Showing her different routes, opening doors she hadn’t seen before.

“The last known person to see her alive.”

“The camera caught you leaving her house at exactly 12:06 a.m. on the ten second mark. Her estimated time of death was 12:07 a.m. Around the same time the neighbors said they heard her dog barking.” She recited the details of the case like a preacher would the Bible. “If someone did come in through a window or the back, that leaves only a seventy second or so window for the murder to take place.”

Roman shrugged. “Well, how long does it take to stab a person to death and throw a bunch of flowers around them? Not impossible.”

The silence was long and eerie. At least for Roman. He squinted at the woman on the other side of the bars. Her thoughts were loud before and her anxiety draped around her like a shawl. Not now though. Something shifted. She wasn’t looking at him. Anyone watching would think so, but he could see that she was looking through him, her mind racing about something else. Her wheels spinning.

He didn’t know it, but his last words had just made Juno’s decision for her.

“Of course,” she finally responded with no inflation in her voice. 

Bending at her knees she picked up the briefcase to shove the folder back into it. Face contorted, he eyed her the whole time as she packed up and turned on her high heels.

“Well?” She stopped and only turned her head hearing his authoritative voice. “You taking the case or what?”

She hesitated. Williams and Blanch were already on their way down to meet her on the other side of the steel door. She sucked in a deep breath, preparing herself for all the dominoes ready to fall.

"Yes. Yes, I am."

Juno's adrenaline kicked up full speed at her own words. It was for real now. She came in as the rookie attorney they used as bait, and she was leaving out as something else. It was a rebirth of some sort.

Walking with the guard down the hallway, she could see them at the other end, like an army coming full speed to obliterate their open enemy. She hadn't prepared for this. She didn’t think she would've made it this far.

Blanch and Williams marched to her, escorted by several guards. She tried her best not to cower at the heavy stares. Williams in particular beamed daggers at her like a mother who just left the parent-teacher conference and couldn’t wait to dig in her kid's ass.

"What the hell happened in there?" Williams questioned fiercely, not even waiting until she fully reached Juno.

Juno's big eyes shot straight to Blanch. "I quit," she declared boldly.

"You what?" Willams laughed incredulously.

"I quit," she repeated, this time to her mentor. "I'm picking up his case." Juno knew she owed at least Williams a better explanation than that, but she couldn’t find one that didn’t sound rooted in personal gain or pure naivety. It wouldn’t matter anyhow. She took a step to get past them, but Williams planted a firm hand on the wall blocking her path.

"Are you absolutely insane right now?"

"He didn’t do it."

Blanch let out a snort. "And exactly what the hell did he say in there, to make you think he's innocent?"

"We never released to the public that Naomi wasn’t stabbed like the rest of them. The only people that know she was really strangled to death are us, the detectives, the coroner, the crime scene people and the killer." She looked between the two prosecutors who she revered deeply, but would have to go against. "If he was the killer, he'd know that." Juno ducked under William's arm, making a swift exit.

"Juno!" Williams called with remarkable bass. She halted in place but didn’t turn back around to face her. "You are making a big mistake. Think about what you are doing."

Well-behaved women rarely make history. Those were the words her mother recited to her on the day of her graduation. Juno was not like other women. Something she picked up about herself since she was younger.

While other girls were fussing and stressing over trivial, insignificant matters like marriage, when they would have kids, or if they should lose ten pounds before summer, Juno woke up with thoughts of getting ahead of the pack. She wasn’t like other women and she had no desire to be. She always felt her calling was much bigger than just fitting in and falling in line. So, she made the decision right then and there to walk a different path.

"I'll pick up my things tomorrow." And with that she strutted down the rest of the hall on her way to make history. 

A/N // This was my first time writing something like this. Lmk if y’all liked it or if it even makes sense😂 I kinda like these characters…wouldn't mind writing about them again.

Also, the verdict is in lol. I'm already working on a part 2 and possibly part 3 for Biggest Fan. And I want to thank anyone who reached out after I had a mild crash out a couple days ago lol thank you for all the kind and encouraging words🫶🏽

If you read this or even a portion, I am extremely grateful. As always feedback is welcomed💗

୨⎯ 🌹 taglist 🌹 ⎯୧: @raya-hunter01 @trippinsorrows @minsingular @luvrsluxe @vynaissance

[okay-babe]

word count: 1100 (probably too high-)

break me. basically just reader catching human!alastor murder someone and alastor desperately trying to calm his darling down, only to realize that reader isn’t listening as they are way too scared.

tyy!!! :DD

Easy Prey

tags: alastor x reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, mild gore, angst, possessive behavior, dark themes, murder, human alastor

The evening air was dreadfully thick as Alastor made his way through the underbrush at his feet, legs carrying him in a manner that suggested he'd walked these woods many times before.

He had to make this quick.

Eyes darting from left to right, the young radio host hummed to himself quietly in an attempt to quell the rushing thoughts within his mind, many of which implored him to turn back the way he'd come.

"She's waiting..." one reasoned.

"He's gone!" another panicked.

"There's no time. Return to her!" a third begged.

Though, notably, others commanded he do otherwise.

"Find him." the first snarled.

"Leave nothing more than a corpse for the dogs to find!" a second raged.

"And when it's done," the loudest coaxed, "return to her."

Eyes glaring as he trekked confidently onward, Alastor couldn't help but give in to the darker demands rattling off inside his brain for what was far from the first time.

It was like this on nearly every occasion that he dared take you with him to visit the cabin located on the hunting grounds he'd purchased a few years back. One of those foolish mutts would catch a glimpse of those pretty doe eyes of yours and begin their wretched hunt early, staring at you as if you were a lamb and they a forgotten god, desperate for a sacrifice.

Staring at you as if you were not his.

And beyond anything else he had ever experienced, Alastor Hartfelt found that infuriating.

And so, as he always did when transgressions like these occurred...

He waited.

And waited.

Until finally, he would catch a glimpse of whichever uncouth wretch had dared gawk at you on that particular occasion as they walked into the woods, defenseless, doubtless scouting out the land for the best spot to hunt grazing doe the following day.

And every single time, Alastor simply glanced down at his watch, waited his customary fifteen minutes, and then walked casually to grab his rifle from the gun cabinet in the mudroom.

Except this time was different.

This time, it had been long past dark when he watched the man who was renting the cabin next door walk silently toward the woods.

This time, he'd had almost no excuse to follow eagerly after him.

This time, you were awake, confused, and waiting back in your shared bed, having asked repeatedly for an explanation that never came as your husband changed from his sleepwear to his hunting clothes before insisting you stay put and stalking out the main entrance, the impact of the gun cabinet slamming shut shaking your dwellings just before the screen door did the same.

Yes, Alastor most certainly needed to make this quick.

The radio host continued onward silently, ears pricked for any kind of sound besides that of the deep and warm waters that made up the nearby bayou, into which he often tossed sacks of bloodied clothing weighed down by rocks, never to be seen again.

At the subtle reminder of his gruesome crimes, Alastor couldn't help but grin wider, his thoughts drifting briefly to all of the evidence lying unknown at the bottom of the nearby body of water.

There had to be relics of nearly ten or more kills in those depths at that point, some of them punishments for an indecent look your way, and others for acts entirely unrelated yet equally as worthy of being dubbed transgressions in the mind of your husband.

Suddenly, Alastor was drawn out of his reverie by the dull snap of a trampled upon stick sounding out from his left. He chuckled eagerly at the noise, readying his rifle and making his presence known as he sauntered in its direction.

"What a shame," He started, grin growing wider as he heard the hunter curse under his breath before scrambling to stand upright once more, no doubt having hoped to hide until his pursuer gave up the chase.

Alastor laughed outright at the ridiculous display of fear playing out just a few yards in front of him, the visage of his target little more than a shadow as he raised his weapon and steadied his eager hands.

