#and like suddenly was In His Celebrity Life without meaning to be. and i was on my way to his concert to wait backstage and he’d like

[willowfey]

tell me why i had a dream the other night that i had an affair with matty healy when i have not thought about that man for more than two minutes in my life

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 6 - Round Two. Fight!

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite pastime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up-close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately, you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step-sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but your business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and genuine mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still want to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s exercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unnecessary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his toned stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Perchance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his acrobatic videos have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense. You wait for him to say something, but he just stares at you. Completely stunned, mouth-catching flies. You want to pull the covers up and hide under them, but you don’t think that’d make him leave.

“I couldn’t find my room,” you finally manage to say. It’s the worst excuse you’ve ever heard, sounds like a complete lie. And yet, unfortunately, it is the truth.

Dick’s eyes drift to the TV, which you still haven’t unpaused. You can’t tell if it would be worth it, just to get rid of his golden brown abs staring at you judgementally, even if you’d have to deal with the extra embarrassment of the dialogue over them. Maybe if you muted the TV? It wouldn’t make up for the insult of his paparazzi photos on a widescreen.

It takes you even longer to come up with an excuse for… that.

“I was checking the news about last night,” you continue, the panic in you rising like a tea kettle left on the stove for too long. You might start shrieking like one too.

You don’t think he believes you. He looks down at the Beatles shirt you’re wearing. You know what he’s going to say before he does, but you still dread it.

“You’re wearing my clothes,” he mutters, his voice awed.

You want to say, ‘Nooo! No, no, no! Don’t do this to me, damn it! Not anymore! No more, please! It’s enough, enough suffering! This is genuinely ridiculous, damn you!’ but instead you reply with a shaky, “…Didn’t have any of mine.”

Also, you’ve been huffing Eau de Dick Grayson? That’s definitely in character for you. You want to beat your own head in with a stick.

“And I couldn’t find my room, and uh, thought this one wasn’t being used,” you continue, daring a glance back at him. He still looks completely stumped.

“It wasn’t,” he answers, but it sounds like he’s a thousand miles away.

You know, Dick Grayson was supposed to be a lot more charming than this. You’re almost proud you managed to stun the man into near speechlessness. Almost, almost. Almost not going to kill yourself once he leaves.

If he leaves. He doesn’t look like he’s getting up. You eye the gap between you and the door. Your animal brain is telling you to just run for it. But Dick has Olympic level athletics, and you don’t doubt he could catch you if you ran. Would he try though? That’s the deciding factor here.

He doesn’t seem like he’s actually going to fucking do anything though. He just keeps staring, like if he looks for long enough, it’ll all start to make sense. Which, you wish.

“Do you know where my room is? I couldn’t… remember…”

He nods, instead staring at his own abs on the TV.

“Can you take me to my room?”

He nods again. Still doesn’t look back at you.

“…Mr. Grayson?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. ‘You’ wouldn’t have used his last name, even though you might’ve. ‘You’ had been a casual person, as far as you could tell. That was the kindest way you could say it, at least.

His head snaps to you. He somehow looks more confused. You wonder if you should pinch him or something, god knows you’ve done your fair share of pinching yourself recently.

“Yes, right, sorry. Let’s… go,” he gives you a cheery smile, shaking his head, but it seems quite strained. You’re probably matching. This is the most humiliating moment of your life, and of course, it’s with the most beautiful man on earth right beside you.

A break. You want a break.

The two of you quietly shuffle out of the room, and when he guides you forward, you follow him obediently. Your head naturally bows, shame making it hard to look at him. You stare at the wooden floors as you walk. Watching it shine in the morning light that filters through the windows.

Eventually, he comes to a stop in front of a door that has obviously been avoided. Though it’s as clean as every other inch of this house, there are no marks in the rug from the door opening and closing. And even then, it seems… well, it sounds silly, but the door seems sad to you. Too many things seem sad to you these days.

Your thoughts must show on your face because Dick clears his throat and gives you a worried look. Is it rude to say you’re sick of those sorts of looks? That they just make you feel sick and burdened these days? It’s not like you could bring your family back from the dead, or convince your cheating boyfriend to not be a piece of shit. It was out of your hands.

“…Are you alright?” he asks you, blue eyes sincere. You tilt your head to the side.

“No?” you say, but it sounds more like a question. No, you are not alright. Yes, you will be okay. It’s the only option. It’s one of your rules. You have to be okay. You just have to.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You almost laugh.

“No,” this time your voice is firm, confident. Dick seems like he’s going to push it, but something in your eyes makes him stop. You give him a forced smile and say goodbye, closing the door gently in his face. Once you do, you crouch down and once again, press your face to your knees. Then you press your hands to your mouth and let out a scream that had been bubbling up for a while. After that, you feel you can live with the humiliation that is your existence without jumping out the three-story-height window.

You stand up, turning to the room. The first thing you notice about it is that there’s dust in here. Same as Dick’s old room. Now that you think about it, Alfred doesn’t seem the type who’d randomly leave certain rooms uncleaned, so it must be something he does out of respect for the tenants of Wayne Manor. Or maybe the old you requested it? God knows.

Sitting down on the old bed, your eyes rove around the room. It’s well decorated, as the rest of the manor is, but you can’t see anything that would make it your room. There’s none of the novels you’d collected from the used books store, no dorky little items you impulse bought, no pictures of your family. The apartment hadn’t had those either.

‘You’- she- seemed like a ghost to you. While you’d often felt like you’d barely been alive, simply going through the motions, this girl seemed like she hadn’t even been conscious half the time she was doing it. It made your stomach swim, your face pulls taught.

While you’d had few things holding you afloat, it’d been enough to keep you alive. Molly, your co-workers, the need to work so as to not starve to death. She hadn’t had anything like that. No liferaft. You’d been sputtering and gasping your way through life, and she’d been drowning. Maybe already dead, at the bottom of the sea, hair tangling with the seaweed.

This room feels like a coffin, and this manor like a cemetery. It makes you physically sick.

Showing off your fickle-mindedness, you realise that despite this being the Wayne manor filled with all your idols, you actually don’t want to fucking be here. You need space to clear your head, and the creaking floorboards that echo down the creepy hallways just don’t offer that. The atmosphere at your too-modern, too-minimalist apartment is leagues better than the atmosphere at this gorgeous old house which you’d usually love spending hours getting lost in.

Usually. Unfortunately, this place was more suffocating than the workplace when you knew you were about to get fired again. And you weren’t getting paid to stay here, so why the fuck would you?

Once you realise you’ve decided to run, you’re quick to pack up your shit. There’s not much in the room you need. A pair of sneakers, because you would rather die than put those heels on again. And you’ll grab some shirts because they’re comfy and remind you of home. Hopefully, it’ll make everything… grate… a little less. All of this is thrown in an old ratty backpack, which is then tossed over your shoulder. Shoes slipped on, and tapped against the floor so they’re on comfortably. And then you’re ready. Ready as you’ll ever be. With one hand on your phone, you take a peek outside the door. Coast is clear.

You press call for ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’. Jeanine picks up on the third ring.

“Hello, Jeanine Ryans here,” she says, her voice all business.

“Jeanine, I need an evac, stat,” you whisper to her, creeping down the hallway of the manor. The floor is unbelievably creeky, so it’s pretty fucking difficult to be stealthy about it.

“…What?”

“Get me out of this fucking manor, please,” you beg, now going down the stairs. Almost out, almost out.

“Right, on it. I’ll have a car outside in ten minutes if that’s alright?” Jeanine replies, immediately on the case. It almost makes you cry. You know she’s being paid for this, and very desperate for the job for some reason, but it’s still a hail mary that you are so grateful for.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say, turning a corner and-

Oh, fuck. Damian Wayne glares down at you, green eyes cataloguing every single guilty piece of you in existence. He sees your hand tighten around your backpack, hears Jeanine telling you not to worry through your phone, and probably notices the way your eyes desperately flicker behind him to the door. To your goal, to the exit to this labyrinth.

You can practically hear the wind blowing, see the tumbleweed drift by.

And then, he moves past you, twisting his body so no part of it touches you. There’s a moment where your brain freezes, something spicy smelling (cinnamon, maybe?) flowing past you, and by the time you turn around, he’s gone. Your deer-in-headlights tensed-shoulders look falls, leaving you confused in the foyer. He didn’t even say a word to you. You felt like you just got passed over by a boss from a Dark Souls game.

…Well, you’ll take the wins where you can find them! Quickly, you hurry out the front door, skittering down the steps like some sort of rat. It’s a long walk to the gates, and you don’t really know how to open them to let the car in, so you decide to take your time and enjoy the walk. The early morning dew apon the clean-cut blades of grass glint and sparkle, the gravel on the road crunches under your technically-not-stolen sneakers, and even if it’s a miserable life, it’s a pretty day. From the hill the manor lives upon, you can see Gotham’s tall skyline, cloaked in its characteristic fog.

Eventually, you find yourself in front of the gate, where you can see Jeanine waiting with a black car on the otherside. There’s a big green button next to the side gate, which you press, and it clicks open. There’s a moment where your neck tingles, and you glance up at the camera pointed down at you. The red flickering light beside it holds your attention. You can see your bedraggled reflection in its lense.

Shaking your head, you move on, greeting Jeanine. She gives you a quick bow of the head and opens the door for you. You hike the bag over your shoulder, give the Wayne manor one final, lingering look and then you step into the car. Jeanine starts speaking to you about some future appointments you have, and you’re too tired to understand a word of what she says. She realises you’re not processing anything she says, and hands you a pair of headphones with a wire adapter.

You could kiss her right then and there. You don’t because that’d be weird, but you definitely think about it. Headphones on, you watch the rolling hills and luxurious manors turn into highways and honking traffic, to finally the upside part of town which was now apparently where you lived.

Eventually you find yourself being delivered in front of your swanky new apartment. With a passing goodbye, Jeanine tells you that she’ll be busy for the rest fo the day so if you need anything to call the number on the card she hands you. You tuck it in your pocket, certain you’ll lose it like every other business card you’ve ever been handed.

The elevator ride up to your room is contemplative. The music is boring, your reflection is bedraggled and tired, and the gentle feeling of gravity under your feet tugs at you. You rock slightly when you finally reach your floor. The doors open, but you don’t make any move to leave. They shut again, and you’re left staring daggers at your mirrored self.

You’d woken up, still here. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And more than that, it seemed more and more like you’d be staying in this reality. You didn’t think you could go home. Sure you were rich but… but your home. Your few things you’d managed to save. Your meagre group of friends and your hard-sought job. It made you nauseous. Where had you lost it all? Why were you here now? Why did you keep having to lose everything?

You manage to snap yourself out of it before someone else calls the elevator. Striding out of the space, you look to the right where you remember your apartment coming from. It’s not hard to find the unit, as there are only three on the entire floor. Rich people.

The door closes with a satisfying thud behind you, and you nearly melt with exhaustion.

This apartment is the ninth circle of hell for you. Scrambling around on your knees, you’re desperate to find the damn phone that won’t stop ringing. You can’t understand where the sound is coming from.

Under your bed? You shine your other’s phone’s light under it. Nope. Behind the dresser? Nada. You search inside the drawers and then peek inside the fancy lamp. Absolutely nothing. You’re ready to tear your hair out when you spot something… odd.

There’s… You think there’s something stuck in your floorboards. You dig at the space with your fingernails and the piece of wood pops open. Inside is… a cardboard box. An awfully familiar cardboard box, actually. The sight of your Mum’s old keepsake box makes you cry out with joy, lifting it from its little enclave. You’d lost a lot in the past few days but at least the old you knew how to keep your family’s stuff safe.

This apartment looks brand new. And apparently the past you dug into it to hide her stuff. You can’t really judge, you have a hidey-hole back at your apartment. It was a brick that had already been loose in the wall, so it didn’t feel quite as criminal as this.

The ringing is coming from inside the box. When you pull the lid up, you find a keepsake box a little different from yours. While yours only ever had your family’s old passports and photo albums, this one had a sleek phone sitting on top of all the mementos. It’s an exact copy of the phone on your bed- or well, it would be, if you hadn’t dropped it.

Two phones? This bitch was greedy. And so are you, eagerly sweeping the expensive item into your gremlin hands. Your thieving high is instantly quashed when you see who’s calling.

Of all fucking… George.

You roll your eyes before hanging up, tossing the phone to the side as you start rifling through the old keepsake box. You flip through family photo albums and lovingly cradle old stuffies. The phone buzzes. You ignore it. You find one of your mother’s old necklaces, and because you’re desperate for anything that can ground you, slip it over your head. The cool heart locket rests just under your collarbone, and you clutch it with one hand as you keep exploring. The phone keeps buzzing. It’s only almost half an hour later when you realise something about this is strange.

Why is George… not blocked? You glance down at the vibrating object like it’s radioactive, a despairing frown pulling at your face. Cautiously, you pick it up, making sure not to open the notifications lest it tell George you read any of his messages.

He’s… apologising for not being there for your birthday. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. And it’s not even a proper apology, it’s one of those ‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings’ bullcrap. He keeps spamming you, and eventually, you realise that he’s not going to just stop.

You decide to nip this in the bud quickly because even remembering his cheating face makes you feel like throwing up.

‘You’: Why are you contacting me?

‘George <3’: Seriously? Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I was busy, you know that.

Stupidly, you reply:

‘You’: ‘No, seriously, why are you contacting me? I’m done with you.’

You wonder how you ever loved this jackass. Even if he was obviously more of a jackass here, than where you’d come from. He was just better at pretending there. You keep scrolling, ignoring the new texts that pop up. Your stomach sours at the number of texts he himself had ignored, of the amount of ‘sorry baby, can’t come tonight’, the begging, the pleading.

No, he wasn’t worse at pretending. He just didn’t care.

You wonder if this could have been you, further along down the line. Abuse happens slowly, right? Like a frog in a pot. You’d have forgiven and forgotten, written away his worse behaviours till you couldn’t anymore. Till you couldn’t leave, till you were trapped.

You think George Lancaster would’ve tried to. He would’ve isolated you from everyone you had left if he hadn’t screwed up and got caught.

You realise now there were a lot of red flags in your relationship with George. Molly always hated him and he hated her. He’d constantly complain about how much time you spent with her, spamming you with texts when you went out.

You were only… only two days since you’d actually broken up with him. Which was sort of crazy to think about. You feel like you’ve lived eons since then. Like that one traumatic incident aged you thirty years. Anyway, you still hadn’t processed the whole George thing. You’d been sort of busy fighting for your life.

‘George’: I’m here, can you at least open the door so we can talk face to face?

Freeze. A knock sounds, and your head snaps up to the front door. You don’t move. You just wish it away. The knocking only gets louder and louder.

You feel like a dumb girl in a horror movie as you walk towards the door, unlocking it and creaking the knob open. George Lancaster stands on the other side, and before you can slam it in his face, he grabs you by the arm and yanks you out of the door. And then he’s pulling you to the elevator, even as you try and get your bearings, get yourself away from him.

“You can’t just ignore me like this,” George says, pissed off to high hell, “We’re going to miss the reservation I booked specifically for you. I told you it was happening today and-”

There’s white noise between your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Told you? It wasn’t in any of the texts. He’s still talking even as the elevator dings, even as he shoves you in a white sports car that’s half parked on the curb. Even as he drives his way through Gotham’s streets, he won’t fucking shut up.

Why are you letting this happen to you? Why aren't you fighting back, wrenching yourself from his grasp? He takes you into a restaurant, one so upscale that normally you wouldn’t be able to get in for months, and your head snaps from staring socialites to watching politicians to gawking celebrities. You have the eyes of the world on you right now, and they’re all watching George yell at you.

And you can’t find your voice.

It's like a scab you can't stop picking at. Like you think this is what you deserve or something. And it's not. You know it's not. And yet you follow obediently, chastised and embarrassed, as he pulls you through the restaurant. When he picks a table in the centre of the room, you don’t protest. When he chooses your meal for you, even though it’s not to your taste, you don’t protest.

Looking at George, scrolling lazily on his phone, your hands clench against the table. They’re sweating, shaking, nails digging into your palms.

You… you didn’t have to break up with him again, did you? You realised it earlier, but you didn’t- it didn’t really sink in. Your first breakup with George Lancaster was a miserable traumatic experience, and it had been in the solitary streets of Gotham’s Narrows. This one, this one would be seen by literally everyone.

Nauseous. You feel so damn nauseous, your mouth dry as you swallow down bile. This was ridiculous. You couldn’t stand seeing his face. Was he texting her right now? God, did she even know? You’d just stormed out that night, running from what you’d seen.

George had chased after you. Had he left her there? Your stomach churned at the idea. You had to hate her on principle but, well, you also had to sympathise with her. Contradictions, that was the average you. You didn’t want to help this random girl. Didn’t want to have to ever think of her again.

…Staring at George, a definitively awful person, you can’t do it. Can’t just leave her to it.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you say.

“What?” George replies, not even looking up from his phone.

“I’m breaking up with you!” you shout. It’s not even intentional, just a result of being pushed too far, of breaking too easily.

The restaurant goes quiet. Guess you’re up for another scandal then. Whatever, it wasn’t like you would’ve lasted much longer anyway. This was all too complicated for your recently traumatised mind to handle. And it was just too damn stupid to bother with anyway. All of this was fucking stupid.

You included.

Just pull the bandaid off, right? You could already see how this version of you had so many scandals to her name. You probably should start giving a shit. Or at least trying to. You don’t think you want to, though.

George puts his phone down face down on the tablecloth, giving you a calm look. That slightly pitying stare activates something in your brain you didn’t really know was there. It’s a type of rage you haven’t known since you were a kindergartner and one of the other girls said you couldn’t play princesses. Since your first service job where your manager felt you up. Just pure, petty, anger. The type of anger ready to burn the world down as long as it burns whoever pissed you off as well. He opens his mouth, probably to say something condescending, and your hand whips out and snatches his phone.

“Hey!” George says instead, his eyes widening.

You turn the phone back on. Hm, passcode. You flip it around and use facial recognition to open it. Despite the fact that George wears the most comically shocked expression, with saucer-wide eyes and a mouth open to catch flies, it unlocks. Nice.

“Hey! What are you doing?” George demands, reaching over the table for his phone.

You twist away from his reach. Password. You flip the phone, and despite George’s comically shocked expression, it still unlocks. He shouts again when it does, probably realising that you might be taking this seriously. That he might actually be in trouble. That his sugar mummy might not take too kindly to the numerous texts to other women on his phone.

…You really can’t believe you’re a sugar mummy. And for George of all people. What a horrendous waste of money, it’s fucking tragic.

He’s got the texts with someone known as ‘Pizza Hut’ pulled up, with some very flirtatious messages. You scroll up furiously, ducking under George as he gets up from the table and tries to get the phone. Still, backing up, the sight of a very poorly shot dick pic of George’s has you grimacing. Your focus on the picture, trying to decide whether his penis looked so unappealing before you’d learnt of his betrayal, has you distracted when one of the servers come around.

And, well, shirt, meet soup. Very, very hot soup. Everyone? Meet a screeching, klutzy moron.

George takes the chance to advance on you, snatching his phone from you. He doesn’t even seem to care you’re currently getting third-degree burns. The sting scorches through the thin fabric of your dress shirt, burning your skin. George grabs you again, his grip harsh enough this time you know it will bruise, and you can’t really say why you do what you do at that moment.

Your aunt used to have a chihuahua. It was an ugly, grumpy thing. She’d rescued it late into its life, and it had been treated poorly beforehand. It didn’t like to be touched at all and used to run from anyone who tried. And if you tried to touch it? Cornered it?

Well, of course, it started biting.

George’s howl is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever heard. His squeal of “bitch!” might be even more so. He slaps you away from him, and the sound echoes in the restaurant. Your face stings. When you land ass first in the puddle of still-too-hot soup, you wonder if you might try and bite him again. You don’t think you even broke the skin, considering you can’t taste blood. The other patrons stare on in genuine horror, like they’ve never seen a messy breakup before. One woman raises a hand to her mouth, and gasps-

You find yourself staring up at a furious George, one with a menace in his eyes you’ve never seen before. You wonder, idly, if he’s ever hit you before. Well, not you, but ‘you’. You realise now that he has the capacity for it, that he probably always did.

“What the fuck!?” he hisses, angry eyes darting from side to side, “Biting me?! In fucking public?! Have you lost it, you crazy bitch?! And you got my phone fucking soaked in soup!”

“Did you buy it?” you ask, wiping your mouth with your sleeve to get George’s dirty taste out of your mouth.

He blinks, confused, thrown off by your question, “Huh?”

“Did you buy that phone?” you repeat, your staring starting to turn into a furious glare.

You don’t think he did. Your George had never been able to afford those sorts of things, he’d been as broke as you were. Of course, you’d seen him lust over those items, but you’d always managed to convince him not to go into debt over silly things like sports cars and fancy phones. And even then, you’d been the one to buy him a PS5.

He looks down at the phone and back at you, and you can see his jaw tick.

“I bought it. That’s mine.”

“It was a gift. You’re going to be such a bitter bitch to take back everything you gave me? Gonna leave me out on the fucking street?” he says, spittle flying with angry words.

This was escalating fast. Maybe before you’d have been cowed by his words, but you were genuinely off your rocker by now and were very much willing to tango with this bastard. Like yes, he did terrify you, but so did everything else. You could handle this much at least. You weren’t ready to back down.

“And if I did? What then George? What could you even fucking do?” you throw back, voice rising to match his.

“It’s not your money either, it’s theirs, you little leech!” says the pot.

“Does it matter?” replies the kettle.

Pushing to your feet, you find George without another answer. He stands between you and the exit. With the plain murderous rage on his face, you think he’ll try to grab you again if you run past. He wouldn’t bite you back, but he might slap you or something. So instead, like any good coward does, you run straight to the girl’s bathroom. It hasn’t failed you yet, and you doubt it will today.

You shove into the bathroom, past a woman doing her makeup. Her head bobs up and down as she takes in your seemingly infamous face, and your stained shirt. You stride as far away from her as possible, darting into the last bathroom stall and sitting on the closed toilet lid. You pull your knees to your chest and hiss out a sound of frustration when that presses the sticky liquid against your chest and pants. Not your brightest idea, but you were sort of running on fumes right now.

The bathroom stall is extremely clean. One thing you were quickly realising about rich people is they didn’t have to suffer shitty public bathrooms. You didn’t think they deserved it. Like customer service jobs, and traffic, they built character.

What were you doing? Right, trying not to cry. You’re doing much better than yesterday. Still, sitting on top of the toilet’s closed lid, your phone pressed to your face, you wouldn’t say you’re doing ‘good’.

But because you knew George was too much of a pussy to ever enter the woman’s bathrooms, you refuse to move a single inch. You don’t want to go out there. At all. At all, at all. You’d tried to call Jeanine, but she hadn’t answered. Some P.A. she was. You still weren’t going to fire her. Then you remember that she told you she was going out later, and that she’d left a card with you. Digging through your pocket, you decide it’s finally time to die when you realise you lost the card somewhere along the line.

So, she wasn’t going to come save you as your knight in shining armour.

You can’t remember Molly’s number. Who did these days? That was your phone’s job. So you were left with… this. You were left with this. Four blocked numbers and a third had sent an automatic reply because he was driving. Alfred was probably busy. Weren’t butlers always very busy?

…Rich people weren’t often very busy. They had butlers and assistants to do all their chores. You unblock all four of the Waynes that you have on your phone.

The first thing you notice is the amount of texts between ‘you’ and Dick. Scrolling and scrolling, you find most of them are him checking up on you and one-word replies from the old you. He’s friendly and accepting, even when you respond in cruel and aggressive tones. The further back you scroll, the kinder your replies are. At one point it seems like the two of you had a good relationship.

You check the other chats. Tim’s message log is filled with coffee requests sent back and forth between you, Damian’s is completely empty, and Bruce’s has had no response from your phone in years. But eventually, you scroll back far enough that you find an actual conversation instead of just ‘Call Alfred’ repeated every few days.

‘You’: I miss them.

‘Bruce Wayne’: I know. I miss them too.

You press the back button, sighing. That felt like you’d seen something you shouldn’t have, like you’d peeked into someone’s diary. Which was unbelievably stupid. All of this is unbelievably stupid. You should just leave, you should just be brave. Two days ago you faced off against one of your worst fears, but today you couldn’t even handle George Lancaster.

