#and set up the remaining pieces for the rest of the story.

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Thirty-Seven — Consequences

We were there for what felt like forever. Long enough for Archie to try and take a drink of my hot chocolate, and Aunt Sia to grab both rats and return them to their cage in the living room. Long enough for Zeke to become restless and start pacing the five steps it took to span the entirety of the kitchen. Long enough for my hands to start shaking as I thought about everything.

9k words | 45min - 1 hour reading time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Death mention, experimentation mention, illness, mass casualty, rats (?), fighting, threats, bullying.

⚠️AUTHOR'S NOTE: I cannot take credit for all of this chapter. My lovely @lobotomizedlemon wrote the beautiful speech in the end, like they knew what Jean needed to hear. Everyone needs an Aunt Sia in their life. Things move on from lore-heavy here, but Chi—thank you for trusting me with Sia. Thank you for letting me use her for something so deeply important to Erosion, and letting me hand her to Jean. She's exactly what was needed. I can't imagine this tale without her now.

Aunt Sia stood at the other end of the room, arms crossed, that cupboard full of mugs still hanging open. Brent and I were frozen mid-signage, both hands at the ready to argue further and yet absolutely no wind in our sails—mine especially. What did she mean she knew sign language? How long had she known that?!

Her arms stayed crossed as she stared at us like she caught us red-handed, Dad looking between her and us before asking, “What’s going on?”

Aunt Sia kept her gaze on us, unblinking even as I tried to shrink under her stare. “Brent,” she started, “What are you two talking about?”

Of course she’d go for Brent first. Take the weakest in the pack by the jugular, right? The man couldn’t lie, evident as Brent stumbled on his words for a moment before coming up with the best deflection ever:

“What do you mean?”

Dad suddenly became way more interested as Brent’s cheeks went red, his own eyebrows furrowed as he looked between the two of us. “Kids. What’s going on?”

Brent suddenly became very interested in the wood grain as my voice caught in my throat, eyes flitting between everyone as they all turned their attention towards me. God, why here? Why now? This was supposed to stay between me and Brent! I didn’t wanna explain everything to everyone. 

I took too long to respond. That’s what was the problem. I faltered, unable to find my voice, and prompted Aunt Sia to ask more pointedly, “What did Brent mean, ‘Tell Dad about Mom?’” she asked me directly. 

That got Dad going; his eyebrows shot up from their furrowed position, now zeroed in on me and cocking his head slightly, like a cat trying to get a reading on how far I was before it pounced. “Jean,” he said, warned, and I knew he expected nothing but the truth after saying my name. 

I swallowed thickly, trying to convince myself not to evaporate on the spot and run away while they all were confused. “I, uhm…” I drew off, voice crackling slightly. Jerry came over towards me and I grabbed the rat and held him close, using the little guy as a reason to not look up and meet anyone’s eyes. “When…before I woke up in the hospital, I…there was this thing wi-with Mom...”

And I was forced to recount it all to an audience. 

I couldn’t look up as I described it all; the long field of barley, the forest, the mines. How I followed wisps of neon thinking I was trying to find Dad. How I knew none of it made sense, but it wasn’t like a dream—I couldn’t escape no matter how hard I tried. The lack of a sun. My voice faltered when I came to the grove and I froze for so long that Jerry began biting holes in my jacket’s sleeve before I spoke of Mom. 

I could see Dad’s hand clench into a fist on the tabletop the moment I did. 

That was the reason I didn’t bring it up to him in the first place; not only did I not wanna sound like I was insane, but I wanted to keep from bringing up those memories that would turn his face ashen with pain. I couldn’t look at him as I described her. How we hugged, how she felt so real. If I did, I was sure we’d both have the same pained expression on our faces. 

When I ended my story with her using beams of neon to essentially throw me back into the real world, the room stayed tersely quiet for a moment. I hazarded a glance up; Dr. Sims was writing something down furiously on the back of one of Aunt Sia’s COLE papers, Aunt Sia was watching him as he wrote. Zeke stayed positioned by the wall, head down, not surprised but still avoiding my gaze, and Dad—

He was pissed. “And why didn’t you tell me this?” he demanded. “I thought we said no more keeping things from each other!”

“I know—” I started to defend, voice weak against his anger. That weak squeak that would have put Jerry’s noises to shame died off, though, when someone interrupted. 

“It’s my fault.”

Dad turned in his chair so he could glare at Zeke instead. “What?”

“I told Jean not to worry about the whole…deal so much,” Zeke continued, meeting Dad’s eyes without a flinch. Was he…covering for me? “When she came to me to ask if the same thing had happened to Cole and told me a bit about the…vision, I told her not to worry about it if it was the only time it’s happened. That Cole would get them if he touched tar too, and with her getting it in her bloodstream, well—’course she was in for a bad time.”

Dad seemed to have trouble processing this. “She told—” he spun his head around to look at me. “You told Zeke? But not me?”

“I didn’t want to upset you—” I started, Dad cutting me off. 

“Well, you didn’t do well, Regina.” he snapped. I flinched at how he growled my name and looked back down, throat tight. Of course he was mad! We promised each other we’d be truthful and honest and I lied to him within the same sentence. 

God, I messed up. Again. 

“You should have told us right away,” Dr. Sims chastised—not as passionately as Dad, but still disappointed. I could hear him turn slightly and he added, “You too, Zeke. If I’m going to make sure Jean’s okay, I need to know everything.”

I could hear Dad sigh hard, and my eyes followed his hands as they came up from the table and pressed against his eyes. “Okay, so what could this mean?” Dad demanded after a moment, blinking hard as he looked at Dr. Sims. “If Jean was seeing Abbs, could that have been a hallucination?”

“I’m not sure,” Dr. Sims muttered, looking down at the notes on his paper. “If Jean and Cole had hallucinations when interacting with the tar, I’d simply chalk it up to that and move on. But with the Vermaak’s history too, I’m not…not sure what to make of it.”  

“She’s not a forced conduit,” Aunt Sia interjected, finishing with the mugs she was messing with. She walked over, moving to lean between Dad and Dr. Sims and hand Brent and I cups of hot chocolate. It was funny—you could always find her in the kitchen when she was trying to think through something. A part of me was sure that’s why I loved sugary things so much. “The Vermaak went insane because their power was eating their neuroelectricity.”

“Yeah, but if she was injected with tar, could that have done something like the CRB solution the First Sons were using on the Vermaak?” Dad asked. 

“Retroviral integrase?” Dr. Sims asked before shaking his head. “No, can’t be. That would only work if she wasn’t activated.” 

Dad groaned slightly, the noise interrupted as Aunt Sia asked, “What about the power transfer device Cole MacGrath used? How was that different from the Vermaak?” 

“I couldn’t recover the files fully on that,” Dr. Sims admitted, clicking away, “But from what I can guess, the original power transfer device was used on a one-on-one basis, with a core of raythium to fuse properties of the donor’s protein to the other Conduit. It looks like some sort of process involving mutagenesis and particle acceleration? I can’t really make sense of it. Basically the original device damaged the part of the DNA that hosted the Conduit gene and then rewrote it with the second power integrated, so those abilities were a part of their normal powers.” He turned to look at Aunt Sia fully. “It doesn't use the same system the Vermaak’s does, and the DUP used CRISPR and gene editing. They’re all different.”

Aunt Sia crossed her arms, the hand of one going to town on the forearm of another, scratching away. “So there’s no correlation,” she hummed, glaring at the computer screens like it was their fault. “What about the DUP?” She asked. “Don’t you have files on their experimentation?”

Dr. Sims shook his head. “I have one, that only talks about injuries, heavily redacted with no info about what sort of experiments they were performing.”

Aunt Sia shook her head, Dad’s hand reaching out to stop her stretching and holding the hand in place. “Okay, w–what about tar?” He asked. “Or that woman that could use tar, what was her name—”

“Sasha,” Zeke cut in. 

The moment Zeke spoke, Dad’s jaw tensed, and he looked like he was 30 seconds away from picking up the man and throwing him out of the front door himself. He glanced at me with that same anger, and I just knew it was because I told Zeke about the hallucination but not him. “Right.” Dad said flatly. “Sasha.”

Dr. Sims got to searching, declaring—much to Dad’s absolute frustration—that there was nothing on tar. “But Sasha is mentioned in Wolfe’s notebook,” he hummed, scrolling through scans of the journal’s pages. 

“What for?” Aunt Sia asked, looking over Dr. Sims’ shoulder. 

“Apparently she was on Wolfe’s team when they were testing on Warner,” he hummed, scrolling just a tad to pull up more text. “She’s the one that determined all the properties of the…Warner’s Threshold…”

“That’s the evolution-to-mutation thing, right?” Brent asked. 

Aunt Sia nodded. “Absorbing RFE through a blast core, yeah.”

The way Dr. Sims drew off peeked Dad’s interest. “What’s up?” He asked, apprehensive. “Is…could the RFE be doing this to Jean?”

Dr. Sims didn’t answer immediately; whatever he was reading grabbed Aunt Sia’s interest, her hand pulling away from Dad’s hold to settle on Dr. Sims’ shoulder, squeezing once to get the man to look at her. They shared one of those looks, one of the ones Dad would reserve for talks within earshot of us when he felt there was some information that someone either didn’t know, or didn’t need to. 

But it didn’t stop Dr. Sims from speaking. “No, no, just…Can I ask you something?” He gave Dad his full attention, who just seemed absolutely confused on why his friends suddenly looked worried. “How many Core Relays do you think you’ve absorbed over the years?”

Dad blinked before chuckling, the sound a bit incredulous. “I don’t know? It’s been a while, Eugene.” After a moment, though—when Dr. Sims’ stare didn’t let up, he asked, “Wh–why does it matter?”

“I’ll spare you the math,” Dr. Sims said, turning back to the computer to begin to read from yet another section of the journal. “‘Absorbing the raw power from Blast Cores, a conduit's ability to harness energy reaches a precarious tipping point after accumulating between seven to nine cores. Beyond this threshold, the conduit's physiology undergoes a tumultuous shift. Initially marked by heightened abilities, this excessive energy absorption eventually sparks deleterious manifestations.’”

“Cole had to absorb seven to use the RFI,” Zeke threw in. 

My brow furrowed as I silently counted something off in my head, piecing thoughts together bit by bit. Seven to nine cores. Dad was scared the one he used on us was enough to mess me up, but he’d had far more than one, right? 

I glanced at Brent, who seemed to be coming to the same conclusion I did; Dad’s used way, way more than seven—probably just in this year alone.

“You’ve…it’s definitely more than nine, isn’t it Del?” Dr. Sims asked. “I gave you eight just for the twins and that’s not counting the five we found in Spokane after you were cornered by the Akurans, when you had Jean’s power.”

“You used six of those generator things at the construction site.” Brent realized, “When you got mine.”

“That’s eleven alone,” I murmured. 

“How many do you think you’ve used overall?” Aunt Sia interrupted. “If you had to guess, because this…it’s concerning, Delsin.”

“Didn’t I give you three or four when you were fighting Augustine in Seattle?” Dr. Sims added, looking off to the side as he tried to recount a memory I’m sure they all wanted to forget.

Dad nodded absentmindedly. “Yeah there…there were four when that happened. I think Abbs and I found four after I got her power too,” Hit brows knit so close that the lines on his forehead looked like waves. “And I know there were a lot after I got Hank’s power. Yours too.” Dad leaned back in the chair, eyes turning to look at the popcorn ceiling. “If I had to say, I think…I think I’m close to twenty? Maybe even over it.”

Everyone fell silent, looking between each other with the same tense silence like we all expected Dad to explode right in front of us or something. Even the warmth of the mug of hot chocolate wasn’t enough to warm my hands as I asked, “If you’ve absorbed…that many, then why aren’t you…”

Dead? A walking corpse? Some sort of monster? I wasn’t even sure what to say.

Dad’s head came down when I asked my question, eyes falling to the polaroid of Warner on the table. He picked it up tentatively, bringing it closer and looking at it with a mix of intrigue and pity. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “Maybe Wolfe was wrong. Or maybe there’s something different with the Ray Sphere and that’s why Warner looks like…that.” He set the polaroid face down, looking back at Dr. Sims. “Maybe the Core Relays are different. They aren’t exactly exploding bombs.”

“No, but they are miniature fission reactors,” Dr. Sims said, turning to his laptop to begin clicking away on it yet again, muttering to himself, “Fission, fission…” as he typed what I had to assume was that same word into the search database.

“Do we really need to worry about this right now?” Dad asked, exasperated. “I mean, we’ve always known I’ve been a bit weird when it came to Core Relays, really, it’s not—”

“We just wanna make sure there’s nothing wrong,” Aunt Sia cut Dad off, her other hand going to his shoulder. “There could be some sort of…radiation radius or something if you’ve absorbed that many Core Relays.” She smirked playfully, looking down at Dad. “Maybe you’re a biohazard.”

Dad rolled his eyes. “I’m being serious, Alessia. This is about Jean, not me—”

“It may have just became about Jean,” Dr. Sims interrupted. “Sasha LaRue was a part of the Ray Sphere project.”

Dad immediately snapped forward, leaning his elbows against the table like getting close to the computer was gonna help him read the words better. “I thought she was just some crazy lady in Empire City?” Aunt Sia asked, glancing back at Zeke. 

“We…she had ties in the First Sons, but Cole and I never figured out what sort.” Zeke said. “Just knew she and Kessler were a ‘late night booty call’ sorta couple.” 

I cringed. Oh god, I could have lived without that trivia fact. 

Dr. Sims stared at Zeke, processing that information for a moment before trying to etch-n-sketch the idea from his mind with a shake of his head, saying, “Anyways—yeah, she’s mentioned a few times in regards to the Ray Sphere. Turns out she was the lead engineer of the First Sons’ Empire City branch.”

“So she knew exactly how the Ray Sphere worked,” Dad hummed, glancing at Aunt Sia. “Probably knew all about Ray Field Energy too.”

Aunt Sia didn’t look convinced. “But…Ray Field Energy can’t be what’s making Jean sick…right?” She asked, unsure. “Every Conduit needs RFE. Could it be something genetic? Like an intolerance?”

Dad shook his head. “We checked already.”

Zeke clicked his tongue in thought. “Y’know, the gene ain’t the savior y’all make it out to be. People with the gene could still get the Plague.”

Dad rolled his eyes, not bothering to look at Zeke as he said, “Yeah, but people with the gene don’t just stop working.”

“They do if you mess with RFE. Why do you think most of ‘em died in 2011?” Zeke shot back. “We used the RFI.”

Dad chewed on the inside of his cheek as Zeke called, annoyance slowly dissipating as he thought through his logic. “Eugene,” he said, raising his head to look at the man. “See if you can pull up anything about Ray Field Energy being weird. Adverse reactions, whatever was wrong with Bertrand—the whole deal.”

“That’s not a lot to go by,” Dr. Sims muttered, bringing his hands to the keyboard anyways. 

“We need to know,” Dad said, glancing up at me.

We were there for what felt like forever. Long enough for Archie to try and take a drink of my hot chocolate, and Aunt Sia to grab both rats and return them to their cage in the living room. Long enough for Zeke to become restless and start pacing the five steps it took to span the entirety of the kitchen. Long enough for my hands to start shaking as I thought about everything. The hot chocolate was frothless and cold now, bringing nothing more than a chilly distaste to my mouth that could also be felt in the room. 

Eventually, Dr. Sims shook his head. “I’ve got nothing on RFE and Conduits,” he told Dad. “RFE and humans, sure, but not Conduits.”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “RFE and humans? Like the Plague?”

Dr. Sims shook his head. “No, that’s what’s weird—it’s about the Ray Sphere.”

Dr. Sims began scrolling back up as Zeke paused to listen, reminding him, “The Ray Sphere caused the Plague. ‘Course it’s mentioned.”

Dr. Sims, though, disagreed. “It’s talking about how they prevented the Plague.”

Everyone snapped to attention at that. 

“You can prevent the Plague?” Dad asked. A thousand emotions passed through his face—shock, confusion, doubt, anger. “So Kessler managed to fuck that up too? Great.”

Dad’s hand clenched until the knuckles of his fist turned stark white, barely acknowledging Aunt Sia’s reassuring hand on his shoulder. I couldn’t blame him for his anger; if I had found out that my parent’s deaths could have been prevented, but years after the fact?

I’d be fuming too. 

Dr. Sims, oblivious to the fact that Dad looked like he was a huff away from breathing fire, asked over his shoulder, “Hey, Zeke—the Ray Sphere only detonated once, right?”

Zeke, who was frozen dumbstruck in the middle of the kitchen, took a moment to nod. “Y-yeah, it only went off the one time.”

“And Cole was holding it?” Dr. Sims asked, the word holding stressed. 

Zeke blinked. “Yeah? At least I think so. I wasn’t there. He…he would talk about how it burned his hands when he was holding it, though.”

Aunt Sia, with one final squeeze on Dad’s shoulder before letting go, asking, “What did you find?”

“It’s—it’s sorta hard to understand,” Dr. Sims admitted, finally settling his scrolling to a segment of the journal, “But it reads like they had a lot of issues in the beginning of testing with illness, just like the Plague, but then figured out how to keep the fallout from its detonation from happening.”

The Plague was something I really didn’t understand. To be fair, I don’t think anyone really understood it fully; it ripped through victims way too fast for any solid science on it, and with it being completely eradicated from the world with the RFI, no one ever really tried replicating it. Most people didn’t even know how it happened—the Ray Sphere wasn’t public knowledge. Far as I knew, it was nothing more than an illness you’d occasionally see mocked up in conspiracy forums regarding chemical agents and aliens. 

What we did know about it was…weird. Contagious radiation poisoning. Contagious. No one really understood how that was even possible. 

Until now. 

Dr. Sims turned back towards his computer and began reading. “‘In the initial phases of our research, I harbored profound reservations regarding the implications of detonating the Ray Sphere—a device harnessing the raw power of nuclear fission. The prospect of manipulating such potent energy was both exhilarating and unnerving. I grappled with the uncertainty of its consequences, the unknown variables that could spiral out of control. It was already proving a terrible beast to control; those without the gene, when exposed to the energy output from the device, fell to an illness not unlike Acute Radiation Poisoning—only it battled with their neuroelectrical energy. Whatever it didn’t take to power the Ray Sphere, it sought to destroy. What was more alarming was how it seemed to spread to those outside of the vicinity of the detonation, as if the energy from the Ray Sphere jumped from person to person, seeking a genetically-positive person to attach to.’”

“Jeez,” Dad breathed when Dr. Sims paused. “So the fallout, what, seeks out the gene?”

“Seems like it,” Dr. Sims confirmed. I could see him highlight the section in the reflection of his glasses, and throw a copy of it into a note in the background, storing it away for himself later. This was probably a gold mine to him. He cleared his throat before continuing, “‘Despite my concerns, Kessler continuously reassured me, promising that as long as we found a suitable core, there would be no repercussions beyond the unfortunate souls sacrificed to the Ray Sphere for its initial phase. At first, I didn’t trust him. What if our actions unleashed catastrophic repercussions beyond our comprehension? But now, I see how wrong I was, and why Miss LaRue calls him her little oracle. After three failed attempts, Kessler insisted that I place someone with the gene directly beside the Ray Sphere, perhaps even holding it, for better results.

“‘Kessler was right. The Ray Sphere needs approximately eight hundred to a thousand microvolts from neuroelectrical energy to fully charge the Blast Core—about ten to twelve people. They all fall victim to sudden exposure to Ray Field Energy—including the genetic carrier in question. Who wouldn’t, when face to face with a miniature nuke with twice the concentrated energy? But where they fell, the carrier rose. Eleven test subjects turned to ash in an explosion greater than anything I’d seen before when activating the Ray Sphere, only for one to be birthed from the ashes. When the dust settled and we turned to our monitors for information on the fallout of the detonation, we found there was none. The scintillation counters were the only proof the Ray Sphere even detonated—well, that and the smell of burnt leather in the room when we deemed it safe to enter with hazmat. The test subject himself was in disarray and needed to be temporarily placed on a ventilator due to distress from direct exposure to radiation, but within the week, he was healed, no longer exhibiting symptoms of radiation poisoning and with the ability to manipulate flames. He had become a conduit for the raw, ionized energy, and came out of its blast anew, his proteins absorbing the radiation in full and preventing any fallout from occurring.’”

My mind was reeling. So the…the Conduit they used in their experiment basically sucked up all of the radiation? I glanced around the room to see Zeke’s back turned towards us all, nodding slowly. When we were out on the roof of that train car by his house, Zeke had said Cole went into a coma. “Took him a while to brush off what happened to him after the Blast,” he had said. 

Not because it was explosive, but because he was fighting radiation poisoning. 

“‘With no risk of radioactive fallout upon the use of the Ray Sphere, we’ve essentially secured funding from DARPA for any experimentation in the near future. As long as a gene carrier, a conduit for the Ray Field Energy, activates the Ray Sphere, the only damage to come to the world will be from the Conduit’s power as it becomes overloaded from so much RFE, and the poor souls that sacrifice themselves for the greater good.’” Dr. Sims finished before leaning back in his chair, closing out the translation pop-up. 

Dad looked furious. “So they knew.” He said. Not asked. “They knew it could go wrong, and they still set up everything to happen the way it did.”

“I don’t understand,” Aunt Sia murmured, moving to lean against the end of the table on my right. “Kessler didn’t care about the risk? Or did he want that to happen?”

Dr. Sims shook his head. “No. No, I don’t think Kessler would have wanted there to be a Plague. Wolfe said for the greater good. They were still working towards fighting the Beast and keeping humanity safe. Something happened.”

“Like what?” Dad demanded. “If the Ray Sphere detonated once, then how did it cause the Plague?”

Dr. Sims inhaled deeply, trying to brush off Dad’s anger. “There’s something here about proximity related to residual RFE post-activation,” he hummed, like it meant something. “They took everything into account.”

Wait—post what? I held up a hand half-heartedly like a student in class, not bothering to say anything until Aunt Sia hummed, “What is it, Jean?”

“Dr. Sims said post activation, right?” I said, looking between him and Dad. “And th–the notes said something about the Conduit’s power overloading. So did the Ray Sphere have to explode for the radiation to occur, or did it have to just be turned on?”

Dad and Dr. Sims stared at me for so long that I began to try to defend myself with, “Sorry, I don’t really get how this works—” before Dad held up a hand to silence me, staring at the wood grain as he worked something out. 

“It…It wouldn’t need to explode, would it?” He asked. “It’d just need to begin the fission process. That’d be enough.”

Dr. Sims slowly nodded, rubbing a hand against his chin in thought. “It would need to output that energy with or without the Conduit,” he hummed, “and Wolfe said something about the ‘overloading RFE’ and uh…an explosion bigger than what had happened before. That’s gotta mean there’s a version of the Ray Sphere being activated that doesn’t cause as big of a detonation.”

Dad nodded, his own more pronounced. “That means something could’ve happened when it was in someone else’s hands. Hey, Zeke, didn’t you say the Ray Sphere was taken by some gang back in—”

Dad faltered as he looked back to where Zeke had been standing only to see he was no longer there. Instead Zeke was by the sink, leaned over it like he was ill, gripping the edge of the counter with a grip usually saved for squeezing the life out of something. “Zeke?” Aunt Sia asked softly.

“A Conduit has to activate the Sphere?” Zeke asked, voice lower than I've ever heard it.

Dr. Sims glanced over at Dad, who looked just as bewildered. “I, uh...yes,” he confirmed hesitantly. “A Conduit has to be within…thirty-five centimeters of the Ray Sphere and holding it to act as a...well, a conduit for the RFE.“ He glanced back at the screen. ”Seems that's where Kessler got the name, in fact.”

Zeke's head shook as it fell, like he was refusing to believe what he was hearing. What was going on with him? He was acting like he was just diagnosed with the Plague himself. Brent looked over at me bewildered and all I could do was shrug.

Dad, though, didn't have as much tact. “What happened, Zeke?” he asked, eyes narrow as they bore through Zeke's back. “Do you know how the Plague started?”

Zeke breathed shakily, giving himself a few seconds to keep his head hung low as he collected himself. He reached up and pulled off his polarized glasses, running a hand across his face hard like he was trying to wipe away dirt. It's when he turned that I realized he was crying.

“I think I started it,” he whispered, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. “What did you just say?” Dad asked flatly, the hold on the back of his chair tightening.

Zeke kept his head low, eyes pointed at the ground but seeming to look far past it to some long-forgotten memory. “There was this...game of hot potato after the Blast as everyone fought to get ahold of the Ray Sphere. First John White pulled it from Cole's body after the Blast. Then the Dustmen got ahold'a it.”

“Dustmen?” I asked before I could stop myself. What kind of name was that?

“They were the old heir to the First Sons' gang.” Zeke informed me, only just glancing up. He saw how intensely everyone was looking at him, though, and his eyes fell once more. “He wanted the Ray Sphere back to eventually reclaim the throne from Kessler. He stuck it at the top of this huge tower he made with his powers, in some sorta charging cradle and had his men guarding it.

“We...Cole and I fought our way to the top of this tower and—you've gotta understand. There were Dustmen, there were First Sons, we were a good three hundred feet in the air and I had nothing but my pistol on me.” Zeke shook his head as he relived the memory. “And with everything else going on in Empire City...I was scared outta my mind. So when Cole was fighting Alden's men and I managed to get to the Ray Sphere and pull it outta that charging thing...”

His fist came down softly against the counter’s edge behind him, a beat far steadier than my own as I listened to his story. “I turned it on.” He admitted simply. 

It was almost instantaneous; Dad’s grip on the chair grew so strong that the wood backing splintered under his fingers, Aunt Sia’s protests unheard over Dad as he growled, “You what?”

“I was terrified,” he said, the admittance not really an excuse, but an explanation. He definitely didn’t seem to be defending his choice at all. “The world was going to hell in a handbasket and I barely had enough 9 millimeters to keep fighting against it. There were people who could suddenly make spiders outta scrap metal and tar that’d turn you into some zombie. My best friend was shooting lightning outta his hands and the most I could do to help him was hand him rubber gloves.” Zeke sighed hard, closing his eyes. “Kessler told me he…he knew why it didn’t work when it fizzled out. Why I didn’t get powers. And that he would show me what needed to be done if I just gave him the Ray Sphere. So…I did it. I gave him the damn thing. I was scared and thought that by getting myself some powers I’d live to see the next day. 'Cause then? That wasn't guaranteed.”

Guaranteed. 

“How long are you willing to fight for these Humans when they’re guaranteed to turn on you in the end?” Augustine’s voice rang in my ear. “Even the great Cole MacGrath was betrayed by his closest companion.” 

“You’re the one that turned on Cole,” I whispered, not realizing my eyes had fallen until I looked back up at Zeke, whose own were solemn. 

“You knew?” Brent demanded accusingly. 

“Kids.” Aunt Sia interjected sharply. 

“So you just set off the Ray Sphere because you were jealous?” Dad asked Zeke. 

“I was scared. Hell, we all were—”

“There was no one else close to the Ray Sphere?” Dr. Sims demanded, trying to click through some translation notes at rapid speed. 

Zeke shook his head. “Just me.” He began to pace back and forth in the three steps it took to get from the counter on one side of the kitchen to the oven on the other.

“There would have been no one gene-positive close enough to absorb the latent RFE. At least not in a way that mattered before the scattering of radioactive dust,” Dr. Sims informed the room.

Zeke stopped pacing, head falling into his hands. “Christ, did I cause the Plague?” he whispered aghast.

It was almost instantaneous; for a moment, Zeke looked like he was about to fall to his knees with how hard they were shaking, and then a second later he was flying back into the pantry door, Dad nothing but a plume of dust and concrete as he moved to beat on Zeke.

Whatever happened next was hell, and I was barely able to keep track of it all. There was a dogpile of limbs in the kitchen I was shoved away from. Brent emerged from it fully steel, holding Dad back and pushing him against the cracked pantry door as he fought to get out of Brent’s grip. Aunt Sia helped Zeke stand, trying to wipe away at his bloody nose with a random rag she pulled from the oven’s handle. Dr. Sims moved to intercept Dad's concrete-laden arm as it raised and aimed indiscriminately at Zeke, his face more furious than I've ever personally seen him.

“You killed them!” he screamed, loud enough that his voice echoed through the room. Brent pushed Dad against the wall and was trying to talk him down and I'm pretty sure the only thing that kept him from catching a right hook was the fact that he was Dad's son. “My parents died because of you!”