"I was really hoping to take my time with you."

There was a mock pout to his tone as he spoke, finger now poised above the trigger.

He sighed,

"Oh well."

——————

You gasped, nearly jumping out of your skin when a gunshot rang out loud and clear from your left, flimsy house shoes almost tripping you up until you had to lean against a tree for purchase.

Fearfully, you clutched your hand against your heart, holding back a whimper of fear at just how close that had sounded, only a hundred yards or so away from the main trail where you stood based on its volume.

Swallowing thickly, you gave your poor heart a few seconds of respite before hiking your nightgown up to your knees and pressing onward through the underbrush, ignoring the stinging pain caused by the thorns that caught you on the way.

In the back of your mind, a voice called out for you to turn back and return to your soft bed and quietly droning radio, but as nice as that may have sounded, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

There had been something present in your husband's eyes when he'd told you to stay put, a crazed and concerning joy with an edge of fury to it that made your blood run cold.

You needed to know what was happening, for better or for worse.

So slowly, carefully, you followed the sound of occasional movement and the increasing volume of the nearby bayou that Alastor insisted had gone rotten and putrid until you caught sight of a familiar man, though the vision of what he was doing made you wish he was anything but.

First, you faltered.

Then, you whimpered,

And finally, you screamed.

At the sound of your cries, Alastor's head whipped around, his bloodied hands dropping the warm pair of eyes they'd been holding as he turned to find you standing there, utterly petrified.

Immediately, the man stalked toward you, hands raised as if in surrender, only for him to halt all movement the moment he saw you flinch back in response.

Alastor floundered slightly, sticky fists clenching and unclenching as they fell back down to his sides.

Never once had he lifted a hand to harm you, nor had he ever even truly scared you before. It was almost like you didn't recognize him anymore, tears building in your lower lash line before dribbling in fat droplets down that pretty face he adored so much.

Your husband had never made you cry before, not once.

As if worried that you simply didn't understand who you were truly standing in front of, Alastor called out to you gently, your name a soft and familiar prayer on his lips as he took another few steps closer, cautious.

This time, in your haste to move away, you stumbled and fell, head shaking rapidly from side to side and breaths growing panicked as you began to crawl backward away from the man you'd married.

"No,"

You gasped out in a whisper, chest heaving as your body was wracked with sobs,

"nonononononono!"

You were shouting now, delirious with confusion and fear as you continued to propel yourself away from the radio host standing before you.

Shocked at your reaction, Alastor hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. You had never been afraid of him before, not in all of your years together, and he had no idea how to soothe this type of fear out of your poor, racing heart.

He stared for several seconds, awestruck, before you tilted your head back just enough in your retreat that he caught sight of the way that your tears shimmered in the moonlight, pooling wetly beneath those doe eyes he loved so, the image like a dagger to his chest.

He had to make this better, there had to be a way.

All certainty gone from him now, you watched in terror as your husband stepped forward, his confidence and determination only growing as he got closer.

There was a sickening and almost crazed looking fear in his eyes as he watched you attempt to move further even as your back pressed into a tree, as if you could bore a hole through the center of it with the strength of your terror alone.

"Chere, it's me."

Alastor said pleadingly, his gaze upon you hardened with disbelief and something like anger, though who it was directed at you couldn't guess.

You whimpered, shaking your head more,

"Stay away from me! Idon'tknowyouIdon'tknowyouIdon'tknowyou!!"

Your words were blending together now, hardly even understandable as you struggled to speak between strained sobs, heavy gags, and gasps for air that was suddenly far too stifling, the sensation of it in your lungs oppressive and not unlike choking on thick humid steam.

Your head felt cloudy and full with the weight of what you'd witnessed paired with the burden of what you knew, and as every memory rushed back to you and the entire picture came together, you couldn't stop yourself from leaning into a nearby bush and vomiting up your dinner.

Your husband was a murderer.

The man you loved, whose last name you had taken, and whose children you had so desperately wished to someday have, was killing people left and right wherever you went under the guise of hunting.

You sobbed heavily, spitting up bile into the leaves and whimpering fearfully as Alastor moved to grab your hands, fighting you as you struggled to break free of his grip.

"Let go of me!" You cried, kicking and flailing to no avail as your husband simply watched you with sad, knowing eyes.

"Oh my sweet, foolish doe," He crooned soothingly, the sound low and rumbling inside his chest in a way that would have surely soothed you in the past.

You flinched away from him as he adjusted the positioning of his hands so he could hold both of yours captive in only one of his far larger ones, the other coming up to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him as he spoke.

"you know I could never do that."

[chefkids]

What are your thoughts on the multiple times Carmen has said “isn’t that what you wanted” to Syd? Is he saying like “bro, this is what you WANTED, I’m trying to give it to you! I don’t get it” or is this a petty “be content with what I give u, cause you asked for it” type of thing?

He's not trying to be petty, he's trying to show her that he's the capable chef she thought he was before meeting him and that he's listening to her and paying attention and that he cares about her, but he can't straight up say he cares about her and feels like she doesn't want to have anything to do with him beyond just cooking, so he tries to show her by doing things for her and shutting off his personality.

But he's ignoring what she wants most from him which is just communication, because he's inept at communicating directly with her and can't even communicate with himself how he actually feels about her.

He was doing things things without her in season 2 because he was scared to get close to her because he did not want to confront his feelings towards her, so it was just easier to avoid her all together. But he still wants her to know that he cares and listens to her so he made her menu drawings and got her the jacket made.

In season 3 he knew he had to physically be there for her so he is trying to give her the star he knows she wants. He has basically given up on being a normal human, because he thinks he's incapable of having any normal relationship. So the only thing he can give her is the chef version of him that he thinks she likes. He knows she was impressed by his stars and accolades so he's trying to give that to her and to prove to her that he is still the same excellent chef she was obsessed with when she first met him.

He gets frustrated when she tries to do things differently because thinks if they do things exactly the way he was taught then he'll get her that star and it will be worth it because she will be happy with it even if she hates him. But she doesn't just want to be handed a star, she wants to be actually seen and heard for what she can do.

Carmy tried to get stars and accolades as a f*ck you to his brother ignoring him and he didn't actually pay much attention to his passion for food and creating something special to obtain it, he just retained stars by following someone else's directions. His blood orange dish that he made is the one time we see him take a risk and put himself into his cooking at that high level, the rest of the time he's on autopilot doing the industry standard cause that dish is not what got him to retain a star.

Sydney doesn't want stars just as an f*ck you. She wants them because she wants people to see and recognize that she can make something special and different that still feels like herself. Carmy scrapped all the personal riskier chaos menu dishes from the end of season 2 because he does not trust them to get them a star, because that's not how he got his. He got close to trying to doing something different and inspired at the end of Season 3 but got scared because he knows Sydney is what inspires him and admitting that to himself is just opening a whole can of worms that he doesn't want to process and face the possibility of rejection from her.

He still has to learn to be open to change and to let Sydney in and listen to what she really wants from him, which is just to be seen and heard and appreciated, in particular by him, which is really why she wants a star in the first place.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for sakoku_decree behind the cut; “project sidekick”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“She’s his niece,” Superboy says while still trying not to grimace at the word “replace”, considering . . . literally everything about the past three months, yeah. “Uh–they’re both nieces. Miss Martian is Martian Manhunter’s and Artemis is–uh. Yeah.” 

“So we’re just letting in just anybody’s frickin’ nieces now?!” Kid Flash demands, waving his arms in the air and actually looking more upset about this than he did when Superboy walked into the room after fucking up pretty much his entire life in one night. “That’s all you gotta do to score a sidekick gig these days, you just gotta be a nepo baby?!” 