You want someone to rescue you. You know no one will unless you ask. It makes you choke on your own self-disgust. This is the second time in one day. God, maybe you should just do it yourself. It’s not like you couldn’t pay for your own Uber.

And still, you find yourself clicking on a name and begging. Skin crawling, you type and retype the text probably a hundred times. You go from long apologies to begging to rants you never intended to send in the first place. Tap, tap, tap, and then you delete, delete, delete.

What you settle on is simple.

‘You’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

Maybe a bit too simple. You cross your arms and tuck yourself in the good ol’ fetal position. You feel like you’ve spent half your time holding yourself like this the past three days.

‘Dick Grayson’: I’ll be there in five.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[moonxknightx]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : FALLING FOR THE SPOTLIGHT (PT.1) : :;

╰┈➤ ❝ [PAIRING] ❞ Hugh Jackman x F!Reader

・❥・GENRE: Fluff!!!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆FANDOM: RPF

ੈ✩‧₊˚ WARNINGS: None!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥SUMMARY: You interview for a personal assistant position with Hugh Jackman over Zoom. Despite initial nerves, Hugh’s charm and playful teasing create a connection, making the conversation feel both professional and surprisingly personal. By the end, you sense a special chemistry and eagerly await his decision.

Next Part

YOU SAT AT THE SMALL DINING TABLE IN YOUR APARTMENT, tapping your fingers against the edge of your laptop as the screen glowed faintly. Across the room, Zoë, your best friend and roommate, was lounging on the couch, casually flipping through her phone. She glanced up at you, smirking as she noticed your nervous energy.

"How are you holding up?" she asked, her voice teasing but affectionate.

You shot her a nervous smile. "Barely. I mean, it's Hugh Jackman... Hugh freaking Jackman. What am I supposed to do with that?"

Zoë laughed, sitting up and tossing her phone aside. "Oh, you’re going to do great. You’ve got this. You just graduated with a degree in media, you know your stuff. And besides, he’s going to love you."

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, staring at the blank screen, your mind still whirling. "You didn’t have a massive celebrity crush on him for, like, half your life."

Zoë grinned knowingly. "True, but that’s exactly why you'll nail it. You’ve been preparing for this moment without even realizing it."

You gave her a mock glare, but deep down, you appreciated her confidence in you. It was a dream scenario—working as Hugh Jackman’s personal assistant. When you saw the job posting online, you didn’t even hesitate to apply, though you never imagined you’d get an interview, let alone one scheduled so quickly. And now, here you were, waiting for a Zoom call with the man himself. The idea of seeing Hugh in real-time, talking to him, hearing his voice directed at you, was enough to send your heart racing.

The laptop chimed suddenly, breaking your thoughts. The screen lit up with an incoming Zoom call.

Zoë jumped up, wide-eyed. "That’s him, isn’t it?"

You nodded, trying to steady your breathing. "It’s happening. Oh God, it’s happening."

She scurried over to stand behind you, giving your shoulders a quick squeeze. "Good luck! You’ve got this."

You took a deep breath, clicked to accept the call, and the screen shifted to show none other than Hugh Jackman. His face appeared, smiling warmly into the camera as he adjusted the angle. He looked even more handsome than you’d imagined—salt-and-pepper hair, sharp features, and that trademark grin that could melt a million hearts. The casual blue T-shirt he wore only added to his approachable charm.

“G'day!” His voice was warm, rich, and effortlessly charming. “Can you hear me okay?”

You smiled nervously and nodded. “Yes! I can hear you perfectly. Hi, Mr. Jackman. I mean, Hugh. Sorry. Hi.”

Hugh laughed softly, and the sound of it eased some of your nerves. “No worries at all. And please, just call me Hugh. ‘Mr. Jackman’ makes me feel old.”

You giggled despite yourself, the tension in your shoulders loosening slightly. “Okay, Hugh it is.”

His eyes twinkled with amusement. “So, how are you today? I know interviews can be a bit nerve-wracking.”

"Just a little," you admitted with a sheepish smile. "But I’m excited, too. It's a really amazing opportunity, and I’m just happy to be here."

"That’s the spirit," Hugh replied, leaning forward slightly. "Listen, I’m not one for formal interviews. I’d rather just have a chat, get to know you, and see how we vibe. I hope that’s alright?"

“That sounds perfect,” you said, your heart pounding a little less now. The casual nature of the conversation was starting to help you feel more at ease.

“So,” Hugh began, tilting his head, “you just finished university, right? Tell me a bit about that. What did you study?”

“Yeah, I graduated not too long ago,” you replied, feeling more confident. “I studied media, so I’ve done a bit of everything—social media management, content creation, production... I’ve always loved the idea of working behind the scenes. I guess I’m just looking for a job where I can put all that to use.”

Hugh nodded thoughtfully. "Media, huh? That’s perfect. I need someone who knows their way around that stuff. I’m hopeless with social media." He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "If it weren’t for my team, I’d probably still be figuring out how to send tweets."

You laughed, feeling the connection start to form. “Well, you’ve got a pretty solid Instagram game going on. But I can definitely help with anything tech-related.”

"Ah, well, that’s good to hear," Hugh said, leaning back in his chair. "And what about your interests outside of media? Any hobbies or passions I should know about?"

“Well,” you began, hesitating for a second. “I love movies—obviously. And I’m really into fitness, too, though I’m not quite at your level.”

Hugh raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Fitness, eh? Are you trying to take my job? Next thing I know, you’ll be Wolverine."

You blushed, laughing nervously. "I don’t think I could pull off the claws."

"Ah, you never know!" Hugh said, winking. "But seriously, fitness is a great passion to have. Keeps you grounded. Maybe we could train together sometime—I’m always looking for a new gym buddy."

Your heart skipped a beat at the casual offer, the idea of working out with Hugh Jackman suddenly flooding your mind. Was he joking, or…?

"That sounds fun," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. "But you might have to go easy on me."

"No promises," Hugh teased, his smile never faltering. Then he leaned in slightly, his tone a little more serious. “But really, you seem like you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. I like that. You’re young, but from what I’ve seen on your resume, you’re definitely not lacking in experience. How do you feel about working in such a high-pressure environment?”

You thought about it for a moment. "Honestly, I think I’d thrive in it. I’m used to juggling a lot at once, and I’ve always worked well under pressure. I guess I’m just ready for a challenge."

Hugh nodded approvingly. "Good answer. I like someone who’s not afraid of a little chaos." He paused, then added with a mischievous glint in his eye, “And you seem awfully young to be my assistant. You sure you’re not still in high school?”

You blushed furiously and laughed, shaking your head. “Definitely not. I promise, I’m a fully certified adult.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to trust you on that,” Hugh replied, his tone playful. "You might just surprise me."

For a brief second, there was a comfortable silence. You could feel the warmth radiating from Hugh, and you found yourself smiling more freely now, your initial nerves melting away. The conversation felt easy, almost natural, like you’d known him for longer than just a few minutes.

Hugh broke the silence with a chuckle. "You know, I have to say, I think you’re going to fit in really well here."

You blinked, caught off guard. "You think so?"

"I do," Hugh said, his expression softening. "I’ve interviewed a lot of people, but you... there’s something about you. You’ve got a good energy. I like that."

You felt your cheeks heat up again, but this time, it was less about nerves and more about the undeniable connection you felt growing between the two of you. Hugh Jackman, your long-time celebrity crush, was complimenting you—on more than just your qualifications.

"I... wow, thank you," you said, a little flustered but genuinely touched. "That means a lot coming from you."

Hugh smiled, leaning back in his chair with a relaxed air. “Well, I’ll make sure to let you know in a few days, but between you and me, I think you’ve got a pretty good shot at this.”

You grinned, trying to hold back the excitement bubbling up inside you. "I’ll be waiting by my phone."

“I’m sure you will,” Hugh replied, his voice laced with warmth. He glanced at the clock on his screen and sighed. "I’ve got another meeting to run to, but it was really great chatting with you. I’ll be in touch soon, okay?"

“Sounds good,” you said, your heart still racing. “Thanks again, Hugh. I really appreciate it.”

Hugh gave you one last smile, his eyes twinkling. “No worries at all. Have a great day, and I’ll talk to you soon.”

The screen faded to black as the call ended, and you sat there for a moment, staring at your laptop. Your heart was pounding, your cheeks still flushed with the warmth of the conversation. You couldn’t help but smile, replaying every word in your head.

Zoë appeared behind you, her eyes wide with excitement. "So...?"

You turned to her, grinning. "I think it went really well."

Zoë's eyes lit up with excitement, and she grabbed your shoulders, shaking you slightly. "Oh my God! Spill! What did he say? How was he? Was he as charming as he seems?"

You laughed, pushing her hands away gently. "He was even better. Like, ridiculously charming. He made a joke about me being too young to be his assistant and then—" You paused, recalling the moment he’d complimented your energy, your stomach fluttering. "—and he said he thinks I’d fit in well."

Zoë gasped dramatically, bouncing in place. "That’s basically a ‘you got the job’ in celebrity-speak! Oh my God, this is huge!" She practically danced across the room, grabbing her phone and immediately typing furiously.

“What are you doing?” you asked, still in a daze.

“Texting the girls! I have to tell them you just interviewed with Hugh Jackman, and it sounds like you nailed it.”

You chuckled, though a part of you was still processing the entire experience. Had that really just happened? Talking to Hugh had felt so natural—like you’d known him longer than the fifteen minutes the interview lasted. He was warm and playful, but also professional when it counted, and you couldn’t help but replay the way he’d teased you about your age. Was that flirting, or was it just his way of putting people at ease?

Zoë interrupted your thoughts, practically vibrating with excitement. “Okay, but tell me—how did you not, like, melt into a puddle of goo? I mean, he was on your screen, in real-time, flirting with you.”

You shook your head, laughing softly. “I don’t know! I was nervous at first, but he’s so easy to talk to. It didn’t feel like an interview at all—it felt more like… I don’t know, like we were just chatting.”

Zoë waggled her eyebrows at you. “Uh-huh, chatting with Hugh Jackman, no big deal.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, smirking. “And what’s this about working out together? Are you going to become his gym buddy now?”

You blushed, laughing as you recalled his casual invitation to train together. “I’m pretty sure he was joking. But who knows? If I get the job, maybe I’ll just casually bump into him at the gym.”

Zoë raised an eyebrow. “Girl, if you get this job, you’re about to be around him 24/7. You better prepare for that heart of yours. Crush or not, you’re gonna be spending some serious time with him.”

The thought sent a flutter of excitement through you. It was true—if you got the job, you’d be Hugh’s personal assistant, meaning you’d be with him constantly, organizing his schedule, helping with events, traveling with him... And you’d be doing all of that with a man you’d secretly crushed on for years. The idea of it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“I know,” you said softly, biting your lip. “It’s kind of crazy to think about. But I also can’t let myself get too ahead of things. It’s still just an interview for now.”

Zoë rolled her eyes, waving a hand dismissively. “Please, that man was smitten. You’re going to get it, I can feel it.”

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed on the table. Your heart leaped as you saw an unknown number pop up on the screen.

You stared at it for a second before Zoë nudged you. “Don’t just stare at it! Answer it! What if it’s him?”

You fumbled with the phone, quickly hitting the button to accept the call. “Hello?”

A familiar deep voice on the other end made your heart race again. “Hey, it’s Hugh.”

You almost dropped the phone. Hugh is calling me? Already? You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hi! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon.”

Hugh laughed lightly, the sound sending another flutter through your stomach. “Yeah, I know. But I’ve been thinking about our chat, and I wanted to catch you before the weekend. I’d love for you to come in on Monday for an in-person meeting. I want to show you the ropes and see how you feel about everything in person.”

You blinked, trying to process what he’d just said. “You mean… like a second interview?”

“Sort of,” Hugh said, and you could almost hear the smile in his voice. “But mostly, I just want to make sure you’re comfortable with the role before we make it official.”

You tried to suppress the squeal threatening to escape your throat. “That sounds amazing! I’d love to.”

“Great,” Hugh said, his tone warm. “I’ll have my assistant email you the details—where to meet, what time, all that jazz. We’ll keep it casual, don’t worry.”

Your heart was beating so fast you were surprised Hugh couldn’t hear it through the phone. “Thank you so much, Hugh. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem at all,” he replied smoothly. “Looking forward to seeing you again.”

The call ended, and you stood there for a moment, phone in hand, staring at the screen in disbelief.

Zoë practically pounced on you. “What? What did he say?!”

You turned to her, eyes wide with excitement. “He wants me to come in on Monday. For a follow-up meeting, but it sounded more like... like he’s already offering me the job.”

Zoë screamed, grabbing you and spinning you in a circle. “I knew it! I told you! You’re going to be Hugh Jackman’s assistant!”

You couldn’t help but laugh as she danced around the room, but deep down, you felt a wave of excitement mixed with nervous anticipation. This was it—the start of something big. You were one step closer to working for Hugh Jackman, to being a part of his world.

And maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that this job could lead to something even more than you’d ever imagined.

🏷️: @oatmilkriver @khxna @hughverine @junnniiieee07 @stark-ironman @Marcswife21 @boomveronika @kellyxo1 @shiawaseorii @shybluebirdninja @mutilatedcupid @corvusmorte @iluvfanficsstuff @stickyunknownsubstance @miha080 @acescutejeans-1247 @ladydimitrescutlou @iwannadie07 @whimsiwitchy @bitchydragonparadisee

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!!

I am so hyped for this small series!!! Hugh needs more content on here. I absolutely love reading all of your thoughts on the chapters, so feel free to leave a comment!! And at last, Enjoy!!

I’m also thinking of writing some oneshots taking place in the same AU after i finish the series. You can read them as standalones or see it as extra content for this project!!

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Hey, congrats on your achievement, glad to get in the celebration 🤍

"No one has ever loved me too"

Thank you 🤍

~800 words

You like Jason Todd a lot. Like a lot, a lot. The word love sits at the tip of your tongue, waiting for the right moment to be heard. You’re trying to work up the courage to say it, trying to find a moment that’s as all-encompassing as he is.

This moment isn’t big. But it feels perfect anyway. Jason's head is on your lap, and he’s reading his book of the week while your fingers card lazily through his hair. Rain patters on the window of your apartment, your hot drink sits steaming on the coffee table, and you’ve never been more in love with him than right now.

Jason Todd. Your best friend. The boy you grew up with. The man that’s permanently engraved in every part of your soul. The person you want to spend the rest of your life with.

You will yourself to open your mouth, to finally confess how much he really means to you, when he starts to talk first, “We’ve been together for a while.”

You blink, fingers stilling in his hair for a moment. You’re not completely sure where he’s going with this, so all you offer is a hum of acknowledgment before you go back to playing with his hair.

“Do you ever regret it,” he asks softly, lowering his book to his stomach as he looks up at you.

You quirk your eyebrow at him and give his hair a gentle tug, “No. Never. Do you?”

“No,” he echoes, a smile spreading across his face, “Never.”

“Why do you ask,” you question, idly twisting the strands of his hair between your fingers.

He shrugs a little, as much as he can without jostling his spot on your lap, “Just in my book, there’s this character,” his voice trails off, “They don’t actually like who they’re with.”

You tut, peeking over at the cover of his book, “Then they should talk to their partner. Or save them both the trouble and break up.”

“You would think,” he mumbles, eyes falling shut at the feeling of your hand in his hair, “But there wouldn’t be much of a plot if they did.”

“Guess not,” You agree idly, making a note to read the book yourself when he’s done. You both fall quiet, enjoying the peace and the sound of rain and the presence of each other.

Your gaze falls back to his face, he looks peaceful, content to be resting against you. It makes your heart swell, and your throat tighten.

You know there would be better times to say it, much better times, in fact. But he’s so pretty, so warm and so good, and all you want to do is tell how he makes your life feel brighter and special and worth it.

And suddenly, it feels so easy to say the words, and you wonder why you ever struggled with them before, “I’m in love with you.”

His eyes snap open, gaze immediately locking on yours. You smile down at him, fond and happy. You don’t need him to say it back, the awe on his face is enough, every kiss and touch and sweet word has always been enough.

He blinks at you, and carefully reaches up to brush his knuckles over your cheek, reverent and slow, almost like he’s checking if you’re real. “No one’s ever loved me too,” he breathes out, surprise lacing his tone and features.

The devotion on his face almost makes you giggle, and your smile grows as you lean into his touch, “Too?”

It’s only then he realizes he hasn’t quite said it back yet. “I love you,” he says, like it’s an unchangeable truth as he pushes himself to kiss you. It's chaste and sweet and cut short all too soon by the awkward angle.

You do laugh this time, when he eagerly sits up, and pulls you to straddle his legs. “I’m in love with you,” he tells you, and he presses a long, but no less sweet kiss to your mouth. It leaves you both gasping for air, when you eventually pull away.

“I love you,” you say, just to feel the words between your teeth, to revel in the way he melts against you at the sound of them. He laughs with you, eyes sparkling when he litters your face with kisses.

He cups your face with both hands and when he tells you he loves you again, and the hardest decision you have to make is kissing him or repeating the words until both of your voices are raw with laughter and adoration.

(You’re quick to attempt both, doting words whispered against skin and murmured between gasping breaths until the rain has long since stopped and his voice repeats like a record in your mind)

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ 06.10 - Boothill ~

Dom!reader x sub!boothill - reader is gender neutral

Warning: a little dark, dubcon, sadistic (?) reader, first time (doing smt sexual), finger sucking, gun play, teasing, dacryphilia, dry orgasm, cumming untouched, hair pulling, use of chemicals, choking, violence, vomiting, kidnapping

~ Word count: 7k ~

Nini!rant: went for a slightly different vibe this time~ how is it?

Kinktober list 2024

“Hah, another fake galaxy ranger? Who’s tryna impersonating us this time?” Boothill lowered his hat to hide his face while he stared at a wanted poster. Still clean, it must be a new commission. At first, he only wanted to check his own bounty, when he noticed another one right next to his.

‘Galaxy ranger […….], wanted, dead or alive, bounty [1.380.000]’

Consider him surprised when he didn’t recognize the name or the face. Him, the one who owns a data bank to support his memories. It could only mean that it’s an imposter. Having a fake ranger’s wanted poster hung right next to his is pretty humiliating, are they looking down on him? “This might be interesting.” The cowboy smirked to himself, yanking off the poster from the wall while he continued his pursuit.

This was going to be a side job, to yearn some cash for his good ol’ alcohol: Asdana’s white oak, about 6% alcohol and fragrant like the fields after rain. A classic among the malts. Pair that with a bullet to match and consider yourself drinking the holy water from the garden of Eve. The bass and gunpowder will bring an exquisite taste only folks with fine tongues can taste. If he had to give a deeper description, the word mellowness would match mighty fine.

Just thinking about the taste raised his spirits. Since he was going to catch you soon and get compensated big, it wouldn’t hurt to celebrate like this once in a while. Don't get him wrong, this isn't indulging, it's enjoying life. Which is why he was standing in front of a bustling bar, his favorite one. The minute he walked in, he felt his mind be at ease, like a ship with smooth sailing. Everything stayed as cozily as he remembered, the same old barkeeper, music, and seats. As if this was his second home, he popped down right next to the counter and put his arm up onto the bar table.

“Boss, here! The usual for me, you know, the lit stuff.” Boothill smirked, his other hand was tapping his knee slowly. “It’s you again, one Asdana without ice?” The man behind the counter seems to remember that very cowboy, as well as his usual order. To that boothill answered, “Of course, I take my Asdana neat.” Then the barkeeper nodded, as if to acknowledge it, commenting, "You are as lively as ever, sir." Before walking off to get the bottle.

Lively? Huh, it's not a word he'd use to describe himself, but it isn't bad. No, not bad at all. In the meantime the cyborg looked around the establishment, seeing many new and old faces that bring back memories. Among those, there was a single shadow that intrigued him. It was the person sitting next to him.

You were there already when he came, sipping away at your drink as your eyes darted around aimlessly. A cocktail of some kind, fading from black to red. If he had to guess, probably hangman’s blood? One of the specialties of this bar, he knows the owner is proud of that drink. It’s pretty strong, you must be good at dealing with alcohol. Maybe you'd be a splendid drinking buddy, he thought to himself, grinning from ear to ear. Meeting new people and making connections never hurts anyone.

Suddenly he moved his chair closer to yours, opening his mouth and attempting to strike up a conversation with you. “Hey, you there, I haven’t seen ya’ around here. This your first time here?” He tried his best to give you a gentle smile, that ended up with him showing off his sharp teeth. For some, he might have appeared threatening even. “...Yeah, it is. I heard that the drinks here are excellent, which is why they have so many regulars.” You stirred around in your glass, mixing the two colors.

“That’s right, you see, I consider myself a regular too.” Boothill chuckled, by the looks of it, he was quite proud of that title. “Oh right, name’s boothill, you can call me that. How ‘bout we drink a lil’ together?” He smirked, it was still a rather awkward smile. Though luckily you didn’t seem to mind. “Boothill huh? I’ve heard that name around, you are notorious for your misdeeds against the IPC.” You turned around to face him, returning his gesture by smiling as well.

At least he thinks you did, since he saw your face twitch. However, he couldn’t see it clearly due to the effects of the lighting. That was why you looked like a shadow from afar. The cyborg scoffed a bit, appearing amused by your words, “misdeeds you say? Cutie, my actions may not be innocent but I only do honest work.” A low chuckle reached his ears, followed by your response to his rather playful comment, “Of course, I understand. You galaxy rangers are brimming with righteousness after all.”

For some reason, your voice was as clear as day, despite the bustling noises emerging from the background. Many people were talking among themselves, so despite you not speaking especially loud, he still heard you perfectly. It was almost as if he filtered the other sounds out for yours only. At first glance, you seemed friendly, kind even. Yet there was this strange feeling surrounding you, he couldn’t get rid of the lingering suspicions. How did you know his occupation? Sure, his name was pretty infamous, though was it normal to know this much?

“…I guess the number on my bounty isn’t just for show.” He joked, before letting out some breathy laughs. Instead of paying attention to his words, you stared at his hand, each finger was out of metal. A artificial arm, or to be precise, a cyborg. Nothing you didn’t know. Suddenly you raised your finger, pointing in his direction. Boothill frowned a little, taken aback by it. “Your drink, it’s coming.” After a moment you explained, and he turned his head around.

Who would have guessed, you were right, the bartender was just putting down the liquor as he chirped, “One Asdana?” Before winking at the male and leaving the two of you alone. “Ah, yeah, that's for me.” The cowboy mumbled, about to take the old-fashioned glass when you stopped him. “Wait a second, I have something for you.” The moment your sentence ended, you began fumbling with your bag, apparently searching for something.

He was a bit irritated but listened to you anyway, taking his hand back. Waiting like this was a tiny bit annoying, but he put up with it. About a minute later, you were holding a shiny object in your hand. Without giving him any warnings, you dropped the said object into his drink. The beverage splashed against the glass due to the impact, only a single drop landed outside before the liquid calmed down.

Now, a bullet was slowly sinking to the bottom of the glass. Its color matched his drink, it had a golden gleam. “Holy forkeroni…” He gasped, this bullet, it was- “9 millimeters caliber, 147 grain, and the bottom's round as a pie. An eternal classical, am I right?” After explaining something obvious to him, you finally showed your face by leaning forward. The lightbulb brightened your features, exposing your identity to the cowboy. A daring move, a risky gamble with cards not everyone would have played. You stared right into his black pupils without a hint of fear, and his response to your boldness was as expected. “This information, you are...!” Immediately, the cyborg grabbed you by your collar and yelled, “Son of a nice lady- you are the one from that wanted poster! The fake galaxy ranger!” He shook his head, then demanded, “Fudge me… don’t fork around and answer, how do you know so much about me?” What a serious tone he had, he must be feeling threatened.

Your eyes darted down to his metallic hand, the same one you were eyeing up and down earlier was now clenching your shirt. Instead of taking him seriously, you were calm and collected, taking one step after another. Seeing you so relaxed, he felt a hint of anger building within him and used more force. It was almost enough to lift you off your seat. Gosh, look how much contempt he suddenly has for you when he was so nice to you mere moments ago.