“I didn't know,” Zeke insisted, holding the white rag to his face that was steadily turning red. “I just...I was trying to protect myself—”

“You nearly killed the world because you were jealous,” Dad spat, face contorted in rage. “You gave Kessler back the Ray Sphere to get powers! You were a coward—”

“Delsin—” Dr. Sims tried to talk Dad down, though it was no use.

“I was.” Zeke agreed without hesitation. “You think I haven't regretted it every day of my life since? I’ve been trying to make up for my mistake ever since—”

“Regret isn't gonna bring back everyone you killed,“ Dad snarled.

“I know.” Zeke said solemnly. “One of those people that died was my best friend—”

Dad scoffed. “Save me the fucking sob story—you're the one that betrayed him! I'm supposed to give a shit about how sorry you feel when you turned on him willingly?” He shook his head, glancing at Dr. Sims, who was still holding his dominant hand. “Did you know about this?” he demanded.

Dr. Sims shook his head and opened his mouth to say something when Aunt Sia said, “I did.”

Dad's head snapped her way and he glowered, the stare enough to make my own spine chill despite being to the left and behind her. “You what?” he growled.

Aunt Sia didn't even flinch. “I knew what happened. Zeke told me years ago when we first started working on this together,” She motioned to the papers on the table.

“And you didn't think to tell me?” He looked beyond pissed. Betrayed, like Aunt Sia was the one to activate the Ray Sphere.

Aunt Sia raised an eyebrow. “Would you have understood?”

Dad blinked, his scowl just barely slipping off of his face. “What?”

“You're not human, Delsin. Not like Zeke, not like Reggie, and not like me.” Aunt Sia pointed to her own chest as Dad’s nostrils flared the moment she brought up his brother. “You don't get how...how scary and inadequate it can feel to be the person who can't do anything and to watch people you love put their lives on the line. You can—you can make a nonprofit to help or go undercover or sneak people out of the country but it's never enough.” Her hand fell. “I spent five years trying to help the Conduits and you were able to fix their issues in a week. Do you know how hard it is to feel like you're never doing enough when people you care about are in trouble? To be pushed aside and practically be told to let the Big Boys handle it?”

My eyes fell from looking at Aunt Sia to staring at the tile, her words settling on top of that weight in my chest that I couldn't seem to shake off anymore. Do you know how hard it is to feel like you're never doing enough when people you care about are in trouble? I could guess. I felt it in the pristine white of that First Sons base, watching Dad and Brent fight and having to run away like a coward. Helping Dad bandage chemical burns on his flesh that made the entire room smell like weirdly sweet bacon whenever the wrappings would come off. And I couldn't do anything to prevent that, even as a Conduit—or whatever I was now. Told to run away, asked to hide on the floorboard of a car, told that I 'didn't need to worry about it' when wanting to know more about everything.

And I guess that, even though I didn't really approve of handing over a miniature nuke to a crazy cult leader, I could understand why Zeke did what he did.

Dad, though, didn't. “That's different,” he insisted.

“Is it?” 

“You didn’t sell out Eugene to Augustine,” Dad said, before his eyes returned to Zeke and they immediately became darker. “He fucked over MacGrath.”

“And I’ve done everything I could to honor Cole and his sacrifice,” Zeke, surprisingly, snapped back. “You think I’m not haunted by what he had to do every goddamn day of my life?”

Dad shrugged off Dr. Sims’ hold. “He wouldn’t have had to sacrifice shit if it wasn’t for you.”

Aunt Sia sighed, exasperated. “Delsin, don’t act like you’ve never made a selfish mistake before.”

“I didn’t hand a goddamn bomb to Kessler!” Dad defended. 

“No, but you’ve done stupid shit plenty of times before.” Aunt Sia chastised. “Don’t act like you’ve never been blinded by your emotions.”

Dad glowered long after Brent let him go, not moving from his spot. He seemed to be debating on where to place his anger, and I saw his right hand twitch once without raising as his eyes shifted between Aunt Sia to Zeke and back again. The tight fist relaxed, but he still had enough anger in him to let them settle on Zeke and growl, “I’m only saying this once, Dunbar: You do anything to risk my family while we’re trying to figure out what’s wrong with my girl? I’ll kill you. You’re here because you’ve got good information, and nothing else.” 

The air itself felt thick as Dad stared down Zeke, waiting for some form of acknowledgement. “Alright,” Zeke relented, the first to break eye contact. 

Aunt Sia held up a hand, trying to force Dad and his cold glare to stand down. “We should stop there for today,” she said, voice suggesting she was leaving no room for arguments. “We’re getting nowhere like this, and I think everyone could do with a break right now, okay? So let’s stop.” 

Dad glowered our way a moment longer before storming off, making sure to give Zeke a shoulder check on his way past before he threw open the back door and disappeared into the backyard. 

It was hard to pretend like everything was normal for the rest of the day. 

The journal didn’t really get us anywhere, and when Dr. Sims declared he wanted to take me to a hospital tomorrow and run tests? I became nervous. “There’s a specialist there that can see her that might be able to help,” he told Aunt Sia. “And the endocrine unit and palliative care are on the same floor. That’s where the other prime Conduit experiencing strange symptoms is.”

Zeke disappeared soon after Dad retreated to the backyard, mumbling something about ‘giving space’ that he didn’t even let Aunt Sia try to retort to. She sighed hard as he closed the front door before turning to Brent and I, leaving Dr. Sims to mess around on his computer as she steered us to the living room, trying to use the allure of a movie to help us pretend like none of that just happened. 

She tried to make the resulting day fun. Tried being the keyword. Trips down memory lane where she reminded us of every young-age blunder she saw over the five years she watched us, equally embarrassing moments from Dad’s past before we were born.

“Met her soon after I met Eugene,” Dad said when he had returned from outside, anger somewhere dissipated. “She would locate the suspected conduits he was picking up, and Project Sanctuary would sneak them outta Seattle. Eventually had me doing the same thing.”

It was hard work, tearing suspected gene carriers out of jail cells and getting them out of the country, but they did it together with the network Aunt Sia had built over the years. “I started Project Sanctuary soon after I began volunteering at the Conduit Rights League,” she told us, “About a year after Eugene was taken from me.”

Dad and Aunt Sia really got to know each other in the after, though; those few months after Augustine’s crimes were shared but before the government was strong-armed into doing anything about them, Aunt Sia was there trying to help the Conduits that were trickle-released from Curdun before its doors closed. She was there to protest when they were opened again. “With the pandemic, and your mother’s condition, I didn’t visit her as much as I wanted for fear of getting her sick,” Aunt Sia admitted when we asked her why, since she knew Dad since we were born, there was no evidence of her existence. “And besides, you know me—addicted to my work. I had a lot cut out for me then,”

But everything she said, all she meant to be some sort of melancholic sharing of truth, was nothing more but another straw on the back of this burden that kept feeling like it was crushing my chest in. I knew so little. I was the cause of so much. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened in the last few weeks; the lies and the pain and the truths and the fights. 

I even made the mistake of going online at some point and was bombarded with new notifications; someone found my art blog online, and it spread, fast. There were so many messages, so many death threats, that I had to go hide in the bathroom and cry as I deactivated every source of me online. Not before seeing news updates about COLE, since my name was tied to them now. 

Protests, riots. More bomb threats than should have been allowed. COLE was officially defunded in 8 states, and forced to close by government order in 3 of those. CRON, the conduit registration bill, suddenly had enough signatures to pass the House, and was set to be voted on in the Senate. 

And this was all because of me, and what I did to Seattle.

I tucked my phone into the couch after that, ignoring every missed email and social media notification because I was so sure what they would be about that I figured it would be better to not even look at them. But I couldn’t stop thinking about them. God, I couldn’t—not during the movie Aunt Sia put on, not during dinner, and not even when she tossed me a pair of soft pajamas that I almost immediately dropped, declaring a girls night. “You all find a place to sleep,” she said, waving off Dr. Sims, Brent and Dad in a jokingly dismissive way. “Jean and I will be in my room.”

She ushered me into her bedroom and, after a brief moment where she helped Dr. Sims find comfort on her couch, returned, closing the door fully behind her and locking it for good measure before turning to face me, holding up my phone. “You forgot something,” she said, moving to the big king sized bed and handing it to me before crawling in. 

“Oh,” I smiled, trying my best to look grateful as I set down my hair brush and reached out to grab the phone, “Thanks.” I immediately put it on the nightstand beside the bed, face down. 

Aunt Sia sighed, “Alright, hon.” She raised an eyebrow when I looked at her. “You father isn’t in the room anymore. Out with it.”

I blinked, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not blind, Jean.” Aunt Sia said softly, concern laden in her voice. “You’ve barely smiled since you’ve been here. I can hardly get any interaction out of you. What’s wrong?”

I looked away from her, shrugging and grabbing the hair brush again. “Just tired. I could barely sleep in that van.” 

Aunt Sia gently took the hair brush from me and began to go through my hair herself, working out the knots. “I don’t believe you,” she hummed. Non-accusingly but still all the worried. 

I sighed hard, and admittedly said a bit snappily, “I’m just tired,” trying to reinforce the lie to her. To myself. All it did was make me sound more guilty. 

“Jean.” 

I could feel her eyes boring into me from behind as she set the brush down and began to braid my hair, small hands moving expertly to make a french braid tighter and neater than anything I could ever do. I looked up at my reflection in the vanity mirror in front of her bed and sighed, hating how deep the eyebags looked. “I’m…I’m sorry.” I began. 

“It’s alright, I shouldn’t have pushed—”

“No not that—well, actually, yeah. That too.” My eyes traveled down to my cast, the same deep blue as those waves that devastated Seattle covering the ashen and yellowed bruises, the same shades as the remains of COLE in Portland. “I…a bunch of people found my blog and…they weren’t nice about it.”

Aunt Sia’s brow furrowed slightly. “How so?”

I didn’t answer, pushing Aunt Sia to pull her own phone out and go straight to the blog. Shit. Right. I gave her the link to that. She scrolled for a moment, seeing nothing innocuous until she got to the comments—and that’s where her anger flared. “Wh–” she cut off, scrolling further. Switching to reblogs. Her nostrils flared, gray eyes almost steeling like Brent’s and the hand holding my braid in place tightened. “Those assholes,” she hissed, dropping her phone and looking up and meeting my eyes in the reflection of the mirror. “Jean, how long have you known about this? We need to tell your father—”

“No!” I cut her off, a bit too loud. I screwed my eyes shut and inhaled deeply, forcing myself to be quieter. Involving Dad was the last thing I wanted to do, especially after everything today. “No, no–not Dad. Not now. Please.”

Aunt Sia, fury still in her eyes, let her face soften slightly. “Why not?”

It took me far too long to answer, instead glancing at the screen of her phone; she was on a picture I’d done of a beach. Pastels. That one had so many comments—not just of people saying how the art sucked, but saying I had planned this the whole time. That I wanted to flood Seattle, that I wanted to kill everyone I did, and this romanticizing of the tall waves was proof. “It…” I drew off, unsure of what to say. “He doesn’t need to worry about it right now.”

I could hear Aunt Sia sigh gently. “That’s not for you to decide.” 

A warmth of upset, of anger, lit in my chest. “I’ve already caused him enough issues, he doesn’t need to keep worrying about me—”

“Hey,” Aunt Sia cut me off, hushing me like one would some spooked animal. Her eyes met my reflection. “Now, Jeanie, listen to me. Everything that’s happened wasn't your fault. You hear me? It doesn't matter what anyone says, it wasn't your fault.”

I shook my head. “I killed one hundred and thirty seven people, Aunt Sia. People keep attacking COLE because of it. Dad’s cover was blown! All the people that were hurt and th-the politicians…” my voice cracked and I clammed up immediately, barely able to choke out after, “If I was more careful in the alley or the fight with Augustine—”

“Don’t you dare blame yourself for that, Jean,” Aunt Sia interrupted. “You’re a child.”

“Does that matter?” 

“Of course it matters.” The hairbrush came down, and she moved to look at me intensely through the mirror from over my shoulder. “You were dealt a bad hand and you did what you did out of desperation. Who could blame you?”

“Everyone,” I said softly, looking down at the printed quilt at the end of the bed. “Everyone does.” 

Aunt Sia sighed, silence hanging in the air for a few moments before she started. “I think…I think what matters most is knowing—and accepting—that, sometimes…you won’t be able to help.” The way she said it so matter-of-factly made me raise my head to look at her in the mirror. She wasn’t staring at my reflection anymore; her eyes were down, staring at the dresser the mirror was posted on and yet far past it, eyes traveled somewhere foreign. The look was familiar; that's how Dad would look when thinking about his past. About everything that still threatened to drag him down. “Sometimes all there really is is guilt and shame, and the feeling of your entire life being a burden to those around you. But what I learned throughout the years is that people will only start to treat you like an inconvenience if you present yourself as one.”

“I already am.” I interjected. “I know I had the healing thing for only, like, a week, but—”

The glaze in Aunt Sia’s mind seeped away and they snapped up to meet mine in the mirror. “You're a person who needs help, and you have so many people in your life who are willing to go above and beyond to provide you with that help. Not because they pity you, not because it gets you off their back, but because they love you.” After a moment Aunt Sia seemed to know the thoughts forming in my mind before the sentence was finished being built, adding, “Even if it might not always look like it—hell, I've known your Dad long enough to be aware of just how harsh he can be sometimes. But he does love you. We all do.”

I looked down at my hands, disagreement rising in the back of my throat like bile. “I just…I feel so useless right now,” I admitted. Why was that one sentence so hard to choke out? “I’m either not helping or when I do try to help I…drown half of Seattle. I couldn’t even protect them when we were in New Marais.”

“It's hard to come to terms with the fact that sometimes all we can do is rely on the kindness of others, and it's frustrating to feel like you're unable to ever return just a tiny bit of everything they did for you.” Aunt Sia sympathized. I’d never understand how it came to her so easily. “But there is one thing you're missing: You surviving, you making it through hard times with their help, you being able to smile again? That's the best way to give back to the loved ones that want nothing more but to be there for you.”

My brow furrowed as I processed her words. Was that really it? Was it that easy? It didn’t feel that easy. It definitely didn’t feel like someone else’s love would absolve me of my sins. “Those people in Seattle had loved ones.” I said simply, eyes glancing over to look at Aunt Sia’s knees. “That mom that lost her kid in the COLE bombing? There’s so many innocent people that’ve been hurt, and it’s because of me in some way.” I could feel the frustration and anger and self loathing bubble up in my chest. “I—Dad can’t even go back to work, Brent can’t see his girlfriend, you’re stuck watching COLE explode after everything you’ve done for it—”

I hadn’t noticed I began to tear up until Aunt Sia took my face in her hands, squishing my cheeks slightly as she forced me to look at her. “None of that is your fault,” She insisted, eyes searching mine. “None of that was intentional. You didn’t mean to hurt anyone, and that’s enough—even if you may have. You were trying, and that’s a lot more than anyone else can say. You think those politicians have ever done a thing in their life that benefited anyone but themselves?” She shook her head, answering her own question. Her hands fell from my face, but she stayed close. “The only thing I want you to worry about right now is your health. Everything else is for us to worry about, I don’t want you to feel guilty for us caring about you. You’re worth all of this stress. No one—no government, no human, and no conduit will ever be able to convince me of the opposite.” Her shoulders squared a bit. “And I'll beat the shit out of everyone that even dares to try and tell me that what happened was something you should be blamed for."

God, there she was—the Aunt Sia I knew. She managed to pull an amused huff outta me, my halfhearted smile bringing a brighter one on her own face. “Now stop this moping, I can’t handle it. Let’s have one night where we pretend nothing’s happening, okay? You need a night off, especially since tomorrow’s gonna be busy.”

With a swallow and a nod I agreed, trying to shove away the pain for now. I knew she was right; Dad had told me Dr. Sims was able to order some tests for tomorrow. “There’s a specialist there that can see you that might be able to help, and they work in the same hospital where the other prime Conduit experiencing strange symptoms is,” he said. We’d be leaving in the morning. 

I couldn’t see it from her point of view, I couldn’t understand how I deserved her understanding—but maybe it was easier to lie to myself anyways. And as Aunt Sia went to a folder titled ‘Jeanie’ Favs’ in her pirated movies, I figured maybe she was right about one thing; I could use a reason to forget about everything right now.

[p1astr81]

just a prank - op81

in which: Lando has his friends over, and while his roommate is taking a shower, they decide to play a prank on her. Oscar is the one to come to her rescue.

pairing: Oscar Piastri x Lando’s roommate!reader

warnings: uni au, fluff, bullying lowkey, use of y/n, a little objectifying, my first fic so pls don’t be rude

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧

Y/N just got off work, and she desperately needed a shower.

Wanting to become a physiotherapist, she worked part-time at a private secondary school alongside the athletic trainer to make some money while she studied at uni. She was helping one of the football athletes. He’d sprained his ankle earlier in the season, and she was having him do a few exercises to rebuild his strength in that foot.

Long story short, three boys came in asking for her to tape up their knees. Before she could say anything, one of the boys “tripped” and spilled an entire can of Red Bull down the front of her. The nice football player offered his shirt to her, but she politely declined. She’d remained in the sticky clothes for the rest of the day. And as soon as she got home, she jumped in the shower.

Conveniently, her roommate, Lando Norris, forgot to tell her that he invited a bunch of his friends over. So a quarter of the way through her shower, the shared apartment became filled with boys.

“What is taking her so long? I have to piss,” Keegan complained. Lando just shrugged. “Oh!” Carlos exclaimed, like a lightbulb just went off in his head. “Let’s play a prank on her.” He suggested. “Like turn off the lights?” Max Fewtrell asked. “Or turn off her music.” Ginge grumbled. The pop music was blasting, filling the apartment with the vocals of various pop girls.

“I was thinking more like take her clothes,” Carlos said, a mischievous tone about his voice. Lando laughed. “Just say you want to see my roommate naked, mate.”

Oscar thought they should leave her be, but he wasn’t friends with everyone in the room. Only Lando. And he didn’t want to be labeled as a kill joy, so he stayed silent.

“It’s not just me, I think everyone wants a piece of her.” Carlos defended himself, glancing at the others in the room who hesitantly nodded along—well, except for Oscar. “You’ve got your share already, haven’t you?”

Lando shook his head. “Nope, she sees me as a ‘friend’.” He shared, unamused. The room winced at the fact he’d been friendzoned. Carlos got up from the couch, and headed down the hallway where the bathroom was located.

Y/N heard the door open and groaned. “Lando how many times do I have to tell you, you have to knock before coming in.” You scolded, but instead of the usual sassy response you’d receive, it was silence. The door clicked closed, and you peaked your head out, not noticing anything different immediately.

Carlos emerged from the hallway. “Got the clothes, and the towel.” He held up the items proudly. The group of them cheered. Something inside Oscar’s stomach twisted. These aren’t the people he thought he befriended.

after around fifteen minutes, the shower water turned off, and her music followed quickly after. “Lando!” She shouted but got no reply. So she stuck her head out of the door. “Lando! Give me my stuff back!” She demanded. This time, she was met with laughter. She quickly realized it wasn’t just Lando in the apartment. Panic set in.

Her roommate seeing her without clothes on was one thing. She could live with that embarrassment. He accidentally walked in on her changing once before. But by the sounds of it, there were at least five other people out there. The status of their phones—whether they would be recording or not—was completely unknown to her.

She shut the bathroom door, and began scheming. Her first thought was the shower curtains, but the rust had fused the clips of the cheap hangers together. She could use the hand towel, but that wouldn’t cover much. Toilet paper wasn’t an option, as there was so little left in the roll that it would help just about as much as the hand towel. She was left with pleading.

She stuck her head out the door again. “Lando, come on. Just give me a bath towel at least.” All she heard was laughter. “I’ll buy you take-away for a week.” She tried to bargain. Again, only laughter. She huffed. Knowing most of Lando’s friends were pining after her, she tried to bargain with, “I’ll kiss every one of you if you just give me a towel.” There was no laughter immediately, as if they were actually considering it. It gave her a little bit of hope. But it shattered moments later as they began to laugh again.

Seeing as bargaining didn’t work, she was reduced to begging. “Lando, please.” They only laughed harder, but their laughter was soon replaced with cries of disappointment. “Mate, don’t.” “Come one man don’t be a wet blanket.” “Dude she was gonna have to come out eventually.”

Her saving grace appeared at the end of the hallway, her towel in his hands. While the hallway was dimly lit, the floppy hair on his head couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else. Oscar was always her favorite out of all Lando’s friends.

He stopped in front of her. The bathroom light illuminated his face enough for her to see his small smile. “Thank you so much.” Her words came out with a sigh of gratitude. His smile widened as he nodded, his hair flopping along with his head.

She closed the door on him, and re-emerged seconds later with the towel wrapped about her. “Oscar,” she called to the man who was stood at the end of the hall. He turned to her with a raised brow as she caught up with him. She took his arm, passing the group of booing boys on the way to her bedroom.

She brought Oscar into her room and locked the door behind them. “Oh, no. I didn’t do that to get anything in return.” He quickly said, his eyes wide. He did not want her to feel like she was obligated to give him something.

“Trust me, I know.” She smiled. “You’ve always been my favorite out of all of Lando’s friends. You’re the only polite one.” She shared while digging through her dresser for new pajamas. Carlos was still holding her other ones hostage.

“Oh, uhm, thanks.” He scratched the back of his neck. He was looking everywhere except at her. “Turn around for me.” She requested, and he quickly listened.

His cheeks went red when he heard her towel drop. He wanted to take a peak. Like the other boys, he did think you were very attractive. But unlike the other boys would have, he didn’t try to steal a glance at you. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very good looking?” She asked.

“My grandma called me handsome once.” He shared. Her laughter rang out, the angelic sound floating right to his ears and making his head feel a little lighter. “Funny, good looking, and polite. It’s a wonder you haven’t been locked down yet.” She laughed again.

Oscar didn’t know what to say to that, so he just laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I’m probably making this really weird. I just wanted to thank you.” She apologized, her voice sincere. Oscar shook his head quickly. “It’s not weird, and you don’t need to thank me.” She heard in his voice how nervous he was, and smiled softly at him. “You can turn around now, by the way.” He did, and bit back a laugh at the set of hot-pink pug pajamas she’d put on. “Don’t laugh. They’re all I have clean.” She sighed.

“‘M not laughing.” He stated, though his voice was very clearly on the verge of breaking into hysterics. He couldn’t help it, and after a few seconds let out a little chuckle. “Yeah, alright. You can get back to your friends now. Sorry for keeping you.”

“Eh,” Oscar stammered. “I’m a bit afraid to go back out there, if I’m honest.” He confessed with a nervous glance toward the door. She shrugged. “You could stay here with me. I don’t mind. I was just going to watch a few episodes of Brooklyn 99 before going to sleep.”

He hesitated. “If you truly don’t mind.” She shook her head and scooted over to make room for him in the bed next to her.

Morning arrived, and when Oscar stretched his limbs, he found himself unable to move a great part of the left side of his body. Glancing down to investigate the problem, he found y/n at it’s source. He realized he never left her room last night, and as a result, they fell asleep together.

Slowly, he sunk back into the mattress, doing his best to keep her from waking. She looks inexplicably tranquil beside him. A small smile graced her lips as her head laid on his chest. An arm of hers was draped across his torso, and she had a leg laying cross his, disabling his ability to move them freely. He didn’t mind, though. In fact, he found himself at peace.

Despite his attempt at not disturbing her, she began to stir. She blinked repeatedly, trying to wake herself up. She let out a sigh before lifting her eyelids. She looked up at Oscar through her lashes. “Oh,” she muttered, lazily pulling herself away from him. “Sorry about that.” She apologized. Oscar found her groggy voice somewhat endearing. “I suppose you should get going, then.” She stood, stretching her arms toward the sky.

Oscar nodded. “Only if you let me take you out tonight.” He didn’t know where the confidence came from, and as soon as he got the words out, he began apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I’m not normally- I didn’t mean-“

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.” She interrupted his fumbling, smiling warmly at him. “I’ll walk you out.”

On their way out, they passed Lando, who was toasting pop tarts. “Have a fun night?” He asked bitterly.

“Calm down, we didn’t fuck.” She rolled her eyes before adding, “If we did, you definitely would’ve heard.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved her off. “All the guys aren’t too fond of you now.” He told Oscar, who shrugged. “They’re not the kind of blokes I care to be friends with, anyway.” Y/n smiled up at him.

“Oh!” She hummed, facing Lando. “and you’re going to have to cook your own food tonight. We’re going out.”

Lando rolled his eyes as the toaster popped from behind him.

[amiableness]

i had another idea for dad!james. who sometimes has to work late and reader helps take care of henry. he comes home and sees her reading henry a story before bed. he’s just heart eyes the whole time 🤎

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1125 words

series masterlist ; main masterlist

By the time James gets home, he’s exhausted. He didn’t plan to be this late, but sometimes his job demands it. He feels fortunate that you’re the one watching Henry tonight. If it had been the babysitter, she would have told him “tough luck” and left, as she never likes staying late when James’s work keeps him beyond schedule. He understands her frustration; it’s not fair to expect her to stay late without notice. But coming home to you and Henry is always a comfort.

He longs to kick off his shoes by the door, savoring the relief of stretching his toes. A hot shower to wash away the stress and changing into his cozy sweats are next on his list. Yet, more than anything, he looks forward to seeing his two favorite people: Henry, with his innocent, sleepy smile, and you, with your warm, comforting presence.

You truly embody comfort for him.

James will never admit it, but the nights you watch Henry while he works late are his favorite. Dinner is always kept warm for him in the oven, filling the kitchen with a delicious, welcoming aroma. The lamps he never uses are on because you insist they make the house cozier, casting a soft, inviting glow over the living room. And seeing your jacket and shoes tucked right next to his and Henry’s is one of his favorite sights—a simple yet profound reminder of home.

You take care of the little things that mean so much, like tidying up Henry’s toys and leaving a packed lunch for James in the fridge for the next day. Those lunches are the only ones he looks forward to, knowing that if he makes them himself, they’ll just be leftovers from Henry’s daycare lunches. You never prepare Henry’s lunches, understanding how much James values the tradition of leaving him a note. Although Henry can’t read it yet, Hilary at daycare always makes sure to read it to him.

The moment he opens the front door, a lovesick smile spreads across his face. There, by the door, are your coat and boots—essential for braving the London winter. As he steps inside, the familiar aroma of his favorite pasta dish fills the air, welcoming him home.

He locks the door behind him and sets his belongings down near the entryway. The house is neat and quiet, with the lamps providing a softer, more pleasant light than the harsh overheads. The faint aroma of pasta still lingers, adding to the relaxed atmosphere. He’s pretty sure the house never smells this good after he makes dinner.

As he heads up the stairs, he hears your voice animatedly reading Henry a bedtime story. Every now and then, Henry’s giggles punctuate the scene, and James imagines the dramatic pauses you take, flashing playful glances at him. He moves quietly, not wanting to interrupt, but he wants to take a moment to savor the sight of you reading to his son. The feeling he gets seeing you with Henry is something he knows he might never experience with anyone else.

He knows that someday things will change. You’ll find someone else, fall in love, and soon you won’t have the time to spend evenings at his house reading to his son. The thought of that future makes James feel uneasy.

For now, he leans quietly against the doorframe of Henry’s room, watching as you recline against the headboard of Henry’s small toddler bed, with Henry snuggled up next to you. Your hair is swept back, and you’re wearing a pair of sleep shorts that are a size too small, which always drives James a little crazy. He suppresses a smile when he notices you’re wearing one of his shirts—probably another forgotten piece from your own wardrobe. It happens often, but James remains oblivious to the fact that it might be intentional.

Henry’s head rests gently on the side of your upper stomach, his little hand clutching his stuffed dragon tightly to his chest. His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, and James can see the joy in his son’s eyes as he listens intently to the story. The soft glow from the bedside lamp washes over both of you: Henry’s tiny form curled up against you, his breaths steady and rhythmic, and you, fully immersed in the book, your voice animated and soothing.

James adjusts his glasses slightly, trying to avoid interrupting the moment. But as he moves, Henry’s gaze shoots up, and his face instantly lights up with a wide grin. “Daddy!” he exclaims with a burst of excitement, his voice filled with pure joy.