“That’s how you got one, isn’t–?” Superboy starts to ask skeptically, the question more reflex than anything else, but then Kid Flash stiffens and Robin and Aqualad both flick their eyes towards him at the exact same time and–right. That’s . . . not something he’s supposed to know anymore. 

Wasn’t ever something he was supposed to know, technically. 

“. . . dude,” Kid Flash says after a long moment, his face briefly flickering through multiple complicated-looking expressions like a super-speed slide show before settling on “insulted”. “A) no it is not, I did actual work for this, there was science and shit involved and I literally almost died, and b) what the hell, do you know who we actually are?” 

“Uh . . . mostly, yeah. Yours is the only one who didn’t tell us your name,” Superboy says, glancing at Robin. “But the other two, yeah. I mean–they didn’t know any better.” 

“Frick!” Kid Flash groans, covering his face with his hands and then groaning even louder into them. “That’s so–annoying! That’s super annoying! You swapped out Speedy for somebody’s niece and she knows my name!” 

“I mean–they asked him to join, he just didn’t want to. Artemis wasn’t even around ‘til later,” Superboy says, trying not to grimace again. Artemis is probably going to be annoyed that he didn’t try to figure out a way to maybe not give Kid Flash an immediate bad impression of her, considering he really should’ve remembered why–well, their Kid Flash got an immediate bad impression of her. “But–yeah, we all do.” 

“Frick!” Kid Flash says, throwing his hands up again and then glowering up at the ceiling. “Sure! Why not! This might as well happen!” 

“I mean not gonna lie, sorta proud of clone-me, he’s clearly got his priorities straight,” Robin muses, tapping his cheekbone thoughtfully–tapping it just against the edge of the mask, Superboy can’t help noticing. Like he might be checking it’s still there, again. “You guys, though, maybe you two need some better clones? Loose lips sink ships and all, bros.” 

“My name is a matter of public record, given I became Aqualad in direct service of my king,” Aqualad replies, looking a little wry. “I certainly do not make any secret of it. Nor would a sunken ship be a particular concern for my people, except perhaps as inconvenient litter.” 

“I really feel like you should all be a lot angrier about this,” Superboy says, which is probably a stupid thing to say, but he’s at least gotten pretty familiar with how anger feels. It’s a much safer thing to feel than most of the other things he’s felt, so–yeah, obviously he is. But so far only Kid Flash has even gotten upset, and even he mostly just looks irritated, not actually . . . 

Well. Angry. 

“In general, or at you?” Aqualad asks, raising a questioning eyebrow at him. 

Superboy really does not understand how that’s even a question, even after three months of knowing–“Kaldur”. 

[greylittlebird]

Viserys and Rhaenyra doomed everyone to War during The Driftmark Incident, and so many viewers completely missed the point of what happened and blame Alicent for being “crazy”. Alicent’s children’s safety is already in a dangerous position once it’s time for Rhaenyra to claim the throne to almost certain backlash, the only way to avoid War is for them all to have strong bonds of trust. Alicent’s son, one of the possible threats to Rhaenyra’s claim, had just been mutilated and disabled by Rhaenyra’s son. This was the chance for Rhaenyra to show that she is willing to be a family with her half-siblings even though she has never made any effort towards that before. She’s so arrogant she doesn’t even seem to understand that she should do that. Instead, Rhaenyra’s response was to not even apologize for her son’s behavior and not propose any possible consequence (obviously not cutting Luke’s eye out, but literally any consequence for example having to do grunt work for the Maesters and/or lose access to weapons until he can be responsible with them). Rhaenyra made it abundantly clear she doesn’t care at all about Alicent’s children and has zero remorse about them being harmed. Of course Alicent isn’t going to lay her children’s lives at Rhaenyra’s mercy by letting her take the throne after that.

And Viserys is even more to blame. His behavior in this scene is utterly abhorrent. Does he even make one single attempt to comfort or console his severely injured child? Nope. None. Viserys himself said he doesn’t think of Aemond (or Aegon or Helaena) as his children and that couldn’t be more clear than it is here. Instead of comforting or consoling Aemond, Viserys blames and interrogates the still bleeding and in pain child (starting by telling him to look at him, I know that’s a thing adults say when they want to have a serious conversation with children but… really? In this particular situation that’s what you go with?) for the sake of Rhaenyra. The full grown adult who is not injured as of now. All he cares about is Rhaenyra. And as if that’s not apathetic enough, he then threatens that “ANYONE” (meaning including Aegon, Aemond, or Helaena) who points out the obvious fact that Rhaenyra’s bastards are bastards will have their tongue cut out. He threatens his own mutilated, freshly disabled child with further, even more disabling mutilation all for the sake of protecting Rhaenyra’s lies and misdeeds (even though he could just admit they’re bastards and legitimize them but that’s another issue). And Rhaenyra thanks him for this direct threat to Alicent’s children, they’re both just beaming in their agreement that they can do whatever they want to Alicent’s children because they’re not really Targaryens, not really their children or siblings.

Alicent didn’t just “go crazy” because she’s an evil, vengeful character. She’s consistently one of the least vengeful and most level-headed, practical characters in the show overall. Alicent lost her composure in complete desperation in this moment because her children’s safety was just compromised. The King and his heir made it clear in front of everyone that Alicent’s children mean nothing. If one of Rhaenyra’s illegitimate crotch goblins had their eye cut out, no doubt Viserys would be enraged and demanding at least some kind of punishment. We know that because even over an “insult” (aka the truth literally everyone knows) towards them, he threatens grievous bodily harm. But Alicent’s children can be harmed without any punishment, not even a slap on the wrist, they’re not worth anything and no one will defend them. Alicent needed a show of force to say someone will defend these children and Rhaenyra cannot just do whatever she wants to them and smirk “Thank you, father” like a spoiled brat who tattled on someone and got them in trouble (tbh I’d cut her more than Alicent did for that line alone, it is so infuriating). Alicent isn’t a fighter but she tried every other option and found she’s the only one who will fight for her children.

[merrybloomwrites]

When The Wolves Come Out (Chapter 5)

Story Summary: When Y/N gets hired to play drums for One Direction, the last thing she expects is to find herself as part of their pack. Especially since it seems that they don’t want her there. Only time will tell if they’ll accept her, or if the omega will have to deal with rejection from the others.

Chapter Summary: Things begin to shift between Y/N and her band mates, and she isn’t sure how to feel about the change.

Previous Chapters: one, two, three, four

Word Count: 1.7K

Tags/CW: omega verse, omega reader, alpha Harry, alpha Zayn, alpha Louis, beta Niall, beta Liam, poly, panic attack

AN: Thank you to everyone who reaches out about how they’re enjoying this series and what they want to see included. I love your ideas and though I do have an outline of how this will go, your feedback in definitely helping my shape the story!

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When you wake up the next morning you lay in bed for a while. The bus isn’t moving so you’ve likely already made it to the venue for tonight. You hear movement and voices from the kitchen so at least a couple of the boys are already awake. You have no desire to see any of them right now, but your rumbling stomach has other plans.

Slowly you drag yourself out of bed and head to the kitchen.

“Good morning,” Harry says with a smile.

“Morning,” you reply, curt but polite.

“Coffee or tea this morning?” Zayn asks.

This throws you off. Sure they’ve always been nice enough, but never have they offered to make you anything, even if they’re already making it for themselves.

“Tea, please,” you manage to squeak out. Still keeping an eye on the others, you sit on the bench. The three of you sit in awkward silence until the kettle boils, and Zayn pours three mugs of tea before placing them on the table. He adds a little bit of milk and sugar to one of the mugs and slides it over to you.

Cautiously, you take a small sip. You’re pretty particular about how you take your tea, and you’re shocked when it tastes just right.

“How did you know what to put in mine?” You ask.