“Please don’t cause a scene, sir boothill, I was only being nice by catering your drink to your taste. What's the problem?” You cooed at him like he was a child throwing a tantrum, playing the naive card. This playful tone of yours reminded him awfully of his own, yet at that moment it annoyed him. “You are dodging my question.” He stressed his words, furrowing his brows and tightening his grip. But he jerked a little when you clasped your hand over his, your touch was warm in comparison to his.

Then you spoke in a calm tone, “Shall we take this outside? There are many watching eyes here. I believe you wouldn’t want to get banned from your favorite bar.” The way you talked suggested you knew much more, a lot more than what he does about you. After all, you knew some private details about his preferences and hobbies. In conclusion, you must have been waiting for him here, at this very bar.

Boothill still hesitated for a moment, before eventually letting go of you. He clicked his tongue as if he regretted your meeting today. In truth, he wasn't in the mood for a fight, despite everything he came here to have fun. Your clothes were now wrinkled and slightly messy, disheveled would also be a fitting term, but you didn’t really bother with straightening them out, rather, you were amused by his hot temper. The boy thought about the situation and the problem he was facing. He couldn't read you at all, what a tough nut to crack.

It would be smart to sort out his thoughts, so first things first, he has to find out how you obtained all this information about him. What was your deal and reason? Then he should think about how to clean up this chaos in case it becomes messy. Even so, startling the other guests wouldn’t be good, that’s why he should contain himself for now. “Fine, lead the way, and don’t try to pull any funny business with me.” He clasped his arms in front of his chest, glaring at you with nothing but contempt. To be honest he looked like a cheeky cat instead of a dangerous lion.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of criminal~” You jest, grinning from ear to ear as you sipped at your cocktail. “Oh yeah? Why do you have quite the sum on your head then.” The cowboy countered your statement, squinting his eyes a little. To think you lost his trust this fast, he was a cautious fellow. “Haha, you hurt me. Don’t you have a bounty on your head as well? If so, why can’t I be righteous too?” He shuddered a little at your words, by the looks of it, you could also be a crazy stalker who invaded his privacy. Heck, he would almost bet on you knowing his head's value in and out.

At this point your voice alone was enough to scratch him the wrong way, you were really testing his patience. Boothill dismissed your statement with a groan, “Don’t compare us, I’m not a motherfudgin' fake ranger like you.” You blinked a few times at his words, before laughing out loud. He didn't like how you reacted. “Ahaha~ yes yes, of course, I’m the bad guy in your story, how did I forget this detail?” You blabbered, and he didn't really understand what you meant.

Then, without giving him any time to process what you said, you sprang up from your seat but made sure to take your cocktail with you. “Come now, cowboy. Take your drink with you, can’t leave that to waste right? Let’s continue drinking outside, like real drinking buddies.” That last sentence, he hasn't asked you yet, that means you guessed by his actions alone. Was it that obvious? It almost felt like you were taunting him or making fun of his previous idea of befriending you.

To save some of his pride, he decided to entertain your little chitchat. “Take it with me? I don’t think I’ll need that long to deal with the likes of you.” He sneered, a cheeky expression was plastered on his face now. You scanned him up and down a few times, then said, “If I can give you one advice: you’ll regret it if you don’t.” Shortly after, you walked out of the store, not giving a damn if he followed you or not. It was because you knew he wouldn’t let you escape so easily, and as you predicted, he followed you to the back of the bar. His footsteps were rather silent for a cyborg, he must not want to involve other guests.

The environment was filthy and dark, as well as out of the sight of innocent civilians. Perfect for an ambush or to have a private talk. You took another sip of your drink and complimented it, “Heavens, have I told you already? This tastes great. Wanna try some?” This sudden courtesy didn't seem fitting at all, considering he already lost all trust he had for you. His eyes pointed to your hand, the hand holding the glass in front of him. Instead of taking it, he clanked his own glass against yours, saying “No need, and cheers. Now that we are drinking, it’s time for you to start talking.” After finishing his speech, he drank his much-anticipated beverage.

This was what he missed, the sweet taste of paradise. No matter how he hated to admit it, the bullet you put in was just the stuff he needed. The faint taste of brass and gunpowder partnered up with the overwhelming sweetness of the malt juice was simply magnificent. “Ehem.. now,” He began, putting the drink onto the staircase next to him. It was the emergency staircase in case of a fire, yet it looked rusty as hell. Still, it won’t crash down because of one measly drink, will it?

This was something he had noticed for a while, somehow, he always found your gaze on his hands. The same applied here when he was putting his malt juice away. Was it worth being careful about? Boothill sighed, before continuing, “Tell me, what is your purpose? You were looking for me, weren’t ya?” Straight to the point, as expected of an ill-mannered cowboy like him, but you didn’t dislike it. “If I told you, this won’t be fun anymore. The villain always shares their plan when the hero is subdued.” You gurgled down the last bits of your ‘hangman’s blood’, then put the glass on the ground, unlike him. Would you look at that, who has no manners now?

Afterward, you walked up to the man, and his response to it was taking a few steps back. It wasn’t until his back hit the wall that the two of you stopped in your tracks. “Shirtbag… do you want to imitate a cartoon villain that bad?” He scoffed, crossing his arms once again. “Hehe, maybe.” You smiled at him providing him with a vague answer. Fork it, he was definitely going to wipe that insolent grin of yours from your face. “Anyway, before things escalate and you hit me, how about a quick introduction? My name is y/n.” The ranger didn’t look happy at all at your suggestion, and so he snapped, “I know, I saw on the poster. Can you stop wasting my free time now?”

“Whoa, easy there. And hey! Don’t pull your gun out!” You said and raised your hands as if to testify to your cooperation, then spouted “Well, I don’t know what information I own that could possibly satisfy you.” Now you were really wasting his time, chatting with no end in sight. Obviously, you were playing dumb with him. This caused Boothill to shout almost angrily, “Just tell me what business you have with me, fudgehead!” His rather funny way of talking didn't shock you, which means this was another piece of information you had access to beforehand. Who was feeding you with all that info?

He reached out for your collar again, but to his surprise, he couldn't move his arm anymore. “What the fork?!” His eyes turned to look up at you, his soft lips were parted due to disbelief. “Thankfully it worked~ otherwise I’d be cheese by now!” You joked, taking another step forwards him. “Holy wubabboo- is this your doing?” A confused expression spread on your face and you questioned, “Did what?” What the- what was happening, he couldn't comprehend this darned situation.

“How did you pull this off-? UrGhh!!” Out of nowhere, he dropped down to his knees, hovering and kneeling on the ground while sweating furiously. There was no strength left in his legs, or he lost control of his limbs somehow. On the outside he looked like a robot out of power, arms dangling next to him all lifeless. “Fudge! Tell me! What did you do?!” This has to be your doing, the timing is too perfect. You scanned his body again, smirking to yourself. "I had to prepare a lot for this, you know."

His ears perked at your confession, were you finally getting bored of that clueless act? Your face was barely visible since the alley wasn’t very bright, there was only one dimly lit street lamp around the corner. “You were easier to catch than I thought.” You then uttered. What the hell is this! That was supposed to be his line, so how did things end up this way? He is a motherfudging cyborg, what could you have possibly done to him?

The word confusion was basically written all over his face, he couldn’t even curse at you because he was so baffled, so perplexed about basically everything. Then, you raised your foot and stepped down on his shoulder. He turned his head to the side just to be faced with your shoe, the soles dirtied his cropped jacket.

“Get off me, you son of a nice fugin' lady.” Boothill gritted his teeth, trying to push you away. But the word in capital letter and underlined was 'trying', since he couldn’t move at all. He felt as helpless as the day he lost his home, unable to do anything but watch from the sidelines. “I like that feisty look in your eyes, cowboy.” You teased, those stinging words hurting his ego. Suddenly you leaned down, all so you could meet his gaze more easily.

Your hands reached for the glass of malt juice standing on the staircase and held it above his face. It shone in a golden light, almost akin to a disco ball. His eyes were glued to that glass, partly because he wondered what you planned to do. “Here, as I said before, this shouldn’t go to waste.” You told him and grabbed his chin. It happened so suddenly that he couldn’t react to it, not like he could have done anything in self-defense anyway. “Ugh, let go you mother- fuuHHMM!!”

When he opened his mouth to curse and to let out a shocked yelp, you forcefully poured the drink down his throat. It streamed down his oesophagus. You had to admit, he had good reflexes for reacting to this so quickly. Some of the liquid landed on his lips or cheeks, but he drank most of the juice. You watched the remains that weren't swallowed drip down his chin, soiling his clothes further and creating a darker spot on the fabric. It also covered his metallic chest in a golden shine, one could easily confuse it with oil.

The cyborg closed his eyes to avoid the liquor getting in places it shouldn’t, he choked a little since you were pouring so fast he couldn’t keep up with the swallowing. This didn’t stop until the glass was empty, even the bullet you gifted him earlier ended up in his mouth. He let it rest on his tongue for a while, before gulping it down as well. “Mmmh, guhh- cough cough!”

Boothill gasped, the bullet didn’t roll in as easily as the malt juice, it remained stuck in his throat. He had to cough a few times for it to slide down, after that he instantly complained, “Fu-fudge... why did you do that? I wanted to enjoy my drink slowly!” But he stopped mid-track when your familiar laugh echoed in his ears, and your fingertips stroked his chin. Shivers ran down his spine at your touch, he didn't know why.

“Dear ranger~ did your mommy not teach you not to take things from a stranger?” His eyes twitched and widened, you couldn’t really grasp the expression he pulled, though he looked devastated. It seems a light switch clicked inside his thick skull. Did you mess with his drink? Boothill just couldn't keep calm anymore at the realization, glaring at you with a nasty attitude. “Oh my, did I hit a sore spot there? You look like you want to kill me.” Yet his threatening, imposing body language didn’t scare you off, which is why you continued ridiculing him.

“I’ll ask you a last time, what the fork did you do to me?" Despite all these misfortunes, he didn't give up his insolent side, he was planning on giving you a hard time until the very end. Boothill was showing his sharp teeth once again, but this time he wasn’t smiling. “Are you familiar with Sulfuric acid?” You uttered, tapping his lips with your thumb. That word was foreign to him, was it something he would know? He wanted to bite down on his bottom lip, but you stopped him. This feeling, it was latex, you were wearing gloves.

“You see, it’s potent enough to melt metal.” The expression that followed after you enlightened him of its importance was simply amazing, you were curious about what he felt in that moment. Shock? Anger? Frustration? Maybe even self-hatred? “Then, how did you-” “Hey, I wasn’t done talking. Anyway, to answer your question, I hid it inside the bullet. Then I just had to wait for it to melt through the brass and voila, need me to say more?” What a talent you have for spouting such horrendous things with an innocent tone.

“Everything’s going according to your plan, huh, explaining everything when the hero’s subdued.” He repeated your words, then coughed again because his throat was burning. Actually, it hurt and itched. His face also felt like it was on fire, or to be precise, his skin did. It was so painful he had to clench his teeth to suppress the pain. You laughed under your breath, laughing at him, mocking him. “Right, if it’s potent enough to inflict wounds on a cyborg, then of course it irritates the skin as well.” Well, that should explain why his skin was hurting. “Now, boothill, may I give you another advice?”

Your hand caressed his cheeks as you asked him that, face only millimetres away from his. The way you touched him was surprisingly gentle, it made him sick. “What do you want.” He scorned, shaking his head to brush off your hand. “I’m sure you have extra protection around the more important components inside your system, though you should still get rid of the acid.” You looked unfazed when he avoided your touch, instead you closed the already nonexistent distance between you two and whispered into his ear.

The male looked mad, really damn angry. He yelled into your face, “Well fudge me I guess?! I can’t forking move my body!” That caught you off guard, you blinked a few times at his aggressive behavior. Don't get you wrong, it's not that you didn’t understand his point of view. On the contrary, it's good to see him still so energetic. “Ah~ my bad, I didn’t think the acid would break your control Center first. Why is it located right next to your stomach anyway?” You admitted, scratching your head a little.

This was so easy that it was almost boring, you expected him to put up more of a fight. But you can't blame him when he's basically a cripple right now. “In other words, I’m fudged? Fork this, dying so dishonorable tsk tsk.” Boothill snarled, rolling his eyes, he didn’t consider himself a living man before, but now he was dead-dead if you knew what he meant.

You glanced at his face, he was sweating and his complexion didn’t look all that good. He acted as if he didn't mind it, but he was hanging onto life so dearly it almost moved you. In the end, you proposed in a tender tone, “Want me to help you?” The ranger was still glaring at you, though his gaze bore more skeptic than fury. “You caused this first- fine, I don’t have any choice but to accept do I?”

No matter how he despised you, he can't carry out revenge when he's dead. It's not that he trusted you to 'save' him, but rather, this is his last resort. As soon as he finished his sentence, you yanked on his chin to make him look up at you. The tips of his hair were wet due to the alcohol, and his skin also reddened due to the acid. Your thumb pressed on his bottom lip, almost pulling at it. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks at the intimate touch. Adorable.

When he parted his lips a little, you took that opportunity to stuff your index and middle finger into his mouth. “What- Mhm..!?” The male groaned, finding himself in a pretty bizarre situation. God how embarrassing, he was falling into a shameful abyss he couldn't crawl out anymore. Truth be told, he had a pretty accurate guess on what you wanted to do, though he really didn’t want to actually carry it out. Was this the only way?

You stuck your digits deeper inside, already at the second knuckle, causing him to flinch and twitch. His eyes were tightly shut, brows furrowed while a growing blush covered his features. Damn it, this is worse than any nightmares, this feels the worst. So what was this bubbling and tingly sensation he felt? It was messing with him, causing him to shudder. He could feel your fingers pressing down on his tongue, as well as you trying to not cut yourself on his teeth. This was weird, it was so strange, why was he getting lightheaded?

“Don’t act so surprised now, I’m helping you as you wanted.” After watching his helpless face for a while, you commented on it, obviously not planning on stopping the teasing anytime soon. It seems you caught on to the growing tension between the two of you, so you chuckled, “Hey... what’s this I'm seeing? Why is your face getting red?” His once half-lidded eyes were yanked wide open at the thought that he got exposed.

Don't tell him he was enjoying this perverted act. “Hmm! Sho-shou ap..!” Boothill tried to speak despite the difficulties, feeling your digits reaching deeper and deeper. With each poke, the tingly feeling also increased. Was this perhaps what they called sexual pleasure? If so, why did he have to experience it for the first time at your hands?

A few seconds later, you were knuckles-deep inside him, fingertips already rubbing the walls of his throat. It was wet and hot in his mouth, and his face seemed to be gradually heating as well. That process was speeding up quite rapidly. His cheeks quickly turned red, a foggy blush tainting the skin. He was blushing so much just from sucking on your fingers a little? You simply couldn’t miss out on ridiculing him yet again, purring into his ear once more, “Does this turn you on? How cute.”

His pupils shrank at your comment, probably at the disbelief that you’d say something this audacious. Him? Turned on by you? What a joke- this can’t be real. He was just having a hard time breathing, and that’s why he was getting red. Really. Though deep down, he knew he couldn't sugarcoat it, the truth will always be the truth, no matter how he denies its existence. “MhMm, guhNn, hmm-nggHh..!” The cowboy tried to argue with you, though his protests were muffled by you, only inaudible noises could be made out.

There were also sneaky moans mixed among his protests or little gasps. The vibrations of his voice tickled your skin, it felt pretty funny actually. “What was that? I can't understand you~” You admitted cheerfully, watching the emotion on his face rotate from shock, and anger to frustration. What a shameless person you were, and not to forget heartless.

Then you pressed down on his wet muscle once again, and he gagged around you. “Ughhh..!” That one single gag soon turned into a series of chokes, and tears began collecting in his eye sockets. So he still had his gag reflex, excellent, it was exactly what you needed. More coughs and chokes continuously spilled from the male while you mercilessly ravished his throat.

He could feel you poking his throat so deep it almost hurt, yet that wasn't the only thing he felt. No. Far from it, his body was burning up from the inside, though it was a different kind of heat than the effects of the acid. His mind felt so foggy and weakened, was it alright for him to let his guard down in times like this? When he still hasn't discovered your purpose? But he couldn't hang on anymore, it was as if his brain was melting. Never ever was it this challenging for him to hang on to his reason and logic, to what makes him human.

"Dahmmmm it..! S-stouu! GuhHGG..!!" He choked again, but this time, it felt like something was coming out... no, it was- "hmHHh, fooouukk!! Ugh-guUH!" This familiar sensation and taste, he couldn't move his tongue but he could still taste it faintly. Not to mention the burdensome smell, this familiar smell that stayed around his nostrils. The Asdana he just gurgled down was coming up again, he was on the verge of vomiting. It was as if his body rejected the drink, and he couldn't stop gagging.

At least his insides won't get messed up any longer, that must be the only positive thing in all this. Even so, to do something that shameful in front of you, damn it, he wants to spit at you if he could. You noticed how his throat tightened, or how his Adam's apple moved around. With that, you took your fingers out as fast as how you stuck them inside him. Strings of saliva connected your fingertips with his mouth, and his tongue hung outside for a while. "Ugh, fu-gUhg, UhmM!!"

Right afterward, he puked on the ground, head hanging low while more gaging sounds left him. His pupils shrunk as the contents spilled onto the filthy ground. Those embarrassing noises didn't cease until he choked up the bullet he had previously swallowed. Then, he whimpered at the taste, it had become sour now due to the chemical. "There you go, you should be fixed now." You reported, but he couldn't bring himself to be joyful about it.

Rather, he was sweating furiously, eyes widened and almost dried up. If he could cry, he definitely would have. Oh how thankful he was in that moment that he physically couldn't sob. He wouldn't have been able to live with the shame of breaking down in tears and weeping in front of you. "Uhhhhg, da-mHnn it... fu-uGGhh!!" The taste of the alcohol wasn't as pleasant as before, probably due to it getting corrupted by the acid you mentioned. Such a waste, and to think it landed on the floor now. A place like that wasn't worth a drink this exquisite.

His eyelids and brows twitched, and now that he was done, he clenched his teeth again and insulted you, "You muddlefudger..." That rebellious look in his gaze didn't vanish, he glared at you once more. You were almost impressed if you didn't notice a small glimmer of falter within his tough facade. Despite it being a normal bodily reaction, he seems to be holding it against you. "And here I thought I helped you out, how ungrateful." You clicked your tongue, and his face became redder. Was it because of the humiliation or anger?

Your shoe was still on his shoulder, pressing down on him, reminding him of his vulnerable position. The Cowboy snapped at you, spitting through gritted teeth, "What do ya' got planned now?" You took off your gloves, they were covered in his saliva. Then you revealed, "I'm not sure." He only got more annoyed by that nonchalant answer and demanded, "If you're going to kill me make it quick." Weirdly enough, your eyes glimmered, as if you were inspired by his suggestion. "If that's what you want, I don't mind it." You smirked, patting his head, stroking his long hair as your other hand sneakily pulled out the gun around his waist.

He almost lost himself in that small gesture of comfort you gave him, if it wasn't for him seeing you with his gun in your hand. "Hah.. with my own weapon? Fudge, you want to humiliate me to the end huh." How resentful he sounded, you almost pitied this guy. "Maybe I do." After saying that irritatingly proud, you pressed his revolver against his forehead, pushing his bangs to the side. "But this is a little boring, don't you think?"

As if you were truly interested in his opinion, he found it quite difficult to believe that. "Why do you ask me?" Boothill gnarled, but to his surprise, you moved the revolver away. Instead, the barrel was pressed flat against his chest, the muzzle facing his chin. "What are you..?" The male mumbled, twisting his expression at this damned play you organized for him. For you, all this must be a game, a stage you laid out for him, where he was a mindless puppet playing right into your hand.

He thought he couldn't be surprised anymore, yet your actions kept going beyond anything he could ever imagine. You moved the revolver upwards so that the muzzle was touching the underside of his chin. At the same time, the gun was going underneath his short jacket. "Y-you..!" The cyborg couldn't help but blush a little. His face was hot, overheating even compared to the cold weapon you held in your hands. "Do you still want to die? If you beg, I might spar you?" Your tone didn't sound that serious, it was almost said in a joking manner.

“Fork you, never." Boothill snarled again, acting disobedient even though his life was at stake. He had a strong spirit since he was still so cocky after all the things he went through. You wiped off the smile from your face, now staring down at him with a cold-blooded expression, "I'll count down from three then. Three..." Wha- no, this can't be the end, he still has to find Oswaldo. His artificial heart pounded against his chest, causing his mind to fall into chaos. "Two."

You were so cruel, counting down like this without remorse, a fudging monster! Adrenaline was being pumped through his body, or should he rather say every wire he owned? "One-" Without thinking, since he lost that privilege the moment you began counting, he yelled as fast as he could and closed his eyes, "Fudge! Fine! If m'gonna die lemme at least curse at you! You- er, muddlefudging clocksucker!!" Right now, he kind of wished he could cry, just to let out some steam. You couldn't help but giggle, before uttering the word, "Zero." Suddenly, he blanked out.

For a split second, time appeared to have stopped. What followed after was a loud, ear-splitting sound that echoed through the alley. To be expected, it definitely alarmed other people. Then, absolute silence emerged. Not even the faint music from the bar could be heard anymore. "Ah... hu-huh..?" "Oh? Seems like your gun wasn't loaded!" You giggled, you knew this from the start, didn't you? Pants along with a few choked-out whines escaped him. Shivers traveled through him and electricity was being sent to his brain, stimulating the euphoric parts.

A moment later, a slap sound reached his ears, and a sting that felt strangely pleasant originated from his cheek. His face turned to the side, and his cheek throbbed. "uh-urghh..! Ah, wha-what?" Did you just... slap him? Boothill groaned, shaking a little as drool rolled down his chin because his mouth remained open for too long. His spit also defiled the gun, wetting the revolver. Then, the unimaginable happened, and he let out an unrestrained moan, "ahhhHHHNngg..!?" It was high-pitched and whorish, he wore such a confused but slutty expression that it surprised both of you.

Reality crushed down on him too hard, and he couldn't help but gasp and whimper underneath his ragged inhales. "Ugh..ngh- wha-what's this fe-feeling..? W-why.. ha-hmnHg..♡♥︎?" Oh dear, this is not what you think just happened, right? "Boothill, did you just cum?" You said his name after a long while, and he groaned again, "guHhh... s-stop, that's nonsense! How can I e-even.. I-" The boy stumbled over his words, stuttering as a deep blush was painted over his entire face. He was such a twitchy mess now, totally different than his previous self.

“Are you a masochist?” You asked him randomly, it was so out of pocket that it killed the mood. "...are you crazy?" Boothill replied with scorn, his pride was pretty hurt by that statement. As if to test your speculation, you grabbed the back of his hair and yanked on it, making him yelp. "Arghh..! L-let go- fudge!" Then you squeezed his cheeks and stuck out your tongue. He stared at you hesitantly, his own tongue also hanging outside. Mere moments later, your spit was dripping down and landing in his mouth.

That action rendered him speechless, causing him to freeze. Your saliva tasted a little like alcohol. Darn it, this was so disgusting. Once you were done, you let go of the cowboy again, before teasing him, "I was right, you are a masochistic dog~" You knew because of his flushed cheeks, they became redder at your lewd antics. "Are you satisfied now? The fork do you want from me?!" Boothill scoffed, he could only bear this much until his breaking point. "What do I want?" You repeated his sentence, and put a finger on your chin as if you were thinking hard about something.

In the meantime, boothill impatiently waited, he desperately wanted to know your intentions, to see if it justified your actions. When you moved your finger away, you grinned before responding, "I think the answer is you." "...huh?" The cyborg was stunned, staring up at you with spirals in his pupils as you suddenly embraced him. "You heard me, boothill." Your voice and your hug were so warm, he didn't know you could be this gentle.

No, this was no good, it was troubling, to say the least. "Y/n? You- shirt, what do you mean?" For the first time, you heard your name come out of his mouth. His voice trembled as he voiced out your name, the way he said it had a nice ring to it. Then he glared at you once again, but this time he looked like a small animal, eyes glistening while a heavy blush formed on his face. Wait, why was he even blushing? Maybe, because he was wanted for the first time after centuries?

"I hate you." He said after returning to his senses, he got caught up in his emotions there for a moment. These little bits of comfort aren't enough to make up for the mess you caused, and he didn't feel the same. On the other hand, you couldn't stop smirking, and he knew by the looks of it that it wasn't an innocent smile by length. "Let's get out of here, I'll help you move." You then told him and helped him get up, pulling him by his arms.