“That does look a bit like Daddy, doesn’t it?” you say, tilting your head as you examine the book with a playful grin.

“What does, darling?” James asks as he steps into the room, his voice warm but tinged with curiosity. He gives up trying to stay inconspicuous once Henry spots him. Your eyes widen in surprise, your expression shifting from surprise to a hint of embarrassment as you look up. The soft light from the bedside lamp illuminates your face, revealing the genuine shock.

“Jamie! You scared me.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you two might be asleep, so I tried to come in quietly.” It’s a half-truth, but you don’t press the matter.

“I suppose it’s getting a bit late, isn’t it?” You glance at the clock and wince. “Let’s finish this page and then get some rest, okay?”

“Daddy, you listen too.” Henry’s tiny hand reaches out and pats the bed, his eyes shining with anticipation. James fights back a grin, recognizing the familiar gesture. Whenever you want James or Henry to sit beside you, you pat the spot next to you just like that.

“There isn’t much room, buddy,” James says gently. Henry’s face falls into a small frown, clearly disappointed.

“You hold darling, like she holds me.” Henry pouts, and James knows he’s about to get what he wants in the most endearing way only a three-year-old can manage. “Darling”—the nickname James has always used for you and that Henry now affectionately calls you too.

James’s eyes flicker to yours, and you shrug with a smile, adjusting Henry in your arms to make space for him. As James shifts onto the too-small bed, his heart pounds with affection. You lean back against his chest, sending him a soft, reassuring smile over your shoulder.

The simple gesture nearly causes him to go into cardiac arrest.

Henry lets out a joyful giggle before snatching the book from your hands and starting to “read” it on his own. James glances down at the illustration of the friendly brown bear wearing wire-rimmed glasses, holding its cub close, and snorts softly.

So that’s how you see him.

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

[dollfacefantasy]

NOT A TOY! ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: you and rick play around with the piece holstered to his belt

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, gun play (humping it), praise/degradation

wc: 1.4k

a/n: um sorry gang i wanted this to be longer but my brain wasn't working when i wrote it and it lowkey still is not 😔 based on this ask tho which i loved. i hope you guys like it. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated.

kinktober slot: day 22 - gun play

"You like this?" he asks, feigned disgust dripping from each syllable, "Dirty fuckin' girl."

"It feels good," you whimper in defense of yourself.

He chuckles at that, the sound coming out raspy and low. It's accompanied by the smirk on his face. The nearby light of the lantern makes his eyes look as though they're flickering with amusement at the position you're in.

The two of you were on watch for the night shift. While the sun set behind the tree line, you each climbed up into the tower that sat along the wall. Both of you started off focused on the task at hand. You kept your eyes forward, scanning the horizon for any signs of trouble, walker or human.

But as had been the norm for your time in Alexandria so far, nothing happened. No staggering figures emerged from the woods, nor did any cars creep down the road. You sat in the two chairs perched up there and talked back and forth about different things. You vented about different people in the group, shared stories about your lives in the old world, just normal stuff.

As the hours stretched on, you grew tired and migrated into Rick's lap. He let you settle in against his chest, expecting you to rest there for the remaining time. But like it normally went for the two of you, being so close meant you couldn't keep your hands off each other.

It started with simple making out. Your lips moved with one anothers in slow, open-mouthed kisses. His hands swept over your figure, stopping every so often to grope at your thighs or hips. He spun you around on his lap after a while to get you situated in a position to ride him.

In doing so, he went to move his gun out of its holster. The cool wooden finish of the grip brushed over your thigh, and the sensation sent a visible shudder through your body. 

His brows had raised with curiosity. Testing the idea, he dragged the weapon up your leg, and you shivered again.

"Feel somethin' good, sweetheart?" he asked.

Your eyes darted up to meet his, timidity gleaming over the small spheres. You responded with a little nod, and that was how you ended up here. The gun lodged between your thighs, the smooth grip pressed right up against your damp panties. 

You rut on the weapon like a puppy in heat - back and forth, back and forth. You're not sure if it's the thrill of using something so inherently dangerous as an object of pleasure or just something about the even curve of it that has you even more whiny than usual.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, dragging the fabric of his shirt up between them. His free hand not keeping the gun secure holds your chin. You want to drop your head back so bad. Your eyes are already so droopy with lust. You want to just melt and let loose, but he keeps you locked in this moment with him.

"Look at you. So desperate. You'll rub up on anything if it gets you off, huh?" he whispers.

Your head bobbles in his grasp, nodding yes.

"Mhm. As long as it feels good you don't care," he tuts. He boosts one of his legs to knock you closer. You topple forward further into his chest and stay there, accepting the warm expanse as refuge from the stimulation down below.

"Not my fault," you whimper, "Just feels so good."

"I bet it does," he chuckles.

Carefully, he angles the firearm upwards a bit more, letting your clit bump on the end of the grip. A sharp whine shoots from your lips, so he knows it was the right move.

You don't worry about anything right now. In this moment, it's just you and him. There's nothing to think about but humping the object below you like your life depends on it. You don't even worry about your own speed or force or anything. If there's anyone in this world you'd trust to do this with, it's Rick.

Rick who's intensely familiar with guns from his years on the force before this. Rick who's piece stays attached to his hip at all times. Rick who looks at you like you're the most precious being on earth, but who also can't get enough of reminding you what a little slut you can be. He's the only one who gets you to this level of depravity.

"Harder, baby. I know you can do better than this," he teases near your ear. You feel his breath tickle your skin, the sensation sending chills all across your heated flesh.

You try to follow what he says and press yourself down with more force. The smooth handle slots between your folds. You whine as you feel the increase in pressure, so close against you the contact almost feels direct.

His hands around back knead your ass. He gives it a small smack, beckoning you to keep up the pace.

"Want you to make yourself cum all over it. Get it all messy for me," he breathes, "I know those cute little panties are already soaked."

Your eyes flit down as if you didn't know that. His gaze follows in suit, a small laugh coming out of him. The more you rut on top of him, the darker the wet patch on the front of the delicate garment becomes. The sticky fabric adds to the friction though, making your release approach faster.

"F-fuck," you whimper. Your body tightens up at the impending sensation. The edge is right there. You don't think you could stop now if you wanted to.

"That's right, sweetheart. Making me proud. You're actin' like the perfect whore for me. Keep it up," he mumbles, each word only spurring you on.

You keep bucking your hips. Your grasp on him tightens. Your chest puffs in smaller intervals as you feel yourself racing towards the finish line. When you finally crest the peak, your back arches. You let out a strangled cry. Your body continues to rock brokenly on top of the object.

He grabs your chin again and pulls your face from where it'd been smooshed against his chest. His fingers direct you upward, forcing you to look at him.

"Look in my eyes while you cum, darlin'. Look at who's making you feel this good," he says.

Your cheeks fill with heat at the intensity of his gaze. Despite your instinct to look away, you keep your pupils locked on his blue irises, taking in all of the desire swirling there. Everything hits you harder. You tremble even more as the thing between your legs continues bringing you pleasure.

He chuckles and  drops his hand from your face. Once you're beginning the downward slope, he rubs your back, soothing you through it.

"Good girl. Let it all out. I've got you," he murmurs.

He keeps a firm hold on you, ensuring you don't fall off his lap. You continue on shuddering and riding out the rest of the high, but soon enough your body begins to settle. It feels like you're melting down into his chest. Every part of you loosens. You let out a deep sigh. And your eyes flutter.

His hand slithers down between the two of you to carefully extract his gun from the junction of your legs. He slides it out, briefly admiring the small sheen coating it. You scoot closer to be further in his arms as you hear him set the weapon on the table beside you.

He holds you there for a moment, letting you calm down. It's dark out now. Everything's quiet except for the sound of your breathing. His fingers massage the nape of your neck while he looks out at the pitch black expanse outside the walls.

Even though his attention resides elsewhere for the moment, when you shift around, you feel his bulge nudging the plush underside of your thighs. Reaching down, your fingers toy with the button on his jeans.

That same smug expression from earlier returns to his face as his eyes find yours again.

"You want more already?" he teases.

"That was just the warm up. I want the real thing," you say with a tiny smile.

"The real thing, huh? Greedy girl," he tuts playfully. But he adjusts his position a little in a way that you know you're gonna get what you want. "Let's see if you can handle the real thing without waking everybody up."

[hoonieyun]

Omg this is kinda silly but imagine enhypen reacting to their girl (who’s in cheer) doing the Christmas dance from mean girls for a Christmas cheer performance

Jingle Bell Rock ✧˖°.

performing jingle bell rock from mean girls in front of enha hyung-line

warnings: suggestive, kissing, consensual touching, provocative outfits and dance moves, 18+ and not proofread LOL genre: fluff, romance, slight angst, college au, enha hyung line x cheerleader!yn notes: thank you for this request!! tbh my requests are closed but i thought it was too good not to do. i hope you were okay that i played around with the story a bit and didn't just leave it strictly to just reacting to the dance LOL

frat bro!heeseung ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆ — wc: 1053

— the red velvet two piece mrs. claus outfit that you had on would’ve been really cute if one: you weren’t freezing your ass off and two: your cheer captain wasn’t forcing you and the rest of the cheer team to perform “jingle bell rock” for a winter fundraiser at your university. you would’ve been fine performing in these clothes since they were fairly similar to your cheer uniform but the fact that heeseung, the boy from your finance 301 class, that you have had a crush on was also at the fundraising event for his frat. 

you were dreading having to perform this song because it seems that all of the university student body was in attendance and so was the boy you have been crushing on all semester. your advances towards him tended to fail as you would chicken out last minute to talk to him and since you can’t back out now; you’re taking this opportunity to make a lasting impression on him. who knows, maybe he really likes the song “jingle bell rock”. 

the host of the fundraiser has just finished introducing you and the rest of the cheer team and the audience roars in applause. your cheer team was very popular because you had previously won the national championship for the last 3 years, opposite of the (american) football team who hasn’t won a championship since the late 90s. 

you and the rest of the girls get into position and as the darkness fades into a spotlight that shined over your group, the song began and your routine was in full swing. you had copied the choreography from the movie “mean girls” but since the move didn’t feature a full routine, your cheer captain came up with something for the full song; provocative thigh slap included. 

trying your best to not make eye contact with anyone specific in the crowd, your eyes just happen to land on heeseung as the thigh slap part of the choreography arrives and his eyes are dead set on your figure. you even at some point glance over again and he’s biting his lip and as much as you wanted to grimace at the unspoken interactions between the two of you, you needed to remain composed for the rest of the performance. 

the rest of the performance goes without a hitch and you could say that the cheer team’s popularity was the biggest incentive of this fundraiser because the performance doubled the donations right after you and the rest of the girls left the stage. 

you bid goodbye to some of the cheer girls as they weren’t planning on staying for the whole event and as you contemplated staying, you’re taken out of your thoughts when someone clears their throat behind you. as you turn around to see who it is, you’re met with the one and only, heeseung. 

your cheeks instantly burn a shade of pink and as much as you wanted to run and hide from heeseung, you knew that this was the moment you needed to finally talk to the boy you’ve had a crush on for the last 3 months. 

“you did amazing out there, that outfit looks really good on you.” heeseung says, walking a bit closer so that the gap between the two of you was much smaller. “really?” you ask and he nods, smiling down at you. you mutter a small thank you as you pick up your bag, “you have any plans for the rest of the night?” he asks and you realize you hadn’t fully decided if you were staying for the rest of the fundraiser. 

“if not, i’d like to take you out. this fundraiser blows anyways.” he adds and you couldn’t help but chuckle at his bluntness. “isn’t your frat here? don’t you guys need to kiss up to the rich guys to get more funding for whatever frat stuff you need?” you tease and now it was his turn to chuckle at you. heeseung nods like you had just read him like a book and although you didn’t mean it as an insult; it comes off as a tease and heeseung likes that. 

“yeah, but i mostly came when i heard my favorite cheerleader was going to be here.” he retorts and if your cheeks weren’t already the shade of a tomato, they sure were now. you couldn’t help but admit to him that it was a smooth move and that you’d like to accept his offer. the two of you leave the university hall hand in hand as heeseung brings you over to his car, taking you to the restaurant that just so happened to be your favorite in your college town. 

“ugh, i love this place!” you exclaim in excitement mixed with chill as the cold winter air whips past you. “i know.” heeseung says while nstinctly wrapping his jacket around you as you make your way inside. the two of you get a few things on the menu to share and spend dinner talking about life, finance 301, your future plans, and whatever else popped into your head. 

“wait– you said you knew this was my favorite restaurant, how?” you ask and heeseung seems to get shy; like he had just been caught doing something. “well, i actually asked your cheer captain about you and she told me this would be the best place to take you on a date.” he confessed and you couldn’t help but let the smile you were fighting back just spread across your lips. “date?” you ask and he nods eagerly. 

“i’ve had a crush on you since the first day of finance 301 when you called out the professor for making a sexist comment about your clothes.” he says and you pout at him. not because you were sad, no; far from it, you pouted because his words were so endearing and that his first impression and root of his crush on you stems from you standing up for yourself and morals. you later confessed to heeseung that you also have had a crush on him for the same amount of time and the two of you share a laugh thinking about you would’ve started dating a lot sooner if either of you had just gotten some courage to talk to the other. 

boyfriend!jongseong ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆ — wc: 1010

—-  you had a surprise for your boyfriend, one that you knew he would definitely like. you had been on the cheer team at your university since freshman year and have been doing cheer since high school, when you met jay, your loving boyfriend. your cheer team was putting on a special performance for your university’s winter showcase where all proceeds would be donated to buying christmas gifts and holiday presents to the children and families.

the winter showcase was always really fun and for the last 2 years, you and the cheer team avoided participating because you just wanted to enjoy the show for yourselves, but this year; as captain you suggested joining and the rest of the team was surprisingly on board. you had decided on doing the “jingle bell rock” performance from mean girls, minus the chaos towards the end. this movie, although it has questionable humor and moments, was nostalgic to you because you forced jay to watch it when you were in high school and he cringed at the whole thing; prompting him to make you watch something else before the jingle bell rock performance could even happen during the movie. 

in the 4 years that you and jay have been dating, you’ve never been one to dress in revealing clothes, even in your cheer uniform, you opted for the version that was long sleeved and less cropped, the skirt however, a whole different story. you had nothing against revealing clothes, it was just a personal taste that you never got comfortable finding, until recently. the confidence you found when trying on your christmas outfits for the performance was something you hadn’t felt before and with jay’s kindness, who always encouraged you and told you that you are beautiful at least 10 times a day, you were starting to like this side of yourself. 

jay knew you were doing the performance however, he had no idea that the performance would entail a revealing mrs. claus outfit, something he would’ve known had he not stopped the mean girls movie during your sleepover. 

the group before your cheer team was doing their bows and soon you would be up next. you were a bit nervous to see how jay would react because you had never worn something like this before but knowing jay, he would call you beautiful if you were wearing a full mascot suit. you gave the cheer team a quick pep talk and soon enough you were all walking to the center of the stage to get in position. with the lights low and anticipation washing over the crowd, you took one deep breath before the music started. the bright white lights of the stage shone over you and you kept a smile on your face throughout the routine. 

your routine was a mixture of the original dance routine from the movie and more traditional cheer formations and moves. you tried your best to spot jay in the crowd and just as the routine got to the more sexy and provocative part, you make eye contact with him and he’s got his eyes narrowed at you like you were the only person in the room. he often looked at you that way when he was checking you out and right now; he was undoubtedly checking you out. 

you get a bit flustered under his gaze and he lets out a chuckle at your reaction, knowing that his gaze alone had such a big effect on you. you spend the rest of the performance fighting off the urge to look over at jay but failing miserably as you naturally were pulled in his direction; and each time, he held the same gaze that only made your cheeks more red. 

at the end of the showcase, you found jay waiting for you outside, leaning on his car with a black leather jacket– and if he thought you looked good in your performance outfit, he was breathtaking. 

“there’s my favorite cheerleader— or should i say, mrs. claus?” he says as he wraps his arms around you, placing a kiss on your forehead. “you did amazing up there.” he adds and you blush under his touch and compliment. jay always knew the right things to say and you melted at his advances and gestures every time. you mutter a small thank you as you place a kiss on his lips—- he later opens the passenger door to help you in and you immediately start his car for him so you could turn the heater on. 

“where we headed, babe?” you ask and jay smirks at you. 

“well, jake is gone for the weekend so i’ve got the whole place to myself.” he explains and you already knew where this was going without him having to explain it. the drive to his place was filled with chatter as you explained the performance and how much he loved it but loved your outfit even more. 

“so does that mean, if you’re sexy mrs. claus, does that make me sexy santa claus?” he asks and you can’t help but laugh at his silly question— “i guess you are, huh?” you answer as he grabs your hand and places a quick kiss on your knuckles before returning both hands on the wheel. the two of you made your way to jay’s apartment and before you could even get fully inside, his hands were on you like he was starving for your touch and kisses. 

the rest of the weekend was filled with tender and loving moments with jay as he tries to convince you to put on a special performance just for him in your outfit. something that was going to occupy his mind until you find a way to replace that image in his head with something even better. “i wish you saved this outfit just for me” he says as he pulls out his polaroid camera from his shelf and aims at you so that he could forever have the memory of you as his sexy mrs. claus as a polaroid picture. 

nerd!jaeyun ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆ — wc: 1313

—- jake was pretty shy, at least with others, with you however; he was a completely different person. his usual shy and calm demeanor would shift into a more teasing, outgoing, and even cocky attitude— and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like that side of him. 

to others, jake would be categorized as a nerd. his black thick rimmed glasses, his love for math and physics, his work ethic, and constant drive to have the best academic score he could get; he was definitely a nerd but he was your nerd. your friends used to tease you about your crush on jake because he didn’t seem to be the type to pay any attention to a cheerleader but to jake and everyone’s surprise, he was very impressed with your knowledge on physics– something that made his eyes turn into hearts. 

he likes the fact that you’re smart and the fact that you were a beautiful cheerleader was just a plus to him– not caring about physical attributes or materialistic things when it comes to who he likes or would fall in love with. jake never failed to let you know what he loved about you and it seemed that it was just about everything. sure jake was a nerd, but at home when you were in his arms, he was the furthest from it. 

jake went to all of the games at your university, not because he cared about the sports, but because you would be there in your pretty cheer costume, something that he’s realized to be one of his favorite things. sure you looked attractive in the cheer costume, but seeing your confidence and grace as you perform your cheer routine with that beautiful smile on your pretty lips that he just loved so much and did so many things to him that you couldn’t ever imagine. 

so there you were, getting into position for the halftime performance for your university’s (american) football game before winter break. the cold air nipped at your thighs and knees and turned them a slight red shade but you knew that the cold would only last a few minutes as you’d begin to feel the warmth when your routine started. the people in the audience cheered as you and the rest of the cheer team filed out onto the space in front of the stands and you instantly spotted jake, his big glasses sitting lower on the tip of his nose as he eyed you up and down. you sent him a wave with a flying kiss and he returned it with a wink, causing your heart to flutter. 

jake’s friends teased him, nudging him & laughing at your interaction as he was clearly very flustered and down bad for you; your new outfit for the winter game made his mind run wild. you and the rest of the cheer team were dressed as elves while the school’s mascot had a santa claus outfit on. he loved seeing you in your cheer uniform buit this outfit you had on right now was doing things to him that he hadn’t ever felt before. who knew dressing up as a sexy christmas elf would make your boyfriend get hot in the face and slightly jealous that the rest of the school was also witnessing you in something he wished he could keep all to himself. 

your performance soon started and the familiar tune of jingle bell rock begins. jake wasn’t aware you guys would be doing a christmas themed routine and definitely wasn’t aware how seductive it would be. he tried his best to hold his composure while watching you but he just couldn’t hold out any longer, his last straw being when you slapped your hands onto your soft thighs and he swears he could hear the skin make contact even over the sound of the music and people cheering. 

jake excuses himself in the middle of the performance and his friends barely pay him any attention, all of them too focused on the rest of the cheer team; mesmerized by the routine and their alluring aura. jake’s sudden absence doesn’t go unnoticed by you and your smile fades as you watch him leave, unsure why but hoping that he is okay. jake doesn’t ever return to the game and whenever you’d look over to where he was sitting before, his friends would only give you a shrug when you mouthed to them, “where’s jake?”. even your cheer members noticed his absence and you couldn’t give them an answer outside of “i don’t know” when they’d ask where he ran off to. 

you wished you could just leave and go find him but your phone was in the locker rooms and you were obligated to stay until the end of the game. 

after what felt like eternity, the game was finally over with your university’s team winning and you couldn’t get out of there fast enough. you ran to the locker room to grab your phone to call jake only to find one text from him reading, “meet me at our spot.” and you knew exactly where to find him. 

your spot was the abandoned music building on the far side of campus that was no longer in use because your school had built a whole new music building and had no plans for the old building any time soon. you and jake would often meet up there when both of your roommates were home so you could have some time to yourselves. you bid your friends and cheer members goodbye and ran over to your spot; which thankfully wasn’t very far from where the locker rooms were. 

as you got closer to the building, you could see jake’s red 2004 subaru impreza parked in front of the building and judging by how it was parked poorly, he definitely ried to get there in a rush of some sort. you slowly pushed the door open with a creak and were engulfed in the darkness. you reached around for the light switch that was to the left of the entrance but suddenly, all the lights were on and you’re met with christmas lights and decorations adorned throughout the walls with jake sitting in the middle of the opening with a blanket and some of your favorite foods. 

you run over to him and he catches you in his arms just as you jump. “hi pretty.” he says before placing a kiss on your plump lips. “you did this for me?” you ask and he nods while putting you back down on your feet. jake grabs your hand and guides you to blanket, the both of you sitting across from each other and jake has to stop himself from acting out on his feelings as he watches your legs press together while you are still in your costume. 

when you asked jake why he suddenly left, he sighed before responding and confessing that he needed to finish preparing this special moment for the two of you– “is that it..?” you tease and jake chuckles, knowing that it was definitely more to it than just that. 

“and i may or may not think you looked so hot out there. i contemplated just grabbing you mid performance so i could have you all to myself.” he says with a smirk and redness creeps its way onto your cheeks as you melt at his confession. 

you loved every part of jake, but this side of him that was confident, a little cocky, and enticing made your heart do somersaults which was only fair because although jake first fell for you because of how impressed he was with your intelligence, he loved seeing you in your cute outfits and cheer costume that left little to his imagination— but it’s not like it wasn’t something he hadn’t seen plenty of times before. 

jock!sunghoon ⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆ — wc: 1217

—as cliche as your relationship was with sunghoon as cheerleader and jock, you wouldn't change a single thing. you were both the star crossed lovers of your university and as 4th years, the two of you had become the poster children for your university’s student body and atheltics program. 

the two of you excel in your own sports, cheer and ice hockey, which meant for a lot of competitive games, travelling to play against opposing universities, promotional events, and meetings with sports officials and rich folks to get them to write checks for thousands of dollars directed to your school. you had wished that cheer was just something you could do because you loved dancing and performing but it was starting to become who you were and you weren’t sure that was what you wanted for yourself. 

sunghoon on the other hand, loved it, the praise, the opportunities, sponsorships, all of it. he loved that people loved how good he was at skating and hockey and you couldn’t blame him. he was the all star of your university having been the only freshmen to be added to the varsity roster and scouted by big league officials in just his 2nd year. you were so proud of his trajectory as an athlete but you couldn’t help but think about how you were on the opposite end of that spectrum. 

as sunghoon’s popularity grew he loved the sport more and more—but as your popularity grew, you began to hate the sport and you didn’t know why. 

you had everything, a loving boyfriend, supportive friends and family, on track to graduate, a three year competitive cheer champion and because it was your 4th year, you had been appointed as head cheerleader– so why did you begin to loathe the sport that took over your life at such a young age. 

maybe that was why. 

cheer was everything you knew starting at the age of 6 years old and as much as you were grateful for where cheerleading has brought you, the pressure, the intensity, and constant battle to be on top was starting to feel like you were always fighting for something that you weren’t even sure you wanted anymore. cheerleading had become too competitive and less fun and you just needed to do something that didn’t involve an immense amount of pressure. 

something fun, just for you, and had low stakes. 

and that’s when your university’s performing arts program announced that they would be putting on a winter talent show where all proceeds would go into the arts program and although the sports and arts program didn’t have the best relationship; the sports program being favored over the arts which was a story as old as time, you decided that the talent show would be something you could do. it had no winners, everyone was encouraged to participate, and you thought about how maybe a prominent student being a part of something that could help the arts program would help alleviate the tension between the two sides of the school. 

when you brought this up to your boyfriend sunghoon, he laughed at first, but when he realized that you were serious he wasn’t completely sure it was a good idea. all of his reasons were valid, the arts program hates the athletes and vice versa and he was afraid it would ruin your reputation but you didn’t care. 

you told sunghoon you were just thinking about it and weren’t sure if you would sign up but deep down you were 100% and for the next month or so, you would practice a routine with some of the other cheer girls who you were able to convince to join you for the talent show. 

practicing for the talent show became more enjoyable than cheer practice and even your friends who joined you would agree. the atmosphere of talent show rehearsals was fairly laid back and although the arts students were surprised to see the head cheerleader and 3 other cheerleaders apply for the talent show, you all warmed up to one another fairly quickly. 

it’s the night before the talent show when you finally tell sunghoon that you were going to be in it with some of the girls and you’d be performing a rendition of “jingle bell rock” from mean girls and sunghoon was shocked. not because you ended up joining the talent show without his knowledge but because he knew that scene all too well. a smile breaks out onto his lips as he begins to imagine you in a sexy christmas outfit and he was more than elated to attend to watch his girl be the star you were on stage. 

you tried to calm your nerves as you walked in the darkness to center stage, looking over into the crowd and not seeing any faces was a bit nerve-racking but as the lights emerged from above and jingle bell rock began to play, all of your nerves ceased to exist as the routine went on and you could see sunghoon smiling at you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

he looked so happy and… proud. 

even when the parts of the routine got risque thanks to the choreography from the movie, sunghoon and the rest of the audience was cheering and it only boosted you and your friends confidence, knowing that everyone was right behind all of you.

granted, no one actually cared that the popular cheer captain was mingling with the arts students and it seemed like this rivalry was something that was only made up. after the talent show you met up with sunghoon and he still had that silly toothy smile plastered across his face. you gave him several kisses on the cheek as he scooped you up by the waist with a small spin. 

“you were amazing out there.” he says before planting a kiss onto your lips. 

“only because i knew you’d be there…” you say, a bit shy and sunghoon notices this. 

“are you ok?” he asks and you let out a sigh that feels like it had been carrying the weight of the world with it. were you ok? you weren’t sure. 

you tell sunghoon all of your worries while the two of you are sat at the back of his car. you’re laying between his legs, head resting on his chest while he had his arms wrapped around you, rubbing gentle circes on your skin. 

“i wish you told me sooner… you know i would support you in anything you do right?” he asks and although your mind was telling you that you would let him down, you ultimately knew that even though you were the cheerleader, sunghoon was your number 1 cheerleader. 

you spend the rest of the night in his apartment, talking about what else has been worrying the two of you and how after you graduate, you weren’t sure if cheerleading was something you wanted as your career– but you didn’t know what you wanted to do, however, you knew that having sunghoon by your side every step of the way was all you needed.

afterall, he was your biggest cheerleader and if you weren’t a cheerleader anymore, at least you knew that you would have sunghoon in your corner, rooting for you. 

copyright 2024 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[alastor-simp]

Demonic Savior - Demon Alastor x Human Female Reader

❥Summary- Who knew that the deer you helped was actually a demon?

❥Tags: Demon Alastor, Human Reader, Caution: Not For Minors, Trigger Warning, Abuse, Child Abuse, Abusive Parents, Deer Form Alastor, Curse Words, Angst + Comfort

❥Notes: Haven't wrote a story like this so I wanted to give it a try. I understand this story might be a bit traumatic for readers who went through something similar, so please skip it this story bothers you. This is 3K words, lets go

❥Credit: Divider from @cafekitsune

❥Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!! NOT FOR MINORS!!!!!!!!!