Zayn looks confused for a moment and then replies, “I’m honestly not sure. Guess I’ve seen you make it and just remembered. Is it okay?”

“It’s perfect,” you answer, and Zayn smiles shyly, releasing pleased pheromones.

“Morning everyone!” Liam says as he cheerfully enters the room. “I feel like some real breakfast. Who’s hungry? Y/N, breakfast?”

You’re once again thrown off by being included so clearly, but you accept this offer. Just as Liam starts plating food, Niall and Louis join.

If Liam, Harry and Zayn’s attitudes towards you have changed overnight, so have Louis and Niall’s. But they seem to have gone the opposite way. There’s an air of guilt, and it seems the first three are trying to be nice to make up for the way they treated you, while the other two are distancing themselves even more.

All of this is confusing, both to you, and to your inner omega. All throughout breakfast you’re watching the boys, trying to figure out their next moves, and wondering if what happened last night really was a wake up call of some kind for them.

“I’ll get that for you,” Harry says when you’re finished, and he picks up your dishes and takes care of them.

“Thanks,” you say. “And thanks for the tea and breakfast. It was nice.”

Before anyone can say anything else, you get up and go back to your bunk. Your mind is swirling with what just happened. Sure, all you’ve wanted for months is them paying attention to you. You wanted to be included.

Instead you got rejected. Pushed aside like you didn’t matter. And it hurt. As much as you tried to hide it, or play off that you were fine, you were hurting. It made you sad to be so ostracized, and they caused your omega literal pain.

One meal with half of them being extra nice won’t fix this.

“Y/N,” you hear Liam say. Poking your head out you find him and Zayn standing in the aisle between bunks, and he says, “We were going to head out and hang in the park across the street for a bit. Wanna join?”

“No thanks. I could use a shower. Think I’ll head into the stadium early, probably better than the bus.” An honest and convenient excuse.

“Alright, see you later,” Zayn says and the two of them turn to leave. Once you’re sure they’re gone you grab your things and make your way into tonight’s venue. A staff member gives you directions and you head to the rooms set for the band to get ready.

Stadium showers aren’t ideal, but as expected, it’s better than showering on the bus. You spend the rest of the day before the concert with the backing band, and since there are multiple shows here you’re given a hotel room. It’s nice to have some distance from the boys for a couple of days.

This is how it goes for the next couple of weeks. You stay away from the boys as much as you can, but when you’re forced together on the bus, Harry, Zayn, and Liam do everything they can to try and include you. Niall and Louis remain distant.

You fear that it could cause a rift to form between them. On the drive from St. Louis to Chicago you overhear Harry ask, “Why are you still fighting this so hard?”

There’s silence for a moment, but then you hear Louis reply, “Honestly, I’m not even sure anymore. Maybe it’s a control thing. Like we didn’t get to choose her. They just chose for us.”

“But we can choose. Liam and Zayn and I, we all chose her.”

“But Simon sent her here. This is his plan.”

“And? Yea, it always sucks when he gets his way. But Y/N is a wonderful person. And you shouldn’t rule her out just to spite Simon,” Harry states.

It’s quiet for another minute, before Louis says, “I didn’t think of it that way. Didn’t realize that’s what I was doing. But I think you’re right. I’m fighting so hard so that Simon can’t win.”

“And hurting Y/N in the process.”

“I’ve been a terrible Alpha,” Louis says quietly, his voice full of regret.

“We’ve all been pretty terrible pack mates,” Harry adds.

“I promise to do better,” Louis says.

“What about Niall? He’s still pretty opposed,” Harry asks.

“I think Niall is following my lead. And he’s nervous that he’ll be pushed aside if he have a pack omega.”

“So we have to reassure him that won’t happen.”

“I’ll talk to him next time I get a chance,” Louis says.

There’s movement that sounds like them getting up, and you duck back into your bed so you don’t get caught eavesdropping. Once again your mind begins to swim with these revelations.

You understand Louis’ perspective, and you feel for him. It’s no secret that these boys have been controlled over the years, and it’s natural that they’d fight back to try and regain some of that control. But did you have to get caught in the crossfires?

And then you think about Niall. And you get his perspective as well. Probably more than Louis’. Because if another omega had joined the Jonas pack and taken some of the attention that had been yours for years, you’d have been upset too.

You mull things over a bit longer and decide that if they can make an effort to do better, you can try to forgive them.

So when they ask you to join them for a breakfast out the next morning, you reply yes without hesitation. Everyone’s being nice, though Niall is still keeping his distance and Louis is giving off uncomfortable vibes. You can tell that he’s thinking about his conversation with Harry and he’s trying to figure out how to act around you now.

Overall it’s a nice breakfast, and you finally start to feel like you fit in with the rest of them. A perfect show that night has you feeling on a high, and getting to sleep in a real bed at a hotel rounds out this great day.

The next morning you decide to head out into Chicago. There’s no show that night so your day is wide open. You’ve been to Chicago before so you’re not worried about going out alone.

What you didn’t account for is your recent rise in fame. When you toured with the Jonas Brothers you would get recognized. But people would just say hi, maybe ask for a photo, tell you how much they love the band.

You figured it would be the same now. But you’d underestimated the One Direction fan base. As you take your walk you notice some heads turn. Soon enough people are calling your name and saying hi, just like you’re used to.

But then the number of fans steadily grows, and before you know it you’re surrounded by people calling out, trying to get selfies, asking where the boys are, and getting way too close for comfort. You’re surrounded, and while you keep control of your expression, internally you’re struggling.

You begin to panic, and as you pick up on some strange alpha scents, your omega freaks out as well. Black spots swim in your vision and your heart begins to race. More and more voices add to the din, and you work on autopilot, saying you have a meeting you have to get to and gently pushing your way out of the crowd.

Quickly you make your way back to the hotel, and even though you’re away from everyone, you can’t shake the intense feelings that have settled in. You make it back to your floor of the hotel, and as you fight with your room key another door opens, causing you to jump.

“You alright?” Niall asks.

Despite your best efforts to tell him you’re okay, no sound comes out. You wonder why he’s swaying until you realize it’s you who’s unsteady.

“I need some help!” Niall calls when he realizes how serious this is.

“What’s wrong?” Liam asks as he rushes into the hall.

“I don’t know, I just found her like this. Is she dropping?”

“Shit, I think you’re right,” Liam says.

“Then doesn’t she need an alpha?”

“Yea, but Harry and Zayn are out,” Liam informs him.

Another door opens, and you look up to see Louis walking towards you, his gaze serious and intense. Without a word they betas move out of his way, and the alpha scoops you up bridal style. “You’re okay,” he says. “You’re safe here.”

And your world goes black.

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AN: Thank you for reading! I’d love to hear your feedback, and lmk anything you’d like to see in this story!

[ladyinwriting18]

A Loyal Death Eater (Severus Snape x Reader)

Summary: Severus comes home to find he's been left a gift from The Dark Lord--you.

Words: 4901 Warnings: PIV, Human Given As A Gift, Master/Servant, Pet Names, Fingering, Oral Male Receiving, Dirty Talk. Author's Note: Hiiii if you know me then welcome back--WILL I EVER STICK TO ONE FANDOM TO WRITE FOR? The answer is no lol If this is your first time reading my writing then welcome! I hope you enjoy my first ever Snape one-shot!