This was immediately met with angry protests from the male, "Don't touch me- hey, ugh! Where the fudge are you taking me?" The second he let his guard down, you stuffed your gloves into his mouth to muffle his voice, "hMHh?! MmhhGFFF!!!" After that, to satisfy his curiosity, you whispered quietly, "To a place where I can have you."

.

.

"Finally, the guards are here." One of the guests said, to which another one answered, "Thank god because no one dared to go see what was going on." Maybe people we in disarray due to the mysterious sound they all heard. It was probably a gunshot, which means, someone might have died. Yet no one dared to go into the alley, out of fear that they might be the next victim. After the guards arrived, a rather large group of people followed them and ran over to the scene.

They all wanted to know what that gunshot was, standing on the sidelines and observing the investigation. 'What the hell happened here?!' Everyone wondered, eyes searching around for evidence. The only hints they found were two glasses standing on the staircase with some credits, as well as a pool of what seems to be malt juice lying on the ground along with a single golden bullet in the midst of it.

The guard in charge of this operation reached out for the bullet and said, "...someone must have been shot." Then he eyed the bullet up and down, in hopes of finding more clues. That's when he noticed a weird detail, "Why are there holes in the bullet?"

Tags: @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

Based on my findings, concentrated sulfuric acid can melt many metals, like aluminium, iron and steel. (Boothill isn’t safe hehe) It’s enough if it’s moderately concentrated, so it’s alright if a bit of water mixes into it as well. It also reacts to brass - the copper aspect of it, I dunno if it reacts to zink as well. Some sources say yes, some denied it.

Anyway, the Formular for the melting process or chemical reaction would be: Cu + h2So4 -> CuSo4 + h2 or Fe + h2So4 -> FeSo4 h2

So it also creates hydrogen gas at the same time, which also melts iron and is poison for the human body. Annnnd copper Sulfid, which is weak and easily breakable, that means it can weaken the brass.

My plan to poison him: his favourite drink is malt juice with a 9mm calliber bullet that’s out of brass. And malt juice is out of ca. 25-30% water. So, I was thinking of drilling a hole into the bottom of the bullet and use a needle to shoot concentrated sulfuric acid inside the capsule. Then drop that in the malt juice. Now we just gotta wait for the acid to melt through the bullet, and mix with the water of the alcohol, then it’d become moderately concentrated. Btw sulfuric acid can absorb water from everywhere, even from the air.

Then if he drinks it, bam, his insides will melt. It might take a bit, so we gotta entertain him and stretch out the time. Even if he doesn’t drink it, he eats bullets, so he’ll get the acid inside his body anyway. With that, we successfully ‘poisoned’ him. It takes a bit of fantasy but oh well.

Now, take this hangman’s blood recipe:

- 1¾ parts gin.

- 1¾ parts white rum.

- 1¾ parts whiskey.

- 1¾ parts brandy.

- 7½ parts stout beer.

- 6 parts champagne.

[risuola]

▶ CATORU — stealing Suguru's clothes just feels natural, they're comfy and cozy and they smell like him, but thing is — his hoodies are black... and Satoru's hair is white.

contents: college+roommates!au, fluff, polyamorous relationship — wc. 1079

𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀 𝙈𝙀𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙔 | series masterlist

“Geez, you really need to brush that cat out,” your best friend commented, plucking a white hair off your black hoodie once you dropped down onto the couch next to her placing the wine glasses, totally not regular glasses, and a bottle on the table. You invited her for the first time after you moved into the new apartment. It was a celebration of your new place, successfully passed exams and just a nice opportunity to catch up on life.

“Cat?” You looked at her; confusion apparent in your eyes and she pointed at the hairs in her fingers, few short, snow-white strands that she collected from you and surroundings. It wasn’t unusual – you had a habit of stealing Suguru’s clothes (and they are usually black), and Gojo has a habit of nuzzling into you, demanding head scratches so it’s only natural that his white hairs stick to you and are quite visible. “Ah, that cat. Yeah, I really need to brush him out. Or maybe I’ll just shave him, I don’t know yet.”

The thought made you giddy inside, it really cracked you up. Before that, you never realized that your friend had no idea what kind of relationship you are in. You never hid it from her, you openly told her about the three of you doing things together, but somehow, the possibility of you sharing your life with Suguru and Satoru at the same time flew over her head. You also are quite openly affectionate with both of your boys, but it’s possible that once your friend saw you kissing Geto, she automatically categorized your interactions with Gojo as purely friendly. You were not even sure if she ever had a chance to see you with your white-haired princess.

“It’s cute you and Geto took a white kitten. It’s because of Gojo, right?” She smiled cutely, throwing the hairs away as you poured her some of the cheap prosecco.

“Yeah, the kitten is definitely reminding us of Satoru.” You laughed softly, taking your own glass to your lips. “Our little Catoru.”

“Awww, that’s adorable,” she squealed, savoring the taste of pinkish liquid. “How is he dealing with it, by the way?”

“Dealing with what?”

“You know, how’s Gojo dealing with the fact you stole his best friend? I was wondering, is he okay with you being and living with Suguru? They are pretty much joined at the hip.” She was curious, genuinely, and you can tell she really has no clue, so you decided to play along.

“I mean, Satoru is doing great, you don’t need to worry.”

“’ts good,” your bestie exhaled with some kind of relief, and you couldn’t shake off the amusement off your shoulders. You wondered how she would react to the revelation of your polyamorous relationship. Would she be surprised? In your eyes, it was only natural to accept both Satoru and Suguru into your life, the boys are inseparable, you couldn’t date one without dating the other. That was just the way it is, the packaged deal, the law of nature if you will. “Is your boyfriend home?”

“Sugu? He has martial arts training today. Will be back later. Don’t worry about it, okay? You’re my guest,” you reassured her and the conversation went smoothly from that point. You talked a little about everything, about college, about teachers and recent exams, about love life and your recent dates.

“Is Gojo always third-wheeling you two?” She asked when you were telling her about your last movie night. The one that got all three of you deadly backpain afterwards because you all fell asleep on the couch in a position that even got Suguru and his super trained, stretched and fit body suffering. It’s better not to recall how you and Satoru felt.

“Sometimes I feel like I am third-wheeling them,” you laughed, “but yea, we’re actually–“

“Can I see the cat?” Your friend cut you off, suddenly all excited. “God, I completely forgot about him, can I see that fluffball?”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure the cat is sleeping and you know, that fluffball gets grumpy when woken up.”

“Pleeeaaaase, I promise, I won’t wake it up. I just want to see the little Catoru, he must be adorable.”

With an exhale you decided to give in. You knew Satoru had a rough night, he got back home in the morning after a visit at his parents’ house and you know his family can be pretty distressing. Now he’s probably sleeping it off, but just a quick visit shouldn’t hurt. With that thought you took your friend to your bedroom.

“Just please, don’t scream, okay? He’s dead tired.” You half-whispered, before opening the doors. She nodded and you peeked inside, just to make sure the cat wasn’t sprawled naked on the bed or something and once sure that it’s safe, you walked in, carefully placing your steps to make as little noise as possible.

Satoru was sleeping, tightly cocooned in blankets with only his head visible from the nose up. He was really worn out, you could tell by the way he was breathing, so deeply and heavily what only happened when he was exhausted. You crouched next to the bed, gently running your fingers through his hair and he purred something, automatically leaning into your touch. Satoru could be at his death bed and would still search for your warmth.

“Do you need something?” You asked quietly, brushing little circles onto his scalp. He made some kind of noise that sounded a little like a no, and you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. “If you do, just call me, baby, I’ll be next door.”

Satoru purposefully uncovered the lower half of his face so you could give him a peck, and once he got that, he turned back to his cocoon. You whispered him a little love you, got up and left, leading your visibly stoked friend back to the living room. She was shocked, but at the same time it looked like a realization was hitting her hard and you saw in real time how her expression was changing.

“That was the cat?” She whisper-screamed.

“Yup.”

“So you and Geto and Gojo—?"

“Yup.”

“Like, all three of you?”

“Yes,” you chuckled, pouring her more wine. “I actually had no idea that you don’t know. I thought we’re quite obvious.”

“Now as I think about it, you kinda were… I’m gonna need more wine.”

“I’ll text Suguru.”

taglist: @gojos-thot-patrol-main , @chuluoyi

[chalkscene]

can i request fruba’s reaction to the first time they hug you when the curse is broken without you knowing? like it’s a complete surprise and you’re so happy? thank you so much!

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT HERE IT IS!!! i don’t usually take requests to take the pressure of writing off of me but i just loved this prompt sm i couldn’t say no 😭

ft. kyo sohma, yuki sohma, hatori sohma & shigure sohma (separate)

after witnessing your failed attempts at making one rice ball, KYO suddenly decides to join you in the kitchen, “pay attention. i’ll only teach you once.” you fight back a smile because you know he’ll keep teaching you as long as you keep asking but you don’t point that out lest he change his mind. you expect kyo to grab a handful of rice. instead, he stands right behind you and cages you in his arms, putting his hands over yours to help you mold the clump of rice you already have in your palms. when you’re reminded of his curse, you quickly spin on your heels and push him away, dropping your rice ball in the process. to your surprise, kyo doesn’t seem remotely offended by your action. he’s more focused on the clusters of rice now scattered around your feet. a click of his tongue hits your ears before you hear him say, “you just wasted a good rice ball.” however, the expression on his face is free of disappointment—a small smile slowly curls on his lips as he waits for a realization to dawn on you and eventually, it does. “you’re…” you mutter in disbelief, caressing his face as if to convince yourself you’re not dreaming, “you’re not a cat…” at your reaction, kyo’s chuckles cuts through the momentary silence before he holds you in his arms, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head in wordless confirmation—this is real. and you immediately return his affection, not wanting to wait another second to bask in his touch. you don’t know which higher power to thank but you still find yourself silently expressing your gratitude like a prayer now that kyo’s curse is lifted. when you pull away, he reaches for the bowl of rice behind you. “this isn’t enough for the two of us,” he deadpans as if a life-changing moment didn’t just happen. you’re itching to ask him when he knew but you deem it a conversation for another time when a suggestion suddenly pops in your head. “we can go out and celebrate instead,” you say cheekily, “i’ve always wanted to try this cat café.” kyo rolls his eyes and you can’t help but laugh. “what?” you defensively exclaim in between giggles, “cats won’t cling to you anymore.”

ever since YUKI went away for college, the only time you’ve really had with each other is when he comes home to visit. you usually have an itinerary prepared but this time, yuki decides to ditch all that. “you have a surprise for me?” you teased him once on video call. yuki simply shrugged, laughing. you tried to coax it out of him but he didn’t budge. “if i told you then it wouldn’t be a surprise,” he countered and when you gave him a pout, he added, “i’ll just see you at home, okay? i love you.” so here you are now, sat in your living room while you wait for yuki to arrive. thankfully, it’s not long before you hear a click from the lock of your front door. “yuki!” you beam at the sight of him and he immediately mirrors your expression. you’re about to take his bags when he swings them out of your reach, carelessly dropping his things to the floor before he snakes his arms around your middle. in a panic, you freeze in his touch and soon, you’re attempting to shove him off of you. “yuki, your curse!” you cry but he only snuggles further into your body. and that’s when it hits you. the boy you love hasn’t turned into a rodent which can only mean one thing—there’s no more curse. you don’t know when or how and as hard as you try, you’re unable to form words to ask yuki about it with your emotions beginning to take over you. yuki only chuckles at your lack of response, “surprise.”

snap. HATORI immediately stops in his tracks upon the sudden sensation, “did you feel that?” “huh?” hatori is almost sure what he felt but he decides to brush it off at your confusion. “tori, you okay?” you ask, raising your hands to cradle his face but he involuntarily flinches at the closeness in case it triggers the curse. “sorry,” you quickly add. he shakes his head, declining your apology, “it’s fine.” you don’t talk about it any further on the rest of the way home but you’ve already reached your doorstep and he still seems distracted. you don’t want to part ways like this so you try again, “are you sure you’re feeling okay?” he doesn’t answer. “hatori?” “can i…” he starts before trailing off hesitantly. he doesn’t finish the rest of his sentence. without a word, he steps closer until there’s barely an inch between you then he wraps you in his embrace. “hatori, no!” you try to push him away in panic but you catch yourself in that same instant when you realize he hasn’t turned into a seahorse. holding your breaths, you both wait in silence for the curse to take effect but the next thing you feel is hatori’s arms tightening around you, making it clear he’s not planning on letting you go anytime soon. before your emotions can get the better of you, a chuckle is bubbling past your lips in relief, releasing any tension that has filled the air. “you have a lot of cuddles to make up for,” you tease hatori but your voice comes out weakly as you keep your tears at bay. and with you in his arms, hatori has never felt so grateful, “then let’s stay like this for a little while.”

“hi,” you beam at SHIGURE the moment he enters your home, “how was your day?” he doesn’t answer right away as if to ponder your question. “it was…” he momentarily trails off before adding, “interesting.” your eyebrows knot in confusion and that’s when you notice something’s off about him but before you can pose another question, shigure leans closer until he’s almost just about your eye level. “can i have a kiss?” he asks before he’s pouting his lips, sporting an effective pair of puppy eyes as you would expect from the dog incarnate. but all that effort only earns him a dubious look from you which elicits a dramatic sigh out of his mouth, “you know i’ve had a long day.” you can’t help but snort at his sulking but you eventually grant him his request. you’re careful to maintain a distance to avoid triggering the curse but in a swift and sudden motion, shigure pulls you flush against him as he kisses you with more fervor. your poor attempt to push him away does little to nothing against his strong arms that he can’t help but smirk against your lips. soon, he’s pulling away, his visage looking brazen as ever, “what’s wrong?” completely stunned and stupefied, you struggle to form the words on your tongue but a single thought plays in your mind—the curse is broken. when your eyes begin to well up, shigure’s cocky grin is immediately replaced with a smile so sincere that it’s such a striking contrast to the words that come out of his mouth, “we can do whatever we want.” then he’s kissing you again.

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [14]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 13 | Fic Masterlist | Part 15

"J-Jinjoo? Is that you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you observed the scars scattered across her body, wounds that hadn't been there the last time you saw her. The severity of her punishment was evident, and judging by the marks, it seemed unlikely they would fade anytime soon, if ever.

The younger girl smirked bitterly, "Are you happy now? All five of us have been beaten nearly to death, left with scars that will likely never fully heal in this lifetime. Mother will serve until the day she dies, and the three of us will pay for a good chunk of our lives!"

As if anticipating your inquiry about the former minister, she shook her head and balled her fists, "Father has endured enough beatings and torture to render him almost paralysed, and guess what? He's been exiled to god knows where. If you want more details, perhaps you should ask your husband about it."

Your heart sank at the mention of Seonghwa, "Wh-what do you mean? Your punishments were determined by His Majesty. Why would my husband be involved—"

She scoffed incredulously, "Did you truly forget who General Park really is? He sat back and enjoyed the show while we suffered, allowing the torture to happen. That absolute monster—he did this to us; he ruined our lives forever. I mean, sure, we weren't great to you either, but look at you now, Lady Park. It's all thanks to us that you're who you are today."

Noting your silence, she continued with a sly edge, "Though I wouldn't celebrate too soon if I were you. Who's to say when he'll show his true colours once he's grown tired of you?"

Before you could respond, Hongjoong appeared at your side, his tone laced with disbelief, "Worry about yourself first, peasant. Oh, the audacity of this young lady. Do you even realise who you're addressing? How dare you try to twist this around and play the victim? You and your family got what you deserved. Count yourself lucky that you're still alive and well, hm?"

The dressmaker turned to signal the factory owner and the elderly man immediately rushed over anxiously, "S-sir, what brings you to this part of the factory? P-please, allow me to escort you out."

Halting the man, Hongjoong gestured towards your stepsister, "This one right here was being disrespectful to Lady Park. Would you mind teaching her a good lesson for me? Otherwise, I may have to reconsider our choice of fabric supplier."

Suddenly realising her mistake, Jinjoo trembled like a leaf under the owner's stern gaze. He bowed repeatedly at you and your friend, "O-of course, sir! Rest assured, I'll ensure she never forgets her manners again. You have my word!"

As Hongjoong guided you out of the store, you remained silent, your thoughts swirling from the disturbing revelation that the general had been involved in the punishments of your family.

Walking alongside the dressmaker, the weight of the revelation bore down on you like a suffocating blanket. The image of Seonghwa, once your loving husband, now tainted with the sinister aura of someone who could watch others suffer without flinching, haunted your thoughts. Sure, you were there to witness him extracting the confession from your father, but you never fathomed that he would actually be involved in the subsequent punishment.

Your stepsister's words echoed in your mind, stirring up a cocktail of dread and uncertainty. Could it be true? Have you really forgotten the true nature of General Park? The man you had once trusted implicitly now appeared in a new, unsettling light. The realisation sent shivers down your spine as you contemplated the implications.

Fear gnawed at your insides as you entertained the chilling possibility that if he could inflict such cruelty upon your family, what would stop him from doing the same to you if ever he grew displeased? The thought sent a chill down your spine, leaving you questioning everything you once believed about the man you loved.

Throughout the remainder of the day, you remained unusually quiet, your thoughts clearly elsewhere. Hongjoong opted not to pry, deciding to wait until you were back within the safety of your home before broaching the subject. Despite his efforts to lighten the mood and draw a smile from you, it seemed futile. He was acutely aware of the impact Jinjoo's words must have had on you, especially given your delicate emotional state. After enduring years of mistreatment, he could see how trusting others fully must be an immense challenge.

Later that evening as you sat down for dinner together, he finally broke the silence, setting down his chopsticks with a sigh, "What's on your mind, Lady Park? You know you can talk to me, right?"

You paused at his question, pondering whether to confide in him about your inner turmoil. How would he respond? Would he be disappointed in you? After all, the general was his close friend. It seemed likely he would take Seonghwa's side and defend him. Though your husband hadn't given you any reason to doubt his affection thus far, his decision to hide this information from you must carry some significance.

"It's nothing, Hongjoong. Maybe I'm just feeling a bit weary after our day out," You mumbled, resuming your meal and hurriedly stuffing more food into your mouth to avoid conversation. He frowned at your behaviour and gently intervened, placing a hand on yours, "Hey, hey, slow down. The food isn't going anywhere; it's all yours."

With his arms crossed over his chest, he shook his head disapprovingly, "Who are you trying to fool with that lie? You might be able to deceive anyone, even your dumb husband, but not me. You were perfectly fine until you ran into your... into her."

You froze, caught red-handed in your attempt to deflect. You should have known better than to think you could fool Hongjoong with such a feeble excuse. Instead of scolding you, he softened, uncrossing his arms and leaning in, his eyes full of understanding.

"Listen, I'm sorry I wasn't there by your side to defend you earlier. I should have prevented all of that from happening today; it's entirely my fault. When I heard what she said to you, I knew it would affect you. And now, seeing you like this, I can tell I was right. Don't you dare believe any of her ridiculous words, you hear me?"

Setting down your chopsticks shakily, you turned to face him, despair etched clearly on your features, "But Hongjoong, what if there's truth in what she was saying? Wh-what if he eventually grows tired of me? Will I end up suffering like all of them too?"

The dressmaker didn't have the heart to berate you, understanding your doubts despite the internal frustration he felt at your stepsister for undoing all the trust you had in Seonghwa with just a few words.

He released a deep breath and offered a smile, "Have you forgotten everything I've told you about how he's different when it comes to you? He would never do anything to hurt you; I can vouch for him. As ruthless as General Park can be, he reserves that side only for those who deserve it. Your family deserves every bit of the punishment they received for the harm they caused you. You shouldn't feel any guilt for them, you know?"

Hongjoong leaned in closer, his tone softening, "Trust me, she's just jealous of you. It's obvious she's envious of the life you have now, and she's intentionally trying to stir up trouble between you and your husband. Don't let her get to you. You and Seonghwa have something special, something she'll never understand."

As his words sank in, you felt a slight sense of relief wash over you. It did make sense that Jinjoo would resort to such tactics out of jealousy. After all, her resentment towards you had always been evident. You felt ashamed for entertaining the possibility of your husband hurting you when he had only ever been good towards you.

However, the memory of the scars on your stepsister's body lingered in your mind, knowing the ones on your father and stepmother were even worse than what you've seen. While you recognised that your family deserved the consequences of their actions, the realisation that Seonghwa had played a part in their suffering made you feel sick to your stomach. Your emotions were in disarray; it was difficult to act nonchalant after learning the unsettling truth.

Despite the turmoil raging within you like a storm, you didn't want to add to your friend's concerns. Putting on a smile, you nodded, "You're right, Hongjoong. I must be silly to let her words affect me like this." You forced a light chuckle and went back to your meal, hoping to change the subject.

Though the dressmaker felt somewhat reassured that you acknowledged his advice, he sensed you were still troubled by what you had learned. He could only hope that with time, you would be able to move past Jinjoo's words. The last thing Seonghwa needed upon his return from war was to find his beloved wife fearful of him.

Damnit, I shouldn't have taken her there.

"General Park hasn't arrived yet, you say? Well, who would have thought he'd become such a loving husband? This Lady Park must be quite remarkable for him to—"

Rolling his eyes, the general heard the familiar deep voice gossiping about him from outside the main tent, where meetings would take place. With a loud clear of his throat, he pulled open the flap and entered, his presence immediately causing everyone in the room to straighten up, "I'm here now, Mingi. It would be great if you could cease your idle chatter and get to work at once."

"S-sir! It's been a while, you look good—"

"Save it, Officer Song."

Acknowledging the command with a salute, the taller man swiftly proceeded to the central table, laying out numerous documents detailing the strategies he had developed, "Yes sir, here are some of the plans I've drafted thus far."

Seonghwa nodded approvingly and approached him. As he listened to his colleague's explanations, a satisfied smirk graced his lips, affirming his keen judgement in promoting the right individual.

General Officer Song had risen to become one of the most esteemed military strategists in Joseon, all thanks to General Park's recommendation. Your husband was notoriously difficult to impress, but Mingi's exceptional talents caught his attention during a particularly challenging battle many years ago. Despite being a mere low-ranking soldier at the time, he devised a brilliant plan that ultimately turned the odds in their favour, leading to an epic victory.

"Ruhon is known to be rash in their decision-making; their impulsiveness is evident in their sudden attack plans," The taller man explained, his fingers tracing over strategic points on the map, "We can capitalise on this by striking where they least expect us. Through my research, I've identified blind spots that will catch them off guard. May I have authorisation to deploy troops to these locations, sir?"

The general nodded decisively, "I have faith in your judgement, Officer Song. You've never let me down in all our years together; I'm confident this time will be no exception."

"Thank you, sir."

Once all the necessary arrangements had been finalised and everyone had been briefed on their roles, the meeting came to an end. While the other officers and soldiers hurried off to relay the information discussed and carry out their assigned duties, Officer Song lingered behind, sharing a knowing look with the general.

Taking a seat beside the person he considered his friend and mentor, Mingi offered a genuine smile, "Congratulations on your recent marriage, hyung-nim."

Returning the smile, Seonghwa gave the taller man a pat on the back, "Thank you, Mingi-yah. I hope you've been well these past few years. Once this is all over, might I hear news of your own wedding?"

Blushing faintly, the strategist shook his head, "Unfortunately, I haven't found my one yet. But I am happy for you, general. Everyone in Joseon seems to know about your new wife and her difficult past. I'm just glad you found each other. I heard you were granted a few days with Lady Park before coming here. How is she holding up?"

The mention of his wife brought a pang of discomfort, evoking memories of your heartbreaking farewell. Throughout his journey to the war site, your husband couldn't shake the image of your tear-stained face, "She's... she's handling it better than I expected, or maybe that's just what she's showing me. When I told her about my departure, she didn't break down. Instead, she smiled at me with understanding and simply asked when I would be leaving."

"Huh, did she really?" Mingi mused, a hint of admiration in his tone, "I suppose now I understand why you're so smitten with her. It seems she's truly as delightful as the rumours claimed." Even from the snippets of what he had heard, the strategist could tell that Lady Park was indeed an extraordinary person, and he could see why Seonghwa held you in such high regard.