✪In The Forest✪

"Pant....pant....pant." Holding a hand to your chest, you attempted to calm down after running away from your so-called home. It was never home to you, more like hell, as you had to suffer through everything your parents inflicted on you. Your mom would never feed you, locking you in your room, and whenever you had the chance to leave your prison, your drunk dad would beat you mercilessly, shouting swears at you. It was just plain luck that the time you ran away from your father, the door was left unlocked, letting you escape out into the woods, "GET BACK HERE YOU FUCKING BRAT!!!" screeched from inside the house, as you sped away as fast as you could, limping slightly from the beatings. You took a rest behind a large tree, trying to catch your breath and also soothe your aching body as the more you tried to run, the worse the pain got. There was no sound of footsteps anywhere, letting you know that you were safe for now, but you knew that your father was searching for you, ready to beat you again for disobeying him. Wincing, you slowly got up from the ground, moving slowly to avoid stepping on any branches that would alert anyone nearby.

A few minutes went by and you slowly came across a small river. Oh finally, some fresh water. Getting on your knees, your hands scooped some water, bringing it to your mouth to drink. The river was able to reflect back at you, allowing you to see yourself. One of your eyes was swollen from being punched, cheeks sunken from being starved and your lip was bleeding. It was a surprised that your face still remained the same, even after all the beatings that were inflicted on you. "Rustle..Rustle." A soft sound was heard from a large bush, causing you to jump up in fright. You were waiting for the figure of your father, to come out, but nothing appeared. The sounds continued, earning your curiosity.

Moving closer to the sound, you peeked behind a bush and let out a gasp. A large deer appeared in front of you, its fur a dark crimson red and its antlers black as coal. It was on the ground, hoof caught in a bear trap. It noticed your presence, dark red eyes staring back at you, gazing into your soul. Moving slowly as not to startle it, you sat next to the deer, letting it know you were not a threat. Drawing your eyes to the trapped leg, you placed your hands on the jaws, "I'm gonna try to open this okay?" Using the strength you could muster, the jaws of the trap slowly inched open bit by bit, allowing the deer to pull it out. Once you saw that the deer had freed its foot, you push the trap slowly together, so it wouldn't snap on your hand, setting it on the ground once you had closed it. The deer's foot was bleeding heavily, having been punctured by the sharpness of the trap.

Moving away from the deer, you went back to the river and picked up some water with your hands, carrying it over back to the deer. The water helped removed some of the blood that was on the leg and would help reduce the chance of infection a bit. Grabbing your shirt, you ripped a piece of cloth off, using it as bandage for the cut, to prevent it from bleeding more. Having tied it on, you look at your work, making sure it was all set before setting the foot down. Looking back at the deer, you gave it a smile, "There you go, that should help with the bleeding. Just hope you are able to walk." The deer had remained surprisingly calm when you were helping it, which was quite strange, but you were just glad it didn't run away or else that wound would have gotten infected. The crimson deer, moved its legs, standing up to his full height, apparently able to move on the wounded hoof. It moved slowly, its head coming closer to yours, giving your face a sniff. Its tongue had come out and licked your lip, cleaning the blood that was dripping from it. "Haha I'll take that as a thank you." Giggling at the sensation, your hand raised and rubbed the deer's cheek, which made its ears twitch. "Never seen a red deer before. Quite beautiful."

The moment was ruined when you heard a loud yell, "Y/N!!! YOU BETTER GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL KILL YOU!!!" Jumping at the scream, you realized your dad was close. Looking back at the deer, you motioned your hand for it to leave, not wanting your dad to catch it and possibly kill it, "Go now!! Run!" The deer didn't think twice and bolted away, disappearing into the bushes. Hearing more rustling from behind you, you turned seeing your father, face red from anger and the alcohol, as he was holding a beer bottle in his hand. "FOUND YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH!" He rushed towards you, the end of the bottle smashing against your head, causing it to break. "AHH!!", Grasping your head, there was a wet sensation appearing on your hand, making you pull back, seeing blood. A hand had grabbed your hair, body being lifted a bit off the ground, as you saw the hatred filled eyes of your father glaring down at you "YOU THINK YOU CAN RUN AWAY FROM ME?!? I'LL BEAT THE LIVING SHIT OUT OF YOU, SO YOU CAN NEVER ESCAPE AGAIN!!" He pulled, dragging your body back to the house, your hell. "N-No! Let go!!" Your cries were left unheard, as the rough grip form your fathers hand on your hair continued to yank, dragging you, body scraping against the grassy surface. As you were being pulled away, a pair of glowing eyes appeared from far out of the forest, before they vanished.

✪Next Day✪

Groaning in pain, your hands were motioning left and right in soapy liquid, washing the dishes. This was the continuation of your punishment for trying to escape. Your mom caught wind of your escape attempt and joined in on the beating with your father. When you woke up, body still on the cold floor, your mother came from the kitchen, pointing her finger and yelling at you to do the dishes, since it's your duty to do all the chores and not hers. The tormentors that were your parents, were lazying about on the couch, watching TV as you continued to watch the dishes. It hurt....it hurt so much you could barely stand. Tears were running down your face, drops landing into the soapy water. Using one of your soap covered hands, you tried to wipe the tears from your face, however doing that caused the glass in your other hand to drop to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. The sound alerted both of your parents, the both of them darting off the couch and into the kitchen, faces fueled with anger and malice. "YOU LITTLE SHIT! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?! The roaring voice from your dad made you yelp in fear, raising your hands up for some sort of protection. "I-I dropped a glass! I-I'm sorry!" You prayed for mercy, hoping that they would only yell and degrade you. "You're sorry?" The cold tone from your mom, made you shiver, tears still running down your cheeks. "You don't look very sorry. Honey, I believe its time for some proper punishment." The evil smile on her face, made your stomach drop. No..No..NO..NO!!!

Your legs sprung to life, darting from the kitchen, trying to reach the hallway that led to your room. Your dad was quicker, his fist connecting with your face, causing you to fall to the floor, groaning from the pain. Your hands grabbed at your bruised cheek, crying loudly. Your dad stood above you, veins bursting from his face. His body got on top of yours, hands grasping your throat, squeezing. The air you were breathing was caught off, making you panic. You tried to push the hands from your neck, but his grip wouldn't budge, squeezing much tighter at your struggling. Your mouth couldn't utter a sound, faint gasping trying to get some air. Why? Why was this happening to you? Why must the two of these individuals, not even parents, monsters, must torment you so? Black spots popped in your vision, growing more and more weak, as the pressure on your throat continued. "Someone.....anyone.....please....h-help..me", your mind screamed, vision growing more and more hazy.

"Knock..knock..knock" Loud knocking came from the front door. Your dad locked eyes with it in confusion, turning his head to your mom, wondering who the hell it was. His hands had loosen slightly, allowing some air to enter through your mouth, but just barely. The knocking presumed, which got on your mom's nerve as you heard her curse, walking past the both of you to answer it. The ringing in your ears was making it impossible to hear what was going, but you heard the sound of the door slamming shut, and the sounds of footsteps approaching, your moms probably. A gush of wind was felt from behind, and through the ringing in your ears, you heard a voice, "I…….in..yo….daughter," it was broken, but it sounded like static?

✪Alastors POV✪

The door to this humble estate opened, revealing a small petite woman on the other side, wearing a scowl on her face. "Greetings, madam. Apologies for the sudden intrusion, but I acquire your daughter. Is the little darling here by chance?" Bowing a bit, I locked eyes with the miss, who seemed displeased at my arrival. "We aren't interested in what your trying to sell buddy. Take a hike-SLAM!" The door slammed in my face, hmph how rude. Molding into the shadows, my body manifested into the house, appearing in front of the supposed father-figure and the person who I was seeking, "I decided to let myself in, as I did say, I acquire your daughter." The poor darling was laying on the ground, face horribly bruised and neck laced with finger marks. Smile straining at the sight, my eyes locked onto the male on top of her. He soon stood up, walking towards me, attempting to be intimidating. How foolish.

"HEY! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE COMING INTO OUR HOUSE LIKE THAT?! BEAT IT ASSHOLE!!" The man screamed, whiffs of alcohol emanating from his breath. The mother had came around me, crossing her arms as she stood next to her husband, eyes cold, "I don't know how you got in here, but I prefer you leave now before I call the police." As if a measly man dressed in a suit with a gun and badge could harm me. Summoning my staff, I gave it a twirl, before placing it down on the ground. "Now now, all I want is your daughter, who is laying on the floor, next to you." The both of them, looked at each other before returning back to me with smirks. "You want this pathetic waste of space right here?" The man raised his leg, striking the lady with a kick, sending her flying, body hitting the side wall. Her body remained limp, but she was awake enough to let out a groan of pain, grip on my staff tightening. “I implore you not to do that again."

The so-called man wore a smirk, raising his foot again to strike, "Whatcha gonna do about-" He never finished his sentence as the shadows I called stopped his kick, before lifting him up in the air and throwing him down the hall like a ragdoll. "AHHHHHH!" He was able to let out one good scream before his head hit the wall, knocking him out. "I believe I recalled saying,nøŧ ŧø đø ŧħȺŧ ȺǥȺɨn." The air grew heavy, as the dark shadows flooded the walls and floors, glaring at both the mother and father. My antlers grew to massive lengths, and slits changing into radio dials, revealing my true demon form. The mother's face was shocked, collapsing onto the ground with tears in her eyes, "M-monster!" She cried out, as her body shivered with fear. "ĦȺĦȺ-ĦØØ, Mønsŧɇɍ? Ɏøᵾ Ⱥɍɇ sȺđłɏ mɨsŧȺꝁɇn, mɨss. Ɨ Ⱥm Ⱥ đɇmøn, Ŧħɇ ɌȺđɨø Đɇmøn." Bending down, I leaned closer, enjoying the fearful expression coming from the mother. It didn't take long before her eyes rolled back and she fainted from the fear, "Ħmm, ħøw đᵾłł. UsᵾȺłłɏ ŧħɇɏ sȼɍɇȺm fɨɍsŧ ƀɇføɍɇ ᵽȺssɨnǥ øᵾŧ." Returning my attention back to the one I seek, her body floated in the air with my powers, as she floated into my arms, carrying her bridal style. She weighed almost nothing, the poor thing, body lacking any source of fullness, bony from head to toe. She had awoken a bit, moving her head softly to look at me, pupils glazed, "H-h-help." The voice she let out was so soft, before her head collapsed, landing against my chest. Leaning closer, I nuzzled against her head softly, "Not to worry, my dear, I will offer my assistance." My eyes locked on to the two bodies on the ground, smile growing.

✪Your POV✪

"Mmmmm...ughhhhh." Letting out a groan, you opened your eyes slightly, vision blurry. Your neck felt very sore, moving your hand up slowly to rub at it. Something was wrapped around your body, making it hard for you to move. Vision clearing a bit, your eyes gazed up to see trees hovering above you, fireflies flying around. Huh? You blinked again, feeling like it was your imagination. The more you blinked, you realized this was real. Moving slowly with a groan, your head looked down to see that you were on a bed, wrapped in a soft blanket. It took you a minute to realize this wasn't your bed, the sheets looked expensive and the covers were crimson red. Your eyes darted out to ponder where you were. Half of the room was a forest, reminding you of the one near your house, but on the other half, it was attached to a regular room, walls decorated with stag heads, glowing fireplace with green flames, a tall bookcase and a desk where a big cathedral radio was. "This can't be real. I'm dreaming." Pinching your arm, you waited for this all to disappear, expecting the area around you to transform into your real bedroom. Nothing changed once you did that, realizing that this was reality, and you were in a two dimensional room, having no idea where in the hell you were.

The door to the room bursted open, and in came a man dressed to the nines in a red suit, holding a microphone stand. Bright crimson eyes locked onto yours, and his smile was stretched to the max on his face, "Ahh awake now, are we?". He took long strides to the bed you laid on, smiling down at you, as you continued to observe him. He was tall, which made him a bit intimidating, but your eyes scanned him all over trying to figure out who and what he was. "Who-what?" It felt almost impossible to talk, as you were still trying to piece together what was going on. The person in front of you, noticed your confusion, letting out a chuckle that was mixed with static. "Haha, I suspected you must be terribly dumbstruck about your current situation. First things first, I will introduce myself. My name is Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you again." He bowed, while he gripped one of your hands, placing a soft kiss on it, making you jump a bit. "Ummm...nice to meet you. Do you mind telling me where I am?" You noticed the little puffs of hair on his head move after you said that, wait are those ears? "Ah yes, We are currently in the fine establishment of the Hazbin Hotel, run by the Princess of Hell herself. The room we are in right now is my own private quarters." He leaned back to his full height, extending his hands out like he was giving a performance for a big show.

Did he just say Hell? How on god's green earth could you be in hell? Placing your hands on your neck, you rubbed at the sore sensation, as your memory flickered, trying to recall what happened. "Am I dead?" The man in front of you, leaned his head back, letting out a loud chortle, "HA! No! You are not dead, my dear. Just made a simple portal between the living world and Hell to bring you here." Okayyyyyyyyy, that answered your question a bit, but it was still mind-baffling that you were here, in Hell. Feeling a bit awkward that you didn't introduce yourself, you smiled softly a bit at him, "Sorry I'm Y/N. Nice to meet y......wait, you said again, have the both of us met before?" There was no way you have met him before, as you would remember a well-dressed deer man. The microphone stand he was holding disappeared, moving slowly to take a seat on the bed where you laid, lips turning into a tender smile, "Oh my, don't tell me you have forgotten? You treated the horrible wound that was afflicted on my leg by that horrible trap. I also must thank you for the compliment, not many have referred to me as beautiful before."

All the memories started flooding back, remembering the deer you had saved and treated, until your father dragged you away. "You were that deer?" Alastor's ears twitched in amusement, chuckling softly, "Correct, my dear. It is hard to come across good venison in hell, so I often times travel to the human world to hunt. My deer form draws less eyes towards me then this one," He announced, gesturing to himself, as he was explaining. "Is your wound okay?" You asked, concerned eyes gazing down to his foot. His eyes widen for a bit, not expecting you to ask him that, seeing as how stunned you before, you still had the courtesy to ask about his well-being, "It's perfectly alright now my deer, no need to stress. Your handiwork helped control a lot of the bleeding." His hand waved in the air, as the static crackled in his voice.

The pain on your neck was bothering you more, placing both hands on it to alleviate some of the pain. Flashbacks of your father began to play in your mind, recalling the hateful eyes from both him and your mother as he continued to strangle you to death. Sobbing, the tears began to flood your cheeks, alerting the demon next to you. "Oh no! There is no need to cry, my dear. You are safe from them now, they will never hurt you again. I made sure of it," His voice was soft, hands placing themselves on your cheeks, wiping away at the tears. His hands were warm, making you lean a bit into the touch. He made sure of it? What did he mean by that. Alastor was able decipher the question you wanted to ask him, just by reading your face, "I am known as the Radio Demon, most powerful overlord in all of hell. Those who have wrong me or provoked my rage will have their screams broadcasted all throughout hell. I slaughtered your parents in the living world, and found them in hell as sinners, granting them a second death by my hands. Their pitiful screams for mercy were just broadcasted a little while ago, thank Satan, you were still asleep." He said all of this like it was the most causal thing in the world, while your mouth opened wide like a fish.

"YOU KILLED THEM!?!" Finding the energy to move, you jumped out of the bed, standing a good feet away from the bed. Alastor tilted his head, confused at your reaction, "Well yes, Was that not what you wanted? To be saved?" He got you there, as you recalled wanting what was happening to you to stop, but not resulting in the death of your parents. "They were horrible people, but I didn't them to die. I just.....I wanted to leave and never go back, away from them forever." You wanted to roll into a ball, wrapping your arms around yourself, feeling super overwhelmed over everything.

✪Alastors POV✪

Oh dear, this is only stressing out the poor darling more. My past sins have driven me numb to any form of guilt, but I have forgotten it's not the same for others. Removing myself from the bed, I stood in front of the little human, hooking their chin softly to gaze up at me. "If you feel responsible for what has happened to them, don't. They were going to kill you either way, even if you had left, they would have found a way to find you. They are the cause of their own undoing, not you." The tears still remained in her eyes, but she seemed slightly calmer now. "Why? Why did you save me?" She whimpered out, making my heart ache a bit. Chuckling to myself, my hands squished her cheeks, she was simply adorable. "Simply returning the favor, my dear. You helped me and I returned it in kind." Her eyes continued to gaze into mine, before they dropped to the ground. Suddenly, her arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me into a hug.

The sudden act made me stiffen, being unfamiliar with acts like this. "Thank you....for saving me." The muffled voice against my chest made me relax, returning the hug back, with one hand on her waist, and the other petting her soft hair. I allowed this to go on for a few more minutes before pulling back, "Ahem, I believe its time to head to the lobby. I'm sure the residents will be delighted in meeting you." The little darling in front of me tilted her head, appearing confused, "Residents?" Her cute acts made me shake with laughter, as I poke her nose softly, "Yes! Residents! We are in a hotel after-all." With a wave of my hand, my microphone appeared, allowing me to twirl it with my fingers, before setting it down, I extended my arm out, waiting for her to take a hold, "Come along, darling! Best not to keep them waiting!" There was a bit of hesitation that flashed on her face for a second before it was replaced with a kind soft smile, as her arm hooked around mine. "Lovely! Now! Let us head on down!" The both of us strode over to the door, leaving my humble quarters, as we headed to lobby, where dear Charlie and the others resided, ready for them to meet our new addition to the hotel.

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

, @aconstructofamind @angiiiiiiiiie

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina

@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,

@fckedupandbeautiful , @alaskathestereodemoness , @fries11 ,

@toneystank-3000. , @doll-babe-a-tron-queenthousand

, @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog , @twistedvanillacoffee

@morganodaidiot , @boldlyenchantingfox22 , @verona2314 ,

@angelmoonlight , @thatbadassauthor , @wantondoe ,

@doorknobhater ,

[cjlouwho]

bucktommy: working together on a call, not just working the call separately with their houses but tommy working with buck and the 118

This is kind of a short one, but I wanted to get a prompt finished before I went to bed. Hope you enjoy!

“Fancy meeting you here,” Tommy panted, out of breath as he continued digging through rubble. “Thought everyone was told to evacuate.”

“We were told to evacuate,” Buck informed him. “And yet, here you are.”

He stopped digging long enough to look up at Buck. “Please tell me you have a Halligan with you?”

“Of course I do.” Buck pulled the Halligan out from where it was strapped to the side of his turnouts, handing it over to Tommy. “Where's yours?” He asked as he kneeled across from his boyfriend, beginning to dig right next to where Tommy was now pulling up some pieces of plywood.

“Fell down the elevator shaft.”

Buck glanced up at him. “Do I even wanna ask?”

Tommy shook his head. “No. Listen, Evan, you need to-”

“Don't even start with me, Tommy. I don't know why you're in here, but as long as you're in here, I'm in here.”

Tommy took a deep breath. He thought about arguing, but he knew Evan. Knew there was no point. “I heard a noise,” he explained. "I don't know how far down they are.”

“Then we keep digging.”

The sunlight outside did little to help them see. Smoke filled the room so thick they couldn't see any more than about a foot in front of them.

“About how long do we have?” Tommy asked.

“They said five minutes... six minutes ago.”

“Awesome,” Tommy deadpanned.

Tommy was taking one last sweep of the building when he heard the order to clear the area. Two stories had already collapsed, and the rest of the building was gonna go down at any time. He was just about to confirm that he was heading out when he heard a noise.

A squeak, or a scratch, coming from below the rubble. He'd called out, but gotten no answer.

He was in the middle of convincing himself it was the building itself causing the noises, when he heard it again. Louder this time. Right in the dead center of where there had been a partial collapse.

So, instead of radioing that he was exiting the building, he asked for help on the third floor.

“That's a negative, Kinard,” Captain Fredricks had replied, incident commander at the scene. “You gotta get out of there. Now.”

But he couldn't. He couldn't leave someone behind. He'd think about those noises for the rest of his life. How he left them as they made a final effort to be saved.

So turned his radio down and kept digging.

He should've known Evan would show up in record time.

He also should have known that three others would pop up as well.

Chimney set his equipment down next to Buck. “You guys know I hate not being invited to parties.”

“Cap is distracting Fredricks,” Hen explained. “We've got three minutes, maybe.”

“You ever regret taking these extra ground ops shifts?” Eddie joked, giving Tommy a pat on the back before beginning to pull debris from the area.

“Every single time I do it,” Tommy answered honestly.

“Yeah, but our extra shifts are gonna help us pay for the wedding in cash,” Buck pointed out. Just then, a large portion of what was remaining of the roof fell directly behind them.

“Let's worry about actually getting you to your wedding, Buckaroo,” Chimney said, chomping down on his gum. “Hen, help me out over here?”

“Coming!”

Tommy sighed anxiously. “You guys don't have to be-”

“Shut up!” The rest of the group exclaimed synchronously.

“You should know by now,” Buck grunted as he lifted up a heavy piece of floorboard, “none of us listen well.”

“Yes, well,” Tommy motioned to the space around them, “apparently I don't either.”

Buck smiled. “That's why this works, Babe.”

“I just can't help it if I don't want you to-” Tommy paused abruptly.

“What?” Buck asked. “What is it?”

“I hear something. It's right under here!” They all began moving faster, tearing away at the debris to get closer to the noise.

Finally, they'd made a gap big enough for Tommy to reach his hand down and grab onto- “I got it!” he exclaimed. As Chimney shined a flashlight on him, he pulled his hand up, cradling a black and white kitten.

“Gotta say,” Eddie noted, one hand on his hip, “I expected something slightly more human.”

“There's gotta be more!” Buck reached in next, pulling out one orange and white kitten, then a gray one. Tommy shined a flashlight into the hole and reached in a final time, this time grabbing onto a fully grown gray and white cat.

“All clear,” he announced, just in time for the building to start to rumble in a way that was definitely not good. “Let's get out of here, guys.”

When they got outside, Hen and Chimney both tried to pull the babies away from Buck while the mama cat got some oxygen as she laid on Tommy's laps. She was malnourished, and nursing. It was clear she and the babies hadn't been properly taken care of, if they belonged to anybody at all.

Each time Hen or Chimney tried to take the babies, they'd squeak and squeal until they were returned to Buck.

“I see the rescue was a success,” Bobby said, a smile on his face as he came over to where Tommy and Buck were sitting on a curb. “Are all the patients doing alright?”

“They're good,” Tommy answered, giving the mama some extra pets as she rested in his arms. “All stubborn little fighters, that's for sure.”

“Seems like they know their people,” Bobby quipped.

Buck smiled widely as the kittens climbed up and down his turnouts. “I think we just started a family, Cap.”

Bobby laughed, looking from Buck to Tommy with nothing but fondness in his eyes. “You good with four new fur babies?”

Tommy stared over at Buck, too busy giggling with the kittens to pay Tommy and Bobby any mind. He grinned. “How am I supposed to say no to that?”

[flamingpudding]

Drake's family secret

A/N: Another story idea I had and I probably will keep working on. I kinda want to continue on it I just have no idea how or with what yet.

Tim had a secret. Well, he had many secrets but this was one he had kept closed off for a very long time now. It was one of the reasons he fabricated a fake uncle to avoid getting adopted. After all, if you were put into the system how could you possibly get found or find your last living blood relative? His family didn't know and he never intended for them to know anyway. It was a secret well-kept of the Drake family, one that even the public didn't know about. His parents hadn't thrown around money to keep anyone involved silent for nothing after all.

But Tim had had vague memories as well as found the last remaining documents years ago. The problem had been that he hadn't been Robin yet at that time and couldn't do research like he can now. Tim had often wondered if one of the reasons he had followed Batman around back then was to see if he could help him with that matter too, yet he had never brought it up to Bruce nor any of his other siblings.

In a way it made Tim feel guilty now as he looked over that old piece of paper. The only hint he had until now.

He looked over the security video of Wayne Enterprise again. Watching that group of high schoolers that was there on a school trip visit. His eyes tracked one specific student among them. If things were different Tim would joke about how the boy looked like perfect Bruce adoption material. But as it was, Tim was not going to make that joke.

Because as much as the boy fell into the stereotype of Bruce's adoption problem, the boy had facial features that looked very much like one Jenet Drake. Tim could honestly see it, sure his memories were not the best in regards to his parents but he had kept at least some photos for references. But recognizing that threw in a whole other set of problems.

For one he would need to find a way to make sure the Drake Family secret doesn't get exposed to his family too soon. Second, he needed to find a way to approach the boy without looking suspicious. Third, he was on a time limit, according to what he found the school trip the boy was on lasted for a week. Once the boy was out of Gotham it would be even harder to find a passable excuse to approach him. Fourth, he would also need a blood sample. As much as the boy's looks alone could make Tim believe it, the rest of his family was paranoid and if he was completely homestead, he also would need it for his reassurance that he wasn't wrong. Which again he kind of doubted even with this little amount of evidence. The fifth problem in this was, how was he going to break it to the rest of his family.

Because the best kept Drake's Family secret, he was pretty sure he was the last remaining person in the know, was that Tim had a little brother. A brother that was born when he was around 3 or four years old. A little brother who had never gotten to grow up with him because Jack and Jenet Drake had used their constant traveling as cover so the public wouldn't know about him. They already had an heir with Tim, they didn't need a second child. So the moment his little brother had been born he was given up in a closed adoption. Never to be seen again and never to be connected to the Drake family.

Tim only knew about him because he had vague memories about his mother's pregnancy and also had later found the papers in his parents' office when he was around ten. He remembered how upset he had been at the discovery but also how he hadn't been able to do anything about it. Though it was back then that he had also decided that the moment he could he would do everything he could to find him. Things only started to change when he became Robin and then Red Robin. Now he had the resources and knowledge to find the little brother he had never gotten to grow up with.

But too much time had passed and his parents had been thorough when covering their tracks, which resulted in Tim having been unable to find that little brother of his. Having no name and no idea who adopted him, didn't help either. But Tim had had less to work with before, yet the search had given him massive troubles, to the point that he HAD contemplated getting the rest of his family in on it.

But now that wasn't necessary anymore, there was an actual chance again.

Thankfully he had come in late today, if he hadn't he wouldn't have seen the group of High School students on a school trip in the Lobby waiting for their tour guide. He wouldn't have seen the group of teens that lacked behind their fellow students a bit. But most importantly he wouldn't have seen that kid that looked like adoption bait for Bruce. That then by closer inspection had so many facial similarities to his mother that Tim had first thought he was hallucinating.

Now he was sitting in his office, watching the group of High Schoolers getting a tour through the building through the security cams while trying to come up with the perfect plan that didn't look too suspicious as he watched the boy who could be his blood-related little brother. Oh, Damian would throw a fit if he learned about having another brother, Tim mused for a moment as he noted down the boy's, Danny's, excitement about their aerospace department. He had already decided, if Danny was not living adequately he would pull all the strings he could to get his little brother home.

So far Tim had found out that the boy's name was Danny Fenton. He would dig into that later more. He would also make sure that if Danny was his little brother, he saw to it that he was getting treated right. He had noticed how his little brother appeared overly tired and there was a bandage hidden below his shirt plus through the security camera footage, he had also seen that there was a hint of scarring on his left arm.

For now, though he had sent a message to the tour guide to end the tour in his office, for something like a surprise introduction to Tim Drake-Wayne. He would continue to build up his plan of getting to know and confirm his little brother's status from there.

[jintaka-hane]

Sit Down

Masterlist

Summary: Ben Beckman carries too much on his shoulders. The situation on board is a mess, and the weight of the stress is making it harder for him to sleep at night. As your first mate and friend, it pains you to see him so exhausted. So, when things become unbearable, you offer a drastic solution—something he’ll hesitantly end up accepting. Word count: 4900 Notes: MDNI, + 18, NSFW, xf!reader, smut, oral (Beck receiving), fingering (f!reader receiving), friends to lovers, let me take care of you thing, fluffy end, needy Beck, a lot of pet names used (darlin', doll, princess, pretty) Self indulgent? This? Nah Warning: All my stories are written entirely in Spanish and then translated into English, so I apologize for any mistakes I might make.

Clink-Crassssh!! 

The coffee pot shattered against the wooden floor, sending shards of glass and splashes of coffee flying across the mess hall.

You jolted at the noise, nearly losing your balance on the stool, and after exchanging puzzled glances with Roux and Hongo, you turned your heads to find the source of the crash.

Before you stood the sad figure of Benn Beckman crouched on the floor, muttering curses as his trembling hands hurried to clean up the mess. His hair was more disheveled than usual, his lips pressed into a tight line beneath an untrimmed beard, and his usually bright eyes seemed dull, framed by deep, dark shadows.