Severus Snape is tired. So very tired. Tired of living this double life. Death Eater. The Order. Following Dumblerdor’s orders. Secretly protecting Harry. Funneling particular information to Voldemort for the sake of keeping up appearances. All while teaching potions. The vein in his temple throbs at the mere thought of his students. He doesn’t want to think about them now. He doesn't want to think about anything. All Severus Snape wants is to bury his face into a pillow. And that’s exactly his plan as he walks into his home and heads up the stairs towards his room... That is until he notices the piece of parchment stuck to the bedroom door. He’s immediately on high alert. Tension has his spine straight and his shoulders up by his ears. With his wand drawn, he creeps closer, ready to hex whatever intruder has managed to sneak into his home. But the signature at the bottom gives him pause. Why the hell was The Dark Lord leaving him handwritten notes? Dark eyes scan the entire letter. “To my most loyal Death Eater. I’ve left you a gift. A reward for all of your hard work. Use it however you wish and dispose of it when you’re done with it.”  Severus raises a brow. It? What exactly was waiting for him on the other side of the door?

There was only one way to find out. With a heavy sigh, he pushes open the door, but what he finds stops him dead in his tracks. A woman sits kneeling on the floor beside his bed. Your head is bowed with your hands placed palms up atop your thighs. But the most shocking thing is that you’re completely naked except for a black and green garter belt on your right thigh. “What is the meaning of this?” he commands, still in a mild state of shock at the scene before him. You, however, do not stir, keeping your body still. “Hello, Master. It is a pleasure to meet you. How may I serve you tonight?”  Your voice is warm…feminine…inviting. It draws Severus in and has him stepping into the room. But the closer he gets to you, the more your words sink in. “Forgive me…serve me?” You nod. “Yes, Master. I belong to you now. For as long as you want me.” The realization hits him like a bludger to the face. “You’re…my gift.” You nod again. “From the Dark Lord.” “And why would the Dark Lord send me a human as a gift?” The disgust in his voice isn’t directed at you, but you respond nonetheless. “To use as you see fit. I am yours and any desire my Master has is mine to fulfill.” He doesn’t know a single soul alive or dead who wouldn’t be tempted by such an offer. And though his heart had been lowered into the ground on the same day that Lily’s body was, he is still a man. A man with needs that he hasn’t even dreamt of allowing himself to feel. He’s standing directly in front of you now. “Look at me,” he commands You eagerly obey, and look up at him with large doe eyes. You stare at him with your gaze filled with willingness. He searches your eyes, attempting to find even an ounce of fear or disgust but finds nothing but devotion. As if you truly want nothing more than to serve.

His mouth goes dry and all of his body’s blood supply seems to be traveling south to his cock. This is wrong. Who knows what the Dark Lord had threatened you with…or where he had stolen you from. But everything about you screams submission. It awakens a darker side of himself. One that he hasn’t felt stirring since he was a young, newly appointed Death Eater. Back then Lucius Malfoy would hire girls and throw secret parties down in the dungeons below his estate. It was at these “parties” that Severus found his proclivity for knots…and magically binding girls to the ceiling so he could fuck them until they were begging to cum. It’s a time that he wishes he could scrub clean. Not only from his mind but from the history books of his life. Shame had accompanied him at those parties because he knew this was a part of him that he couldn’t share with Lilly. Even if James Potter had never been in the picture and Lilly had somehow been his. She was too lovely and sweet for that sort of depravity. She would have never enjoyed such things. And he would never— “Master?” Your voice pulls him from his thoughts, his eyes focusing back on you just as you reach out to take his hand. Your grip is so light, almost as if you’re worried your touch will offend him. “I want to please you. Want to give you whatever it is you need. Please? All I want is to be a good girl for you.” A good girl. His cock throbs. How you knew exactly what to say, baffles him. Perhaps you were a skilled Legilimens—allowing you a peek into his thoughts. Either way, you said the phrase that never failed to stop him in his tracks. He grips your hand more firmly and lets his other move to your cheek—to see if you’ll flinch at his touch. But, bloody hell, you lean into his palm and press your lips to the pad of his thumb. Never once averting your gaze. He lets out a breath that he wasn’t aware he was holding. You’re all his.  “You said you’ll fulfill any request?” His thumb grazes over your bottom lip, opening it to reveal the tiniest bit of the inside of your mouth. “Anything,” you concur. His mind races with endless possibilities. He hasn’t tapped into this part of himself in years. It makes him antsy to claim you. But Severus Snape is not a rash man. He does not allow his emotions to make him sloppy. He is cunning and calculating. And more importantly, he knows exactly how he’ll have you prove yourself. He slides his foot forward, placing his black leather dress shoe in front of you. “Kiss it.” Immediately, you obey, positioning yourself on all fours before leaning down to press your lips to the tip. But you don’t stop there. In fact, you cover the entire top of his shoe with kisses. With each kiss, you let out a soft, sweet noise–as if this act of obedience is actually bringing you pleasure. 

Severus lets out a rough command, “Don’t stop.” You don’t, lowering your upper body further onto the floor, but purposely keeping your hips in the air to showcase the curve of your ass. Your kisses turn to licks, making the top of his boot glisten with your spit. The sight of both almost makes him lose control. “Keep going,” he says through clenched teeth, feeling his cock pulsing within the constraints of his pants. You pull your torso off the floor, moving closer to him so you can start kissing and nuzzling your way up the length of his leg. Not once do you break eye contact. You look at him without fear, without disgust, without judgment. 

It's an unusual occurrence for him. He’s used to his students being intimidated by the mere mention of his name. Even in his school days, he had never been known as a looker. But this is different. You are different. You look at him with reverence and lust while you continue your path up his leg. However, once you reach his groin, you stop and sit back on your heels. You return to your earlier position, with your feet tucked under you and your hands resting palms up atop your knees. You’re so submissive. It’s perfection. “You’re waiting for my command, aren’t you?” he asks, moving his hand to hover over the bulge in his pants.

Your eyes dart at the movement of his hand that’s now slowly rubbing his erection through his pants. You seem transfixed but still manage to reply.

“Yes, Master. I’m your property. My sole purpose is to please you.”

“My property?” he breathes, freeing his aching cock from his trousers.  

He watches with satisfaction when your eyes widen at the sight of it. 

You only nod, too busy watching as he starts to slowly stroke the shaft of his cock. He does this more to tease you than for his own pleasure. It clearly works because you fidget ever so slightly. “You’re my property,” he repeats, louder to refocus you. “My beautiful…little good girl.” Severus pants between words, stroking himself with a firmer grip.

“Yes, Master,” you moan with a lick of your lips. “I’m your good girl.”

“Then prove it by sucking your Master’s cock.” 

You almost take him by surprise with how fast you rise onto your knees. Gently, you nudge his hand away before wrapping your own around the base of his cock. You hold eye contact with him while tracing your tongue over the veins in his shaft. “You taste so good,” you moan out and drag your tongue along the underside until you reach the tip. You clearly know what you’re doing. Severus swears his heart beats in time with the flicking of your tongue. Your hand and mouth work simultaneously—tugging firmly while playfully licking. That is until your hand falls away so you can swallow his cock whole. “Bloody hell,” he swears, involuntarily bucking his hips forward.  