With a nod, the general's expression grew sombre, "Indeed, she truly is. But I won't lie and say I'm not worried about her," He admitted, "When she first arrived, I treated her poorly. I mistook her for just another spoiled brat, only to learn she's suffered a life far worse than mine. I'll never forgive myself for that. From that moment on, I vowed to give her nothing but the best. You know, I had plans for a grand wedding, a chance to make up for everything..."

Officer Song's face mirrored your husband's solemnity as realisation dawned, "Then this war happened..."

"Yeah, but that's not all," Seonghwa continued, his voice heavy with worry, "I just... God, what if I don't return to her? I've only just found her..."

Bowing his head, the general felt overwhelmed by his concerns. Mingi placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "Have you forgotten who you are? You're General Park of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior. If anyone can make it out of this war unscathed, it would be you. Trust me, you will make it back to Lady Park. And you better invite me to that wedding of yours." The strategist said, his words laced with a touch of humour.

Despite the weight of his worries, your husband chuckled softly, nodding gratefully at the reassurance, "Of course, Mingi."

Before the two could continue their conversation, a soldier barged into the tent, panting heavily, "General Park! Some of Ruhon's troops have been spotted approaching. We need you out there!"

Alright, let's get this over with.

Meanwhile, back in the general's estate, you found yourself in your usual spot in the pavilion. Lady etiquette books lay scattered around, forgotten as your gaze drifted distantly over the tranquil lotus pond.

Regardless of the overwhelming emotions that had consumed you the day before upon learning the truth about your family's punishments, you couldn't deny the longing in your heart for Seonghwa's presence. Being alone in the pavilion now felt even lonelier than before. Accustomed to his warm embrace, his absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill.

However, as you contemplated the absence of your husband's comforting presence, conflicting emotions surged within you.

No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn't shake the unsettling realisation that the same hands that held you close were also stained with the blood of countless others. Hongjoong's reassurances echoed in your mind, yet a nagging doubt persisted. While he assured you that the general would never harm you, your moral compass grappled with the knowledge that he was capable of inflicting pain without hesitation, regardless of justification.

It just felt so... wrong.

"Ah, is this the famous lotus pond you've mentioned, Miss Jang?" The unexpected voice startled you out of your thoughts. Turning to confirm your suspicions, you let out a loud gasp at the sight of the fourth prince standing before you.

You scrambled to your feet immediately, performing the formal bow, "Y-your Highness! What brings you here?"

Rushing up behind Yeosang, the head maid panted heavily, bowing deeply before you and shooting an apologetic glance, "Mistress, I am so sorry for not alerting you of our guest! His Highness showed up spontaneously without making an appointment prior and wouldn't allow any of us to announce his arrival."

Eunsook nearly had a heart attack when one of the maids informed her that the prince had arrived unannounced, waiting to be greeted at the entrance of the estate. Jongho was absent, having gone out with a few other servants to replenish household essentials. Rushing over, she found that Yeosang had insisted on surprising you personally, leaving her flustered and anxious. With her master now at war, it was evident to her that His Highness was attempting to make an advance on you.

The prince couldn't help but grin at how adorably confused and caught off guard you looked, "Yes, that's right. I wanted to surprise you, Miss Jang. Are you surprised?"

Quickly regaining your composure and summoning the poise of a noblewoman, you nodded, "I guess I am, Your Highness," You said before turning to dismiss the elderly woman with an assuring smile, "It's alright, Eunsook. I was growing slightly bored anyway. Come, Prince Yeosang, let me show you around, and you can tell me why you've decided to pay us a surprise visit."

Recalling his fondness for flowers, you led him through the winding paths of the estate's gardens, each turn revealing a new burst of colour and fragrance. Sunlight danced through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the well-tended flowerbeds, "Now, I know our humble garden obviously cannot compare to the ones in the palace, but I am very proud of our servants' hard work. What do you think, Your Highness?"

While your eyes remained fixed on the colourful flowers, the prince's gaze was captivated by you, his admiring gaze lingering on your graceful movements amidst the blooms.

"I agree; I think it's absolutely enchanting. While it may be humble, it surpasses the beauty of any of the palace's gardens." He remarked, his words carrying a subtle double meaning. He wondered if you could discern the implied compliment; he was indirectly comparing you to the royals in the palace. In his eyes, you outshone any of his sisters, his father's concubines, and all the potential candidates ever presented to him.

Yeosang found himself torn between amusement and slight disappointment as you appeared genuinely oblivious to the deeper meaning of his words. Your reply, however, pleased him, "Thank you, Your Highness. It seems you have good taste," You attempted a joke. Fortunately, he laughed in response, "I think I do too, my lady."

He halted his steps and turned to you, "I have a question," He said, and you nodded, encouraging him to continue, "Go on. Ask away, Your Highness."

"Even with all these beautiful flowers here, is your favourite still the lotus?" Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the lotus, a symbol closely tied to memories of your husband. Determined not to show any hint of turmoil, you nodded and answered steadily, "Of course, my prince."

The prince kept his smile intact, "Hmm, I see. Is it solely because the general dedicated a pond full of them to you?"

When you remained silent, he clarified, "What I mean is, if you had the freedom to choose, which flower would truly be your favourite? Instead of accepting what's given to you, I believe you should have the right to make your own choice." It was another subtle suggestion that you should be able to choose your own path, including your life partner, rather than conforming to arrangements made for you.

It appeared that you had grasped the underlying meaning of his words this time. You blinked rapidly as you gathered your thoughts before letting out a chuckle, "Ah, I suppose that hadn't crossed my mind," Shifting the topic, you continued, "Anyway, let us move on from idle chatter. Why don't you enlighten me on the purpose of your surprise visit, Your Highness? With my husband away, I'm unsure if there's anything I can assist you with."

Sensing your slight discomfort, Yeosang decided to get straight to the point, "Right, I'm aware General Park is currently away, bravely fighting for our country. That's precisely why I'm here—I was hoping you would be able to represent him at my upcoming birthday banquet. Her Majesty, the Queen, has also expressed her desire to meet you in person."

Your eyes widened at that, "Sh-she has?"

« Preview of Part 15 »

Feeling like you were left with little choice but to agree, you accepted the prince's invitation to his upcoming birthday banquet, scheduled just a week away.

Since bidding him goodbye, you had confined yourself to Seonghwa's study, burying yourself in your studies. The weight of the upcoming royal event weighed heavily on you. It would mark your debut in royal circles, and facing it without your husband by your side added to your nerves. Could anyone fault you for feeling anxious?

You contemplated seeking help. While Eunsook was supportive, her knowledge of palace affairs was limited. Would Hongjoong or Yunho be able to offer insight? Perhaps Jongho, with his years of service to the general, might have some valuable advice.

A light bulb went off in your head when you remembered San, the King's royal secretary. Surely, he would be the most knowledgeable about the matters you needed help with. However, your enthusiasm waned when you realised you had no means of reaching out to him. Moreover, you doubted he would have time to spare for a little woman like you, given his busy schedule.

Palming your forehead tiredly, you suddenly noticed a shadowy figure loitering suspiciously outside the study. Their silhouette, visible through the paper walls, didn't resemble anyone familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine. If it had been one of the estate staff, they usually would have announced themselves.

Jumping to your feet, you instinctively grabbed the inkstone from Seonghwa's desk, preparing to defend yourself. With cautious steps, you approached the entrance where the unknown person lingered, apparently trying to catch a glimpse of you, "Who's there? I know you're not one of my staff. If you do not reveal yourself, I won't hesitate to hurt you!"

Your yelp escaped when the individual abruptly swung the door open in response to your words, "Woah woah, it's just me!" He reassured, causing you to pause with the stone halfway raised as you blinked in recognition, "O-oh, it's you..."

Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he apologised, "I'm sorry for startling you, Lady Park. In case you forgot, my name is Wooyoung. I'm here on the general's orders to assist you should you need anything."

Dun dun dunnn! Wonder what Prince Yeosang has up his sleeves heeheeee anyway, I just wanted to tell y'all that I'm about to have another crazy week ahead. So, like this part, the next one is probably gonna take a while too😭

Also, Happy Lunar New Year to those of you who celebrate it! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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[love-of-the-red-star]

That time I got reincarnated as an Aeon

(Series)

Chapter eight: In which the Express celebrates the Day of the Dead with you

Dan Heng’s room was nothing short of simple and surprisingly comfortable.

You’ve been digging around the archives again after your short trip to your favorite desert planet, ready to contribute to the logs that made up Dan Heng’s archive.

He’d allowed you to touch the monitors and type in what you wanted, surprising even Himeko as he was usually rather cautious to let other people(usually March, bless her heart) roam around and touch his things unless they only wanted to read up on things.

You thanked him for that, of course. It was rather sweet of him to allow you to do this.

And so you typed away— made little personal notes on what the culture was like, and people that you also knew as yourself and not Delia. While Dan Heng’s records of Sigonia IV already existed, you were compelled to make your own as well, as a thank you to the people that had been so far hospitable to you.

You haven’t seen little Kakavasha in your visit, so you too wondered how he is now. He’s probably an adult— not so little anymore, growing into the familiar visage of “Aventurine” that you knew in your past life, but you hope it’s not the same horribly tortured man you know.

There was still discrimination, even a bit more than a decade since the freedom of this clan— they still warred with the Katicans here and there, but the disputes were more manageable, less genocidal as the Avgin were more protected by humanitarian groups.

But there wasn’t really any real interest for the cultures of people that had been long discriminated even with your intervention, and if no one was going to do the job of helping them at least preserve a certain view of it, you’d do the job yourself.

Sigonia IV would not be the only place that would stay in the archives for the other future Nameless to find, maybe one day you’d ask for Boothill’s planet, because while it no longer existed, you believed it wasn’t fair for it to die along with him.

You’ve made notes of it, here and there from what little you could get from some books that made mention of it and Boothill’s ramblings. While you could always consult Fuli for the rest of the things, it felt disrespectful towards your friend. You may be an Aeon now, but you knew honor— prying without your friend’s permission felt invasive, you weren’t a human anymore, but you know that kind of stunt wouldn’t be something he would appreciate.

Suddenly, you wondered about the planets you’ve accidentally destroyed, about the lives you had taken without meaning to, and the ones you drove mad beyond your control. Your typing still continued, undeterred by your silent grief as information flowed into the data bank without even a slight inaccuracy despite the difference in how you felt.

You should grieve for the ones who were lost, you thought to yourself. Glancing at the date present in your monitor, you found it was the best time too.

The Day of the Dead.

You’re not even sure if people even celebrated that holiday in this world. Maybe Halloween, but you doubt Dia de los Muertos, as the Latinos would call it, or Araw ng mga patay, as the Filipinos would say, is something widely celebrated in an expanded universe such as this.

Maybe you’d find a world that does celebrate it someday, but for now, maybe you’re going to be alone in giving acknowledgment and silent grief to the ones that had been lost.

You weren’t very close to a religion in your previous life as a human, but now that you thought of the holidays that gave people solace and something to celebrate, you began to feel a little strange that there was no god you could pray to as you were now technically one yourself.

Worshippers weren’t so bad now when you think of it as people laying their problems to a willing ear they can’t see or hear to give them the peace of mind they desired.

You finished up the logs, determined to plant the Avgin’s language inside of it next on the next time you’d touch the monitor. But for now, you had a goal in mind.

——————————————

Some researchers knew you as a grieving Aeon, with your cries reaching the far ends of the cosmos for reasons they sometimes don’t understand.

They observed you once again, mindful to keep their distance from hundreds of light years away as the telescope that found your distant visage caught on the fact that you were crying yet again. But this time, you’re quiet. There was no horrible song of lament that fried wires and caused damage, this one was silent, this one was red.

The liquid that flowed from what seemed to be your eyes was crimson, your lips pressed together as your expression looked forlorn. The telescope saw your hands move, then suddenly, nothing.

You did not want it to see you.

——————————

Setting up an altar was relatively easy, decorated with flowers you’d grabbed from a world away in the expanse of a mountain and a lot of candles you’ve carefully lit.

Lives lost in the fight of freedom, and the lives you took without meaning to. There were too many to count, and you doubt Pompom would like to have the train set on fire.

There were no pictures, no relics, there was simply you, the flowers, the altar, the candles.

Welt had passed by your room and seemingly recognized the decor, quietly joining your side as you started to kneel in front of the altar and mumbled something along the lines of a familiar prayer that he vaguely recognized.

Sometimes Welt forgot you were a human in your previous life. You’ve told him before, when you disclosed things about yourself to him and Himeko.

There was no god that you knew to pray to here, and to make it stranger, you were one yourself. Maybe you were trying to emulate it— old habits maybe, old bits and pieces of your human personality, and reliving specific memories. Or maybe you’re just trying to commemorate those you’ve lost in the way you knew a distant life away.

Welt joined you in your prayer. There is no god to direct his thoughts to, but there’s a strange sense of peace there regardless.

Welt stood up after a few moments while you stayed, lingering before eventually leaving the room.

“Why does it smell like candles burning?” March asked as she encountered him in the hallway.

“It’s for a celebration.” He said. “A day to remember and honor the dead.”

She looked a little confused. “Day to honor the dead?”

“Yes, you can join [Name] in their room if you’d like. It’s not a bad thing, although I can understand why you’d be confused— it’s not widely celebrated after all.” Welt smiled as March slowly nodded.

————————

You weren’t in the room for much longer, opting to head to the kitchen so you could make something to eat. You were there for at least two hours, and everyone seemed to leave you alone to your devices as you made some dishes you remembered from a past life.

Some comfort food, and fluffy bread.

You brought it to the dinner table with a smile as Pompom trailed after you to arrange the bowls and plates for everyone.

Once you were done, you made do of calling everyone in to eat. They don’t really ask why there’s a different feast of savory and sweet food on the table that was clearly not Pompom’s cooking.

Welt looked at you in a certain way that you know that he knew things, and you sent him an appreciative nod as you gestured for everyone to sit down and eat.

“These are some.. recipes that I know from my homeworld.” You began. “These typically aren’t stuff you would get when you’re celebrating the holiday in a very traditional way, but sadly my knowledge of cooking is… kinda limited.” You scratched your temple awkwardly.

“You don’t have to apologize for it.” Himeko said. “It’s the intent that counts.” She smiled, then placed some bread on her plate and stew in her bowl.

“You’re right.” You gave her a small smile of your own.

You failed to spot Dan Heng at the corner of your eye, looking at the bowl of stew in contemplation as Welt’s words sprang up memories of old friends lost in a life he didn’t want to remember.

Maybe he’d allow himself to grieve losses just this once, even if that person who’s lost those people in a distant life away wasn’t him anymore. Maybe for those that Blade had taken from him too in this life.

“Are you okay?” March nudged him gently, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He said, blinking and snapping out of his thoughts before sinking his spoon into the stew.

Dan Heng found comfort in its flavor.

—————————————

March had taken photos of your room with the altar after dinner, plastering it into her wall with the label “Day of the Dead” in earth colored frames that contrasted the aesthetics of her room. She didn’t mind as much, surprising even herself as she was rather picky about her own decorations.

However, this was something that you shared with them, and that mattered to her. She couldn’t remember her past, and so to have a small piece of someone she knew that saved her was a nice feeling because she didn’t really quite know you. She doubt she ever would actually know you in the way the older crew members do, but that’s okay, that meant she could know you through the new memories she’d create.

She thought of you for a moment and what you’d lost, and she also wondered about the past self she can’t remember. Did she have people that she lost too? Were there people that lost her? Were there people that missed her?

She remembered her conversation with you, a strangely solemn topic for a girl so bubbly like her.

“What do you usually do?” She asked, clearly referring to the little holiday.

“People usually prayed, then offered food and flowers to their dead and all that.” You replied. “I thought it’d be a little nice to honor the people lost along the way. It’s a thing in my old world to not forget the dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She found herself saying. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

“You don’t have to worry, it’s not offensive at all.” You smiled and patted the spot next to you. “It’s a pretty big celebration in my world, and in some countries it’d be a lot livelier than this.” You said as she went to sit next to you.

“They’d wear costumes and make up and bring out live music and everything. The food’s a lot better too I think— there’s too many for me to remember, so the ones I made weren’t the traditional ones people ate during that day.” You explained as she listened attentively.

“That’s okay, it was delicious anyways.” She giggled, shifting slightly to adjust herself before settling in comfortably in a few moments of silence.

“Do you…. Miss your old world? Ah— you don’t have to answer that.” March sputtered, realizing her mistake.

“It’s okay. And yeah… maybe just a bit. I’m not sure how to feel about it to be honest.” You said, glancing at the windows of your room.

She couldn’t see what kind of expression you were making, and so she found herself hugging you. There was something inherently sad about you despite your antics, like you’ve lost too many things.

You returned that embrace.

————————-

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX(HERE), Part X……

Interludes: one, two…

Special chapter: link

Yeeeeee hello y’all!!! Pushing this chapter out in celebration of All Souls Day! :DD

I hope all of you are well! Also I’ll be happy to answer any of your questions regarding the series, so drop any thoughts, don’t be shy <333

[f1goat]

more than friends + lando norris x part five

In which your best friend wants to help you so you get more sexual experience, but he discovers quickly that he never wants to share you and your new sexual experience with others.

masterlist - playlist

warnings: smut with a plot or a plot with smut? :) minors dni! i never proofread so probably grammar or spelling errors

requested: yes, based on: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things (ofc pretending for it to bot mean anything), while he’s actually in love with her

part one / part two / part three / part four

You can’t help yourself and stare at Lando, just like a lot of others are doing right now. He’s absolutely glowing and taking in the attention he’s getting. After his deleted lap time from yesterday, he came back stronger then ever. Right now he’s standing on the podium claiming his well deserved trophy for the second place in the race. You smile while staring at him. Podiums look good on him. Insanely good. 

“You did so good!” You almost scream when Lando comes to you later day afternoon. He’s still glowing from his podium. You can smell the faint odor from the champagne. You wonder about kissing Lando, will you taste it then? Lando doesn’t talk at first, he just hugs you. You continue to praise him in the mean time. 

“You know what this means, right baby?” Lando eventually whispers into your ear. You think back at his words from yesterday. Is he serious? “I want you to get into my drivers room, so I can get my celebration right after debriefing,” Lando tells you. 

You feel your cheeks heating up and reddening. Fuck. 

“Can you wait there for me babygirl?” Lando asks you. You can only nod as response, if you even knew what to say right now you’re sure the words would get lost on your tongue. Lando makes things even worse by pressing a kiss against your forehead. You wish you could feel his lips on yours right now, but you’re fully aware of all the cameras around you. Tomorrow - or maybe this afternoon already - you will see this fragment of your life all over your socials. 

Lando walks away from you. You know what to do now. Lando was clear about his wishes, and who are you to deny them from him? Without giving it a second thought, you walk towards the McLaren motorhome. It’s not hard to get into Lando his drivers room, probably because everyone around you knows who you are. Instead of talking to the mechanics who are still here instead of getting ready to party, you walk directly towards Lando his drivers room. They let you. 

In Lando his drivers room you suddenly start to feel a bit nervous. What does Lando expect from you? He made his wishes clear yesterday and today. Apparently he wants to eat you out? The thought alone makes you feel more nervous. Although you have no idea why. Lando is probably pretty good at it, so it will be more of a celebration for you then him. Right? Maybe it’s the thought of Lando coming this close to your private parts. What if they don’t look good enough? You try to shake off those thoughts. 

You know that a debrief can cost some time, so you try to kill the time by scrolling on your socials. You like every post about Lando his podium. When you see a notification from Lando popping up on your screen, you almost drop your phone on the floor. Is he serious?

Lando: 5 minutes babe

Lando: maybe you can already lose some clothes ;)

The thought of waiting for Lando while being in your lingerie only - or maybe even naked, makes you feel all kind of things. Your stomach is tightening by only the thought already. You don’t even realize that you’re already kicking of your sneakers. It feels like everything is happening on some sort of automatic pilot. You don’t even think about the possibility of other people walking in to this room. Even though the possibility is kinda high. You don’t care about things like that right now. In no time is the floor covered in the clothes you were wearing earlier. The only thing left on your body is your lingerie. It’s a black set, nothing to exciting, but it does look nice. You doubt a bit if you want to keep it on or off. Eventually you decide to take it off as well. 

Thank god for the warm weather today, because you’re already shivering from only the thought that Lando can come in any second. It feels weird to wait here for him while being naked. You realize that Lando never saw you naked before. All the cons are weighting up, but you can’t stop thinking about Lando finding you like this. Will this be what he expected? Or will this be a surprise for him? 

When the door opens you start to feel extremely aware of your surroundings and your own bareness. You’re relieved when you see that Lando is the one to open the door. He is quick to close the door when he sees you waiting for him. After that he’s even quicker to get towards you. 

Lando can’t tear his eyes away from you. He realizes that he’s staring and that there’s a chance that it makes you feel uncomfortable right now. But he really can’t look away from you. He never saw you like this before. All the things that happened between the two of you before, happened with you in clothes. He can’t say he didn’t imagine about your body before, but in some way it’s even more beautiful then he already thought. He lets his gaze go over every small detail of your body. 

He looks at your breasts and notices the way your nipples resemble small pebbles. He wants nothing more then to shower them in kisses right now. He wants to take your nipple into his mouth until he felt the hardness of it on his tongue, only to switch over to your other nipple after that. He lets his stare slide towards your most private part. You’re sitting with your legs crossed over each other, causing him to imagine the way your pussy will look. 

It can’t be right that you’re without a doubt the girl who has the most impact on him. Seeing you like this has made him rock hard in only seconds. His dick is throbbing painfully. He remembers himself that this is about you - and not about him. You’re the most beautiful girl he has ever seen, with and without clothes.

You feel uncomfortable when Lando doesn’t say anything. Was it a mistake to undress this far already? When you start to think about questioning him about it, Lando lets out a soft sound. You look at him. Lando is still taking in your body. You notice that he’s looking at you full with adoration, or are you making that up? 

Lando comes closer and closer to you. When he’s finally close enough, he eagerly puts his mouth onto your lips. He gives you a soft peck on the lips before moving the two of you towards the couch in the drivers room. Lando pulls you onto his lap, instead of normally this time he makes sure you face him. He doesn’t want your body to get out of his sight right now. 

He presses a kiss against your neck. “Fucking hell babygirl,” he finally mutters. Then he presses another kiss against your body, this time it’s to your collarbone. “I didn’t expect to walk into you being naked already,” Lando continues to say to you, “Such a beautiful surprise,” he adds before pressing his lips against your body again. He presses multiple kisses against your body, at first closely to your collarbone again but after a bit he moves his lips down. He’s getting close to your breasts. 

You’re already trembling under Lando his touch. Lando grunts. “Can I touch you babygirl?” He asks you. You’re quick to tell him yes. Lando takes on of your breasts into his hand, he kneads it while looking at you. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he tells you.

Your stomach tightens. You feel your cheeks reddening. Why are those small words doing so much to you? You’re glad that Lando isn’t paying attention to your face, because you’re sure that it’s reddish from blushing this much. Lando is busy paying attention to your breasts. He lowers his face to get closer to your tits. He is still kneading on of them. You almost jump up when you feel his lips against the other tit. He presses soft kisses against it, before sucking on the skin. You quietly follow Lando his movements with your eyes. It doesn’t take him long before pressing a kiss against your hardened nipple. After that he takes your nipple inside his mouth. Softly you feel him suck onto it. 

When Lando pulls back, you let out a soft whimper. Lando switches his movements. He moves his hand away from your breast, to put it back onto the other one. He presses kisses against your tit that he was kneading earlier. Before you realize it, your other nipple is in his mouth. 

It surprises you when you feel your pussy clenching. It amazes you that you even start to feel that you’re getting pretty wet. Lando his mouth is doing all kind of things to you, but you can’t complain about one tiny part of it.

Lando removes his lips and hand from your breasts again. This time he moves his hands downwards, he is quick to get close to your private parts. It annoys you when he doesn’t touch you where you need him, but keeps a bit above of the place. Suddenly without realizing it, you let out a soft whine. 

“What’s wrong babygirl?” Lando asks you. You notice the small smirk on his face. It makes you realize that he’s doing this on purpose. What a tease. You can’t tell him that, every word that leaves your mouth is begging Lando to do something about the way you’re feeling.

“I need you,” you softly whimper.