He looked so exhausted, it was painful to see.

"Beck?" You immediately set your drink down and stood up from your seat, rushing to help him.

“Ain’t gotta, darlin'...” he said in a rough, worn-out voice. "I got this."

With a frown, you ignored what he said and grabbed a clean rag, kneeling beside him and soaking it in the spilled coffee. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched his fingers clumsily gather pieces of the shattered pot, his movements so slow and unsteady that you worried he might hurt himself. You tried to push the glass shards away from his hands, but when he stubbornly kept picking them up, you placed your hand over his.

"Beck. Stop. I’ll handle it..." 

"No," the bulky man muttered, giving a small tug to free his hand in such a rushed and clumsy way that it struck the edge of a sharp shard, causing him to wince as his skin split open with a jagged cut.

"Beck!" You grabbed his wrist firmly. "Would you just stop?!"

Beckman sighed heavily and, for once, complied. As blood began to bead along the cut, Hongo rushed to assist him, crouching down to help you lift him to his feet.

“It’s not bad,” the doctor said, focusing on the wound and pressing gently around the edges to ensure no glass remained. “Just needs cleaning and a bandage.”

"I got it," you said immediately.

Hongo raised an eyebrow at your quick response and ran a hand over his shaved neck to asses the situation.

For once, someone from the crew was offering to help, and he wouldn’t be the one to refuse. He gave you a short nod, and that gesture was all you needed to grab the big, wall-of-a-man first mate by the arm, and practically drag him out of the mess hall, marching down the corridor as he grumbled the whole way.

“Darlin’, I’ve got plenty of things to do…”

You grunted. Of course he had things to do. He always had things to do. And that was exactly the problem.

"... and if you're taking me to bed," he continued stubbornly, "it's not gonna work..."

You huffed and without replying, kept striding down the corridor, your fingers digging into his forearm like claws.

We'll see about that …

**********

You weren't exactly having the best time on the Red Force.

The captain was confined to his cabin, bedridden and unable to make decisions. He had caught something nasty on the last island and was under strict orders to rest, spending his days grumbling and complaining like the terrible patient he was.

Roux and Hongo weren’t faring much better. With food and medical supplies running dangerously low, the cook was growing increasingly dramatic, threatening to serve boiled underwear soup, while the doctor prowled the ship’s corners, muttering to everyone that he’d soon be operating without anesthesia.

The ship herself was in no condition to help. The sails were in desperate need of patching, the masts needed reinforcement, and the cannons kept jamming at the worst moments. And to make matters worse, you were trapped in a dead calm. With the ship completely immobilized in the open sea, resupplying or seeking help was impossible, and the weather forecast offered no hope of change anytime soon.

Everything was a mess and completely out of control. And naturally, all the responsibility, worry, and pressure landed squarely on the shoulders of the ever-capable and vigilant co-captain. But the weight of it all was beginning to take its toll.

His body rebelled, depriving him of the restorative sleep he so desperately needed. And with each passing night, the insomnia only worsened, making the once steadfast first mate slowly turn into a tired, miserable shadow of his former self.

**********

"Go in," you said, opening the door to Beckman’s cabin and giving the sturdy man a gentle nudge on his back.

The moment you stepped inside, a sharp smell of tobacco assaulted your nose, and your eyes darted around the room, quickly taking in its disheveled, sorry state.

The bed was unmade, with rumpled sheets and clothes scattered across the mattress. In front of a worn, cushioned armchair, his desk looked disheveled, cluttered with a mountain of papers, maps and an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. On the nightstand, a half-empty glass of whiskey sat next to a small box of sleeping pills.

A sigh slipped from your lips. You’d always heard that a person’s cabin was a window into their mind, and the sight before you was more revealing than any words could be.

Your attention shifted back to Beckman, who stood frozen in the center of the room, his injured hand raised and curled into a fist.

"Sit down," you commanded, stepping closer and looking up at him, your voice steady as you motioned toward the armchair. 

Beckman opened his mouth to protest, but before he could articulate a word you placed your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back and guiding him toward the chair.

"Sit down," you repeated in the most authoritative tone you could muster. 

Becks chuckled but complied, sinking into the cushioned armchair with his full weight. 

“Bandages and antiseptic?” You crouched down to meet his eye level, a finger raised in a questioning gesture.

“Top drawer,” he grumbled.

Without another word, you turned to the nightstand and rummaged through the drawer. Your fingers brushed past rolling papers, lighters, and razor blades before finally finding alcohol and some bandages. Supplies in hand, you perched sideways on the armrest of his chair, extending your hand to take his.

The bulky man allowed you to tend to his wound, remaining silent as you carefully cleaned the bleeding cut, his drowsy eyes following every move of your delicate fingers. He couldn’t help but notice how small and soft your hands looked against the roughness of his calloused skin.

"Beck..." your voice came out like a sigh. "You can't keep going like this. You need to sleep." 

His fingers didn’t flinch as you applied the alcohol to disinfect the wound. 

"I know, darlin’," he said quietly, his gaze now fixed on your face as your brows furrowed in concentration while you cut the bandage. "And I’m tryin’, but—"

"It’s too much stress and weight on your shoulders, I know..." You carefully wrapped the bandage around his hand, tracing small circles in the air.

You liked that grumpy, big-hearted first mate more than you were willing to admit. He was your friend, your confidant, your favorite person on the crew. You wanted to help him. And after all the traditional remedies your crewmates had tried had failed miserably, your mind had begun drifting toward more... drastic options.

Benn Beckman was a reserved man. But despite his discretion, you knew he had his needs. Whenever you reached port, you knew he sought comfort in the arms of willing, affectionate women, eager to spend a few hours in his company. You’d seen him share drinks with them, whispering who-knows-what in their ears while they sat on his lap, hands sensually tracing the lines of his chest in some secluded corner of the tavern. 

And every time you saw him the next morning, a cigarette between his lips, that casual smile of his, and a trail of bruises on his neck disappearing into his shirt, something twisted in your gut.

Something you couldn’t quite define.

Maybe it was curiosity… curiosity about what he did with them all night, tangled in the sheets of an inn bed.

But it had been weeks since you’d seen the first mate blow off any steam. With no wind to fill the sails, the ship had no chance of docking at any nearby port, leaving everyone deprived of the opportunity to unwind and relax with some good company on the shore.

So one idea had started to form in your mind.

At first, you had dismissed it, thinking it was crazy and inappropriate. But as you watched Beckman worsen day by day, you reconsidered, concluding that it might be exactly what he needed to forget for a moment the weight of his responsibilities and, hopefully, get the rest he so desperately needed.

The only problem? Suggesting the idea felt harder than carrying out the remedy itself.

“You’re lost in thought…” His rough voice pulled you back, his hand gently holding yours after you finished tying off the bandage. His thumb moved in slow circles over your wrist as he looked at you with gratitude.

You cleared your throat and stood up, pulling your hand away from his to return the first-aid kit to the nightstand drawer. His gaze weighed on your back, and just before closing the drawer, you clenched your eyes shut, taking a deep breath before deciding to take the plunge.

“I think I can help you,” you said.

A low chuckle sounded behind you, laced with disbelief rather than malice.

"Darlin’," he said, rubbing his eyes, "Hongo's tried everything. He even gave me pills to—"

“I can give you something Hongo hasn’t,” you cut him off, your voice coming out more confident than you’d imagined it would when you’d rehearsed the words in your head. When you turned to face him, though, you felt your heart pounding in your chest.

“And what’s that?” He stopped massaging his eyes, revealing his tired gaze again as he looked at you.

“My mouth.” 

The two words hung in the air, finally freed after days of being locked in your mind.

Beckman stayed silent, his gray eyes locked with yours. With your heart in your throat, you approached the armchair and placed a hand on each armrest, leaning your torso toward the wordless man. He lifted his chin to look at you, and you tried to remain stoic and unwavering, holding his gaze as his eyes flickered between yours, studying your features as if he were trying to see beyond your skin.

"Doll," he finally said, his voice deep and soft. "If you're implying what I think..."

"I am." 

His lips twitched into a wry grin.

"Don't make fun of me."

"I'm not." Your fingers unconsciously dug into the fabric of the armrest.

His smile faded, and this time, his gaze held an animal-like intensity. Frowning, and with his lips pressed tightly together, he seemed to be trying to control an internal battle raging inside him.

"No," he finally said, his chin still lifted so he could look you straight in the eye.

His refusal struck you like a bucket of cold water, though, in some way, you knew that’s exactly what he would say. He always treated you with a respect and care befitting a goddess, and making you lower yourself to the dirt in such a worldly way would probably be unthinkable for him.

“Becks,” you sighed softly, removing one of your hands from the armrest to trail it up to his stubbled chin. “You’re barely on your feet. We’re all worried about you…”

Beckman closed his eyes at the feel of your touch, his chin leaning into your hand as he allowed himself a moment of rest.

“I can help you if you let me…” you continued, “We’re adults, it’d be an agreement between the two of us… an agreement between… friends.”

His jaw tensed in your hand.

“As flattered as I am that someone like you would be offerin’ somethin’ like that to a guy like me," he said, "my answer’s still no."

This time his refusal genuinely hurted you. You pulled your hand away, and his tired eyes opened again, disoriented without your touch.

"Your stubbornness is reckless," you tried to sound composed, but the pain in your voice betrayed you. "You can't work like this. A-a crew without a first mate at his best is a crew in danger. We all need you, Beck... I-I..." Your lips trembled nervously as you spoke, "I need you."

As soon as the words left your mouth, you bit your lip. The last thing you wanted was to add even more weight to the already burdened first mate, and that was exactly what you'd just done.

Embarrassed, you straightened up and began to turn away to leave, but he stopped you, grabbing your wrist firmly and pulling you back toward him, spreading his legs to make space for your body to move closer to his.

"Girl," he said in a rough voice, locking his eyes with yours in a way that sent a spark flickering in the pit of your stomach. He frowned, and for a moment, you thought he was going to scold you. But his expression quickly softened. "You can back out anytime. Got it?"

You nodded, and before you realized it, his hands were around your waist, lifting your shirt and exposing the skin of your abdomen. He pressed his nose playfully against your navel, and his fingers traced the waistband of your pants.

“Becks,” you giggled as the ticklish sensation sent goosebumps racing across your body. “What are you doing?”

“I never let my partner pleasure me without takin’ care of her first,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face further into your belly.

Oh. 

Of course.

Benn Beckman, competent first mate and finest gentleman.

Smiling, you placed your hands on his cheeks, guiding his gaze back to yours. As tempting as the situation was, you weren’t going to let him take this turn. You were here to help him, not the other way around.

"Becks, stop... you don’t have to. I’m not asking for anything in return, understand?"

He looked at you, his hands still resting on your waist. From the expression on his face, you could tell he wasn’t convinced.

"Besides," you added, trying to find something that would make him relent, "if that ever happens, I deserve it to be with all your strength. Not like the tired wreck you are right now."

A raspy laugh rumbled in his chest, and you smiled. How you loved that rough, husky laugh.

"Alright, Darlin’," he said, still chuckling.

Your smile lingered as you slowly lowered yourself to kneel between his legs, never breaking eye contact with him. Before your knees could touch the floor, he leaned over to the bed, snatching up his pillow and placing it on the floor beneath you.

"Here," he said, "don’t go hurtin’ those pretty knees of yours."

Why was he always like this? You thought as you made yourself comfortable on the pillow, placing your hands gently on his thighs for support. "Thank you".

Your eyes lingered on the prominent bulge at his crotch, and without thinking, you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue. Beckman’s jaw tightened, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a rare display of vulnerability for a man with his reputation.

“Hey, big guy,” you gave his thigh a comforting squeeze, "it’s just me. Relax, okay? Just let yourself go…”

The tent in his pants seemed to complain within its prison, and you didn’t want to make him wait any longer. Slidding your hands down his knees, you spread his legs just enough to create space for your head.

"Who’s undoing the belt?" you asked tilting your head and looking up at him from beneath your long doe-eyed lashes.  

"You." His tone struck you as the same one he used when handing out tasks on deck.

Your hands gripped the buckle of his belt and unfastened it, your fingers decisively pulling aside the layers of fabric that stood between you, lowering the waistband of his pants and finally freeing his painfully swollen cock.

Benn Beckman was a big man. And his dick matched him well. With a large, pinkish-red head and a prominent vein running up and down a thick shaft. Your mouth watered at the sight, lips parted as you took a moment to prepare yourself.

"Darlin’,” Beckman said, taking the moment of silence as doubt on your part, “you can back out if—Hah~" 

His words dissolved into a sharp gasp as you captured his swollen, mushroomed knob between your eager lips.

His taste was salty and strong in your mouth.

You, on the other hand, felt incredibly sweet on his cock.

Opening your mouth as wide as your jaw would allow, you slowly took him in, giving yourself a moment to breathe and adjust to him. You swallowed gradually more of his cock, eyes closed in concentration, hands anchored on his base for support, until you managed about two-thirds of his length.

He held his breath above you. His abdomen tightened with restraint when you looked up at him, your tongue pressing against the pulsing vein on his shaft, feeling the wild rush of blood running through it. Then his hand cupped your cheek, his lips curling into a smile as he traced with his thumb his own bulge inside you.

With your cheeks flushed by that smile, you began applying more pressure with your lips, rising back up to his large head, giving it a quick lick before taking him all the way down again. 

"That's it... “ he sighed. 

His hand slid to the nape of your neck, his fingers brushing your hair aside with care before settling there. You continued bobbing your head against his cock, making him groan with your upward and downward movements, trying to take as much of him as you could.

“Yeah, nice and slow princess…, just like that," he whispered, his thumb tracing small, soothing circles against your skin.

Encouraged by his sweet gesture, you decided to use your hands as well. One moved carefully up and down his hard cock, while the other dared to venture deeper into his pants. His balls felt heavy and tight between your fingers. The balls of a man who hadn’t known a partner' s warmth in a long time.

"So, so good, princess," the bulky man praised breathlessly, his eyes full of devotion as he watched your head bob sweetly between his legs.

His length twitched inside your mouth and you tasted a salty drop of precum as you ran your tongue through his slit. You smiled proudly on his cock, continuing to suck and bob, feeling sparks ignite between your thighs as your own arousal began to smolder in your core.

“Look at you... hah… so perfect… and takin’ me so damn well,” he groaned, his voice a little deeper and raspier than usual. 

His sweet praises, coupled with the slow, sensual glide of his fingers along the nape of your neck, sent a sharp jolt of desire coursing through you. Your mouth continued working up and down his shaft, increasing the pressure and speed as you felt the weight of his darkened, dilated pupils staring at you.

“Princess, open your shirt for me," he uttered with an unsteady breath.

Arching your brow, you looked at him, holding his gaze with an alluring intensity as you slowly obeyed. Your fingers fumbled with your buttons as you undid them slowly, one by one. As soon as you finished, he tugged your shirt down, baring one of your shoulders.

“So goddamn beautiful…” he whispered, the back of his fingers grazing your soft, vulnerable skin, tracing an invisible line from your collarbone to the curve of your cleavage.

His touch sent a shiver racing down your spine, and you frowned, fighting to control the raw, insistent desire building between your thighs. You continued to sweetly embrace his cock with your swollen lips, sucking him hard up and down, focused on how with each movement, his breaths grew more and more uneven.

"Ah~”  he tilted his head back, his fingers pressing more tightly into the back of your neck, drawing your head closer to his crotch. "Let's go deeper, a'right, Doll? Show me what that pretty throat can do…"

You nodded obediently, exhaling through your nose as you took his cock further, slowly swallowing his entire length inch by inch. 

“That’s it, such a good girl…” He praised you as his hands gently grabbed your head to guide you deeper into him.

His sweet words pushed you to swallow more than your throat could handle, and when his blunt head hit the back of your mouth, you couldn’t stop yourself from choking. 

"Hey, n-no," He huskily chastised you, giving you a little tap on the nose. Though he couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes and rolling them back. "No gagging, okay? Good girls don’t gag”.

You nodded again, knitting your brows together in concentration, and let him guide you to take the rest of his cock.

“That’s it… breathe and relax for me, okay?”

You had to squeeze your eyes shut as the large tip pressed against your uvula, but once you managed the last few inches, you smiled proudly on his cock.

“That’s my good girl,” he cooed at you, letting out a heavy sigh, unable to avoid twitching over your tongue. “I knew you could take all of me…”

You continued moving your head, up and down, then down and up, always watching his reactions and listening to his breath to match the right pace. His throbs inside you became more frequent and desperate, and you began to fantasize about how his massive cock would stretch you to your limit. 

The thought did little to ease the growing, unbearable thirst inside you. The damp fabric of your underwear clung uncomfortably to your swollen folds, and you pressed your thighs together, seeking any form of relief.

Burning with desire, you increased the pace. Obscene sucking sounds filled the air as you worked your way up to his thick tip, repeating the process over and over again, making him grunt and curse above you in his frantic fight not to cum.

“G-good j-…  -ahh such a pretty good girl…” he had to shut his eyes and scrunch his brow to handle all the pleasure flooding him. “I’m so close, princess... gonna keep bein’ a good girl for me and not let me make a mess on the floor?" 

You don’t remember giving him an answer, but you do remember how your swollen pussy throbbed between your legs at his question.

You desperately wanted to touch you.

You desperately wanted him to touch you. 

And your prayers were answered.

As you whimpered in frustration, you felt Beckman's large hand slip into your pants and slide under your underwear.

“Shh, I got you…,” he soothed in that deep voice of his, his expert fingers parting your labia and pulling up the hood of your clit, circling your perfect spot with astonishing ease. “Go on, princess.” 

Gripping his hand you grounded your pelvis against it, desperately begging him to keep on those sweet circles that were taking you so quickly to the edge. He indulged, and in less than 30 seconds, he had you whimpering and mewling against his cock, eyes rolling and toes curling as you shoved his thick fingers into your clenching pussy.

Your pace bobbing your head decreased during your high, but the force increased. You hollowed your cheeks, raking him down with your mouth with so much fervor, that you had not yet come down from the crest of your orgasm when you felt his hands roughly grab your hair in firm handfuls, his cock throbbing against your palate and filling the bottom of your throat with his thick, salty load. 

“Fuck, princess, sweetheart, -ngah!, you’re too good, too much -so goddamn perfect,” Beckman moaned out a stream of mindless praises while he shoved his cock deeper into your mouth, emptying himself so hard and so deep in your throat that you gagged on his knob again. Tears began to well up in the corners of your eyes, but you continued bobbing your head against him, feeling his hand rest on your throat as if he wanted to feel your windpipe shift with each swallow of his overwhelming stream of cum.

Panting, and sweating, with your hair tousled and your cheeks flushed, you felt the last of his spend spill into your mouth. You pulled away from him, lifting your eyes and finding him as breathless and damp as you.

He smiled, and his hand ran through his hair in an attempt to regain his composure. But as he leaned toward you and his fingers grazed your cheek, his smile disappeared.

"Oh, Darlin’... No..." His voice cracked, his eyes following the tears as they slipped down your cheeks. “Forgive me... I’ve made you cry.”

His large hands wrapped around your waist, lifting you effortlessly and settling you onto his lap.

“Damn, I’m such a fucking brute…” he said, drawing you close against his chest.

“It’s alright, Beck,” you whispered as you pulled your face away, but his hand drew you closer once more.

His lips brushed softly against your cheeks, catching each tear with tender, almost apologetic kisses. You let out a soft laugh, turning your head slowly to allow him more access, and in doing so, your noses brushed together. Your eyes fluttered shut, and in that brief, unspoken moment, his lips found yours.

The kiss was slow, softer than you’d ever expected from that grumbling, broad-shouldered first mate. He had the calm and patience of someone who had waited for this moment for a long time, savoring every second as if your lips were a long-lost treasure. Sighing into the kiss, you allowing yourself to be carried away by the sweet, unhurried motion of his chin.

When you pulled back, your fingers brushed lightly against his cheek before your gaze met his deep gray eyes once again. They held something intense, familiar yet impossible to name.

A look he reserved only for you.

A look that was now hungrier than ever, as if he were staring at something that had always belonged to him.

“And?” you asked, straightening your back and raising an eyebrow.

“And?” he mimicked you, a smile grazing his lips as he looked lovingly at you. “Darlin’, you were… you are gorgeous.”

“No,” you giggled, your cheeks flushing as you gave him a light, teasing tap on his chest. “I meant if you can sleep now.”

“Ah, right… okay,” he frowned and cleared his throat. “The truth is… yeah, I think I can sleep now.”

With a genuine smile, you nodded and gave him another light tap on his chest. As you moved to stand, his large hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you firmly back into his embrace.

“Stay with me…” he whispered, his forehead coming to rest softly against yours.

“I can’t, Beck. I’ve got work to do,” you lovingly brushed your fingers along his stubbled chin.

“No, you don’t…”

“Yes, I do,” you teased, crossing your arms playfuly over your chest. “And if I don’t, my first mate is gonna punish me.”

He lifted his forehead from yours.

"Oh, I see. That first mate of yours must be really mean."

“The meanest,” you leaned in, your voice low and almost conspiratorial.

He hummed in amusement.

“Is he?” 

"You have no idea."

Clearly enjoying having you so close again, he tilted his chin towards you, grinning as he caught the way your eyes darted to his lips. But when you leaned away out of his reach once more, his smile faded.

"Maybe he's just a man," he said, his voice rough and barely a whisper, "who believes he doesn't deserve what he truly wants."

Your eyes darted between his. “And what is that?”

He cupped your cheek and his thumb traced slowly the line of your jaw.

"Stay with me, and I’ll tell you in the morning."

A smile played at the corner of your mouth as you closed your eyes, sighing before slowly nodding to him.

Before you could even catch your breath, he had you in his arms, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you to the bed.

The clothes scattered across the mattress were brushed aside as he gently laid you down, quickly straightening the wrinkled sheets to make sure you were comfortable. Smiling, he tossed his shirt aside and lay down behind you, drawing a giggle from you when the weight of his body made you roll toward him. His bandaged hand came to rest on your thigh, while the other slid beneath your body, wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.

"Besides..." you heard him whisper, his nose nudging the curve of your neck, "I gotta show you what this tired wreck can do after a few hours of sleep..."

Those were the last words he spoke before letting out a long, deep sigh, his body relaxing behind you as his steady breathing signaled he had finally drifted off.

Beckman slept soundly that night, his heartbeat calm and his brow relaxed, at last enjoying his well-deserved, soothing rest. You, however, couldn’t manage a single blink and endured what felt like the longest night of your life.

.......................................

Taglist: @fanaticsnail @armiliadawn @pandora-writes-one-piece @i-am-vita @eustasscapitankid @nocturnalrorobin @daydreamer-in-training <3

[demonic0angel]

EDA >:DD

Look, I just... I need more of that... Jorgu... Jorguman... Jorguamdnra?? I can't pronounce that shit— CLARK/DAN SHIP :33. Can we have a uhm, continuation <333

Don't break your wrist if you don't have any more ideas on how to continue it

-A.E. 👻

(Ayo, worry more about your thumb!! 😭)

Part 1

Superman continued to hold onto the man as they all traveled down the hallways silently. The woman, named Jazz, told him the story of what happened before he arrived.

Originally, she had ruled over the Infinite Realms, a place that was the opposite of the living realm, as queen regent, but when she gave up her position to their little brother Danny, he had been cursed alongside their little sister. Since previous rulers were forbidden from taking back the throne after being thrown off or abdicating, the crown was given to the other brother, Dan (nicknamed from Danny, which was weird).

“So now they’re children?” Superman asked for clarification, eying the two sleeping children in Jazz’s arms. They stepped over more bodies as they continued moving.

She nodded grimly. “The true crown belongs to Danny, since he is the one who acquired the crown through right of conquest. However, for the last few years, Dan has been the one taking up the role as king in order for there to be a ruler while the throne remains empty. He had been doing really good… he quit smoking, he stopped killing, he was healing…” The sad look in her eyes darkened into rage. “But the GIW ruined everything.”

“The GIW?” Superman asked, as he silently picked up a piece of debris to allow them all passage through the wrecked hallways.

“We call them the Guys in White, but their real name is the Ghost Investigation Ward, and they’re a government agency created and designed to hunt down ghosts. They’re a bunch of fanatic, genocidal hard heads who won’t rest until they nuke all ghosts and kill us all,” Jazz said, her tone venomous. “We can’t fight against them, so we’ve been largely distracting them with other targets. It seems that somehow, they found a way into the Ghost Zone to capture Danny and Ellie.”

The girl in her arms stirred and Jazz shushed her gently. “Shh, Dani, go back to sleep. It’s okay, I’m taking care of it.”

She fell back asleep and they didn’t stop moving. Superman digested the information, holding Dan closer to his chest. Said man was clinging onto him, arms wrapped around him as he remained asleep to the world.

He looked so innocent and lovely, unlike that murderous monster that Superman couldn’t understand just moments before.

But now, Superman was conflicted as he understood his motives.

“Why… Why did he relapse so badly?” Superman asked, a hand involuntarily moving from Dan’s back to stroke his long hair.

Jazz gave him a backwards glance and clarified, “Dan?”

“Yes.”

“… he didn’t come from our timeline. He’s from another world, where everyone in his family— us— died. He was possibly psychologically tortured by our godfather and then he broke down even further, enough that he asked to be split in two so he could feel better. It didn’t work. He nearly killed our godfather and then he absorbed the evil in him. It turned him insane and he destroyed everything. After he completely destroyed his world, he set sight on ours. He nearly killed me and Danny.”

Superman stared wide eyed at her. “And you forgave him?”

She turned back and smiled softly. “He’s my little brother. I’d forgive him for anything. And he’s much better now. He wasn’t well before. But he’s gotten help and he made the effort. He worked hard to be a better person, but the GIW set him back. So after we finish taking care of them, we’ll take care of him.”

Superman clutched at Dan even harder, a mixture of awe and inspiration taking over him. The movement must’ve jostled him, because Dan snuffled, rubbing his fine facial hair against Superman’s neck. Superman withheld a shudder and said determinedly, “I’ll help you.”

“Hmm. Much appreciated. Could you stop snuggling my little brother now?”

Superman blushed bright red. “Oh! I’m so sorry!” He hadn’t thought she would’ve noticed.

Jazz turned her head enough to give him a disdainful look but didn’t say anything. Danny, peeking over her shoulder, opened his eyes and glared at him. Superman flushed and loosened his grip on Dan, whose expression turned disgruntled from losing warmth as he whined.

Oh dear. How embarrassing.

[moonydustx]

Part 2 from this request (thank u again @cartoonykat )

Mihawk, Lucci and Crocodile x F!Reader.

In short: how they would react to F!Reader saying she was pregnant, how they would deal with the child.

(get ready to read, the stories are a little long)

PART 1 HERE - Luffy, Zoro and Ace x F! Reader

Warnings are placed individually in each history.

requests open | one piece masterlist

Mihawk

warnings: fluff. Mihawk and f!Reader are married and want to have children. Mentions of F! Reader be a cook. Very brief mention of abortion (but it was in the past). Content a little spicy, nothing detailed or explicit. Mihawk speaks Spanish a few times in this one (I just couldn't help it). Princesa: princess. Cariño: kind of "Sweetheart"

You had already arranged your sundress countless times, as well as your hair, as well as the entire dinner table. You couldn't sit still, anxious for your husband's arrival. Today you celebrated three years of marriage and you knew that after a long two months, he would return home. You knew his temperament well enough to know that there were high chances of finding him in a bad mood, he hated spending long periods away from the castle and this had been the longest time of all. Of course, your anxiety had nothing to do with the little box hidden in the kitchen.

"Cariño?" You heard his voice from downstairs and in a matter of minutes you already had him in your field of vision. His expression lit up when he saw you and lifted you into his arms. "How I missed you!"

"Me too darling." his hat fell back as you peppered kisses across his face. "My God, how can you stay away all this time?"

"Problems, cariño, a long list of problems." your feet touched the floor again after the long hug. "And what amazing smell is that?"

"Let's just say I used my free time to prepare something special for both of us."

"You should be resting. Last time we spoke, you weren't well." his smile faded, replaced by an alert tone.

"I promise I'm okay." You tried to make conversation just like the day he called you and said you didn't look well. You were talking through a den den mushi, how could he realize that?