Pleased by his reaction, you hum and tighten your lips around him as you pick up your pace, bobbing your head up and down while sucking him off. He watches you intently. His dark brown eyes burn almost black as you suck him off like your life depended on it. “The good girl is enjoying this, isn’t she?” he hotly whispers, cock stiffening in your mouth. You nod with a mischievous twinkle in your eye. The sounds of you slurping and sucking with such passion sends Severus into a frenzy. His fingers twitch with the need to touch you. Your mouth is warm and so fucking inviting, like his cock was always meant to be there. He wants…no—needs more. No longer able to keep his hands to himself, Severus’ hand grips the back of your head. Long, nimble fingers tangle within the locks of your hair and start to move you up and down at just the right pace. Obeying his physical commands, you allow him to fuck your mouth while you drool all over him. So much so that he can feel saliva dripping onto his balls. Fuck you were messy. He loves it. Almost too much. But you’re looking at him with an affectionate gaze and it only makes him want more. Both of his hands grip onto your head, thrusting his hips forward so he could slam his cock into your throat. Your hands grab his thighs to try to hold yourself steady and not gag. “That’s it,” he grunts, “choke on your Master’s cock.” You groan with brows knitting together while saliva drips from the corner of your mouth. Severus would have thought he was being too rough if it wasn’t for your crumpled, pleasure-stricken face. He allows himself a moment to take you all in, wanting to commit you to his memory. So that when you’re gone, he’ll still have this image of you prettily sucking his cock. That’s when he notices you pressing your thighs together. Fire pools within his rib cage. You’re actually getting off on this. On pleasing him. On gagging on him. On obeying him. Suddenly, having you down on your knees isn’t enough. “Stand up,” he commands and forcefully pulls away, slipping his cock from your mouth. You take a moment to catch your breath and wipe the spit from your chin. Wanting to give you time to compose yourself, he keeps himself busy by stripping fully out of his clothing and casting a quick protection and contraceptive spell with a few flicks of his wand. By the time you’re on your feet, he’s standing before you naked. Your eyes run over his form and take a step forward with hands outstretched as if you want to touch. He doesn’t give you the chance. Instead, he places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you backward until your knees hit the side of his bed and you fall back onto the mattress with a surprised yelp. Your gaze shifts, looking at him towering over you with large eyes. He steps forward, nudging your knees apart with his leg. “Be a good girl and open wider for me.” Your knees fall apart, giving him a full view of your cunt. 

“You’re so wet,” he breathes, in awe that you’re already dripping when he hasn’t so much as touched you. Calloused fingertips run up your inner thighs. The skin there is tender so you shiver until they make contact with your cunt and a chorus of sweet melodies leave your parted lips. You greedily grind into his touch, already wanting more. With a grin, he enjoys himself as he plays with you. He prods your opening and watches your eyelids flutter close. “What a needy cunt you have.” He means it as a compliment, but it’s laced with a snark that’s meant to embarrass you. It works, color flushing over your cheeks. “It’s your cunt now, Master. All of me is yours.” It’s clear that being owned is a massive turn-on for you. And if he’s honest, he’s more than happy to play this game. “That’s right,” he breathes, fingers tracing up towards your clit. “Every inch of you is mine. Including your clit.” He applies pressure to the sensitive bud, causing you to whine and twitch. You nearly come undone from how skillfully he draws circles on your clit. But every time you buck your hips forward, his fingers move away.  “More Master. Please, give me more.” You whine and twitch, pleading sweetly. So sweetly that it’s impossible for him to continue teasing you. His fingers move to your entrance, and he plunges them inside your tightness.  You cry out in surprise, both hands grabbing ahold of the arm pressed between your thighs. His fingers are long and thick, moving in and out in slick quick thrusts. He finger fucks you mercilessly and you love it. 

You toss your head back, mouth falling open wide as you moan towards the ceiling.

Severus leans in, caging you beneath his body, and nuzzles his nose along the side of your face. His body is pressed against yours now and you gasp at the feeling of his hard cock leaking precum on your thigh.  “Master…” you whimper, and he chuckles before whispering hotly into your ear. “This belongs to me as well. This tight dripping cunt is mine. Is that understood?” he asks while picking up the pace of his fingers. You struggle to respond, tripping over your words but he doesn’t relent—wanting you to work through the pleasure. “Y-Yes. Yes, Master! I-I understand.” He hums his praise, calling you a good girl before falling silent. For the next few minutes, the only sounds heard are the sounds of your desperate cries and the wet squelching sounds of your cunt. Your orgasm is drawing closer, threatening to take you over. “I…I’m going to–” But your words aren’t needed because Severus knows what a woman looks like before she’s about to cum. “I know, sweet thing,” he cuts you off, looking at you and holding eye contact. “But cumming for me is a privilege. One you must ask for.” You nod your head, gripping his arm tighter, “May I cum? Please let me cum for my Master?”  With a proud grin, he says the three most glorious words. “Cum for me.” The permission is all you need, the cord inside you snapping. 

Your body goes rigid and your ability to speak is replaced with breathy, unrestrained moans. Your orgasm hits you hard, but it’s only when you limply slump back onto the mattress that he carefully removes his fingers from you. They’re soaked in your juices. Severus suddenly finds himself very parched. You’re looking up at him with a flushed face and glossed-over eyes but are clearly too focused on catching your breath. So, he lets you watch as he brings his fingers to his mouth to suck them clean. You make a noise of surprise, mesmerized by his mouth. Satisfied with this small taste of you, he releases his fingers with a soft ‘pop’. “Mmmh, delicious.”  “I’m glad Master thinks so. Thank you for letting me cum,” you murmur politely.

And just when he thought you couldn’t be any more perfect. Sitting beside you on the bed, he grabs your upper arms and hauls you towards him. He crashes his lips onto yours, forcing his tongue inside of your mouth. You return the kiss in a flurry of passion as your hands begin to roam freely over his body. Starting from his shoulder, you trail your hands down his bare chest to his hip bones. He moans into your mouth, enjoying the feeling of your soft hands and the way you gently suck at his tongue. Your hands continue downward until your fingertips brush against his still very hard cock. He breaks the kiss with a smirk. “Is there something you want, Little One?” You brush your lips against his with a nod. “I want to help my Master to cum.” He can already guess what you’re about to say, but still, Severus tucks a lock of hair behind your ear and whispers, “And how do you plan to do that?” “However you’d like me to.” Your answer is immediate but something tells him it isn’t the entire truth. His fingers grip your jaw, tilting it so you’re forced to maintain eye contact with him. “Tell me how you want to make your Master cum.” With wide eyes, the truth pours from your mouth like uncorked wine. “My cunt. Please use my cunt.” Your plea is so desperate that he doesn’t waste any more time leaning in closer until you have to shift your position to lay back on the bed. With a nudge to your thighs, your legs part to accommodate him as he places a hand beside your head, trapping you beneath him. He’s settled between your thighs now with his cock pressed against your core. You moan in unison at the contact. As if it’s painful for both of you to not have him buried inside. 

Your hands run from his forearms, over his shoulders, and down his chest. “Take me, please. Let me feel my Master’s cock inside.”

He straightens his back and guides your legs to wrap around his waist fully. You continue to plead, but instead of giving you a verbal reply, he plunges balls deep inside of you. You both instantly tense. He, because of the tightness of your walls clinging around him, and you, because of the sudden intrusion of his cock demanding to be taken. “That’s it. Taking me so well,” he breathlessly praises, slowly moving out, then back in so you’d have time to adjust. Severus had always refused to inflict pain on his partners that they hadn’t consented to and begged for. And he isn’t about to start now. So he waits until he feels you relax.

Your head lulls to the side with a moan, feeling beyond stuffed full, but also whole.

You coo, arching into him. Severus knew he couldn’t keep his movements slow for much longer.

“Is this what you want? To be fucked until I own this cunt?” “Yes!” you whine, starting to grind your hips in an attempt to get his cock deeper. “I want my Master to ruin me for anyone else.” It’s the word ruin that does him in. Unable to wait any longer he slams into you. You yelp, grabbing ahold of his forearms and sinking your nails into his flesh. The slight bite of pain only spurs him on, his pace anything but slow. The rough and steady rhythm of his thrusts has you already clenching around him. 

He isn’t sure where to look. At your beautiful face scrunched up in pleasure, or at your cunt that’s currently swallowing him whole. You toss your head back, slightly obscuring you from his view. So he settles his gaze downward–watching how his cock glistens from your juices every time he pulls out. It’s an intoxicating sight.