Lando lets out a low groan. Fuck, what you just told him makes him even harder. That’s actually insane. He moves his hands away from your vagina even further. He softly lifts you up and puts you next to himself onto the couch. Only to get of the couch himself after that. He takes your legs into his hands. Slowly he spreads your legs for him. 

You look at Lando. He doesn’t look back at you. All his attention is onto your slit. Before you can feel uncomfortable about it, Lando starts to shower you with compliments about it.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Lando tells you with a low voice. He lets his hand slide around it carefully. He makes sure that he isn’t already touching your clit or entrance, he focuses himself onto your lips. He enjoys teasing you a bit. This is his celebration after all, right? He looks at the frustrated emotions that you’re displaying on your face. He realizes that you really need him. Lando never wants you to need anyone else. 

He softly spreads your lips a bit with his hands. 

“So beautiful,” he continues to tell you. 

This time he slides his finger through your slit. It surprises him how wet you’re already are. He coats his finger in your slick. 

“So wet already,” he murmurs to you.

He presses a soft kiss against the inside of your thighs. 

“Is that all for me babygirl?” He asks you.

“Yes,” you tell him eagerly.

“Who’s the one who made you this wet?” Lando continues to ask you. He needs to hear you say it. He needs to hear it that this is all because of him. 

“You Lando,” you softly confess, “It’s all for you.”

Lando lets out a soft moan after hearing your words. He presses a few more kisses against your thighs. He moves a bit closer to your pussy, but makes sure that he isn’t coming closer then your lips. You let out a frustrated whine. 

“I need more Lando,” you tell Lando a bit ashamed. 

Lando presses a soft kiss against your clit this time. He’s quick to move away from it after making his move.

“More,” you whimper.

Lando grins. He softly slides his finger over your clit a couple times, but makes sure that it’s not enough. He presses more kisses against your inner thighs. Suddenly he starts to think about you begging him. The thought is making him even harder. He looks at you. How hot would it be if you ask him to lick you? 

“What do you need baby?” Lando asks you. 

He makes sure that his finger is laying dangerously close to your clit right now. Almost onto it, but still a bit too far away. 

“You,” you whimper.

“No, no,” Lando tuts, “I asked you, what do you need? What do you want me to do babygirl?”

You stay silent for a bit. Lando moves his finger even closer to your clit. Softly he touches it. It makes you tremble under his touch. It’s unfair what he’s doing to you. It’s even more unfair how fast he can make you feel like this. For a few seconds you wonder if anyone else can make you ever feels like this, you highly doubt it.

“If you don’t tell me baby, I can’t make you feel any better,” Lando teases you. 

“Fuck,” you groan, “Tease.”

“Just tell me babygirl,” Lando continues to tease you. 

“I want you to, fuck,” you stutter, “I want you to lick me.”

Lando doesn’t reply verbally anymore. He presses a soft kiss against your clit before starting to do what you asked from him. Slowly he licks around your pussy. He makes sure to lick every tiny part of it, before coming back to your clit. He presses another kiss against it, before using soft licks onto it. He makes sure that he’s not going to fast, but also not to slow. He wants you to enjoy this as much as he’s enjoying it right now. He increases his pace a bit after hearing you letting out multiple moans. 

In the mean time he slides his finger around your slit. He slowly brings it to your entrance, but doesn’t push it inside. Yet. Lando knows it’s teasing and maybe even a bit mean, but he needs to hear you beg even more for him right now. He has fallen in love with the desperate voice you used earlier with him. He wants to know that he’s the one who makes you feel like this and that you need him to come. 

You buck your hips. Hopefully Lando gets the hint. You want his finger inside of you. Maybe even more then one now that you think of it. Lando doesn’t response to your movement. You open your eyes to look at him. To your surprise he’s already looking back at you. Before speaking up, you admire the way he looks between your legs. 

He’s still making short licks onto your clitoris. Sometimes he switches and licks around your whole slit. But the things he’s doing to your clit right now, are the things that feel the best. Although, you can use a bit more.

“More,” you softly say. 

“More?” Lando asks you. You let out a soft whimper when he removes his mouth from your pussy. He looks at you. His finger replaces the movements his tongue made earlier. It still feels good, but not as good as before.

“Please,” you beg Lando. 

“Tell me what you want baby,” Lando states. He increases his pace with his finger. He likes looking at you while you look like this. You’re shaking underneath his touch. Moans are falling out your mouth like they’re your new language. Lando wishes he could save this memory so he could look back at it to see all the small details, again and again. His cock is throbbing even more painfully then before. He needs release as well. 

“How longer you take, how longer you will miss my tongue onto your pussy,” Lando tells you. He hears a soft whine leaving your lips.

“I need your fingers,” you eventually confess. 

“Ask me,” Lando tells you sternly. He can’t help himself. He has fallen in love with your pleads.

“Can you finger me?” You ask Lando softly with red cheeks, before Lando can say anything you add another word. “Please Lan?”

His boner almost explodes when hearing the soft please Lan coming from your lips. He doesn’t say anything anymore, he’s quick to move his lips back to your clit and to move his fingers to your entrance again. This time he licks your clit even faster. He hears moans coming from you. Is it bad that he’s getting addicted to that sound? He realizes that he wants to hear you like this forever. No one else should ever hear you like this he even thinks. 

Lando pushes one of his fingers softly inside of you. He feels your walls clenching around his finger. Easily he pushes in and out of your pussy. It doesn’t take him long before using another finger. He starts to finger fuck you with two of his fingers. In the mean time he focusses on eating you out. He softly sucks onto you clit. It makes you almost scream. 

“Lan,” you loudly moan when he sucks a bit harder onto your clit.

He doesn’t response verbally, he just keeps increasing his pace. Waiting for you to come. Your walls are starting to clench even more around his fingers. Lando feels how your clit is starting to throb inside his mouth. You feel your stomach tighten. Moans keep coming out of your mouth. You can’t stop yourself. 

“I’m close,” you tell Lando. He reacts by sucking harder on your clit. He moves his fingers faster inside of you. He notices a soft spongy spot inside of you and gives it all his attention from now on. You let out a hard moan. 

“Can I come?” You suddenly ask Lando.

He’s overwhelmed by your question. Fuck. It’s insane how it feels that you’re asking him for permission to come. In the mean time you have more trouble with holding back your orgasm. You feel waves of pleasure hitting over you. 

“Lan?” You quickly ask. 

Lando removes his lips from your clit for a couple seconds. No longer then necessary. “Of course babygirl,” he tells you before sucking harshly onto your clit again. He repeats his movements from earlier, but his eyes are focused on your face. He looks at the way you close your eyes when the first waves of your orgasm are washing over you. He notices the way your lips are partly open, only to let out a couple of soft moans. When you press your legs closer together, Lando stops his movements and pulls back. He doesn’t want to overstimulate you. At least, not today. It would be a nice thing to do in the future. 

Lando waits for you to say something. In the mean time he sucks your slit of his own fingers. He takes place next to you on the couch. You quickly lay down against him. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, “that was really good.”

“Glad that you liked it,” Lando replies with a small grin. His cock is still throbbing inside of his racesuit. “You tasted better then that champagne,” Lando tells you. You let out a laugh. Without thinking about it you press a kiss against Lando his lips, he is quick to turn it into more. When his tongue slides into your mouth, you taste the faint taste of yourself on his tongue. 

“Do you want me to do something for you as well?” You ask Lando softly.

“I wished,” Lando grunts, “but we have a dinner and a party to get ready for.”

“Maybe later tonight?” You suggest.

“I like the way you’re thinking babygirl,” Lando replies to you. 

“I just want to feel your lips on my clit again,” you confess laughingly. 

“Next time I won’t stop after your orgasm.”

“You think I can come more then once?” You ask surprised.

“You can add a lesson about overstimulation to the teaching plan babe,” Lando tells you jokingly, but none of his words are a joke. He wants to spend a whole evening between your legs and pull everything orgasm out of you that you have.

part six

this is my favorite part so far :)) hope everyone liked it!

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[steviebbboi]

Demon's Devotion

Pairing: Incubus!Lloyd x F!Hunter!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k~

Summary: A deal that should have been black-and-white has suddenly become grey. Swapping souls means swapping places. You just didn't think that meant to spend eternity with him.

Disclaimer: This is my submission for @yenzys-lucky-charm & @sweater-daddiesdumbdork Horny Hootenanny writing challenge~ sincere thanks to lovely Yenzy and Amber for being the gems that they are <3 I'm also going to submit this into my own writing challenge (lol) Stevie BB 200 Followers Celebration Writing Challenge . Anyone is welcome to join~

Dividers and banner by me :)

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't cute~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Minors DNI; dubcon, non-con, softdark!Lloyd (but mainly dark tbh), mentions of death, very slight slight mentions of infidelity, drugs, alcohol, Reader has low self-esteem/self-worth, demonic manipulation(?), Latin dialogue (cannot claim accuracy!).

Tropes/situational prompts: fantasy/supernatural AU, the villain/monster has feelings (or thots) for you

Kinks: size, cockwarming, belly bulging, praise, possessive, squirting, corruption.

Seasonal prompts: meeting a demon/ghost/witch on All Hallows Eve

Smut dialogue:  "You gonna be good for me?" + "I'm gonna make you mine" + "you love it like this, don't you?" + "If you only knew the things I want to do to you" + "Tell me you're mine" + "You wanted my attention, now you have it" + "Please! I can be good. So good for you. I promise" + “You belong to me now” + “Look at that, I think I broke your pretty brain, made you all dumb for me” + "Just a little more" + "Look at how good you're taking me" 

Other kinks: mild choking, spanking, overstimulation, dumbification; degradation, thigh fucking, dacryphilia, aphrodisiac/demon trance (if I missed any TW, feel free to lmk)~

A/N: this is the first time that I'm writing Lloyd too so I hope I did him some justice. Also, mild references to the tv show Supernatural (I do not own the lore of TGM nor Supernatural)!

The wood was splotchy– and itched against your skin uncomfortably as you sat on your knees. The ‘devil’s trap’ was intact as you leaned over to complete the chalk-circle. Quickly gazing over the symbol to ensure the correct sigils, you leaned back once more to close your eyes and take a deep breath. You tried your best to calm your body and connect with that part of you justifying the reasons behind calling upon a demon.

“Promise me that you won’t do anything stupid.” 

You cringed as you heard your ex’s solemn request echo in your thoughts. Yet again, you made a promise that you couldn’t keep. But this time, it was for his life. His soul. Your relationship was never perfect, and that’s certainly what nipped your romantic relationship in the bud, but you’ve known each other for so long…you couldn’t let him go through with it.

Broken promises was the cycle of your romantic relationship together – whether it was infidelity, drugs, alcohol, all the way to the end of the spectrum where it would also be just him going on extensive hunting trips without proper communication. 

You both knew that the relationship was doomed when it started. He wasn’t capable of showing up for you the way that you were ready to do for him. You knew that, that’s why you ultimately ended the relationship. 

And yet, here you sit in a mildew-infested, smelly, abandoned church on All Hallow’s Eve - ready to trade places with him. 

He was meant to do a lot of good in the world. He was a good hunter, a good brother, and a good friend. He was the main character in a story that you weren’t meant to be a part of, and that’s fine. You didn’t belong in his arc. You were a side character that had a stunted narrative for a while, but didn’t belong nor play any significance into moving the story forward.

When you heard the news about how he made a deal with the crossroads demon, it suddenly clicked on how you could actually do something worthwhile. You knew that he experienced a loss, a real hit from what you’ve heard. They fell in together not long after you both ended your relationship. While that fact spared no pain on your end, you did your best to stuff it down as he obviously loved her enough to have made that deal for her life. So you did what you did best, extended light and support through your pain. Feeling so selfish to have even felt a mark of bitterness.

A hunter’s life is a grim one. Everyone knows that any relationships that you do end up having either end in misery or in blood. But the value of something light and wonderful like love was tempting for people in the life. But, it always seemed to have a cost.

You were a shit hunter, maybe a mediocre person, but maybe, just maybe, your life could have purpose by doing this one thing. 

Something that just makes the pain that you have endured worth it. 

It was that purpose that hardened your resolve. Any lingering doubts solidified into genuine acceptance as you relaxed your body and invited a deep breath, “I summon you, anima daemonium. Anima obscura, i vocare te.”

You repeated the command two more times until you finally felt it. A warmth that seemed to grow steadily hotter which had you hiss in pain as you felt the sordid temperature through your jeans. The chalk circle in front of you started to beam this blinding, white light that illuminated the dark vast space for a few seconds. Your eyes couldn’t hold open for too long as you scrunched them closed in alert from the sudden, bright visual. 

The air in the room became thin and you could feel your lungs expanding to fill them up with as much air as you could with your breath falling heavier with each silent minute that passed. The silence was consciously loud as you looked around the still empty dark space. 

“Hmmm…now what’s this?” 

You heard a low rumbled, amused voice come from behind you. Your heart was beating so fast and you could feel your stomach just plummet to the floor. He was supposed to manifest within the circle…if he bypassed it like that completely, that meant that he was no ordinary crossroads demon.

A deep and intense fear rose up in your throat as you attempted to ground yourself out of your frozen state. You could feel your body tremble as you slowly turned your head to look over your shoulder only to find a looming, darkened figure standing directly behind you. Your gaze drifted upwards to find the identifying face to the haunting voice and you couldn’t hold back the gasp that left your dry lips. 

He was…human. A tall silhouette that exuded an air of danger and allure. His skin seemed to absorb the light around him, contrasting sharply with the piercing, smoldering gaze that flickered an ice blue in the dark. A chiseled jawline gave him an almost otherworldly handsomeness, while his full lips, donned with a daring mustache, curved into a knowing smile that hinted at secrets best left unspoken.

Your confusion to his form, and his looks, felt like an aside as you took in this almost invisible yet loudly formidable being standing over you. 

“Who are you?” Your lips moved faster than your brain could register any coherent thoughts. Your curiosity peaked the moment that you saw him appear in the space.

The handsome demon merely chuckled at your confusion before indicating towards his own body. “This meat suit? Mmmm, not too sure. A poor, unfortunate soul shrouded in his own darkness enough for me to climb into him and take over.” A resounding smirk followed his explanation as he narrowed his gaze at you with an interest that you couldn’t place.

You could only stammer out, “B-but, you’re h-human?” You looked over his figure again as he donned an unorthodox causal fit that you would never have pegged a demon, or honestly anyone, to wear. But with the way that he carried himself, the demon’s confidence was palpable. He was comfortable in this physical form, that’s for sure. The power that was exuding from him was staggering.

The demon cooed at your naivety, “Oh, sunshine. You have no idea who you’ve called and what you’ve just done, do you?”

He moved with a grace that was both mesmerizing and predatory as he knelt down to meet your petrified stare. There was an intoxicating aura about him, a magnetic pull that made it impossible to look away, even as a primal instinct warned of the peril he represented. His presence was electric, a heady mix of danger and desire, making it clear that this was a being not to be trifled with—a seducer cloaked in darkness, where charm and menace intertwined seamlessly.

You’re frozen in place in dual fear and pure fascination as he leaned forward into your personal space to clutch your chin with two fingers, prodding up your face for his invasive inspection. You weirdly felt awkward as you knelt before him under his scrutinous gaze. Piercing blue eyes were washing over the features, nooks-and-cranny, details of your face. Every so often, he would tilt your head to the side to inspect your profile, all the way down towards your kneeling body, and just smirk.

After 5 minutes of his torturous appraisal, he let go of your chin suddenly only to lean closer to your face. His pointed nose brushed yours so lightly, you couldn’t help the urge to look down at his mouth, feeling the hairs of his mustache graze your skin. But you could also see and almost feel the softness of his pink lips. His smirk grew on his face as if he figured something out as he turned to brush said lips against yours very faintly, almost teasingly. 

You gasped at the unexpected contact and a haze washed over you that you didn’t question and felt compelled to close your eyes. Almost as if you didn’t, you would pass out from the intensity of the contact of the potential of his kiss. You leaned in slowly as your mouth was almost waiting for the pressure of his teasing brush…but it never came. 

Coming back to yourself, almost like out of a trance, you gasped harshly at noticing the proximity between the two of your bodies and pushed against his chest to sit inside of the chalk circle to gain distance. 

Breathing heavy at how close you just were to this supernatural inane being, you cursed yourself for letting yourself get entranced into his allure as it hit you.

“You’re an incubus.” A sneer was released unconsciously at the realization. The demon’s smirk only softened at your disdained use of the term and his only response was to deeply hum in confirmation.

“I suppose that is one name that people know me by…but I sense that you may not be so comfortable with that. How about we go with…’Lloyd’?” He proposed as he stood up with his hands in his slack-pockets. 

You ignored his comfortable jeering to stand from your coveted position within the circle. “I didn’t call for you, incubus. I’m here for a crossroads demon.” You clarified sneeringly.

“And yet again, another name that people may know me by.” Lloyd said simply with another smirk on his face. He couldn’t help but let his gaze wander over your shifting body once more. You certainly looked like a hunter, but your ignorance and naivety gave you away at how utterly unskilled/trained you were in the craft. 

The realization made Lloyd’s dark soul tremble in excitement at the potential of catching a brazen, beautifully innocent, yet idiotic soul like yours. And to feast on one that looks like you, with an energy so devoting and submissive…he was suddenly ravenous.

The haze that you felt earlier felt almost like a white, hot energy that was wading towards you when you noticed ‘Lloyd’s’ gaze shifting over your figure once again but with this newfound hunger in his eyes. You shifted uncomfortably as your body responded to the shift in the air. You couldn’t help but close your eyes briefly in shame as you felt it…the wetness that was accumulating in your underwear. 

It didn’t matter that he was a literal sex demon who preyed on women– it was like all boundaries didn’t matter as you felt a similar urge to throw all inhibitions out the window, stalk over to him to have him throw you down on the dusty, creaking floor to just take you over and over again as you begged him for more. 

You shook your head to clear your sinful thoughts, knowing that demons can sense wicked thoughts– but to your detriment, Lloyd seemed to clock something about your tense and conflicted frame and suddenly inhaled deeply. 

You knew that you were caught when you saw that his cocked head straightened in discovery at smelling your arousal in the musty space. He released a deep grunt as his eyes rolled to the back of his head in pleasure. The atmospheric drop in the air was palpable and the room became so distinctly warm, you could feel sweat dropping on your temple at the change. 

Panting at the sudden rise in heat and thinning air, tears started to build in your eyes at looking over the demon’s now darkened gaze. He looked like he was going to attack you, and it didn’t scare you that you may lose your life nor was it that he would take you without consent. 

What was scary was that you wanted him to take you. You wanted to feel him in his own heat on your bare, naked skin as he thrusted his hard cock into your eager pussy and feel the supernatural strength of his grip holding your hands above your head. So much so that you wouldn’t be able to escape him. You didn’t want to leave him, you wanted him to devour you.

You tried to shake your head out of these fantasies and get back to the present but the heat wouldn’t let you. The haze felt so strong. You could hear yourself mumbling something about the heat and subconsciously took off the denim jacket you’re wearing in desperation to feel cool.

In your present view, you could see Lloyd walk determinedly towards you and you found a consciousness present enough to take a few steps back to the tops of the chalk circle. You knew that he wouldn’t be able to enter it, that’s why he bypassed it in the first place. A demon’s trap is meant to do exactly that, he wouldn’t risk losing his prey and enter the circle where you could easily escape. 

Almost as if he could hear your thoughts, Lloyd’s eyes narrowed in mirth as he released a dark chuckle and stopped before entering the circle. “Oooh, sunshine, you’re so cute to think that you could escape me now. You wanted my attention, now you have it.”

He took one dramatic step inside. 

Your eyes widened in shock, not being able to process what he was doing and you turned to run out but you couldn’t. 

You physically could not leave the circle as you felt an invisible barrier brush against your hands that were banging against them to desperately leave. “NO! What’s happening, no–,” you gasped out, tears started to roll down your flushed cheeks as you felt him close. What was worse was that even though you wanted to get away, you wanted him to get even closer. To keep you inside of the circle with him. Delightfully trapped.

A large, warm hand touched your shoulder and spun you around as you shrieked. Tears of panic and confusion were still streaming down your face. Using the sudden invisible barrier as a wall, you shrunk yourself against it as much as you could, trying to resist the confusing and tempting pull, but it didn’t work. Lloyd gripped your waist and pulled you tight against him, your body non-resisting to his touch even though your mind protested.

Your hands reacted to instinctively catch yourself against his suddenly bare chest. You released another squeak at the feeling of his skin. The heat of his naked torso felt so relieving against yours. 

“Just like you thought he would feel like…” You thought to yourself, eyes narrowed in its seeming haze. The part of you that was still conscious and afraid frowned at the feeling of his skin on yours. Looking down, the both of you were bare naked. 

“What- !” You shrieked, not even remembering when or how your clothes disappeared. A wave of insecurity rushed through you at the vulnerability that you were left with in front of Lloyd, who although is a demon, was shaped like a Greek god. You felt as if dignity was taken away from you as Lloyd’s hands wandered over the skin of your naked back and up towards the back of your neck. His touch was not forcing though, it was as light as a teasing feather.

You tried, you really did, to get away from his wandering, sinful hands but he felt so smooth, warm, and so comforting. The reality was that you didn’t want to get away as he kept you pressed against him where you could feel everything. His hardened cock that you weren’t able to really look at earlier was firmly pressed against the pudge of your stomach. You couldn’t tell where the intense rush of heat was coming from, whether it was this haze or him, but you felt it flushed in your cheeks at feeling Lloyd’s erection. The knowledge that he was turned on by you.

“Of course I am, little one. Look at you. So beautiful before me. Calling for me. I'm gonna make you mine.” Lloyd murmured seductively as he responded to your hazed thoughts. His other hand moved to grip the front of your neck carefully.

He wasn’t choking you, his grip was deceivingly light, but the promise of it was what had you whimpering in response. You just barely registered how he was able to give you a response to something that was being noticed in your head.

“What’s happening to me? How are you doing this?” The only curiosities that your clouded mind was able to circle around were asked as his grip turned your face upwards to sultry and lustfully graze your lips against his.

Lloyd wickedly grinned and hummed again before he murmured his response against your pillowy lips, “You’re sleeping, sunshine.” 

You could only look up into his mirth-filled eyes as you mildly registered the shock settling in your system. “No, that can’t be…I drove here and drew the circle, I called…” you drifted in your disbelief as Lloyd turned your bodies so that he was behind you. Your view no longer obscured by his taut body, you looked down to see your limp body…just laying there, seemingly unmoving.

Your eyes only widened more as Lloyd petted your hair soothingly, sensing your distress. “Oh my god, I’m dead. I’m. dead.” Flooded with panic, your body was frozen as your thoughts ruminated in a vicious cycle.

Almost condescendingly, he noted carelessly, “You’re not dead, little one. Your body is in what we call, the in-between. Or purgatory, as some may say.” 

A high-pitched ring sang in your ears as you tried to take in Llloyd’s words. “But, I didn’t let you in. I didn’t give you permission.” You remarked disbelievingly as you tried to recall the regulations and rules surrounding demon possession. It’s only if you invite them into your soul, do they insert themselves, almost brutally, into your physical body and spirit. But you didn’t say the words…

“Didn’t you though?” Lloyd deviously smiled again in response to your disbelief. He hummed against your skin as he proceeded to inhale your hair and down towards your inner neck. 

Unknowingly, your eyes closed deliriously as you felt his breath brush against your skin. Lloyd nosed your shoulder affectionately while he revealed mockingly, “Sealed with a kiss – a brush against the lips is all it takes to bind a human soul with a demon. And you, sunshine, are the sweetest soul that I’ve taken in a long, long time.” 

His cerulean blue eyes met your shocked filled irises as he witnessed the reflective realization wash over you. Noticing the tears in your eyes, Lloyd thought that you’ve never looked more beautiful than you did right then and there.

He cooed at you again and turned your frozen frame to face him once more. “Aw, little one. I promise to take good care of you. If you only knew the things I want to do to you.” 

Lloyd’s large hands grasped the back of your head to pull you hard onto his weathered lips. You were stunned at the sudden move but also couldn’t hold back the pleasured moan that left your throat at the feeling of his wet tongue caressing yours. You’ve never been kissed like this in your life– feeling cherished or owned by somebody…something else. And it felt so fucking good.