"Just give me a few minutes and I'll meet you in the dining room." he asked and placed a quick kiss on your lips.

The minutes of waiting seemed like endless hours, just like dinner itself. You were willing to listen to him talk about how complicated the days at the Cross Guild were, about the news in the world outside your little dome or even how delicious the dough you had prepared was. Your fingers intertwined with his and despite the physical proximity, your mind wandered on how to get to the subject naturally. You had already tried a few times, you had already lost once without even knowing that you expected it, you wanted - and needed - this time to be special.

"Princesa?" he called you, looking towards the cup in front of you. "You didn't like the wine I chose?"

"It's one of my favorites actually."

"Yet it remains untouched." he observed, noticing your hands restlessly hitting the table. "Is something going on?"

"First, I'll get this." You took the wine cork. "Second, wait here for a while."

Twisting the small piece of cork between your fingers - the one you would make sure to keep, you reached for the small box in the kitchen and before long it was standing in front of Mihawk.

"To what do I owe the honor of being presented like this, out of nowhere?" he began to undo the bow, setting the wine glass aside and using both hands to undo the wrapping.

Inside, there were some pregnancy tests, in your desperation to know if it was correct, you took a much larger quantity than necessary. Next to them, a small hawk plush. You had searched the nearby town while picking up fresh items for dinner. At first your idea was to just talk to him, but the stuffed hawk with yellow eyes stole your attention.

"How could I not notice?" he murmured, as if a thought had been spoken aloud. "That means it worked…"

"If you talk about all sex without a condom, without any protection… Drac!"

He pulled you from the chair onto his lap. The hands on your back served as much support as your arms around his neck. Your laughter echoed throughout the castle while Mihawk almost sloppily distributed kisses to any part of your face that he could find.

"How long have you known?" he asked euphorically, a type of state that was rare to find in hawk-eyes.

"A few weeks ago. No, I would never tell you that on a phone call." you interrupted him before he could complain.

For a few minutes, the two of you remained there. Swears like "I love you" "You just made me the happiest man in the world" they were uttered and kisses spread across your face. His hands, accustomed to the weight and brutality of swords, touched you gently. Not like you were something about to break, but rather like something he valued so much. As if he wanted to record every moment of that moment in his memory through the drawings of his hands on your body. The yellowish eyes practically penetrated your soul as you watched Mihawk.

"May I know what's going on in your beautiful head, my princess?" Mihawk's nose caressed your neck, earning a smile from your lips.

"Now you know. It was a low blow to choose my favorite wine." you mumbled, adjusting yourself in his lap.

"No alcohol for you from now on."

"Not for a while now. God, I'd kill for a full glass right now."

"Maybe I have a little idea of ​​how to satisfy that desire of yours."

"What do you say, hawk eyes." Your attentive eyes followed him as he brought the glass of wine to his mouth and slowly drank the drink, in silent provocation. "Are you capable of being so mean to your pregnant wife? I thought it was to satisfy my desire."

"Don't put it like that." He returned the cup to the immense table, his agile hands slid across the bare skin of your thighs. "I just want you to taste it in a new way."

The taste of wine invaded your lips when Mihawk trapped you in a kiss. His tongue opened space in you, eliciting a moan from you when you felt the much-desired taste invade your palate. In an improvised juggling act, without taking your lips off his, you adjusted yourself in Mihawk's lap. Before now your legs dangled around his body, looking for some kind of friction.

"Babe, I need you." you murmured against his lips and his hands held you even tighter, feeling his intimacy harden against yours. "Please, it's on my craving list too."

"Who knew what a little of the taste would do to you." his hands slid over your skin, he could clearly see your skin crawl. "It also seems like you're more sensitive, this is interesting."

"Why don't you take it off and find out?" you pulled his hands down to the hem of your dress.

"Do you want to take this upstairs?" he asked and instead of using words, you just took off the dress you were wearing, throwing it across the kitchen.

You didn't need to shout the news from the rooftops, that night it was enough for Mihawk that you screamed his name, that he valued the body that would be home to your two long-awaited baby. After eliciting screams, nectar and sweat from you unlike many other times when you spent hours caressing each other and talking, you remained awake for a short time. Then Mihawk could notice the small difference in your belly, how it seemed firmer and pointier, different from the last time he had ventured across your body.

"Sorry about the time out." he first made sure you were asleep and then leaned down to whisper against your skin. "I promise to make it up to you. Both of you."

You could notice the different way Mihawk looked at you and not that he didn't do it often, but it became more and more common to hear him say "You look amazing." "You are so beautiful." Soon after the discovery, you also discovered how your husband could go into hyperfocus and the time was to find a perfect home for you. It still hurt you to leave the castle behind, even if for a brief time, but he knew he had tasks to fulfill with the Cross Guild and because of that, he would need to spend more time away from your island home.

The small arranged mansion was also isolated and was a result of Crocodile's help. Despite having little contact with the main part of the island, it was much less minutes away than the old house. At least you would have space to redecorate the entire room to your liking.

"Woman, you really want to spare me from living a long life." Before your protests, you felt his arms wrap around you and take you off the ladder that you were balancing on to finish painting the room. "If this child turns out to be half as stubborn as you, I will be in big trouble."

"Baby, don't listen to your father's nonsense." you mumbled to your belly bump. "And you, did you manage to assemble the crib?"

"No." he practically whispered and as a way of irritating him, you pretended not to hear. "I'm going back to the city, I'm sure there must be something already done."

"You men, with your little swords, can't handle a new toy." You stood on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. "Let's switch tasks."

"You women and your kitchen knives." he grumbled, watching you leave and then return only to look at him with judgement. "Okay, I've been an asshole now."

The light shade of yellow had just finished filling the walls when a bang took the eagle eyes' attention. Hearing you swear, it only took seconds for him to be on the doorstep, watching you contemplate the collapsed crib.

"What were you saying about swords?" he teased but your furious look made him change his mind - he swore he saw something red shine in your iris. "Tomorrow we'll go to town together and get one ready, what do you think my love?"

"A great idea."

"And for now, how about a hot bath, some music and grape juice." well, at least that was the way he had found to prevent you from drinking wine.

"Can we include a massage in the package?" you took advantage of the fact that he was behind your body to lean on him.

"Whatever my dear wife wants."

The house was already ready, toys, clothes and gifts from the most different friends were piling up and by a pure coincidence of fate, Luna arrived into the world on a full moon night. You would carry it in your soul when Mihawk's eyes - golden when they touched the moonlight - met the small pair of irises identical to his.

"My little Luna, you chose the right day to come." he whispered, pacing the sleeping girl from side to side. "You are so perfect."

"Just like her daddy." you answered.

In other situations you would end up in two camps: Mihawk would play the opposite and say that the most beautiful thing in the relationship is you or on days when he was really in a good mood, he would say how lucky you were to have him. That night, he just smiled at your comment. Not a provocative smile like most of the ones he had given his entire life. It was one of those that made the hawk's eyes become just a detail on his illuminated face.

"Thank you my love." he replied to you. "Thank you for bringing me a little piece of heaven, of all this infinity above us. Mi preciosa Luna."

When little Luna wasn't within your reach, you didn't need to make an effort to find her, she would be in her father's shadow. Whether in the moments he took to read or even in some Cross Guild meetings. The other two men didn't seem to mind the little girl's presence, who was always busy with something.

"I think we can… Hey, what's this?" Buggy screamed as he saw the girl climb over him. "Mihawk!"

"Let the girl have some fun. That's what clowns are for, aren't they?" Crocodile responded in a gentle tone while Mihawk kept his eyes on Luna, who without hesitation pulled one of Buggy's ears and sat on the couch next to him.

"You little brat!" the clown made to take the ear from her hand in an almost brutal way as he felt her digging the almost non-existent fingers into the cartilage of the ear. "That hurts."

"I wouldn't want to have to remove your other ear, permanently." Mihawk spoke calmly, as if he had just commented on an everyday fact.

"Sorry to interrupt." You walked into the room, attracting looks, especially from a certain little girl who realized that your ear wasn't that interesting anymore.

"Mami!" Luna immediately started throwing her little arms towards you and even though she tried to at least hide it in these situations it was impossible not to see Mihawk's eyes light up.

"She just took down a Yonkou, I'll be saving a spot on the team for her." Crocodile laughed when he saw your dissatisfied face. "Okay, I guess I'll have to settle for just a single hawk's eye."

On the same day, after a few long hours of meeting between them, you thought that at least your husband would want to rest, to remove any idea of ​​work from inside the house - despite his choice to have brought work into the house while the Luna was still small. Of all the places you expected to find yourself, you didn't expect to find Mihawk with little Luna on his lap, in front of them a large Cross Guild poster.

"Who's that?" Mihawk pointed at the figure.

"It's a crocodile." The word was slurred, but Luna said it anyway with a certain confidence. Again, the man asked, pointing to the next image. "The clown."

"And who is this?"

"Dada!" she cheered, making him laugh along and, consequently, you, happy with your little family.

Lucci

warnings: Lucci is a warning in itself. A lot of angst with a somewhat happy ending. F!Reader was also an agent, she had the fruit that transformed her into a kind of cat. Slightly troubled relationship between him and F!Reader. Completely based on the fact that Lucci is not a complete psychopath (I mean, egghead spoilers ahead: him asking for Kaku's life, how can we not love him? Besides the CP9 cover stories).

A few days had passed since the last time you and Lucci had seen each other in person. The voices demanding mission reports seemed distant as you watched him from the other side of the table and you had known him long enough to know that even though he seemed focused he was still able to see him glance casually in your direction and no one noticed.

You wished the brief meeting could have lasted longer, given you time to think more about what words to use, to fantasize that Lucci would be happy with the idea, but chills ran through your body just thinking about it.

"Hey, meow girl." Kaku nudged you with his shoulder, pulling you back to the real world. "I heard you got into trouble."

"You have no idea." You laughed heartily, pushing him back. "Call me meow girl again and I'll wring your huge neck."

"Hey, I'm just being nice."

"I bet you are, big guy." You pinched the tip of his nose, leaving him grumbling.

"Need to talk to you." Lucci's voice interrupted the two of you, stopping Kaku's laughter and complaints. The man just waved and walked away, leaving you and Lucci alone. "Not here."

He took the lead, his firm steps and serious posture didn't let anyone think anything other than that you - who followed him without the same grandeur - had gotten yourself into some kind of problem. The solid wooden door closed behind you as you noticed Rob Lucci walk through the space, filling two glasses of brandy and handing you one of them. The drink danced through your hands, but never reached your lips.

"You were restless today, pupils dilated, sweat on your face." He touched a temple, noticing the moisture. "What kind of problem did you encounter?"

"I'm pregnant." You ripped the band-aid off at once, with no time to let the thoughts flow through your mind.

The man took a few steps back, looking you up and down and then looking around the entire room. The small shot of brandy in his hand was downed in moments and he took the one you were holding from you, the liquid meeting the same fate.

"And what do I have to do with it?" you already knew his cold temper, but you didn't expect to hear such rude words.

"What do you have to do with this?" you snapped, approaching him. "What do you have to do with this? Use your fucking brain Lucci."

"What's wrong? How can you guarantee that this is my doing?" His tone dropped, becoming threatening. "I have nothing to do with this."

"I knew you could be an asshole, but after all this time?" you gave him a push Lucci didn't react, just letting his body move away.

"We had one night and that was it. This could be anyone's business."

The lie that came out of his lips hurt more than any blow you've ever taken in all these years fighting alongside him.

You threatened to push him, but this time he reacted by guiding your body to the wall and enclosing you in his arms. Your body contracted as you saw him punch the wall next to you and some pieces of concrete fall.

"Get out of here." his tone became a whisper and if it weren't for the argument you were already having, it was impossible to tell he was mad. "You get out of here and ask to leave Cipher Pol today. Ask or I'll throw you out."

How could you have been stupid to think that would lead anywhere? You thought Lucci could have changed something, all the times the two of you could have had some connection felt in vain.

Swallowing your tears and not giving any justification to anyone, a few days later you managed to free yourself from the organization. You knew they would keep an eye on you, but at least now you wouldn't be the target of Lucci's hatred.

A few months later you had already found a new home on your home island, a new spark of hope that everything would work out, even without him. That week you would be six months pregnant and you were already used to the affection and closeness of your neighbors and colleagues. What you weren't used to was strange noises in your house in the middle of the night.

Reluctantly - and against any recommendation from your doctor, you assumed the form that your devil fruit allowed. A completely black cat. You still remembered Kalifa's laugh when you two and Kaku acquired your fruits and she claimed it was curious that you also turned into a feline.

The image of the man you no longer imagined seeing in front of you was there, standing in your kitchen. You wanted to return to your human form and ask what it was about, you wanted to at least feel him again, but the hatred inside you spoke louder. Shooing away the pigeon that accompanied him, you jumped at Lucci, climbing up his suit with your fingernails.

"Stop this." Lucci tried to hold you back, but you kept throwing small kicks at him. Damn the time you trimmed your claws, the damage wouldn't be so great "Stop!"

Fatigue soon hit you and you returned to your human form, even so you continued attacking him, this time with weak slaps.

"You practically called me a bitch." you snapped, having your hands trapped by his. "You humiliated me and now you have the nerve to show up here."

"You need to calm down." you lunged at him, even though your hands were practically tied by his hands. "You're going to hurt yourself, sweetheart, please."

The calm tone of his words hit you before your brain even processed his arms trapping you in a tight hug. It took a few seconds before you actually gave up trying to free yourself.

"Calm down, please." he asked once again, pressing you against his body.

"You left me." hurt replaced the hatred in your voice, this time you were able to let go of him, now calmer.

Noticing that your clothes were gone with your transformation, you turned your back and went to your room, reaching for panties and a robe. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you closed your eyes, trying to regain the lost air and dealing with the weakness that took over your body.

"There are big differences between the anatomy of a cat and a human, even more so when they carry their kittens." Lucci leaned on the doorstep and realized that you still hadn't turned your attention to him. He soon bent down in front of you, taking one of your hands. "How can I help you?"

"You sent me away." the hurt was almost palpable in your voice. "My life was good here, I got a job even though I was pregnant, I started making friends. Why are you here after so long?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about you two." Lucci gave up and sat next to you. "That day I had to lie." he confessed and your attention quickly turned to Lucci. "I saw Yuro following us, him slightly pushing the door to hear us. He was interested in my position just like he was always interested in you. What do you think he would do when he connected the information?" The question remained in the air for some time, long enough for you to feel your heart soften a little. "That's why I asked you to leave, I didn't know how well the little act had worked."

"And how did you find me here?"

"I never lost sight of you." the answer was almost obvious to you, yet it was good to hear. "Besides, even if I wanted to, that annoying giraffe wouldn't leave me alone after I told him about the child." a light laugh dared to cross your lips. "I'm sorry for this."

"I know you meant well, Lucci, but it still hurts anyway." you made to touch his arm, but you flinched. "It doesn't mean that I don't miss you, that I don't want to see you."

"I figured that. As long as you accept me here, accept me in this child's life, I want to stay." he, contrary to what you had done, allowed his hand to touch your skin, turning your face towards him. "And what you want?"

"Can we just cuddle for a bit, please?"

Lucci opted to just pull you into his arms and drag you to the bed, laying down comfortably and allowing you to snuggle into him. Feeling a little wary of how you would react, his hand lightly touched the spot on the back of your neck that you loved being stroked. Surely your cat form would be purring. For a long time, it was the kind of physical contact you had.

The residents of the small village were initially surprised by the man's presence. He didn't stay for long and when he stayed on the island, he only left the house a few times and had a serious expression on his face, not allowing anyone to feel free to talk. And when it was extremely necessary, he preferred to use Hattori for that role.

The little child arrived into the world on a rainy night. Leo was an almost identical copy of his father, except for his eyes that were the same as yours. Lucci only returned to the island two days later and few things could surprise him more than finding you sitting on the bed with several blankets around your body, while you breastfed the little baby.

"Hey." you limited yourself to saying, not wanting to speak more or louder so as not to take away the child's peace.

"Are you cold?"

"I just need to keep the nest… the bed warm, make our little Leo comfortable." You looked at the little one, who was still focused on eating. "Want to see him?" You nodded to the space next to you on the bed.

Lucci got closer and could notice every feature of the baby it was like looking at a small version of him. Until the small eyes found the man's direction and he understood that everything bad that could exist in him, in Lucci, would be compensated by everything good he had in you. A strange feeling took over him, something like possession, like pride, something that if he needed to put into words he wouldn't be able to.

His hands first lowered the cover from your back and then lowered the strap of your shirt. Before you could complain, Lucci started distributing kisses and rubbing his face against your skin, in a strange affection that you gladly accepted. In anyone's eyes, it would be like seeing two cats taking care of their pup.

Lucci was right in his little mental gamble. Leo was a physical copy of him, but he had your personality. Cunning, agile, but kind, a soft heart that accepted anything. Well, almost anything.

"Daddy!" the boy shouted as soon as he saw Lucci enter the small yard after almost two months away. The man just bent down and allowed him to jump into his arms. When Leo was just a few centimeters away, Lucci watched the boy scream in horror and walk away. "Hattori!"

The pigeon landed on Lucci's shoulder and that was enough to explain the story. Ever since baby Leo woke up with the pigeon watching him, the now three-year-old boy was terrified of any bird and poor Hattori was included - and was the main reason.

"Son, I already told you. Hattori is good." you caught up to them, sitting on the floor so you were at Leo's level.

"No, it is not." he grumbled, hiding in the back of your neck. "Get him out of here."

"You need to get used to it." Lucci would once again try and knew he might fail. "Look at me."

"I don't want."

"Leo…" the warning tone caught the boy's attention, who just gave him space to see, not letting go of you. "Look, Hattori is a good friend."

Lucci let the pigeon land on his fingertips. Fulfilling the small unspoken agreement between the two, Hattori remained quiet, accepting Lucci to stroke his head.

"See? Your mom likes him too." Lucci passed the pigeon to your finger and more docilely you caught it.

"Come here." Lucci picked up the boy and whispered something in his ear, probably some promise to the boy. Leo, with his small trembling hand, stretched out his finger and let Hattori land. "See? He can be a great friend."

"He can?"

"Coo, yes sir Leo." As soon as the dove spoke, Leo screamed in fear again, letting the bird fly and throwing himself at you.

"Maybe that was too soon." Lucci commented, helping you stand with the boy on your lap.

That time, Lucci spent about a month with you and you were already suffering from the night he was leaving. Partly because of your longing, even if you hadn't gotten back into the relationship, you couldn't deny how you felt about him. In addition to suffering for little Leo. He admired his father, even though he didn't know what he actually did and even though he maintained a more serious behavior, you knew that Lucci adored the boy.

"Dad…" you watched Lucci put Leo to sleep, with the boy practically with his eyes closed. "You will return?"

"I promise you I will."

"What if I cry just this little bit." he pointed at the small space with his fingers. "Will you still love me?"

The question seemed to take him by surprise. You noticed that Lucci didn't respond immediately and you wondered how many memories were going through his head, of all the death, chaos and hatred that he had carried since childhood. You knew that it was difficult for Lucci to express - and even nurture feelings that were reserved for few people, the bond with you and Leo was unique.

"Absolutely," a rare light chuckle escaped him. "You're my best friend, remember?" Lucci finished covering the boy. "Now sleep."

You blew your little boy a kiss from a distance and closed the door to his room. Like something magnetic you followed Lucci to the small room of the house you two sort of shared.

"Need to talk to you."

"I'm listening." you crossed your arms, bracing yourself for something bad, something like "That was the last time I showed up."

"I'm leaving Cipher Pol." he took a small letter from his pocket. That seal was familiar and the last time you saw it was when you gave up.

"Explain this to me properly"

"Even on a mission in Water 7, being a shipwright wasn't that bad." as he spoke, you felt even more lost. "I've always had my goals. Little Leo wasn't one of them, but I can't ignore him."

"You know you don't have to do that. Our little arrangement has been working." you tried to argue, but Lucci was irreducible, as always.

"I don't really need it. I want it." he spoke firmly. "I'm just going to carry out this mission more."

"Something important?"

"I need to go to Egghead, deal with Vegapunk." he limited himself to speaking, not wanting to go into too many details. Despite asking, your mind was still stuck on the idea of ​​having Lucci always there.

"Promise to come back." the words came out like an order. "Promise now Lucci, please."

Lucci just hung his face, trying to understand where that plea had come from. You always warned him to make promises to Leo, after all, life as an agent and director of CP0 wasn't the safest. Those words didn't usually come out of your mouth.

Ignoring the mix of sensations that accumulated in your chest, you practically threw yourself towards Lucci, taking his lips for yourself. His lack of reaction only lasted a few seconds and you only had to press your body against his for his hands to find your legs and lock them around his waist.

"I promise." he said amidst sighs and footsteps towards your room. "As long as you promise to come back to me, to be mine again."

"I promise."

Crocodile

warnings: angst, but with a happy ending. Crocodile and F!Reader are married, there are mentions of blood but nothing much. Mentions of Cross Guild because I absolutely love the existence of this trio.

Long years, long disputes and problems ago, Crocodile found you lost in Alabasta. Fleeing from a crew that chose to only use you, you found yourself without any direction and when demonstrating your skills to escape some thieves, he saw something interesting in you.

This interest lasted through the years, even into the fall of his reign in Alabasta, even into the time he was trapped in Impel Down, he knew that once he found you again, he wouldn't let something so good slip through his hands like sand in the wind.

That's how the small ring with green details found your hand, which you passed from Miss Honeymoon to his wife. Very little time had passed before you had to face the countless positive tests that piled up in front of you.

You tried to go back to bed in silence, the goal was not to wake Crocodile and over time, find the courage to bring the news to him. However, you failed miserably. As soon as the bathroom door opened, you found Crocodile waiting for you.

"You've been out of bed for a while. Is everything okay?" he asked, leaning against the wall next to the door.

"Y-Yes." Your voice betrayed you, giving away that at least something had happened in there and you knew Crocodile enough to know that he would turn everything over and discover your little secret. "Can we talk?"

"It's a little early for that, isn't it, my little one?" The serious expression on your face told him that the matter couldn't wait. Without asking, he took your hand and guided you back to the bed, placing you in a sitting position. "What happened?"

"I h-guess. I mean." you took a deep breath, the huge room seemed to compress next to you. "I'm pregnant."

Silence prevailed for a few seconds - it seemed like ages between the two of you. You looked for any reaction, for anything, but Crocodile was far away. It was just a physical form in front of you.

"Rest, there's still a long way to go before dawn." he just said, turning his back and heading towards the bathroom.

It didn't take long for you to see him leave, hair wet, steam everywhere, no more words left his lips and the first rays of sun appeared on the horizon when he disappeared from your field of vision. Almost two weeks passed like this, only essential words were exchanged between the two of you, Crocodile spent most of his hours away from home or locked in his office. According to Daz, the boss had problems to solve.

That was it, this would end the relationship that you two had worked so hard to achieve. Without saying anything, you packed your bags, even so you couldn't leave without at least looking at his face. Opening the office door without any kind of ceremony, the first thing that caught your attention was the blood that was staining him, only then did you notice the cut that he was finishing stitching.

"Crocodile!" You got closer, trying to touch the wound, but he pushed your hand away. "Are you okay?"

"It was just a superficial cut." he simply responded, finishing the last stitch and using gauze to cover the wound.

Despite your concern, you would not let your recent decision shake you. Crocodile watched with surprised eyes as you took off the ring you were wearing and with shaking hands left it on the table.

"What is this about?"

"Given the distance, the way you've been treating me, I don't think you were happy with the existence of a baby." You started, trying to make your voice steady. "But I am and it's okay that you don't want to have a child, but I do. I just don't want to have to deal with this indifference, this distance. You don't talk to me, you don't sleep in our bed…"

"Calm down darling, please." he asked, his unshaken tone quite contrary to the worried expression on his features.

He took your hand and gently made you circle the table, standing next to him. Crocodile then took three brown folders from a drawer, each of which had a name and a photo of a guy.

"Do you remember them?" you still remembered the faces, before settling on the new island, the two of you evaluated how the entire system worked.

"The three main leaders here on this island. This one is responsible for the bandits." You pointed to the first photo and then to the second. "This one was a pirate too, as I remember."

"And this one works in the slave trade." Crocodile took a pen and crossed out his photo, just as the first man's photo was also crossed out.

"And what does this have to do with what I told you just now?" you tried to move away from the table, but the hand on your waist stopped you.

"As we once talked about, I planned to calmly find a place for my business, maybe some partnerships…" he put the folders aside, turning his attention completely to you. "Now with this. With our baby on the way. I can't allow there to be threats of this level around."

"What do you mean by that, my dear?" the endearing word involuntarily escaped your lips, a clear sign that you couldn't help but have love for Crocodile, even with the hurt.

"I needed to speed up my business, exclude some of these faces." He held your face and pressed his forehead to yours. "I can only be happy with this news when I know you two are safe."

"Crocodile…"

"I'm going to be the happiest man on this island when I can walk around showing off my beautiful, shiny, pregnant wife, carrying my little one. I don't want our children to have to see the terror we've both experienced throughout this life."

"I thought you didn't want me anymore." you let your hands wrap around him and his found a similar path around your body.

"I'm a man of my word and when I said I want you for the rest of my life, I really meant it." His lips traced their way across your face. "Please give me just a few more days and I will allow myself to be happy with this news."

It took another week before you woke up in the middle of the night, feeling something you hadn't felt in time. The icy contrast of his hook revealed that Crocodile had accidentally slept in that position. Head and one hand resting on your belly, in a protective mode. Apparently, the day had finally come for him to allow himself to be happy.

The months that followed were calmer, with the full-time man being your shadow, even on the tireless afternoons of shopping you did, Crocodile was there. At least he considered himself lucky and rewarded, since your raging hormones acted in a somewhat pleasant way for him - which made Daz find the two of you in a vulnerable way in the kitchen.

The best doctors from across the island gathered in the grand mansion when Ella was born. An identical copy for you, much to Crocodile's happiness. You knew that Crocodile would dedicate himself to being a father, even if it didn't work out, however, you couldn't be more wrong. On many nights, the girl was only able to stop crying when she found her father, or afternoons became calmer when, while the two of you talked and made plans, little Ella was distracted by the piles of sand that her father was. capable of producing. Apart from the fact that he had decided to give a baby Bananawani as soon as she turned her first birthday or when he made a replica of the hook he had for the little girl, everything was going well in the relationship between the three of you.

Despite being your copy in terms of features, her personality was much more similar to her father - and she was extremely close to him. With a cunning capable of convincing everyone, it didn't take long for Ella to be able to soften even Daz's heart. There wasn't a thing the girl asked for that Crocodile's faithful partner wouldn't go after. Cross Guild mates were also victims of Ella. In this case, just one of them. Mihawk thought it was funny for someone so small to have such an irreverent stance as Crocodile, despite almost getting him expelled from the Cross Guild when he was caught letting Ella play - or at least try - to manipulate Yoru. As for Buggy, Ella preferred to keep her distance. One of the few things the girl couldn't deal with easily was the existence of clowns.

The scream of horror that crossed the corridor invaded your ears, as well as those of the other two men who were next to you. Recognizing the voice, you and Crocodile jumped to your feet, quickly heading to where you thought the source was. Arriving in the kitchen, Crocodile barely had time to balance himself when he saw Ella hugging his legs, looking for some kind of help.

"A monster daddy, a big monster." Crocodile picked her up and felt the girl's heart racing even with all the fabrics separating him from her skin. "He's right there."

"It's okay, sweetie." your voice reached her ears, which were practically the only possible point of contact. Her eyes were sunk into her father's shoulder, her small hands almost pierced the fabric of his overcoat.

"I have my suspicions about what this monster is." Mihawk, who you hadn't noticed following the two of you, spoke up. "And I agree with you Ella, it's a pretty ugly monster." the cynicism was clear in his voice.

"Look at your father, my little one." Crocodile asked and found two orbs damp with tears. "Was it a monster with an ugly, red nose?"

"You lizard, you don't talk about my nose." Buggy practically rolled out of the pantry, eliciting another scream from the girl who went back into hiding. "She who appeared out of nowhere here."

"He's harmless, Ella." you tried to catch her, but the girl refused to let go of her own father.

"She's in her house, she has the freedom to do whatever she wants." Crocodile's threatening tone didn't go unnoticed. "You know what awaits you, don't you, clown?"