One that threatens to force him to spill himself inside of you. But he won’t. Not yet. Not until he’s done enjoying you for a bit longer. Not until he can make you cum again. He grabs some of your hair and tugs so you’re forced to look back at him. “You love this, don’t you? Using your cunt to please me?” Your legs wrap even tighter around his waist, drawing closer…deeper. “Yes, Master! Feels so good pleasing you!” Pressure builds in your lower belly from the orgasm that’s steadily approaching. It feels like he’s everywhere. In you. On you. All over you. “M-Master I—so close. P-Please.” 

You’re struggling to form words but he already knows what you’re trying to say. He reaches between your bodies to your clit and rubs it, strokes it, and draws circles on it until he finds the touch that has you babbling in broken, indecipherable sentences.

“I want you to cum,” he speaks in labored breaths, teasing your clit while still spearing you on his length. “I want you to cum for me now.”

For a moment, you fall completely silent, but then it hits. The unfiltered, beautiful howls that accompany your climax. All the while, your inner walls close around him in the most delicious way. He curses, lurching forward as you gush and spasm around him. It’s too much, and he’s quickly following you over the edge, filling you with his cum. You both tremble through your aftershocks, unable to detangle from one another while coming down from your highs. He feels like a new man after cumming for the first time in God knows how long. But one look at you and your sleep-heavy eyes has him focusing on steadying his breathing faster. Memories from his past return to him, and words like aftercare play through his mind. It displeases him that he doesn’t know what you require right now—space or intimacy? Deciding it’s best to take the middle ground, he slowly slips out of you but sits on the edge of the bed beside you. He takes the utmost care not to jostle you but you don’t seem to notice because you’ve already turned onto your side facing him. You make yourself comfortable, curling up with your eyes closed and a relaxed smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. Relieved, he lets out a breath and runs his hand through his dark locks to move it off his face. “That felt amazing. Thank you, Master,” you mumble happily into his pillow. “Call me Severus.” “As you wish, Master Severus.” A spark of warmth emanates from his chest. He likes the way you say his name. It makes him feel things. He reaches for you, tugging you into his arms to help you sit up. At first, you whine, but relax when he pulls you to sit between his thighs and leans you against his chest. He holds you close and whispers, “Will you tell me your name?” You peek up at him with a smile and say it. He repeats it, liking the way your name rolls off his tongue. You nod, your smile widening across your face. He can’t stop himself from stroking your cheek. “I’ll be right back.” He stands, making his way over to his wardrobe. “Get yourself ready for bed, Little One.” He calls from over his shoulder as he uses his wand for a simple cleansing spell. Since you’ve managed to coat even his balls in your slick. 

Afterward, he slips on a pair of black silk pajama pants. He’s about to put a shirt on when he turns back to you, expecting to find you dressed, but instead, he finds you sitting on his bed and watching him. “Where are your night robes?” You fidget uncomfortably, looking away. Severus should have known this wouldn’t last. He tries to disguise his disappointment but fails. “If you don’t wish to stay, then just say so.” The ice in his voice is evident and you snap your head up in his direction. “I-It’s not that!” you protest. “I want to stay. I just…don’t have any clothes.” His frown deepens, “The Dark Lord didn’t leave your clothes here for you?” You shake your head ‘no’. This only confuses him further. To have you waiting for him nude was clearly meant to entice him, but to leave you with nothing to wear after doesn’t make sense. “No personal belongings at all? I don’t understand how he expected you to get home after this.” You flinch, once again looking away. “He said…” you trail off. “Never mind, Master.” He didn’t need spells or potions to see the discomfort radiating off of you. With the long-sleeved shirt he had intended for himself in hand, he makes his way over to you. Of course, he could have simply conjured you some clothing, but if he’s being honest with himself— He wants you wrapped up in him for a while longer. “Arms up.”

You lift your head and see the shirt in his hands. You obey, and he slips the shirt over your head to help you dress. “It’s a tad big on you, but it will do until morning.” You pull your knees to your chest while muttering a ‘thank you’. There’s still something bothering you and Severus is determined to figure out what it is. “Look at me,” he commands, knowing you’ll obey. When you do, he continues, “Tell your Master what’s bothering you.” Perhaps it isn’t right for him to pull the ‘dom’ card when you aren’t technically his submissive, but he needs the truth. You stall for a little longer, gnawing on your bottom lip until you finally respond, “The Dark Lord told me that I didn’t need to pack any of my things because he didn’t believe you’d want me after you were through with me.” “I see…What else did the Dark Lord tell you?”

“That I belong to whoever comes into the room, and that I was to serve them until they no longer had use for me. Which he predicted would be just for tonight…Then he–” You falter, bravery abandoning you. He lets out a breath, resisting the urge to scrub at his eyes. Of course, he had threatened you. Placing a finger underneath your chin, he gently raises it. Your eyes flutter, struggling to meet his gaze. “You’re afraid of him, aren’t you?” You only nod. “You have my word that you’re under my protection now. Do you understand?” You nod again and summon your bravery so you can continue. “Then he said that maybe he would pass me around to the other Death Eaters or maybe he’d use me himself.” Severus can’t explain the jealousy that boils within him. But it’s there. Hot and nauseating. Suddenly, he can’t bear the thought of another having you. Not Voldemort. Not anyone. “No one is allowed to touch what’s mine.” The threat of his words hangs in the air, but you look relieved. “You…You mean you’ll keep me here with you?” He hadn’t realized he had said that aloud. Honestly, he hadn’t thought that far ahead. All he knew was that the only hands he wanted on you were his. “Is that…something you’d want?” You smile bright, brighter than the summer’s sun. “Nothing would make me happier, Master.” As beautiful as you are, and as lovely as it sounds to have a warm cunt to bury himself in each night, the cold blade of reality cuts through. “Listen to me, there are still many things we’ll need to discuss—”But you aren’t listening because you’re too busy crawling into his lap. You straddle him and nuzzle your face into the side of his neck.

“Thank you, Severus,” you whisper against his skin, melting against his body as you make yourself comfortable.

No one has ever thanked him in his entire life. He isn’t sure how to handle it.

The longer you lay against him, the more a warmth blooms inside his breastbone.

He can’t deny how good it feels to have you close.

Things can’t be this simple can they?

Nothing in his life had ever been simple.

You let out a small sigh, seemingly starting to fall asleep while sitting up. It tears him from his thoughts and instead has him worried about your comfort. He shifts and lays down on the bed with you still tucked into his chest.

He had no way of knowing if this would work, but bloody hell did you fit perfectly against him.

Years of tension seemingly start to melt away as sleep threatens to take him over.

Voldemort had given you to him for being his most loyal Death Eater.

And while nothing could be further from the truth, Severus Snape can’t help but think.

This was the best damn present he’d ever received.

[whiplaesh]

- 0:00 | how considerate

[ sakura x fem!reader x sana ]

entwine masterlist > next

warnings - mentions of infidelity & sex

being faced with the sana miyawaki wasn't anything of what you had expected of the transaction.

"you're perfect." is the first thing she had said at the sight of you, her designer shades resting just above her hairline, neatly holding her hair out of her face.

a string of compliments spilled out of her mouth, you hadn't yet known of her intentions until she asked you to sit down across from her.

her happy and giddy expression stayed plastered on her face even when speaking of her reasoning for hiring you.

her bluntness nearly made you uneasy.

"as any rational person in a marriage with someone as...powerful as sakura," she begins, "i have a fear that she's cheating on me."

you don't react to the statement, she wouldn’t be the first one hiring you out of need of companionship.

instead you continue looking at her awaiting the next words to spill out of her red stained lips.

"so how do i fix it? it's simple: i can't." a bitter chuckle escapes but the woman catches herself. "but if she is cheating; i obviously and unsurprisingly want to know about it."

not quite understanding what she's saying you question her, "pardon me but i'm failing to grasp the proposal?"

sana laughs as if your sentence was genuinely amusing.