An insidious and sudden gratification came over your body as your hands clutched onto Lloyd's muscular frame to clutch yourself to his body. The heat felt overwhelmingly dangerous as you kissed the incubus demon with as much eagerness as he was extending upon your aching lips. 

You couldn’t remember the reason as to why you even came here in the first place, nor do you even recall where you were at that moment. All you could feel was Lloyd as he kissed you languidly and passionately. He was all that you wanted to feel. 

Breaking the kiss, Lloyd drew back but kept his hands in your hair to ensure his control. "You gonna be good for me, sunshine?" 

The only thing you could do is cry desperately as the warmth overtook your body once again. Feeling flushed and needy for his skin on yours, you wantonly cried out, “Yes! I promise I’ll be such a good girl for you, Lloyd. Please! I can be good. So good for you. I promise. Please.” 

You didn’t sound like yourself at all, but at that moment, you couldn’t find anything in you to care. You were desperate for him. You only wanted to be touched, wanted, and seen by him. Almost as if you needed him to know how devoted you were to giving him all of you, your soul.

Lloyd’s eyes rolled back in his head in derived pleasure as he smelled the desperation and need come off of you in waves. He nuzzled your nose against his with a gratified hum and said, “Tell me you're mine. You need to say it, sunshine, and then I’ll give you whatever you want.”

In one breath, you didn’t even hesitate, “I’m yours. Please, I let you in.” 

Hearing the words explicitly spoken from your pouty lips, Lloyd growled out possessively while granting you another deep and wet kiss. As he pulled back, his teeth bit your bottom lip slowly and seductively as he finished the deal against your pursed lips, “You belong to me now.”

A binding force tingled from your feet and up all over your body once his words were spoken. It felt ethereal and other worldly, but it felt right. You didn’t even recognize what you’ve just done as you have suddenly found yourself on your back, Lloyd kissing you so softly, it felt so contrasting to his demonic nature.

“I’ve treated all of my soul thralls as I see fit in the past. Though you, little one, are by far the brightest soul that I’ve come across in a millenia. Right when I saw you kneeling right by my feet, those eyes looked up at me so delicately. There was longing in your gaze that I needed for myself. Seems like you knew that you needed me too, hm?” 

You only could nod preciously against his soft lips as you pursued another kiss from him. Your tongue sought his as you battled for his attentive mouth, and before you knew it, just as you predicted and wanted, he was laying you on top of the chalk-drawn circle. 

Not even registering the cold harsh wood against your back, you felt so enveloped by his aura. Something internally shifted as you felt that warmth that radiated from your physical body internalize and bloom into something so wholesome, almost as if you felt that hole in your heart repair into a strong, full organ that wanted for nothing. 

You felt complete. 

A gasp escaped you as you broke away from the impassioned kiss. The warmth in your chest seemed to materialize all over your body, inside of you and out. A keening moan left your mouth as you felt the heat start to rush down to your core between your legs. Another gush of wet just seeped out of you and Lloyd growled as if he could feel it escaping too. 

You questioned him breathlessly against his impatient lips, “What’s happening?”

Another whimper left your throat as you felt this deep desire from before just amplify into something that felt not of this earth. It felt transcendent, ancient, and light. It felt like a high that tuned up the feeling of pleasure and ecstasy so that any brush of Lloyd’s skin on yours, the smell of him, the ridges of his muscular body, turned you on so delightfully.

Lloyd teasingly brushed his lips against the exposed length of your neck and you could feel his smirk almost seep into your skin with the following words.

“Our souls just became one, sunshine.” 

A brief moment of panic escaped that cloud of bliss that overcame your conscious body and mind. Sensing your panic, Lloyd cooed at you once more to provide a comfort that you didn’t know that you needed in that moment. A reassurance of sorts against the thought that this feeling between you in this moment was fleeting and temporary. 

“Don’t worry, little one. I’m yours just as much as you are mine. Forever.” His lips whispered against yours intimately before he licked into your yearning mouth, capturing your tongue in another heated dance. 

His words lit a fire deep inside of you and you felt your pussy clench on nothing but his promise. You gasped and tilted your head back in pleasure as Lloyd proceeded to press heated kisses down your throat and towards your breasts. 

“Forever?” You gasped out as your lungs tried desperately to breathe in more air. The conscious part of you incredulously realized that all of this made no sense to you. How was he able to read your body so well? Your thoughts? How is he able to impact you like this? Give you the greatest pleasure and burning desire that you’ve ever felt in your entire life? 

Taking a pert nipple into his mouth, his tongue brushed over the tip teasingly while you pressed his head closer to your chest at the sensation. 

“A soul contract is an everlasting bond between your soul and mine. You have something valuable that I need, and so did you. I just needed you to submit to me, give yourself completely to me in order to make the trade.” He spoke in between placing wet kisses on your sternum to switch his attention to your other breast. Blowing cold air on your nipple, Lloyd smirked and darkly chucked as he witnessed you tremble in delight. You sobbed at feeling the cold air brush against your warm skin, a temporary aid in relief for more.

“But, you didn’t even know what I wanted.” You attempted to recall the reasons as to why and when you summoned him. Although, you were unsuccessful as that part of you was dimming as time went by, especially the more that you felt Lloyd descend closer towards your heated core. 

Lloyd chuckled against the smooth flesh of your soft tummy and to your detriment, kissed his way back up towards your lips. After taking you apart with his fervent mouth once more, he gathered your clenched fists to hold them against the sodden wood in one strong grip. 

Your wrists were now caught in his powerful hold and he leaned in close to capture your yearning gaze. His eye contact was so intense as he stared back, even though he already had your soul, it was almost like he was trying to peer inside.

“You didn’t really want to save that piece of trash hunter, did you?” He kissed your cheek innocently as you felt a shock wave up towards your newly-filled heart. 

“How did you…? But I didn’t say anything about him…” Your shock was on full display as he continued to press small kisses over the frozen expression of your face.

“He abandoned you. Mistreated you. He left you for another woman, and you still wanted to go and save him?” He whispered darkly against the swell of your ear before pressing delicate kisses to your earlobe. Nipping lightly, he continued to murmur ominously, “He isn’t worthy of your loyalty, little one. So, I decided to take it instead.” 

A tear fell down your cheek at the feelings of loss and sadness, memories of your old life flashing behind your bewitched eyes. Lloyd quickly licked up the fallen tear with a growl, “He didn’t deserve you, sunshine. You and I both know that even though you came here for him, you really came here for yourself. You wanted to give yourself to something that could actually hold you. Tame you.”

Your deepest thoughts of yourself being verbalized by Lloyd in such an unconcerned manner brought more flashes to recent memories, it played like a movie in your mind’s eye. Moments where you felt that abandonment by your ex, hearing his resolute voice on the phone as he mentioned the deal with a demon for the ‘love of his life’, a woman who wasn’t you. 

Pressing kisses to the corner of your eye that was now freely leaking fresh tears, Lloyd made sure to nuzzle you in comfort, “But you weren’t meant for that life. A life that only involved the killing of creatures, demons– living a hunter’s life wasn’t what you were destined for, little one.” 

Your teary gaze met his confident blue eyes as he leaned over you once more, “Don’t you see, sunshine? You were made and meant for me. And for me alone.”

With that, Lloyd pressed his curled lips against you harshly and any traces of sadness or loneliness left your soul. A feeling of wanting to be possessed completely by him replaced the aloneness that came over you from before. It was like he was the only cure. 

Eagerly and recklessly losing yourself in the enriching feeling, you were almost inhaling his kiss as you pressed your naked body up into his. Feeling his erection against your inner thigh, you writhed against him to finally make him take you.

"You love it like this, don't you? The fact that I own you and now, I’m going to ruin you, little one." Lloyd groaned against your warm and willing skin. Shifting just so, you gasped as his hard cock brushed against your weeping pussy. 

“Answer me, my little thrall.” Lloyd allowed you to grind against his cock but just barely against your slit. Fucking into your wet and slippery thighs, you whimpered and tried to rock your hips closer to him to push him inside you.

“Yes! I love it! I need you to take me, please! I don’t want to be alone anymore, please.” You begged the demon as the tears returned, feeling this want and power surge through you as your soul and body fully submitted to him. It was so overwhelming. All you knew was that his possession helped smother the darkest depths of yourself from coming out. He welcomed you into himself and you gladly gave it to him.

Lloyd groaned quietly and deeply inhaled the darkest of truths that were emoting from your pheromones within the crook of your neck while he whispered seductively, “Ah, there it is. Thank you, sunshine. Shush now, my good girl.” 

He raised his head to look into your weepy eyes once more, “You’re never going to be alone again.” A soft smile graced the strong features of his face and a warmth full of genuine love blossomed inside of you at the sight. Around your repaired heart sat Lloyd’s genuine smile, such a stark contrast to darkness that you would’ve ever expected to receive from the incubus. 

The warmth only expanded as Lloyd pushed his cock inside of you with one smooth thrust, your wetness facilitating the most pleasurable union. Instantly, your eyes rolled back in complete bliss as you were so worked up, it was the feeling of his girthy cock just sliding inside of you that made you come undone. You cried out in pure ecstasy and a ringing sound numbed around your ears where you could barely hear Lloyd’s wicked chuckle as he praised you for surrendering yourself to him. 

He didn’t stop thrusting inside of you, not even when you clenched around him so tightly that he gritted his teeth at the sensation. His cock was stretching you out and hitting spots deep inside of you that no lover ever could– the gratification of finally being joined together was just too much. His hands weren’t idle as they caressed your breasts and roughly groped your waist, down towards your plush ass where he slapped the reddening flesh. 

He slapped your ass again and tilted his hips so that you could feel him go even deeper. You released a squeak at the novel feeling and Lloyd took that as his opportunity to slow his pace, but not lessening the controlling grip that he had around your waist. You marveled and whimpered at the thought of seeing his marks on your body later as you tore you apart. 

Going deep and slow, his thrusts became harder and your body jolted with every thrust he gave you as you were inundated with how good his cock felt, finally reaching the spot inside of you that made your mind go blank. It activated that switch where your body just went limp and you felt even more vulnerable to the demon’s ravaging. You didn’t even care to feel embarrassed by your loud moans and whimpers, nor the drool that was escaping you. Your eyes simply rolled shut as you lost yourself in the consistent press against your g-spot. 

“Aw, look at that, sunshine. I think I broke your pretty brain, made you all dumb for me.” Lloyd had a smug smirk on his face, accentuating his intimidating presence even more. 

You could only release quiet ‘ngh’s as if in a trance as he continued to fuck you hard and deep. The knot in your stomach started building again as tears of heartfelt satisfaction and adoration filled you once more. You couldn’t describe it, but it was like Lloyd was fucking you with purpose and intent to show you that you were truly made for him. Almost as if he already knew all of your kinks and was exploiting them for proof– evidence that he will always be what you need. 

“Thaaat’s it, just a little more," he groaned out and readjusted his grip so that he could tilt your hips just right until your eyes opened in startled ecstasy, a cry leaving your lips as his cock went even deeper. “There you go, my little thrall. Look at how good you're taking me." He gestured to the slight bulge protruding from your lower stomach. The sight of his cock being that deep inside of you was what had you shatter around him for the second time.

You released a guttural moan as you let go, barely coming down from your orgasm when Lloyd decided to rub your swollen, drenched clit with the rough of his thumb. Your back arched and your legs thrashed until Lloyd held down your body and fucked you faster with his thumb still placing frantic pulses on your bundle of nerves. 

At your limit, your face contorted into an expression that can only depict unrestrained and unexpected bliss as you screamed out your orgasm, squirting all over Lloyd’s wide cock.

The feeling of your sopping cunt gripping his cock made Lloyd release a dark, guttural and infernal roar as he came inside of your still pulsing channel. He gave you three more half-hearted thrusts as his spend leaked around his cock, inadvertently pushing his cum deeper inside of you. 

Lloyd caressed your trembling thighs soothingly as he also attempted to catch his breath. He couldn’t help the last resounding smack against your supple flesh as he noticed your fucked out expression. Eyes wilted with pleasured exhaustion, your body shaking as exhilaration died down.

“You're so beautiful like this, sunshine." He moaned adoringly as he pulled his half-hard cock out of your still quivering pussy. You moaned at the loss of him and could feel your shared cum dripping out of you.

“Mmmm, a sight that will never tire me, I’m sure.” Lloyd groaned out deeply with his smirk still upon his pink lips. He leaned over you for a moment to continue taking in your post-coital glow. He pressed a hand to your chest covering your heart and shuddered at the warming feeling it brought him under his palm. 

What you would find out later is that every sensation that you felt, he felt. Your thoughts were now his thoughts too. Your desires were his. While you were exhausted from your soul celebrations, the enmeshment gave Lloyd an invigorated rush of power. He only took pieces of you with every orgasm he gave you. Your heightened arousal would become his, and so on, everytime that he would take you.

The way that his own empty hearted chest filled with a lightness and charge that he’d never felt before since his existence. He knew that he would, indeed, keep you forever.

Lloyd genuinely smiled in satisfaction as he felt power rushing through his veins. Nuzzling your flushed cheek with affection, he murmured, “Now, little one, let’s go home, shall we?” 

Final A/N: Welp! that happened. I originally was writing this SoftDark!Demon!Lloyd as a stand-alone from this poll but when the Hootenanny challenge was announced, I thought it would be a perfect fit 😈 Hope you enjoyed reading this ficlet, and reblogs/comments are very welcome~

Tag List: @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @mercurial-chuckles @caplanbuckybarnes @autumnrose40

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[lucvly]

can you do hcs of being chris’ gf and also matt’s and nick’s bff

— being chris’ girlfriend + matt and nick’s best friend. ⸰ ��� ͙

warnings: fluff, cursing, suggestive, not proofread.

a/n: i love this omg?? keep feeding into my delusions please and thank you.

— most times, you help them film their videos. you’re not really in them but they all love it when you’re their camera girl.

— when you’re at their house, you have to hang out in chris’ room, otherwise nick and matt are constantly talking to you.

— sometimes you’ll be in the pool with nick and forget your phone around the house, then when chris comes home looking for you, he just finds you out with nick. (“jesus, i thought you got kidnapped or something.” “by your brother, yeah.”)

— movie nights with chris start off normally, just you two cuddling on his bed and watching a random movie you picked out, but somehow nick and matt end up crashing it. chris gets so pissed because they’re interrupting your date but you have to reassure him that it’s fine.

— you’re always in their photo dumps LMFAOO. most of the time, their comments are filled with “spot y/n challenge go.”

— you and chris can’t have a proper date in his house because nick and matt always crash it. so you end up having to hang out at your place or coming up with outside date ideas (museums, picnics, etc.)

— one time you and chris were making out in his room, you were straddling his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck, his hands were on your waist— then suddenly, a loud scream from the door. shit. matt.

— “the door wasn’t even open.” “well it definitely wasn’t shut either, kid.” “shut the fuck up matt.” “dumbass.” “what did you say?”

— sometimes you and chris peacefully fall asleep on call, then you wake up at 3 am because matt stole his phone. he ends up begging you to go to the gas station and get slushies. you do.

— you three have a groupchat LMFAOO chris hates it because matt, nick and you always gang up on him.

— whenever they get in arguments with each other, it’s possibly the worst day of your life. all three of them tell you their side of the argument. (of course you side with your boyfriend, but you appreciate their trust in you LMFAOO.)

— you’ll get calls at midnight from matt asking you to get rid of chris because he’s being extremely annoying. followed up by a call from chris telling you to not listen to matt.

— you go with them on tour obviously. you and chris sleep together despite both of you having your own little bed.

— i feel like chris would be the clingiest boyfriend ever gn, especially if you’re best friends with his brothers LMFAOO.

— you’re always hanging around his house without him even knowing it. this one time he was out for whatever reason and when he came back he found you and matt in the backyard playing pokemon go. safe to say he was confused.

— on a certain occasion, you and chris were baking cookies. after you took them out of the oven, you left them out on the counter to cool down— big mistake. when you came back five minutes later, the cookies were long gone. chris was pissed.

— whenever chris wants to plan some grand gesture or big date, his brothers help him 110%. on one of your anniversaries he filled your room up with balloons and chocolates. like, on an insane level. after the whole celebration you had to call and thank nick and matt for the help.

— despite them denying it, matt and nick think your relationship is so cute. they’re your #1 fans honestly.

— ^ which means they take pictures of you all day every day. chris sends you random ass pictures of you two it’s so funny. (“look at the pic matt took of us lol” “when did he even take that hello????” “idk but we look so cute”)

— chris is head over heels for you and he loves that you have such a good relationship with his brothers. it makes everything a lot easier since you can tag along to trips, tour, and just be with him a lot more.

— whenever chris posts you on social media, he posts the cutest couple pictures. however, the comments always include matt and nick with something along the lines of (“PARENTS” “you’re both disgusting” “get a ROOM”)

[stylescine]

Harry styles and y/n getting married in Italy and y/n have a bit of a baby bump around 2 weeks pregnant with their first child together

this is just pure fluff and i love harry with a pregnant reader.

reader is around 3 to 4 MONTHS pregnant here!

Masterlist | Request

Words: 1.3k Warnings: just fluff

This was without a doubt the best day of her life.

Harry and Y/N had decided to have their wedding in Italy almost two years ago. The country had always been special to them. They had spent countless vacations there and she had been able to look over his shoulder when Harry was writing most of his album on the beach or in their shared home in the countryside.

They had tried out every gelato shop in close proximity and had made friends with a lot of locals a long time ago. Italy almost seemed like a second home at times, especially when the pressure and pain of every day life seemed unbearable.

Together they had arranged everything in an instant via phone calls and e-mails. It wasn’t easy to plan a wedding from so far away but that didn't take away from how beautiful it was in the end.

The wedding was a success and without a doubt the most beautiful day of their life. They were officially married now, on paper, and in front of all their friends and family. Now it was time to celebrate and celebrate they did.

But there was more than just the wedding to celebrate. Harry and her had been trying for a baby for a while. And then one day, she held the pregnancy test in her hands, sitting on the bathroom floor with her back against the bathtub and tears of joy streaming down her face. She could hear Harry cook downstairs, the TV playing in the background, and she knew that he would drop everything as soon as she would tell him.

Y/N told him as soon as she had been able to wipe her own tears and made the way to the kitchen. "I need to talk to you, darling," she said softly and Harry turned around in an instant.

He was wearing a big hoodie and sweatpants as he always did when he was relaxing at home. He had been home for a few months and they had used that time to focus on planning their future and their family.

"What is it, love?" Harry smiled, leaning against the counter behind him.

"Here," she whispered, her voice suddenly failing her. She could feel the heat climb into her cheeks as she handed the pregnancy test over to Harry. They had shared countless moments in the bathroom with a negative test in their hand, but they didn't give up and now? She was able to make them both the happiest people on this earth.

It took Harry a moment to realise what was happening as his eyes focused on the stick in front of him. "Two lines mean positive, right?" His voice was quivering and Y/N stepped closer, placing her hands on his arms. "Yes, darling," she whispered and her fiancé's eyes filled with tears in an instant. The pregnancy test was discarded quickly and Harry's arms wrapped around her. He picked her up with ease, holding her close and burying his face in her neck. "Oh my god, I can't-"

His words were lost against her lips when she turned his head and kissed him. "We're going to have a baby," she laughed, the tears rushing into her eyes again. She was sure it wasn't just the hormones this time – this was the genuine happiness she had been chasing after for so long.

Today, on their wedding day, it was hard to hide the baby bump by now. Her dress still looked absolutely perfect, the curve of her stomach definitely didn't take away from it.

Harry seemed to think the same as he approached her from behind, arms wrapping around her as his hands rested on her baby bump. "How are you two feeling? I hope you aren't too tired to dance yet."

Even if she was, Harry would take no offence in it. Ever since they had found out about the pregnancy, they were even more careful with their lifestyle and Harry tried to help her wherever he could. He was understanding of her mood swings and food cravings, always on track to help her where he could. Even if it meant running to the grocery store in the middle of the night to get her pickles.

"We're good. Not too tired yet," she replied and turned her head to the side to get a better look at her husband. A loose curl was hanging onto his forehead, but she couldn't contain the heat she felt in her tummy at the sight of him. How was Harry able to look this perfect all the time?

"Maybe we could check out the cake together?" He suggested as soon as Y/N had turned around to face him. Harry was wearing a black suit, all traditional. His nail polish matched her own and the ring on his finger seemed like it had always belonged there. "I think our little prince or princess would like that too," she agreed with a smile, interlacing their fingers and heading to the table filled with cakes and cupcakes.

Their wedding wasn't extremely big, but there were a good amount of family and friends here anyway, so they had made sure to have enough food for them all. And maybe Y/N would eat more than just one piece of cake now, given the circumstances.

Harry grabbed a piece for her first and then a plate for his own. "Let's go outside, shall we?" He asked and she agreed in an instant. There was a balcony overlooking the ocean as part of their venue and they had wanted to take a few pictures there later.

It would also provide them with a bit of privacy before the dance.

Harry opened the glass doors for her and she stepped over the threshold with her dress, careful not to trip. In front of her, the sun was starting to set on the horizon and its light was reflecting off the water ahead of them. They had chosen a location by the ocean on purpose. It would make for great pictures and the memory of celebrating here alone would make her feel all warm in the future.

She leaned her back against the rail of the balcony, slowly starting to eat away at her piece of cake. "It's so delicious," she hummed, actually holding back a satisfied moan.

Harry's lips turned into a pleased smile and he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to his wife's temple. "Of course it is. You decided what it would taste like," he teased and continued to eat his own piece of cake then.

He was glad they were able to get a bit of time for themselves. It was great to celebrate with their families and friends, but he also wanted to talk to his wife alone every now and then.

His eyes wandered over her dress, down to her belly. He placed a hand on top of it, thumb moving back and forth gently. "I can't wait to start this next chapter with you, darling," Harry whispered, leaning closer to place a soft kiss on her lips.

Y/N couldn't hold back her own smile. They had been together for so long and now finally having a child and being married seemed like the right step to make into their future. Of course, they would have to navigate Harry's career and a child, but she had no doubts that they would manage it perfectly.

"Me neither. And I'm glad it's you I'm doing all of this with," she replied, placing her plate down on a nearby table before she reached out to cup Harry's cheek with her hand. He kept a bit of a stubble at the moment and it looked so good on him.

"I love you, H."

"I love you too. And our little prince or princess." Harry's eyes filled with tears, but she didn't worry about it.

Those were definitely tears of joy.

[cheeseceli]

I'm not letting go

Pairing: Min Yoongi × Gn!reader (individually)

Genre: hurt/comfort, drabble

Prompt: “The only thing that is harder than sleeping alone is sleeping with your ghost”

Warnings: almost heartbreak, pressure of media (about your relationship), established relationship, not proofread.

A/n: don't be like the "fans" here!! Let idols date😭 | daily click

Yoongi has always been scared of falling in love. Not because he was scared of being hurt or abandoned, or falling for the wrong person. He was scared of it feeling good.

He heard the stories before. People falling in love and suddenly life has meaning. People sacrificing everything for the sake of a relationship and he was scared of this. Imagine being so unconditionally in love that you don't recognise yourself unless you're in someone else's arms? Yoongi didn't want to feel that. Sadly, he can't control the heart.

When you showed up in his life, he would've never imagined the impact you would've had. Every little action and thought of his was somehow linked to you, just like yours were to him. At some point, it was like you were slowly becoming one. And he liked it.

He truly enjoyed the feeling of belonging somewhere. He loved the fact he could go to bed smiling just because you wished him good night. God, he loved you. And although it took him time to admit it, that's a statement he's never taking back, even if that's precisely what the people wanted of him.

Gossip never fails on being fast when it's spreading itself. And the lies are also surprisingly quick to make an appearance. "Suga of BTS is spotted with a non celebrity on a date" is a title that sells a lot. "What a gold digger" is also a quick yet bold statement, that to not mention other people's opinion. People loved to intrude in Yoongi's life, and he could take it. But it was too much for you.

Especially when the company barged into your door, demanding you to sign a NDA about all the rumours. That was probably the worst part.

When you agreed to dating Yoongi, to dating Suga, you were well aware of his life as an idol. He had to work a lot, he'd be constantly overseas, you'd need to be discreet. But you were not prepared for the insane inhumanity that came along with fame. You were also not ready to see staff and managers trying to take over your life.