"Hey, I didn't do anything." he grumbled, approaching you already knowing that Crocodile would scalp him soon. "Look here, pretty girl, Uncle Buggy is your friend."

"Everything is fine." you interrupted the clown, who only scared your daughter more. You knew that the two of them probably just bumped into each other in the kitchen, but little Ella's fear spoke louder in these moments. "You are not going to do anything." you muttered to Crocodile and turned to the clown in question. "And can you stop this, you're only scaring little Ella more."

"Let's get out of here, my little baby." your husband grumbled, turning his back and going in front, you couldn't make out exactly what he was saying, but he seemed to be trying to reassure Ella, who was just sniffling now.

The sniffles were replaced by a small laugh, when you looked to the side the reason made you laugh too. Mihawk had turned the blunt side of the sword and hit Buggy a few times, who grunted back.

"We don't scare little girls here, we only scare bad mariners." Mihawk repeated the gesture and you knew he wasn't using any of the full strength he had. "Don't scare little Ella."

The hawk's eyes blinked at the girl, who continued laughing - much to the reassurance of Crocodile, who was already thinking of methods to torture his fellow Cross Guild member. No one scared his little girl.

[gnvrkhuroo]

insatiable desires pt. 1

leon s. kennedy x f. reader

warning: EXTREMELY DARK SMUT. NONCON, DUBCON, CNC. possessive behavior. praise & degradation. master-pet/slave relationship, size kink, corruption kink, jealousy, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, tummy bulge, dacryphilia, slight bdsm, hair pulling, slapping, spanking, brat taming, dumbification, manipulation, overstimulation, marking, love bites, branding scare.

this part is purely smut and i guess a bit of introduction to their relationship (?), the plot and story begin in part 2.

(not proofread & lowercase intended)

note: the following content contains explicit and adult-oriented language and themes. this piece is fictional and solely intended for the reader's satisfaction and imagination. the author does NOT condone or endorse any real-life activities that may be depicted. reader discretion is advised. mdni.

please bear with me for a bit, as i haven't written for a while. however, i intend to improve my writing with every part of this series.

you've tried everything. exploring every possibility in your relentless pursuit of pleasure, yet it remains unfulfilled. you want—no, you need the real thing — a real cock. not a cold silicone dildo or a vibrator but a genuine connection with a man who can satiate your deepest desires. someone who not only comprehends the hidden desires that you are yet to find in the corners of your mind, but also your current fantasies. a man of experience, confidence, and the ability to surpass your expectations, while respecting your boundaries and limitations.

driven by this longing, you made a bold decision one fateful day. you set your sights on a formidable individual, a man whose reputation precedes him. with unwavering determination, you sought to approach leon kennedy, a figure who held the key to unlocking your satisfaction, as they say.

and so, he invited you to his penthouse, seated comfortably behind his wide desk, he reclined his swivel chair. his piercing blue eyes alternated between the document resting before him and the person who stood before him—you.

leon smirks, leaning back further in his chair, his fingers steepled together. his piercing blue eyes lock onto yours, his voice smooth and confident. "let's go over the agreed-upon rules one last time." he reaches forward, picking up the paper and clearing his throat before reading out loud.

rule number one: you will address me as "master " at all times, without exception. disobedience will result in punishment.

rule number two: your body is mine to do as i please. you will obey any and all orders given to you immediately and without question. failure to do so will result in punishment.

rule number three: you are to be completely submissive and obedient at all times. any displays of resistance or defiance will be met with consequences.

rule number four: trust and honesty are crucial. you will communicate your desires, limits, and boundaries clearly and openly.

rule number five: "red" will be our safe word, a word that will signify the need for an immediate halt to any activities. and for situations when you cannot speak, a double tap from you shall serve as your signal for me to cease.

rule number six: consent is given and assumed between us. we have entered into this agreement willingly and with a clear understanding of the dynamics at play.

rule number seven: any physical marks or bruises left on your body will be solely at my discretion. i may use them as a reminder of your submission and my ownership.

rule number seven: you will wear the collar i have provided you with at all times when we are together. it symbolizes your submissive status.

rule number eight: aftercare is of utmost importance. i will provide care and comfort after each session, tending to your physical and emotional needs.

rule number nine: limits and hard boundaries will be respected. any acts or requests beyond those limits will not be entertained.

rule number ten: discretion is crucial. our arrangement and any activities that occur between us will remain strictly between us.

rule number eleven: i shall provide for you as long as our contract is in effect.

rule number twelve: communication is key. if at any time you have concerns, questions, or suggestions, you are to bring them to my attention.

rule number thirteen: exclusivity is expected. you will be mine and mine alone. you will not engage in any form of sexual activity with others without my explicit permission.

rule number fourteen: this agreement is subject to periodic review and amendments as we see fit, but any changes must be agreed upon by both parties.

rule number fifteen: above all, remember that your role is to serve and please me. your submission and obedience will be rewarded, but disobedience will not go unpunished."

leon finishes reading the rules and proceeds to enlighten you now with the punishments in order for disobedience and failure to follow the contract. the severity of the punishments depends on the nature of the transgression.

"for minor offenses, i may choose to administer a spanking, using my hand or other implements of your choosing. a whip, a belt, or even a paddle. the sting and the marks they leave will surely remind you of your place.

for more grave offenses, i might decide to deny you pleasure, subjecting you to a period of denial and frustration. teasing you, torturing you with pleasure until the brink, only to leave you unsatisfied.

for severe transgressions, humiliation. i will expose your deepest, darkest secrets, making you feel vulnerable and exposed. in front of me, or perhaps even in front of others, if i deem it necessary. the shame you feel will be a harsh reminder of your place.

another form of punishment i enjoy is forced orgasm. i will push you to your limits, overstimulating your body with pleasure until you are begging for mercy. but i will continue, without pause, until you are broken, trembling, and completely at my mercy."

and, of course, there is always the option of physical pain. whether it be through flogging, caning, or even more extreme methods, like branding.

the act of marking you permanently, etching my ownership into your very flesh. it would serve as a stark reminder of your place and your commitment to our contract. for the location, i have chosen the upper back, just below the neck. it is a prominent yet easily concealable area, allowing you to exhibit your mark when desired or to hide it under clothing when necessary."

"as for the design, a simple symbol of my choosing will suffice. an intricate "L" intertwined with a fierce dragon, symbolizing power, dominance, and the unbreakable bond between master and slave." leon's voice lowers, his gaze intensifying as he locks eyes with you.

"and now, the method. we shall proceed with scarification, using a heated branding iron. the sensation of searing pain, the sizzle of flesh meeting metal, will etch the memory of my ownership permanently into your being."

setting the paper back down on the desk and swiftly sliding it across the table towards you. he studies your face carefully, waiting for your response.

after thoroughly reviewing the contract and deeming it satisfactory, a surge of confidence coursed through your veins. without hesitation, you grabbed the pen from his desk, eager to finalize the deal with a flourish of your signature.

"done."

without wasting another precious moment, leon reached for his desk, deftly pulling open a drawer to reveal a thick and vibrant pink collar. with a determined gaze, he rose to his feet.

his fingers idly toying with the collar's texture as he approached you. then he pressed his lips tenderly against your forehead, a gesture filled with affection and a hint of dominance. it sent shivers down your spine, amplifying the anticipation that already hung in the air.

circling behind you, his hand delicately brushed your hair over your shoulder. with a confident yet gentle touch, he wrapped the collar around your neck, securing it in place. the buckle clicked, its snugness striking the perfect balance between leaving a mark and allowing you to breathe freely.

"who owns you, pretty thing? tell me,"

"you do, master. all for you."

"mmm, such sweet devotion," leon purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction as his hands trailed down your body, his touch both possessive and tender. he gripped your waist firmly, his fingers digging into your skin just enough to elicit a gasp from your lips.

leaning in, his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, his voice a low, velvety whisper. "you belong to me now. your body, your pleasure, all for me." his words sent a jolt of desire coursing through your veins, your body growing more submissive under his commanding presence.

leon slowly guided you towards the bed, his hands never leaving your body. he sat down on the edge, his gaze fixed on you with hunger in his eyes. "strip for me, pet. show me what's mine," he commanded, his voice laced with an intoxicating blend of authority and desire.

your hands shook slightly as you began to undress, the vulnerability and anticipation electrifying every movement. leon's eyes drank in the sight of you, his gaze washing over your exposed skin, appreciating every curve and contour. his lips curled into a wicked smile, his own arousal evident.

as you stood before him, bare and vulnerable, leon's hand snapped out, the sound of a sharp slap resounding through the room. a mixture of pain and pleasure ignited within you, your body responding to the delightful sting. "you've been such a good pet, haven't you?" he taunted, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "but we're just getting started."

without warning, his hand tangled in your hair, roughly pulling you towards him. his lips claimed yours in a fierce and possessive kiss, his tongue dominating yours as he explored the depths of your mouth. the taste of him consumed you, his taste lingering on your tongue as you gasped for breath.

breaking the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "you're mine, and i'm going to make sure you never forget who you belong to," he growled, before pushing you back onto the bed, positioning himself above you.

leon's lips crashed into yours once again, the hunger and desire intensifying with each passing second. his hands roamed your body, exploring every inch with a possessive grip. as your tongues danced together, the room filled with the sound of your muffled moans, consumed by your shared lust.

his fingers trailed down your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. with a firm yet gentle grip, he squeezed your ass, the sting of the slap still lingering on your skin. "you like it rough, don't you? tell me," he demanded, his voice filled with a mix of dominance and eagerness.

a shuddering breath escaped your lips as you mustered the words, your voice a mere whisper. "y-yes, master. want it as rough as you want," you admitted, your submission fueling the fire within him.

in response, he threw you onto the bed. leon gripped your wrists and pinned them above your head, holding them firmly in place. his kisses descended from your lips, trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of love bites and marks in his wake. the combination of pleasure and pain sent waves of electricity through your body, leaving you trembling with anticipation.

his hand slipped between your thighs, teasing your slick folds with his fingers. with a wicked smirk, he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "do you want me to claim you, pet? to make you mine in every way?" he murmured, his voice laced with a sadistic edge.

desire surged through your veins as you nodded eagerly, your voice barely above a whisper. "y-yes, make me yours completely," you pleaded, your words punctuated by a moan as his fingers slipped inside you, expertly exploring your depths.

leon's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he felt your wetness coating his fingers. he moved them in a slow and calculated manner, curling them to find that sweet spot that would elicit delicious moans from your lips. each movement of his hand was designed to bring you pleasure, to make you crave more.

keeping his eyes locked on yours, he pulled his fingers out, only to thrust them back in, setting a rhythm that matched the growing heat between you. each stroke was deliberate, leaving you on the precipice of pleasure, but never quite pushing you over.

his voice was a commanding whisper as he spoke, hot breath cascading over your ear. "so obedient and responsive," he growled, his voice dripping with authority. his fingers quickened their pace, plunging deep into your core, causing you to arch your back in pleasure.

leon's smoldering eyes bore into yours, relishing in the sight of your submission. he pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right to hit your most sensitive spot. your moans filled the room, echoing the pleasure that surged through your body like an electric current.

with a flick of his wrist, he removed his fingers from your dripping entrance, making you whimper in need. he brought them up to your lips, the scent of your arousal filling your nostrils as he traced your lips with his fingertips. "open," he commanded, his tone demanding your unquestioning obedience.

as your mouth opened, he slid his fingers inside, fully coating them with your taste. "suck them clean, pet," he ordered, his voice laced with the promise of retribution if you disobeyed. without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his fingers, your tongue swirling around them, cleaning off every drop of your essence.

satisfied with your obedience, leon withdrew his fingers from your mouth, a glimmer of sadistic pleasure dancing in his eyes. "perfectly made just for me," he declared, his voice filled with lust and dominance.

a cruel smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he unbuckled his belt, the sound of leather sliding through metal sending a shiver down your spine. holding the belt firmly in his hand, he let the leather coil against his palm before he loomed above you.

his strong hands gripped your hips, flipping you onto your stomach. "you're going to feel every strike of this belt," he warned, his voice filled with a mix of authority and sadistic pleasure. yet, he paused. "color."

"g-green."

without further delay, leon brought down the belt, the leather hitting the exposed skin of your backside with a resounding crack. the sting and burn left you breathless, each strike toeing the line between pleasure and pain. your moans filled the room as he continued his relentless assault, marking your skin with red welts that matched his voracious desire.

he leaned in closer, his voice husky and dominant. "such a good girl," he praised, his lips brushing against your ear. "you're already so wet for me, so eager and ready to get fucked rough."

he released his pulsing cock from his pants, his touch sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through him. his hand moved with a purpose, stroking his length firmly, the sight and sound of his hand gliding along his throbbing shaft filling the room.

leon's cock throbbed in his hand, the veins pulsating with anticipation. each stroke elicited a soft grunt of pleasure from his lips, his grip tightening around his shaft. it was a sight to behold, his arousal on full display.

with a teasing smirk, he pressed just the tip inside, relishing in the way you gasped and writhed beneath him. "you want it, don't you, pet? beg for it," he commanded, his voice a low growl of dominance.

an intense desire coursed through you, driving you to please him even further. "please, n-need you inside me, master," you pleaded, your voice dripping with desperation.

leon's dominance ignited within him. before you could prepare yourself, he shifted his body, his throbbing length pressing against your slick fold and without warning, he thrust himself inside you with a forceful intensity. pleasure mixed with pain as your body adjusted to his size, and a guttural growl escaped his throat. he set a rhythm, his movements powerful and relentless, his grip on your hips leaving bruises in his wake.

you gasped loudly, your hands gripping the bedsheets, nails digging into the fabric. "o-oh fuck, leon," you moaned breathlessly, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and surprise.

suddenly, leon's hand came down hard on your ass, the sound of the impact echoing in the room. the sting of the slap sent a jolt of pain and pleasure coursing through your body, a reminder of your place and the rules you should follow.

"address me properly, pet," he growled, his voice filled with a potent mix of warning and desire.

tears glistened in your eyes as the pain radiated through your ass, your skin tingling from the impact. "i-i'm sorry, master," you whimpered, your voice laced with both regret and desire. "please, forgive me."

leon's hand ghosted gently over the now reddened flesh, his touch contrasting the previous harshness. "you know better," he chided softly, his tone a twisted blend of affection and dominance.

with a shift of his hips, he resumed his forceful thrusts, his cock pounding into you with a relentless pace. each stroke brought a mix of sensations driving you further into submission. as your body trembled against him, you vowed to never forget his title again.

leon smirked, relishing in the sight of your desperate and needy state. "hm... you liked that, didn't you?" he taunted, his voice filled with a mix of sadistic pleasure and satisfaction. "of course you do, fucking slut."

with each forceful thrust, he drove himself deeper inside you, hitting all the right spots. his hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he claimed you completely. his body moved with calculated precision, his hips meeting yours with an insatiable hunger for dominance.

the sound of skin slapping against skin resonated through the room, the bed creaking beneath you. your moans filled the air, mixing with his growls of satisfaction. his relentless pace pushed you to the edge, your body trembling with pleasure as you clung to the brink of release.

but leon wasn't done with you yet. with a sudden change in position, he flipped you onto your back. "now you're going to take it just how i want," he hissed, his voice laced with a sadistic edge.

his free hand moved to your throat, hand gripping the collar firmly but not enough to cut off your oxygen. "look at me," he commanded, his eyes locked with yours. "i want to see you. look at me in the eyes as i claim you as mine. fill you up with my seed, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"y-yes!" you exclaim in ecstasy, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, on the brink of spilling over.

as your eyes met, he could see the hunger, the desperation reflected in your gaze. his hand traveled up to your face, his thumb brushing gently against the corner of your eye, capturing a tear. he brought his thumb to his lips, his gaze never leaving yours as he licked it clean, savoring the taste of your submission.

"there it is... such a beautiful sight," he murmured darkly, his voice filled with a mix of lust and superiority. your tears only spurred him on, his thrusts becoming more forceful, more frenzied.

leon's thumb found your clit, rubbing circles against the sensitive nub, sending pleasure coursing through your veins. the combination of his skilled fingers and the overwhelming pleasure he's forcing onto your body had you on the brink of release, your breaths coming in sharp gasps.

his hand released your throat and trailed down, his fingers tracing a path along your collarbone until they reached your pert breasts. with a firm grip, he kneaded them, squeezing and massaging the soft flesh, relishing in the way they filled his hands.

with a smirk, he leaned down and took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, sucking on it with an irresistible intensity. his tongue swirled around your sensitive bud, creating delicious friction that made you arch your back in pleasure. he alternated between gentle and rough bites, leaving love bites in his wake. the mix of pain and pleasure sent shivers down your spine, igniting a primal need within you.

"m-more, master," unable to hold back any longer, you moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair, encouraging him to take more of you. the sensations were overwhelming, a perfect blend that brought you closer to the edge.

he couldn't resist the urge to give you a sharp bite, his teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh of your breast which sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core, earning a yelp from your trembling lips. his hot breath ghosted over the bite mark as he murmured, "beautiful."

his mouth left a trail of wet kisses and love bites along your chest, marking you as his possession. he could sense your desire building once again, your body begging for release under his touch.

with a sinful smirk, he released your breasts from his mouth. his fingers circling your nipples, tugging on them lightly before sliding down your body to grip your thigh. hoisting your leg over his shoulder to grant him deeper access and allow him to pound into you harder.

with half-lidded eyes, you gaze at leon, intrigued by his furrowed brows and the intensity of his gaze fixed on your lower region rather than your face. leon's thumb grazed against the bulge in your lower abdomen, his touch sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body. his teasing caress only heightened your desire, leaving you yearning for more of his delicious domination.

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered huskily, "seeing my cock bulge reminds me that you exist to serve me. you are mine, my plaything. every thrust, every swell of my cock inside you... it's a constant reminder of how deeply you've submitted to me."

with a swift motion, he thrust his hips forward, driving his bulging cock deeper into you, aching against every inch of your inner walls. the sensation was both pleasurable and torturous, a sweet torment that left you craving more of his merciless control.

"do you like feeling that bulge, my pet?" he asked, his voice laced with satisfaction. "does it make you feel owned, completely at my mercy? my cock stretching you, filling you, pushing you to your limits."

leon smirked at your trembling form, relishing the power he held over you. he firmly guided your hand to press against the bulge on your stomach, ensuring you felt every pulsation and throb of his cock as it filled you completely.

"such a good girl," he praised, his voice laced with wicked satisfaction. "feel that? feel how deeply i'm inside you? the proof of our connection lies right here."

he tightened his grip on your hand, making sure you couldn't pull away, as he thrust his hips forward, causing his cock to press even harder against your hand. every movement sent waves of pleasure coursing through both of you, reinforcing the intoxicating control he had over your body.

"you'll take everything i give you, won't you? every drop of my seed belongs inside you, isn't that right?" he commanded, his voice filled with sadistic delight. "but not just yet, pet. you don't get to cum until i give you permission."

with that, leon withdrew his slightly, a sadistic smile crept across leon's lips as he held himself still, teasing you with just the tip of his hardened length. he savored the sight of your desperation, relishing in your need for him to fill you completely once more.

your whine of frustration and need only fueled his sadistic delight. with a cruel twist of his hips, he pushed himself deep into you once again, his length plunging into your eager depths. the sudden fullness made you gasp, a mixture of pleasure and relief flooding your senses.

but just as quickly as he had given you what you craved, he pulled back, leaving only the head of his cock inside you. a whimper escaped your lips, the anticipation and desire consuming your thoughts.

he studied you, his gaze hungry and possessive, as he reached down to brush his thumb against your swollen clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm and gasp.

he shifted his rhythm, alternating between deep, agonizing thrusts and shallow, teasing motions. the anticipation and frustration built within you, driving you to the brink of insanity. your body writhed beneath him, involuntarily seeking the release it so desperately needed.

leon began to thrust slowly, torturing you with every languid movement, pushing you to the edge of orgasm only to deny it. he wanted to see you quivering with need, desperate and helpless under his dominant control.

leon was merciless. he reveled in your torment, denying you the climax you longed for, pushing you to the edge and then pulling back. his eyes danced with sadistic delight as he watched the desperation and need etched on your face.

"master, please," you pleaded, your voice filled with desperation. "i'll do anything. please let me cum."

"no, pet," he sneered mockingly, his tone dripping with authority. "you do not get to cum until i allow it. and i must say, i'm quite enjoying watching you squirm and beg for it."

he continued his calculated torture, bringing you closer and closer to the edge with each torturous stroke. your body trembled, juices dripping down your thighs as you teetered on the precipice of release.

submissively, you spread your legs wider, silently offering more of yourself to him. you desperately hoped that your actions would be enough to convince him. finally, when he deemed you had suffered enough, leon's rhythm shifted once more. his movements became rough and forceful, pushing you over the edge.

each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your walls tightening around his thick cock. you could feel him deep inside you, his size filling you to the brim.

as your body quivered beneath him, on the precipice of release, he continued his ruthless assault. your moans grew louder, more desperate, as you tumbled over the edge into a mind-shattering orgasm. the waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you gasping and trembling beneath his dominating presence.

"l-leon!" you cried out his name, your pleasure mingling with his dominance, creating a symphony of ecstasy.

as your body shuddered and twitched beneath him, leon continued his relentless rhythm, prolonging the blissful torture. with a groan, leon reached his peak. he buried himself deep within you, emptying his hot essence deep into your waiting womb. you felt the pulsations of his release, his thick, potent seed filling you completely.

his eyes boring into yours as he slowly pulled out, relishing the way your body clenched around him leaving you feeling empty and yearning for more. the mixture of his cum and your juices dripped down your ass, a reminder of the intensity of your encounter.

leon's lips curled into a dark, satisfied smile as he scooped up the small amount of leaked cum and pushed it back inside you. his finger slid in smoothly, the wetness mixing with your own arousal. "don't waste a single drop of your master's cum, pet," he whispered throatily, his voice filled with a possessive hunger. feeling the tightness of your walls around his digits, he slowly withdrew his fingers.

leaning in close, he gently wiped the tears from your eyes with the back of his hand, his touch both comforting and possessive. "mmm, such a good pet," he purred, his voice laced with mocking affection. "i can see it in your eyes, how eager you are to please me. those tears only make it more enticing. you crave my approval, don't you?"

he caressed your cheek with a gentle touch. "and you'll do anything for my praise, won't you, my little slave? you'll endure pain, pleasure, and humiliation just to hear those words of approval spill from my lips."

a smug grin on his face as he watched your teary, half-lidded eyes and obedient nod. he studied you, his gaze hungry and possessive, as he reached down to brush his thumb against your swollen clit, applying just enough pressure to make you squirm and gasp.

"mine."

[ldysmfrst]

American Mate (11 Part 2) - Just a Staff Member

Paring: Hybrid!BTS Ot7 x Plus-sized Human FemReader

Status: Ongoing series

Chapter number: 11 of unknown

Word count for Chapter: 11,511 

Work count for Story: 77,023

Genre: Hybrid Playmate Au inspired by works created by @yoongiofmine

A little about the author: I am a mother of two beautiful children, one of whom has special needs, and the other loves everyone. I started a Patreon, and I would be grateful if you donated to help me make ends meet while I am out of work.

Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! This chapter does have pack dynamics, comfort, Alpha/Luna vibes, possessiveness, and self-doubt.

BTS HYBRID ANIMAL TYPES: Seokjin - Roan Ferret, Yoongi - Black Jaguar, Hoseok - Marten, Namjoon - Alaskan Timber Wolf, Jimin - Red Panda, Taehyung - White Southwest African Tiger, Jungkook - Flemish Giant Rabbit

AMERICAN MATE MASTER LIST / LDYSMFRST MASTER LIST

Back in the Vans, the remaining four split up. 

Jimin and Jungkook hightailed it into one van while Namjoon declared that Taehyung would go with him and Yoongi would try to get you to allow him to join you. 

After not seeing Yoongi on the side of the road as they left, Namjoon settled into his seat. His eyes return to the younger Alpha and appraise the hunch of his back, downcast eyes, flat ears, and tail wrapped around his waist in a self-soothing manner. 

Good.  He knows he messed up.

“What are you going to do?” Namjoon asks, his voice strong in his Prime Alpha role.

“Joon,” he starts but is cut off with a growl. 

“Right now, I am not your Joonie-hyung. I am your Prime Alpha, leader of the Bangtan Pack, and you just…” Namjoon sighs, his eyes looking around, trying to figure out how to say everything. 

“Prime Alpha Kim, I know. I messed up. I shouldn’t have growled at the driver so rudely.”

“And??”

“And I should not have been so possessive of our new mate, especially since she doesn’t know yet,” says Taehyung with a growl. “It’s just so hard. He was practically drooling over her like a piece of meat or candy.”

“That may be the case, but Y/n either didn’t notice or didn’t care. So, correcting him with her presence and in that manner was not okay. Taehyung-ah, do you realize how much you may have set us back with her because of this?”

“She wasn’t that upset, Prime Alpha. She is a woman. She’ll get over it. Besides, she has to forgive because of the mate bond. We just need to give her time, flowers, or gifts and what-not,” says the younger Alpha. 

“The mate bond doesn’t work like that. She can reject you and, in turn, reject us. We don’t know how much a human can feel the bond because it is so rare.”

Namjoon sighs, “You know apologizing to a mate isn’t the same as to a friend. Flowers or gifts, really? Is that how you apologize to our mates?”

“Well, no, not really,” mumbles Taehyung with a shrug.

“Y/n already has obstacles that we have to help her overcome. Obstacles must be conquered to prove to her that we are different from anyone she has been with. We have to show her how genuine we are. She deserves, and the rest of our pack will demand, that she be shown the same love, devotion, and care that we already show each other.” 

Leaning forward, Namjoon reaches out a hand to grasp Taehyung’s chin, forcing him to make eye contact, “She may need more reassurance than others because of her past. Today, you will stay in the van away from Y/n for the meeting. After which, you will be at her beck and call like the staff you have not shown respect for, and it will be up to Y/n as to when you will be forgiven. Understood?”

“Yes, Prime Alpha. I will seek forgiveness and serve her until she forgives me, even though it will not be easy for my Alpha or me.”

“Good. Pray that she is as forgiving with you as she was for Youngi-hung. If she doesn’t… I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Lucky for Bangtan, they arrive before you do. Namjoon, Jimin, and Jungkook head to the office, where the new assistant greets them. Under Namjoon's orders, they leave Taehyung in the van. 

 After inquiring where Derek is, they are directed into the conference room. Inside the room, he is laying out copies of the updated contract. 

At the pack's entrance, he greets them, “Oh, Mr. Kim, Mr. Park, and Mr. Jeon, Hello!”

Looking behind the three Alphas, Derek expects to see Y/n, but no one else enters. “Where is Y/n-ah? Is she coming with another packmate?”

“She is coming with Yoongi-hyung, and Manager Sejin is also coming. We came a bit early because we wanted to ask you a question,” Namjoon asks as he steps forward.

“Beta Derek, temporary Alpha of the Y/l/n Pack, I, Prime Alpha Namjoon of the Bangtan Pack, would like to request an audience with you and your pack Omega.” 

The Prime Alpha makes the request with a bowed head, mirrored by the other Alphas present. The formality honors this as a traditional request, and Derek gapes like a fish out of water. 

“You are requesting… Why not ask my Luna?” Asks the weary Beta, his scent hinting at worry and his body language on edge. 

Lowering his head even further, Namjoon responds, “We wish to discuss your Luna and our future with her. I would rather not say something here because it would not be the right place. Please, will you meet with select members of the Bangtan Pack?”

“Very well. As temporary Alpha of the Y/l/n Pack, I accept your request. As the receiving pack, I will offer to meet at the Y/l/n Packhouse tomorrow at 11 a.m,” 

“Most likely, because none of us are actual Alphas, our Luna will not be present, and our Omega’s mate may join us. Are the terms acceptable?” says Derek without wavering and holding himself high. 

“They are. Thank you for accepting our request. Myself, Seokjin-hyung, Hoseok-hyung, and Taehyung-ah will be present from Bangtan Pack,” responds Namjoon, standing up.

“Oh, that is a lot,” comments Derek. The packhouse is not very big and has no couch. The fox hybrid scent shows his stress at figuring out seating arrangements. 