"of course, you aren't a p.i or anything, god knows i've hired oh so many," she stands up, walking towards a mantle near her office desk to pour herself liquid courage. "she's a sneaky one...that miyawaki."

without asking she pours you a glass of whatever she's drinking, handing it to you as she sits back in her seat. "i want you to seduce her."

not knowing quite what it was, you don't take a sip of your drink. "so you want me to be leverage on how you find out she’s cheating?"

for a less than messy divorce? you wondered.

it was almost laughable, the idea of sana introducing you to sakura as someone else while having the lingering knowledge of how you’re supposed to attempt to bed her woman.

this wasn’t usually what you did, it was clear.

you've been in the business for a while, yet this situation was definitely one for the books.

"i know this is immature of me, but i do know the woman i married." the elder speaks with sincerity, "call it a gut feeling."

with no response sana takes it as a sign to continue her job offer. “im not expecting you to sleep with her, i have a pretty bad jealousy streak..”

well a less than physical claim of infidelity surely won’t hold up well in a divorce settlement.

so what’s the end game here?

“i also know that sex isn’t in your particular job description of course.” she swiftly adds with a knowing glance in your direction.

getting into this business wasn’t an easy task for you, of course you’ve had sex with clients before. it was the top purpose of your job even being a consideration for customers.

hell if toronto hadn’t happened you wouldn’t have ever stopped accepting those specific jobs.

it sure did slow down your clientele, even if you had loyal customers that liked you enough personality wise.

that in itself was a strange thing. sure you were good at your job sexually but you’ve been told more than once on different occasions that you quote on quote ‘lacked emotional awareness.’

you still have yet to know whatever that meant.

after finishing her full glass, sana sits it down on the center table before reaching for her purse to pull out a checkbook.

"for your consideration..." she says with a slide of the slip of paper against the surface.

with one look at the number you almost let a curse slip. not believing how much money people took for granted over trivial things such as this.

but who were you to deny easy money.

and this would do more than make up the slack for what you’ve haven’t been making for the past two years.

“you have yourself a deal mrs. miyawaki.”

[missaengg]

A Sleigh Ride Without Snow

14 Days Until Christmas: Sleigh Made for Ikemen Advent hosted by @queengiuliettafirstlady and @candied-boys Featuring: Ikemen Prince Silvio Ricci x f!reader Tags: fluff Word Count: 1084

Silvio Ricci, the first prince of Benitoite, isn’t by any means a romantic. Hell, he never goes out of his way for a woman, except apparently, when it comes to you. He’d buy you the entire world if it meant seeing a bright smile on your face.

Like the one you’re giving him right now.

You peer up at him, your eyes open wide, an adorable delight sparkling in their hypnotizing depths. It’s a sight Silvio knows he’ll never tire of, no matter how many times he sees it. Especially when you’re smiling because of him.

“Silvio,” you gesture to the white sleigh parked in front of the castle, “what’s this?”

The crystal-encrusted sleigh you’re referring to shimmers under the hot Benitoitian sun, each crystal a dazzling glimmer in the sun’s rays. Blue and silver ribbons line the edges and cascade down the sides like waterfalls of glitter and silk. At the head of the sleigh, a majestic white horse adorned in a saddle and reigns just as decorated as the sleigh itself stands, letting out a tiny bray.

The sleigh is, of course, beautiful because Silvio himself ensured it was the best money could buy, but there’s something about the sleigh that’s peculiar. Instead of the normal runners, this particular sleigh has been altered to run on wheels making it somewhat of a sleigh-carriage hybrid. A rather odd sight considering that Benitoite has no need for anything snow-related as it never snows in Benitoite.

Silvio knows the sleigh-carriage hybrid looks silly, despite the fact that he spent an exorbitant amount of money to have it imported from Rhodolite and adapted to run on stone as opposed to snow. It makes no sense to do what he did, except…

How could he not when he knows it’ll make you smile?

“It’s a sleigh,” Silvio grumbles, a faint dusting of pink on his sun-baked cheeks.

“I can see that,” you reply dryly. “But why is there a–”

Suddenly, you stop speaking. Your pretty lips round into a silent, ‘oh’, and a knowing expression slowly crosses your face. You turn to face Silvio, a sly grin on your lips, and Silvio winces, cursing himself internally because he knows he’s done for. You’ve figured him out – the sharp woman that you are.

“You remembered,” you tease, your eyes crinkling into crescent moons.

Silvio heaves a sigh, the dusting of pink on his cheeks deepening into a tomato red. “It ain’t a big deal or anythin’,” he mumbles. “You said you missed the sleigh rides in Rhodolite, and I know we don’t get snow, but…”

“Mmhmm,” you hum, amusement dancing across your face.

“Ah, don’t go gettin’ all sappy on me, woman,” Silvio grouses, turning away from you to hide his flustered expression, fully conscious of your gaze on him. 

While Silvio finds great pleasure in making you smile, he never knows what to do when your joy is directed towards him, when his insides turn to mush because… he’s never felt this sorta way until you entered his life. It’s awkward and embarrassing and uncomfortable, but also soothing and thrilling and wonderful. He hates being the subject of your affection, and yet he can’t get enough of it.

A pair of arms wraps around Silvio’s waist, and he jumps, startled from the sudden physical contact. “Hey!” he yelps, his first instinct to pull away, but your arms hold him tight. “Let go.”

“No,” you pout, your doe-like eyes staring up at him imploringly.

Silvio stares back, and just like that, he’s smitten. This time, he can’t look away, hopelessly drowning in your mesmerizing eyes. A warmth spreads from his chest throughout his body, chasing away the tension he’s holding in his muscles. Clicking his tongue, he returns your embrace, caging you in his arms and resting his cheek against your head. “Sassy devil woman,” he mutters under his breath, feeling you smirk against his chest.

“I love it,” you declare. “It’s such a thoughtful Christmas gift, thank you.” You nuzzle your cheek against the fabric of his vest, letting out a happy sigh. “I love you.”

Silvio huffs, but inside, he’s melting. His heart clamors wildly. Annoying butterflies flutter madly about in his stomach. Despite jumping like a crazy person whenever you touch him, it always feels right when you’re nestled in his arms. It feels like home.

“That’s not your Christmas present,” he mumbles into your hair.

“What?”

“I said, that’s not your Christmas present.”

“Silvio!” you protest, struggling to pull away and catch a glimpse of his face. “That’s too much!”

Silvio doesn’t allow you to escape his embrace, not quite ready to let you go. He exhales an exasperated, drawn-out sigh. “Damn it, woman, would you just lemme spoil you?”

Your movements still. He can’t see your face, but he can picture you making that bewildered expression he adores, the one where you blink several times in rapid succession and wrinkle your forehead, a little pout on your lips.

“Fine,” you finally concede, pulling at his vest. “But only if you let me spoil you too.”

Silvio chuckles, the sound deep in his throat, and closes his eyes, breathing in the scent of roses in your hair. He presses a tender kiss to the top of your head.

For as long as he can remember, he’s chased an unquenchable thirst – one that no amount of alcohol or women could satisfy. He tried to fill the void with the finest alcohol, the most brilliant jewels, the most expensive clothes, anything of quality money could buy. He thought money would be the answer to all his problems, but it was never enough. No matter what he achieved or bought or drank, his unbearable thirst was never satisfied.

That is, until you came into his life. 

Until you made him realize he was wrong. That there were things in the world money couldn’t buy. That what he’d been searching for all this time wasn’t money or fancy jewels, but love.

The desire to be loved.

Love that you now freely gave to him without asking for anything in return, except his heart, and for a woman like that, Silvio would do anything. He’d buy you everything your heart desires. Shit, he’d even bring you the moon and the stars if that’s what you asked of him, even if it takes everything he has to do it. 

For the woman who taught this beast how to be a man, he’d do anything if it meant protecting your smile.