That's how Yoongi found himself on his bed, alone and without a single goodnight message. Today was particularly harsh on you. The company thought it would be better to break you two up and just tell the media they were wrong about the photos that were leaked. The fact they just sent you home while you were broken hearted was something that still lingered on his mind. And he still doesn't know why he didn't do anything about it.

Yoongi truly didn't want to fall in love. Simply because it was too good. And now, the best he ever had was being taken away from him. He could endure being alone, but feeling your ghost wherever he goes is just too much. That's precisely why he decides to wake you up by knocking at your door at 3 am.

"What are you doing here?"

That was it. No smile at his sight, no hugs, not even confusion. Just pain laced in your voice. Oh, how he hated all of that.

"We didn't break up, did we?"

"Your company said we should."

"But did we?"

You sighed. It was clear all that situation was exhausting you. But you still answered the door. You were still there. There was still hope, right?

"I don't know if I'm worthy of all this trouble, honestly. The messages I'm getting from the managers ain't any better from what I read on the internet. And that's your job at the stake here. I'm sure it's all way worse for you."

"So we're still together, but you think that's a mistake?"

"Not a mistake. No, never that" you breathed in and closed your eyes. Just this sight was enough to break a man's heart. "But it would make things easier for you."

"When has anything in my life been easy, Y/n? I don't care about that. Unless you explicitly tell me that you don't want anything to do with me anymore, I will not let you go."

"What about the hate comments?"

"I can sue every single one of them."

"And your company?"

"What are they gonna do, fire me?"

You laughed at that. Even if that happened at the same time your first tear rolled down, Yoongi was relieved to see your smile.

"You're too stubborn, did you know that?"

"It pays off." he said while he finally closed the distance between the two of you, embracing your figure into a hug. He missed the way you would circle his waist with your arms, how you'd hide your face in his neck. He missed you.

"Don't ever go to bed without wishing me a good night ever again."

"Noted." you smiled "I won't."

Masterlist | you'll probably like: sing to me

Thank you for reading!

Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @butnotmontana @lelewright1234

Dividers by @cafekitsune | images 1, 2 and 3

[bubble-dream-inc]

i walk the line.

You had joked with Ghost before about getting married, never with a tone serious enough for it to be taken into account, even if it was something you dreamed about whenever you were alone with your thoughts. What you hadn’t expected was the question to come up at such an inopportune time. 

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Sergeant Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 2.1 K

a/n: i hate giving my fics titles so just assume the song in the title is the vibe i want the fic to have lmao. also this is unedited and not beta read so beware of typos and shit

warnings: estabilished relationship, profanity, whump, description of wound, mentions of death, badly timed marriage proposal, medical inaccuracies, fluff, happy ending

It’s cold.

No, scratch that. It’s fucking freezing.

God, you hate the cold. Considering how much you despise it, it amuses you to think you might have been a desert creature in another life. A lizard, maybe. The types to scurry really fast and eat small insects all day. What a life.

You’re lost in your musings but you think there are a few very faint voices calling for you. Where are they coming from? Above? Seems like it. First, you hear their voices getting clearer, and recognize a word. It’s your codename, meaning, it’s your teammates voices. But why do they sound so agitated? Next, you feel pain. Quickly rising, scorching hot pain in your abdomen. 

Oh, that’s right. You were shot.

A scream echoes out wherever you are and only later you’d recognize it as your own, in the same moment you recognize Ghost’s own booming voice frantically calling out for you, and the heavy weight of Soap’s large hands holding you down so you wouldn’t trash as much. It had been ironic, really, how much the mission went smoothly, 99% of it being completed without a hitch, but right as you were about to celebrate success, some fucker neither of you had seen before had decided to put a bullet in you - any of you - blindly, and it so happened it would hit you. The offender was long gone, a throw knife lodged in his skull as quick as a blink of an eye in the split second after the gunshot was heard, but the damage was already done. A few seconds before it happened, you had groaned how much you couldn’t wait for evac to come so you could take a hot shower and sleep, since your bones were aching, and Gaz had laughed and called you old-spirited. So much for that shower, you think as you take in the surroundings of what you could see of the abandoned safe house from your position on the blood stained table. It was painful to think about if that same table was used in the past for a family reunion or to gather folks around for good news, before hell broke loose and war tore apart the people, so you didn’t think about it. Ghost called your codename again and you cast your eyes downwards to look at him, the fear in his eyes sending a chill down your spine.

“Hey! Talk to me, don’t you dare close your eyes!”

You had screamed as he was removing the projectile from your flesh, you realized. Was not your first rodeo, a thought that made you want to laugh bitterly, but just the idea of laughing made you wince in pain. His hands were currently trying to stop the bleeding, and after taking one look at the wound, you suddenly felt at peace. 

It was pretty shitty you were going to die in an equally shitty safehouse, but that’s the life you chose. So, against your better judgment, you chuckle lowly and decide to follow your superior’s orders.

“Keep talking, eh? Alright.” You groaned once more when he applied more pressure to your gaping wound. “L.t, do you- do you remember when i told you…I wanted to retire early and - fuck - get to the countryside and get a big ass dog?”

He looked up at you briefly, glad you were talking but clearly wondering where you were going with this. You knew he hated when you spoke of the future as if you were going to die - which, right now, you were pretty sure it was really happening this time - but you couldn’t help yourself. Of course he remembers that conversation, it was in the beginning of your secret-not-so-secret relationship. You had asked him what he would do if he wasn’t a soldier, and he had given you a very cryptic and vague answer that resembled a lot like nothing. In turn, you told him your wishes half heartedly, as if thinking of living for 10 more years was a very distant dream. 

The relationship between the 141’s Lieutenant and one of its Sargeants was a sort of urban legend going around. People knew it was happening, but didn’t dare speak of it, and no one had ever really seen any proof of it, so, it was best to avoid prying into Ghost’s private matters as to not risk being at the receiving end of his annoyance, and, in turn, you both found solace in having something that only the two of you knew about. It never hindered your professionalism and it had been going on for a few good years now, so it became somewhat naturalized between the folks coexisting in the same space as you and Simon after a while. However, that never stopped the natural curiosity to flourish in a few people - namely, your comrades, who always knew there was something going on given the fact you’d literally look at your superior with hearts in your eyes - so you had to ignore Gaz and Soap’s expectant eyes on you as you spoke so tenderly, the intensity of witnessing the start of what seemed like a very intimate talk momentarily sharing space with the worry they were feeling over you. 

“...Yes. I remember.”

He never forgets the things you say, even if you think it’s not important at the time. You hummed, ignoring the pain that came with it.

“Big dogs were never really my thing. I just-” A cough ripped out of you, and you didn’t need to look to know there was blood in it. “ I just thought it was the kind of thing you’d want. Big dogs fit you. It felt less scary to think about retiring once I added you in the equation.”

You were slurring your words and you knew it. As you regained your breath, you briefly saw a very wide-eyed and angry looking Price curse into his comm asking where the fuck was the goddamn chopper. Your codename being barked alongside the word “WIA” to a poor fellow soldier on the other side of the line left you with a bad taste in your mouth. You hate how scared Ghost looked, your big, scary, stoic Ghost, and you can’t help but feel selfish for leaving him, even if being shot was not your fault and wasn’t really in your plans when you left the base that morning.

“Stop talking like you’re fucking d-”

“We could have done it, you know?” Your laugh is, once again, bitter, and you’re acutely aware of the tears streaming down your face. Death has never scared you, but now that you got a reason to stay, you’re terrified. “Could’ve gotten hitched somewhere nice. Can’t really imagine you in a suit, though.”

The pain doesn’t stop, but it gets duller as you feel your consciousness slipping away, and you never fought so much to stay awake in your entire life. Simon yells something to Soap among the lines of getting something from somewhere so he can continue trying to save you, but you don’t register his words. His tone softens once his eyes are back on you.

“I’d wear a suit if you asked me to, sweetheart.”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask, though.”

Not caring there are other people in the room, you smile at him, well aware it must be uncanny to see Ghost be so tender towards another person, but again, you were the lucky one who got to see it every time it was just the two of you, so you got used to it with time.

Your vision starts spinning more and more, and your eyes start to close the moment you hear the familiar, faint sound of a helicopter getting closer, Simon’s big hands suddenly on your face to try to keep you grounded, and he sounds even more exasperated than before. He calls your name - not your codename, for once.

“Stay alive, do you hear me?! You gotta stay the fuck alive so i can take you to the bloody countryside and get bloody hitched-”

“You askin’ me to marry ya’ in my deathbed, sir?” You manage to slur out, your smile growing despite the panic you don’t have the energy to express settling in your bones, and Simon’s eyes widen even more behind the mask.

“Yes, I am, so stay with me, that’s a fucking order-”

You chuckle, closing your eyes as the frantic sounds around you all blur into a garbled mess. Faintly you feel your body being moved around, a strong wind on your blood and dirt caked hair, hear some more shouting, but then,

Silence.

——————————

Feels like the thousandth time you have woken up, and the feeling of coming in and out of consciousness is unbearable at best.

The first time - or the second, you don’t remember - there was a strong light above you, but you had no energy to open your eyes, so it lasted a measly second before you were out again. Later, you heard an unfamiliar voice saying something about an induced coma for a few days for a better recovery. You wondered if they were talking about you (they probably were). This happens a few more times before you actually feel your consciousness coming back for good, and, before you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is how warm it is, and, if you could, you’d smile. The spring air smells good, and you think you catch a whiff of cleaning products while you inhale, suddenly aware of how empty your lungs felt. The third thing you notice is the weight on your hand, and once you open your eyes, you find a familiar set of skeleton gloved hands on top of your own. A few years back you had told him with a laugh the print was very 2000’s, and he had just brushed you off with a scowl, but you’ve never been so glad to see the tacky thing. His thumb caresses your skin as he patiently waits for you to become more aware of your surroundings, and you instantly smile when you finally meet his gaze, which looks extremely relieved.

“Hi.” Your throat feels parched, voice straining as if you’d swallowed a kilo of sand, but Simon thinks your voice never sounded so sweet to his ears.

“Hi.” 

It hurts to move, but you do so anyway, slowly sitting up despite Simon’s protests just so you can see him more clearly and grasp his hand a little better. While you are busy cringing at the dull pain in your stomach from the stitches, he extends a glass of water for you, to which you grab and gulp down immediately, quenching your thirst and looking over at your partner with such gratitude an onlooker would have thought he was a literal godsend. 

“How bad is it?” Your voice still felt rough from disuse, but at least it sounded a bit more familiar to your ears. 

“Pretty bad.” He doesn’t bother you with details; he knows you were never a fan of hearing about your wounds descriptively. “But you’ve always been tough.”

You flash him a grin that has him silently flabbergasted both with how beautiful you are and how quickly you seem to bounce back from a near fatal injury. Suddenly, you remember your last words before you blacked out, and your smile turns shy as you cast your gaze down to where your hands meet.

“...Did you mean it?” 

Simon has always been extremely observant and smart, he knows what you are talking about immediately, and you like to think he is smiling under the mask as he goes back to gingerly caressing the top of your smaller hand with his thumb.

“I did, sweetheart.” His voice is low, and every time he calls you a pet name it has your heart doing somersaults. “I’m sorry I don't have a ring yet and I don't know when we would have some time off to have a ceremony, but I want to marry ya’. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Feeling like your smile would grow so big it would rip your face, you beamed at him, acutely aware of how you must have been looking like a mess with a - hospital - bed head and tired eyes, but you’d hoped he could notice the hearts in your eyes as obviously as you felt them. Things always seemed to fall in place with Ghost; no need for extravagance or huge acts, and the fact that your marriage proposal was exactly that, made you fall even more in love with him. You watched lovingly as he raised your hand to press a mask covered kiss on the top of it, and shook your head, laughing gently.

“Of course i’ll marry you, Simon.”

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Part II

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: panic attacks (reader is tormented soul🤷)

I'll just drop it here.

Also I felt really bad for saying no to so many nice persons (I really admire the inner power of people who can do that so easily and without regrets), so there's going to be a taglist 🫥

Lovely divider by tsunami-of-tears

Part I | Part III

You were sitting at the table, eyes downcast, cheeks slightly pink. Everyone around you was celebrating your wedding, but you hardly paid attention to it. Your thoughts were swirling around the warm hand on your lap, holding yours so firmly it almost hurt, thumb drawing small circles on your skin. What could it mean? You'd never seen this kind of behaviour in Hewn city. Public, lewd touches maybe, but secret, intimate ones? Was it a good sign? Or bad one?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when his hand suddenly withdrew. You didn't dare to look at him though. In a second, air little bit cooled down and a silky night-kissed voice with a pinch of arrogance spoke from your left.

"Nice party, Eris."

You immediately recognized High Lord of Night. Feeling the urge to stand up and bow as you would do in Hewn city, you pushed against the chair, but it didn't move even an inch. Eris' hand was now on an armrest of your chair, holding it at place.

"What did you expect? It's my wedding day. I hoped to please my wife," he said, his voice dangerously low, balancing between politeness and sharpness of displeasure.

"Thank you, my lord," you whispered with bowed head. The pressure of powers of these two males was almost unbearable, suffocating you.

"Hmm," it seemed that High Lord of Night smirked. "I hoped that I could have a word with your wife, if it isn't too much to ask for."

"Whatever you want to tell her, you can do so here and now," Eris retorted, cold rage seeping from every word.

"C'mon," Rhysand laughed amusedly. "It only takes a minute and you'll have her back. I won't hurt her, you have my word."

Eris inhaled sharply, considering it. Then he just waved his hand and went back to watching the dancers.

"Here, let me help you," High Lord of Night offered you his arm, helping you to stand up. Then he silently led you to the ceiling-to-floor windows and out on the terrace. He let go of your hand and leaning against the railing looked up at the night sky.

"Stars are so different here, aren't they," he sighed softly.

You quickly took a look at twinkling lights that illuminated the terrace with a cool glow. It was the first time you'd ever seen the night sky and you'd like to keep watching that mesmerising beauty for the rest of your life, but.. your gaze sank down to the floor.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I'm afraid that I have nothing to compare it with."

You could feel his piercing gaze to move to you then and you shivered under its weight.

"Please, call me Rhysand," his voice was kind, nothing like the cold, merciless one he used to address crowd in your hometown.

You swallowed hard. "My lord, I couldn't-"

He softly interrupted you. "If it makes you feel better, you can call me by my name only when we are alone. Like now."

Who you were to oppose the High Lord. "As you wish, my l-.. Rhysand," you curtsied.

"Ah, and no bowing, dear. I don't need such formalities. After all you aren't my subject anymore. We're equal. That's why I want you to treat me like that. What's your name?"

You again swallowed, dread eating up on you. Equal to High Lords. What a crazy thing to think. You could never be more than a servant, a submissive mute wife who would speak up only with husband's approval.

"My name is Y/N."

"Y/N," he repeated, tasting it. "Lovely name. How old are you, Y/N?"

"I-I'm 19."

He was silent for a moment. Feeling uncomfortable with his eyes trained on you, you shifted weight slightly, your gaze still focused on the pattern of tiles at his feet.

"Tell me, my dear, how do you feel about this? About the marriage?"

"I-" You started to sweat. What should you say? What did he want to hear?

"Don't be scared. You can be honest with me. I won't hurt you no matter what you say," his voice was so soft that you believed him.

"I'm just doing as I was told.." you stuttered.

"I thought so," he said sadly. "I guess that you've never met him before, right? Now that you've seen him up close, do you at least like him?"

"Eris," he added when you didn't respond right away.

"l-I'm not sure, my l-" Your heart was beating in your ears so fast. "I mean, he's quite good looking, but I'm-.. I don't know him well."

You felt like fainting any minute now, your vision blurring. If your husband overheard this conversation, he would certainly get so angry. Under no circumstances should a wife speak ill of her husband. Not even slightly. That was the very first rule you were taught.

"It's okay, my dear," in a blink of eye High Lord of Night was at your side, one hand supporting you, the other one gently rubbing on your back. "Just breathe. Deep breaths, yeah? Nobody's going to find out about what you said here. Don't worry."

Slowly you calmed down. Only once your heart slowed down, his hands moved to your face, lifting it up so he could look into your eyes. You gaped at him in surprise. Remembering the manners, you tried to avert your eyes to the side just above his shoulder as it was expected. However, he wouldn't let you, forcing your gaze back to his face with sad smile.

"Now listen to me carefully, dear Y/N. This isn't Hewn city. Whatever you experienced there, it's over now. You certainly heard all kinds of rumours about Eris and I'm not going to lie to you and say that that isn't true because it is. However, it doesn't mean that he'll be cruel to you too. If he was after all, you don't have to put up with it. If he ever hurts you, just let me know and I'll sent someone to get you to safety. Will you remember that?"

Whole galaxies danced in those violet-blue eyes that searched yours, genuine care seeping from each of his words. You quietly nodded, unable to find your voice.

"Good girl," he really smiled then. That kind grin completely changed his expression. If he was handsome before, now he was breathtaking. "I really hope you'll find your happiness here."

With that he stepped back and his hands casually slipped into the pockets of trousers. He once again looked up at the night sky.

"Autumn is beautiful season. I'm sure that you'll like it once you settle down enough to start to explore your new home. Tonight it's quite cold. Let's get you back inside. Eris gets mad if you catch cold because of me."

Offering you his arm, he escorted you back and to your seat. As soon as he noticed you, Eris stood up to hold a chair for you, his eyes narrowed at Rhysand.

"Unharmed. Just as I promised," Rhysand winked at him. Then he took your hand and placed a kiss on its back. "Be happy, dear Y/N."

"Thank you, my lord," you whispered, bowed to him and sat down. With a one-sided grin Rhysand spun on his heel and headed to his mate who was currently talking with some beautiful lady near to the dance floor.

Your husband slid into his seat, his gaze burning holes into Rhysand's back. He was quite displeased. You felt it even without looking up at him. Once you were again alone his hand found yours under the table.

"You are freezing cold," he murmured and his skin heated with magic. The warmth seeped into your brittle hands. For a moment your tension melted like a snow with the touch of his long fingers.

In contrast to the warm touch, when he spoke again, his voice was so cold and angry that you shivered. "What did he want?"

Breath caught in your throat, heart skipped few beats as all blood left your face.

"My lord," you said in small trembling voice, trying to swallow the lump that rose in your throat.

Eris cast a sidelong glance at you, his eyes narrowing. He said nothing, waiting for your answer.

"He asked me," you stammered, "about the wedding. A-and offered me help.."

"Help?" His fingers drummed impatiently on the table and then clenched into fist.

"Yes, my lord."

"What kind of help?"

You slightly cringed in your seat.

"T-to run away a-and shelter."

His hand squeezed your fingers firmer and you prepared for pain. Then he suddenly let go and started to slowly retreat back to his personal space. All the warmth left with him.

"And," he spoke quietly and slowly, "do you want to go with him?"

You panicked, your breath becoming labored. When your father spoke like this, it always meant the worst punishment. You knew what to expect from him, what kind of torment, but this male? You had no idea what he would do to you. Would he just beat you up? Or would he even burn you? Dozens of possibilities flashed through your mind.

"Do you want to go with him?" he repeated his question when it took you too long to answer.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of your skirt, but even that couldn't stop the tremor.

"N-n-no, my lord, n-never."

The tears began gathering behind your closed eyelids. You waited for the punishment. His fingers lightly touched the back of your hand, hesitantly, slowly moving forward until both of your hands were once again in his warm grip. He lightly squeezed them.

You heaved shakily. Opening eyes, you blinked away tears and gazed at your connected hands on your lap. His thumb was gently rubbing your knuckles now. It was.. comforting.

It was unbelievable. He did nothing to you, only held your hand. In disbelieve you looked up at his profile. He was again watching the dancing couples, his expression unreadable. After a while he turned to you with a tight smile. His eyes were soft and somehow sad when they met yours.

"I'd let you go, if you said that you wanted to."

The tears were back, stinging your eyes, but for the different reason now. Would he really let you go? Just like that?

Something sparked in your chest and hope filled your heart. Rhysand's words echoed in your mind: 'it doesn't mean that he'll be cruel to you'. You prayed to the Mother that it was true.

You shook your head decisively. "I don't want to," you said.

The corners of his mouth turned up for a second in a hardly there smile. As if he just reminded himself where he was, your husband broke the gaze, turning back to dancers and the unreadable mask slid back to his face with almost audible click.

You were breathless. His amber eyes. They engraved straight into your soul. For that short moment you saw flames burning in them, wild and sensual, playful and lustful but never hurtful.

Without knowing what you were doing, you freed one hand and placed it on his. The movements of his thumb stilled, whole his body tensed. You turned your other hand in his grip palm up, your fingers timidly intertwined with his. Out of the corner of his eye, he quickly looked down on your hands and then up at your face. With a small smile he relaxed in his chair. His fingers clenched, holding you firmly while thumb danced over your skin in rhythmic motion that matched the music.

The party went on for another three hours, some of the guests were already so drunken that servants had to help them into their seats. No one could leave before the newly married couple. It was around the midnight and you were so tired. It was a long and tiring day for you and it was starting to take its toll. Enveloped in pleasant warmth, your eyelids grew too heavy and it was getting more and more harder to fight the sleep.

Suddenly Eris's hand slipped from between yours and he called for servant with a small gesture. The boy immediately ran to him and leaned closer. Your husband told him something and boy disappeared. Not even a minute after that two maids appeared and approached you. They stopped to bow and one of them stepped closer to whisper to your ear.

"Please, follow us, my lady."

Fully awake now, you looked at Eris in silent question, but he only nodded imperceptibly. Your eyes flew to your father who gave you a scary look. The message was clear: if you messed this up, you would regret it.

It was time for the last part to conclude and seal the deal for good.

The marriage consummation.

A lump rose in your throat, cold sweat running down your spine. Mother told you what to expect, they taught you what to do to please your husband, but it didn't mean you were ready for that or that you wanted it. Your husband was handsome and his behaviour toward you was nice and a complete surprise so far, but still he was a stranger.

Whether you wanted or not, you had to do this.

Quietly accepting your fate, you stood up and on unstable legs followed the maids. As you were getting away from the ballroom, the music gradually died down until you were walking through completely silent part of the castle. The winding hallways were dimly lit and empty, red carpet muffled the footsteps. Here and there you noticed a huge painting or some shiny exhibited armor or statue. It was hard to say how far it was to your destination, but your heart was beating harder and faster with every step you took nonetheless.

Maids finally stopped before a tall oak double doors, as far as you could see the only one in this hallway. One of them opened it, the other one waited until you went in and then closed the doors behind.

You found yourself in some private sitting room. Fae lights dimly illuminated the huge finely decorated space in warm light brown, gold and beige colours. The windows were covered with heavy curtains, small fire crackled in a hearth in the corner of the room. There was smaller dinning table near the windows and set of sofas and armchairs with small pillows in autumn colours around the hearth. Bookshelves were full of books, soft looking carpet on the floor. It was cozy.

On each side of the room, there were identical double doors. Maids headed to the one on the left and opened it widely. With heavy heart to followed them into the bedroom with a massive bed that dominated to the room. Except of the bed there were also two ottomans and coffee table, vanity, mirror, some drawers and another doors that probably led to walk-in closet and bathroom. You could love it if only it wasn't a place for certain act you weren't ready for.

You swallowed hard, your eyes glued to that monstrous bed. Maids disappeared behind one of the doors and soon you heard sounds of running water from there. They were running around, preparing everything necessary, giving you a moment to breathe through the panic creeping on you. Then they came back to you. Without a word they helped you to free yourself from the heavy dress and corset.

Once in the bathtub they conscientiously washed every part of your body, massaging some nice smelling bath oils into your skin. After that they wrapped you in a soft towel and ushered you back to the bedroom to the vanity where they took care of your hair and helped you into the nightgown. They worked carefully but fast.

When they left, you looked in the mirror. The nightgown was made of fine, almost transparent fabric that hugged your body, leaving just little to imagination. You were on the verge of crying.

Internally panicking you sat down on one of ottomans because good wife should never go to bed before her husband and repeating to yourself all you were taught about the act, you waited.

And you waited and waited until you fell asleep.

Taglist: @nocasdatsgay @b0xerdancer @lilah-asteria @talesofadragon @marvelbros-oneshots @acourtofbatboydreams @li0nh34rt