“Derek-ssi? As the visiting pack, they will be fine with sitting on the floor of your packhouse. Respectfully and traditionally, you and your pack representatives should take any other proper seating,” Jungkook says, his big bunny smile on display.

At the other Alphas' nodding, Derek visibly relaxes and smiles back, “I will make sure you are comfortable, Alphas; don’t worry. For today, please sit on the far side of the table where your nameplate is and we will start when everyone is here.”

The drive to the office was quiet. Yoogni kept to himself for the ride, his tail securely wrapped around his waist and his hands in his lap. If it weren’t for one of his ears firmly tilted in your direction, you would have thought that he had forgotten about you. 

You are upset. You were thrown for a loop. You lost some of the footing that you thought was solid. 

You wanted to be left alone. 

Technically, this is what you are getting, but now that you are here, it’s not what you want.

Your fur leash is missing, and the soft stroking of Yoongi’s tail on your leg to calm and reassure you is absent.  You miss the subtle touches you have gotten from the jaguar in the past few days. That is when you realize that it is not the action itself but who it was that was doing that made it mean so much more. 

You are growing attached and don’t know how to stop it. Maybe you should express your concerns to Prime Alpha Namjoon and find another solution before signing the contract. 

Your mind is riddled with thoughts of how caring Yoongi and Jungkook have been, how Jimin opened up, and your beautiful time with Seokjin. You feel connected with these four. 

Well, maybe not so much Jimin, but at least he has started making progress toward not being a stranger to you. 

Hoseok, on the other hand, started out really flirty but hasn’t looked to spend more time with you than when the pack is all there. Then again, his schedule has been the fullest out of everyone. 

You were primarily worried about Namjoon. Without the Prime Alpha wanting you to be involved, you can bet all the money in your account that this contract would never happen no matter who else wanted you around, especially after the last Playmate.

Taehyung.

Until this morning, Taehyung was someone who you thought found a connection with. You met his Alpha briefly in the breakroom, and he seemed so caring. He was one of the pillars you planned to build over the next several weeks.

What if you now screwed up everything?

You had just scolded your Omega about how reactions can ruin everything, and then you turned around and did the same thing. 

Glancing at Yoongi, you wonder if you ruined everything with him by speaking out against his mate. However, you are not willing to compromise your ethics and morals—period.

Heading up to the office, Yoongi follows you, dying to know what you are thinking. Your scent hasn’t wavered from the lemon. The only hope that Yoongi feels is from the vanilla mate scent, which is still present but light. 

“Princess?” he calls, attempting to get your attention in the elevator.

At the sound of Yoogni’s voice and the use of his nickname for you, your shoulders relax just a tad. You hadn’t realized how much his silence and distance were affecting you. 

Looking at him standing next to you, you are met with hard-set eyes and a tall, dominating posture. He says, “Taehyung has a good reason for what he did, but he was not entirely correct in his actions. Our Prime Alpha will correct that with him, so you don’t have to worry.”

Turning to face him, you open your mouth to respond, only to have Yoongi quickly take your hand and continue, “Please don’t cancel the contract.”

It isn’t a demand. You take in his words, posture, and scent of strong vanilla and ocean. He is shaken and worried, which shocks you because you figured he would side with his younger mate. 

“Let us prove to you that we mean everything we have told you. Look to Seokjin, Jungkook, and me for examples of how things will be in the future.”

His eyes tell you he is being honest. They are hard-set, but at the same time, they are glossing over with unshed tears.

“Yoongi, my Kisa, I won’t cancel the contract, nor will I force anyone to partake in the contract.” Your words act like a breath of fresh air for the Alpha. “What happened today is just one person in the pack. What he did is not a reflection of all of you.”

Pulling you in for a hug that startles you at first, Yoongi kisses your temple, mumbling against your skin, “Thank you, Princess.”

When the elevator doors open, you pull out of his hold and take his hand. You weren’t sure how you would feel around Taehyung, but you didn’t want anyone else to be uncomfortable.

“Yoongi, what do you mean I don’t have to worry about Taehyung?” 

“Namjoon-ah will take care of it and let you know what it is that was done. That’s how Bangtan works. When there is a disagreement or incident like the one this morning, it gets deferred to Prime Alpha.”

“Oh, I wonder what my punishment will be,” you muse.

Pulling you to a stop, Yoongi asks, “Why would you get punished?”

“I spoke out against an Alpha. An Alpha that is a bonded mate. Then left without being granted permission to leave by the Prime Alpha,” you say, looking at the office doors. 

“Princess,” Yoongi says as he lifts a finger to your chin, directing you to look at him again, “You stood up for someone, stood your ground against a pack member, and demanded space. Nothing you did was wrong. I mean, sure, it would have been better to talk it out, but you aren’t used to us yet.”

Leaning up, Yoongi kisses you on the forehead, “No one is going to punish you. In fact, I see some groveling happening really soon.”

“Will that happen before or after the Prime Alpha?” You feel a blush crawling up your face, attempting to lighten the mood.

Yoongi knows you are avoiding the situation in your own unique way. He chuckles at your joke but is still worried because your sweet pea hasn't returned yet, and only the lemon scent is present. 

Any other nearby hybrids will notice your scent and think something is wrong. To them, this could mean either that the hybrid with you is unsolicited or that you are being forced into something. Neither one of these options is good for either of you. 

He opens the office door, his tail curling around your waist, and you head in. He hopes you will naturally fall into petting his tail or your scent will change before gaining unwanted attention.

The temporary front desk assistant greets you and directs the two of you to the correct office. Yoongi opens the conference door to reveal Namjoon, Jimin, Jungkook, and Derek sitting around the conference room.

While the Alphas stand at your arrival, Derek jumps up and tilts his head in submission, pulling a shocked “oh” from you. As you walk closer to your family pack member, he drops to a knee and whimpers slightly.

“Derek? What’s wrong?” you ask, looking to the room full of Alphas for help. Each of them seems also to be avoiding your gaze.

“Luna, what has caused you to be so upset?” asks Derek, his eyes still cast down and his neck bared to you. 

“Did you say something?” You question the Bangtan pack members who were present before you arrived. 

“No, Luna Y/n, we have said nothing, but your scent says plenty. Yoongi-hyung, did you not comfort her and explain?” questions Namjoon.

“I explained...” Yoongi starts, but you cut him off. 

“He did, Prime Alpha. I just didn’t understand how affected I am. He needs to do nothing more as he did as requested. I will see to my pack.” 

Focusing back on your Beta, you lean down and scent him lightly with your wrist to show that you are not upset with him. “Beta, I am not upset at you. There was a… misunderstanding this morning. I am sorry if my scent is still soured.”

Finally, Derek looks at you, his gaze flitting over all of you to make sure you are not physically hurt. You smile at him and hold your hand, helping him stand.

“Luna, are you sure you are okay? What happened?” asks Derek.

“Don’t worry about it,” you glance around. “It is something that must be dealt with between the parties involved. You know how I do not like bringing in more people than required.”

“Luna Y/n, Taehyung-ah will not be present for the meeting if you wish. He is waiting down in the van.  He will remain distant from you until you are willing to have him in your presence, and then he will work for your forgiveness,” says Namjoon with an air of authority. 

“Oh. I see.” You then blatantly say to Namjoon while you pick at invisible lint on your pants and sleeve, “Strange that Young Mr. Kim has been made to keep distance when others who are also looking for forgiveness are not, Prime Alpha.” 

Looking at your Beta, you ask, “I am correct in saying that if he wishes to receive services he must be present at PMS to sign the contract?”

“He does, Luna, but we can have him come do it later. Just like Mr. Jung and the eldest Mr. Kim,” answers Derek as he moves to his seat again.

“I see.”  You move to the seat with your name on it and notice that Yoongi is slated to sit next to you, with the Director on your other side. 

“He is welcome to be present for the meeting. It does affect him and his bonded mates. I will not stand in his way, Prime Alpha.” You state with clarity and no room for discussion. 

“It is still his decision to join this contract of his own free will and no one else’s. Am I mistaken, Prime Alpha?” you say as your Luna side continues showing strength. 

“You are correct. I will go get him then, Luna Y/n,” Namjoon says, making his way to the door as you and the rest take your respectable seats.

It isn’t long before Director Johnson and Manager Sejin enter the conference room and take their seats. Everyone exchanges casual greetings and pleasantries. 

“Director Johnson, it is good to see you again. I hope this hasn’t caused you too much trouble,” you say as he sits beside you. 

“Oh no, it has been interesting but nothing troubling. How are you handling all of this? It must not be easy since you have no Playmate training.” 

As the director speaks, you feel Yoongi’s tail slowly wrap around you again, as if he is trying not to make it noticeable. Remembering someone mentioned that the Bangtan pack does not have a good relationship with the director, you maintain a smile in hopes that no other issues will come up. 

“Not to worry. As you know, I have a family pack with Derek as my Beta. So I am not completely unaware of pack dynamics, and I have read more than my fair share of contracts and witnessed playmate interactions in the past.”

Before he could respond, the door to the conference room opened again. Namjoon and Taehyung enter, with Namjoon taking his place back on the other side of the table. You pay no mind to what Taehyung is doing to the best of your ability. 

“Just as in any honest pack, there will be differences of opinions, challenges to positions, and discussions to occur. This will happen as we get to know… each… ooothherr.” 

Your words stop as you see the odd look on Derek’s face as he pointedly looks at you, then behind you and back several times. You also note that Yoongi has stiffened, the three other Alphas in your eye line are looking behind you, and the director has also turned to look.

Following their lead, you turn in your seat to find Taehyung standing behind you against the wall, looking directly at you, “May I help you, Mr. Kim?”

“Y/n,” several growls are heard.

“She is Luna Y/n right now, Taehyung-ah. You will take note of her scent and address her as such,” Namjoon says.

“Yes, Prime Alpha,” he answers without his eyes drifting from you. “Luna Y/n, I would like to apologize for my actions this morning. You are your own person. It was wrong of me to assume that you were being mistreated and disrespected by Mr. Green.”

Your eyes widen at his words. Glancing at the director, you notice he frowns deeply at hearing that something has already happened. You can also see that Derek has a look of irritation. 

Your attention is pulled back to Taehyung as he kneels on the floor. You stand immediately, shocked to have an Alpha do that, but you hear someone clearing your throat before you can process anything.

“Luna Y/n, from this moment until you have forgiven him, Taehyung will be your personal attendant. It is an older tradition but one that Bangtan Pack has utilized for a long time,” informs the Prime Alpha.

“Luna Y/n,” Yoogni gathers your attention. “Remember what I said in the elevator? This is it. Don’t think that because you are new to the pack or where your position is within the pack means that you have to forgive him right away. I think Hobi had him in service for almost a month.”

“27 days. I was in service to him for 27 days, and I will be in service to you, Luna Y/n, for as long as you see fit,” he tells you as he sits on the floor behind your chair.

“But why are you on the floor?” His eyes widened momentarily, and he looked to his packmates for help.

“Luna,” calls Derek, “If they are following the Acts of Forgiveness, then the one looking for forgiveness must serve the one to grant it at all times. They must never be found higher than or in front of the grantor. Plus, they must be in close proximity unless the grantor orders otherwise.”

“But he is taller than me! How is that gonna work? He can’t sit on the floor. What will Army think if they get wind of this?” You, not so gracefully, plop back into your seat, “I’m a dead man.”

“Luna Y/n, while I will not go against the traditions of the Acts while within the presence of our Bangtan pack if it makes you more comfortable, might I suggest something?” Taehyung offers, seemingly unaffected while sitting on the floor like it’s normal.

Glancing at Yoongi for some kind of guidance, as you have never dealt with any of these Acts before, he subtly nods his head once. Clearly, this is not something that is not out of sorts for the Bangtan Pack. With that knowledge, you look back to Taehyung and wave your hand for him to continue. 

“Why don’t I always walk behind you and sit on a designated side when someone outside the pack can see us? I don’t care about what Army thinks. I care about what you think,” offers the tiger hybrid, still sitting on the floor. 

“You don’t… Mr. Kim, you must think of Army. They are the key to your success. I am, by far, not someone to risk a scandal over,” you huff out. Another sharp spike in your lemon-ed scent supports the determination of your words.

“Now, your ideas will work. You still cannot sit on the floor, though. That is not right. You are not a slave. What about a pillow?” you ask, looking between Namjoon and Derek.

But it's again, Taehyung answers, “If you order for me to use a pillow, I will be grateful for your kindness.”

Taking a deep breath, the scent of your beta with those of Bangtan finds a place in your heart. One thing you loved picking up from Evie’s family when you were young was the ability to identify scents. Scents became your comfort afterward.  

“Fine. I will follow the Acts of Forgiveness. You can walk behind me, sit to my left when we are in public, and use a pillow when sitting on the floor. Is that agreeable, Mr. Kim?”

Yoongi gives a pleased rumble beside you, and Taehyung nods, “As you wish, Luna.”

You had thought that Taehyung would have taken a seat with the pack or somewhere to your left, but he refused because the Director was sitting there. He also refused a pillow “because he caused enough of a delay.”

Deciding that this was a battle you had no desire to pursue, you let it slide. You also make a mental note to place an over-stuffed or large pillow in each room you might end up in with him to ensure he is comfortable.

At the same time, you still feel awkward about the Acts of Forgiveness and debate forgiving him when you leave the office. However, your thoughts get pulled to the paperwork in front of you as the meeting officially starts.

Halfway through the contract reading, Seokjin and Hoseok arrive. Both take note of Taehyung sitting on the floor and your still acidic, lemony scent but say nothing. Only a smirk on Hoseok’s face gives you a clue that he at least understands what is going on.

“Jin! Hoseok! You both made it,” you smile, standing up and hugging the eldest Alpha. 

“Hello, my dear. Of course, we made it. This is an important meeting,” Seokjin says while he returns your hug. 

“I made sure that my dance practice ended on time. My instructor kept trying to make me take breaks, but I wasn’t having it. They understood once I explained it,” says Hoseok as he ruffles your hair on his way to his seat.

“Thank you for joining us. Please take a seat. We are about halfway through. Do you want a moment to catch up?” asks Director Johnson.

At the sound of his voice, Seokjin stiffens, and his face drops. “No, Director. Our Prime Alpha takes care of the pack, including Miss Y/n, as a proper leader should, and neither of us has any reason to question him.”

“Jin,” you whisper harshly, “Be nice. Please, he is still my boss.”

Looking down at you, Seokjin takes a moment to admire you. His Apha wants to argue that Bangtan has a claim on you that ‘your boss’ will never have.

“I am sorry, my dear.” Seokjin glances at the director, “Thank you for your offer, but we can continue from wherever you are.”

As the eldest Alpha sits next to Namjoon, the meeting moves forward. The preliminary one you agreed to back at their packhouse seemed the same as the contract in front of you once you got past the results from Dr. Blackwell and Ryan’s report.

That is until you get to the last few clauses:

The Bangtan Pack will not seek additional Playmates for companion or partner contracts as Y/n is the sole Playmate of the Bangtan Pack. 

There will be no sexual or intimate contact outside of the contracted individuals. 

Y/n will have the option to be integrated into the Bangtan Pack by agreement of all members, at which time the Playmate Partner Contract will be null and void. 

“Okay, wait. Why does this last clause even need to be included? What do you mean ‘no sexual or intimate contact’... What does that mean to Alpha hybrids?” you ask as you read and re-read the last clause.

“Integrated? Why is there an option to be integrated into your pack, Prime Alpha?” you ask with your eyes wide. 

You look at Namjoon, waiting for his explanation. When he doesn’t answer immediately, you look to Derek, “You wrote the contract. What does this mean? Are you kicking me out of our family pack at the end of this? Are you ashamed of me?”

“What?!? No, Luna, that isn’t happening. That will NEVER happen. Family packs are for life. These were added per last night's eldest Mr. Kim’s email request,” Derek quickly responded, looking to Seokjin to explain. 

“Luna Y/n, I want to be very clear with you,” starts Seokjin. “You are someone that none of us were expecting. You intrigue us all. Alpha Yoon has never… NEVER… protected someone outside of Bangan.”

You glance over at Yoongi, the tips of his ears fluttering, his cheeks hinting rose, and his tail wrapping around your braced wrist. 

“Alpha Chim, not Jimin but his Alpha, hasn’t initiated scenting of anyone, mate or not, since Seul-ki left,” your eyes snap to Jimin’s as he nods. “Not only did Jimin-ah tell you about what happened, but Alpha Chim scented you on his own.”

“You have also met Alpha Tae and Alpha Kook. Luna Y/n, you have met over half of our Alphas, and as a mate-bonded high-profile pack, that shouldn’t happen unless there is something special about you.”

“But, I am just me,” you utter softly as a sweet pea, the mate vanilla, and a soft peach scent slowly replaces the lemon tangy.

“Sweets, you are just you, and what you are is amazing. Never forget that,” piped Jungkook.

“Luna Y/n,” Namjoon summons your attention. “I know you ever expected us, and Seokjin-hyung is correct– we never expected you.”

Looking slowly at each of his mates, the Prime Alpha settles back on you, “The additional clause is included because we all feel this longing to be close to you. One of the ways we, as hybrids, get close to someone is through physical means, like how Yoongi-hyung is holding you by his tail right now or Hoseok-hyung by scented your hair when he came in.”

“However, the average human considers most of what we do to be close to one another as intimate. As a pack, we want not to limit our interactions with you. We just want to see where we end up naturally with you, Luna.”

“Princess, remember that no matter what we want if you do not want something… please tell us. This go for anything from holding hands, hugs, to cuddling and scenting. If any of the pack members do not listen, I will declare a Challenge to them, and I expect them to do the same with me,” Yoongi adds quickly to ensure clarity and security. 

A few comments of agreement are heard, along with Derek muttering under his breath that he “will Challenge if they don’t,” which also causes snickers around the table. 

“Ah… well… okay…. I think that is understandable. From what I have experienced so far with getting closer to some of you, the scenting has been very different from what happens with Y/l/n Pack. So, it makes sense that you have that included. But what about the integration part?”

“As you saw with Taehyung-ah’s display this morning, Alphas protect what we consider ours,” Jimin says with a sight smirk. “He isn’t the only one wanting to make it known to others that you are not theirs.”

Next to Jimin, Jungkook’s ears drop as he hides behind them. The action causes you to giggle, and the vanilla mate scent from you grows, drawing the attention of the Bangtan Pack to you. 

Yoongi tries to hide his amusement at the awe he finds on the faces of his bonded mates at the change in your scent. Their reaction answers his question about the bond becoming stronger. 

Your attention, however, has gone to the contract before you, and the reality of your situation is starting to settle in. 

You are becoming a Playmate of the Bangtan Pack, and they don’t want to limit interactions. Are they changing yet another part of the contract because of you, or is it for you?

Does that mean you are not alone in your reactions to their advances? You can call those advances now, can’t you? All you know is nothing will be the same for the next seven weeks.

While your mind is imagining a trillion things that could go wrong, your heart and soul cannot wait for the adventure ahead. 

The others around the table seem to agree with everything said so far. Even Director Johnson and Derek have huge smiles and a knowing glint in their eyes.

“Sugar, your scent is turning again. What are you thinking about?” Worries the youngest Alpha, reaching out towards you but stops as he is unsure if it will help.

You attempt to give him a reassuring smile before you turn to sit sideways in your seat. Sitting like this allows you to see Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung. 

The three wild cards. You need to talk to them. You want to make sure they want this and not just consent because the majority rules. You need to talk to them without Namjoon or Yoongi around. 

“Prime Alpha, Sir, I wish to discuss a few questions with some of your mates. Do I have your permission to speak with them privately?” 

You can feel the room tense up. Looking at Namjoon, you see his face is pensive, but he nods, “You may, Luna Y/n. Do you wish for us to relocate, or do you have another room that you would like to use?”

“Miss Y/n, why don’t we step out? I could use a coffee, and I am sure a few of us may need a break,” Director Johnson offers. He knows the other conference room wouldn’t grant you privacy because of the observation room.

“Thank you, Director. I think that would be a good idea. If Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung would be so kind as to remain, we could discuss a few things.” You say, but your eyes never leave Namjoon's. Watching the expression change to one of understanding. 

“As you wish, Luna,” responds Taehyung, but your heart tugs at the thought he is only willing to stay because he is in trouble with the Prime Apha because of this morning. 

“Hoseok-hyung and Jimin-ah, are you comfortable staying?” asks Derek. The questioned Alphas nod and smile, prompting the PMS representation to stand.

“Wonderful. If the rest come with me, I can show you where the cafe and restrooms are. Also, answer any questions you may have,” informs the Director, giving the remaining Bangtan packmates no room to wiggle their way into staying.

At this point, you are actively avoiding Yoongi’s staring as it is boring into your head. You know that if you were to look at him, you would give in and ask him to stay. 

Doing this, however, allows you to see the concerned look shared between Jungkook and Hoseok and the quiet conversation between Seokjin, Namjoon, and Derek. Slowly, you feel the drag of Yoongi’s tail uncurling from you as he and the others follow the director out. 

For all Seokjin knew, the Director of PMS could be speaking Swahili. His mind, heart, and soul were left in the conference room with his four remaining mates. 

After what feels like the longest tour ever, the Director leaves with Derik with the mention to let the front desk know when everyone is ready to resume the meeting. 

Coming out of his fog, Jin realizes they have returned to the break room where it all started. Looking around, he takes in his pack mates.

Jungkook has attached himself to Yoongi, looking like he lost his best friend. Yoongi attempts to comfort the young Alpha, but his ears are pinned on the break room door, and he is undoubtedly listening for any indication that Y/n and the others are ready to continue. 

Namjoon also watches them, his tail hanging low and his ears flicking between laying flat and listening for something. Jin is thankful that the Prime Alpha could hold the conversation during the tour, allowing the rest to be in their own world. 

Jungkook is the first to break the silence. With hushed tones, he asks, “Do you… why do you… she isn’t leaving, right, Joon-hyung?”

Looking at the door, Namjoon sighs. “I don’t think she is. I think she just has questions. It’s best not to jump to conclusions, Kookie.”

“Y/n knows our scents,” Jin states to the room. His eyes bounced between them all. 

“She can do what?” Namjoon steps closer to Jin. “How can she do that?”

“I don’t know, Joon. While on our date, she told me that she knows Yoongi’s, Kook’s, mine, and even Jimin’s scents. Guys, she was right in them all.”

“She knows my scent. My new mate knows my scent. She has to be bonding with us then, right?” asks a hopeful Jungkook. 

“I mentioned earlier that her vanilla mate scent was getting stronger around me. That is an indication that the bond is becoming solidified. She must be growing the bonds with the mates that have shown their Alphas or scented her,” offers Yoongi. 

“I figured she is bonding with Jimin and Taehyung, so why the private meeting with them? I would think she would want to meet with those she cannot recognize,” contemplates Seokjin as he moves to sit next to his mates on the small couch. 

“I don’t know, hyung. I just hope that whatever answers they give her are the answers she needs to hear.” With Namjoon’s last words, the room falls silent, and each contemplates what is happening in the conference room.

Once the conference room door closes, you hold your breath. So many questions flood your brain.

What about asking the main question instead of beating around the bush? Do you really want to know what feral animal lives within the bush? What about leaving the bush alone?

“If you are waiting for the pack to be far enough away to not listen in to the conversation, they are. I can’t hear anything,” Taehyung offers.

“I wasn’t, but that is good to know. Thank you. Can you please take a seat? I want to talk to Alpha Taehyung and not “being punished by the Prime Alpha” Taehyung,” you ask, gesturing to the seats next to his packmates.

Taehyung looks at you with confusion and then looks past you to Hoseok, who subtly shakes his head. Standing up, Taehyung takes the seat to your left, “Luna, what is it you are wanting to talk about?”

Turning to sit straight in your chair, you clasp your hands together on the table and take a deep breath. 

This is it.

“I know I came outta nowhere. I know that you were happy and untroubled before I crashed into your lives and the lives of your mates. I have absolutely no desire to ruin the bond that you have with Yoongi, Jungkook, and Seokjin.”

“Y/n, you aren’t…” Hoseok starts to say, but you cut him off. “Let me finish. Please?” 

After a moment of silence, you continue, “I understand the obligation that has been measured between Yoongi and me, but it doesn’t have to involve everyone else. Seokjin and Jungkook have also grown an attachment to me. For the life of me, I have also grown attached to them.”

Feeling the tightness in your chest and the slight tremble of your hands, you take a deep breath, hoping to remain calm and not cry. You can hear one of the hybrids in the room shifting in their seat, probably impatient with you for keeping you from getting this over with. 

“I know your Prime Alpha signs onto any contract that comes before the pack but the three of you have a choice.” A sharp intake of breath. A scrap of a chair. “I will support and stand against Namjoon if any of you wants to back out of the contract presented to us today.”

Silence followed your words, but you didn’t dare look at them. 

Your words strike Jimin with a strength beyond description right now. You would support them even if it meant going against a Prime Alpha. Most Alphas refuse to challenge a Prime Alpha, much less a human, but here you are. Do you understand how selfless your actions are? 

Taehyung curses himself with every language he knows and maybe even some he makes up. Before this morning’s fiasco, he would have bet money that you would allow him to have a scenting session with him. 

If you only knew who you are, it would explain why the choice you gave them is not an option, even if it has a meaningful impact. It would also help you see why he had to act as he did this morning, even if it was over the top. 

The only calm one in the room is Hoseok. Unlike the younger mates in the room, he remembers the words that your Beta has said before. He also has been watching you around his mates, observing how the mate bonds between Yoongi, Jungkook, and you are practically glowing. 

One thing Hoseok can tell is how touch-starved you are; your actions also show that you are trained to deny it. This presents a problem for later since it seems that your mate bond only grows through that physical touch. Right now, the three of them must find a way to convince you that they want to be there. 

“Y/n, I would like to address you as just Y/n, not Luna Y/n or Miss Y/l/n. May I do that?” Hoseok asks with a gentle tone.

Finally, looking away from your hands, you meet the marten hybrid gaze, “Of course, Hoseok.”

“First, I would like to offer my apologies for not being available to get to know you better. Tomorrow is one of my free days, and I would enjoy nothing more than spending time with you and my other available mates.”

Leaning forward, he continues, “Second, I want to apologize for not following through on my promise to keep you laughing. I have every intention of signing the contract and following through.”

“Hyung is right,” Jimin joins in. “I promised to be your friend, but a friend is just the start. Any strong relationship that lasts has a friendship deeply entwined within. My Alpha has been after me to close the distance between us, and I also want to. I have never even thought of not signing the contract, nor will I ever.”

Your breathing turns normal as they speak, and your scent blends in your sweet pea. Two of the Alphas want to keep going. You can tell by their honest expressions, the sincerity of their words, and the openness of their posture that they are following their own path and not being forced like you are worried. 

That leaves one more. Both of the Alphas across from you have turned their attention to the tiger sitting next to you with fondness in their eyes. 

“Y/n, can you look at me please?” Taehyung asks with uncertainty. Your eyes are still on Hoseok when he glances back at you and nods toward the awaiting Alpha.

Closing your eyes and tilting your face downward, you turn in your seat to angle yourself to face him. Taking the chance, you open your eyes and look at the man before you. 

The intensity of his stare is not what you were expecting. A swirl of emotions is bleeding from his eyes: dominance, worry, anger, hope, and panic. Meanwhile, you can almost feel the tension he is holding in his posture. 

His back isn’t straight because he is trying to look at you from the same level, his tail is snapping behind him, and his ears are pinned so far down that you can’t see them anymore. 

Simultaneously, you want to run from the predator before you and lose yourself in him. All you end up doing is saying his name in a way that shows just how breathless he has made you, “Taehyung.”

“No.”

That word breaks you out of the enthrallment you swore the tiger hybrid turned vampire had you under. Shaking your head in confusion, you open your mouth to question everything when he continues.

“No, you didn’t crash into our lives. We wanted you before you got injured. Jin-hyung, Jimin-ah, and Jungkook-ah had all asked about making you ours before we even met anyone else.”

“No, you cannot and would not ruin any bond that any of the Bangtan bonded mates have. In fact, despite what you may think, all of us have grown attached to you.”

Taehyung takes your hands in. His eyes soften into a fondness that you haven’t seen before. “There is no way that contract will be missing any of our signatures. Everyone wants you in our lives.”

You are still trying to process it all and are at a loss for words. 

Taehyung just gave you a surplus of information that you never thought possible. Your heart fluttered and skipped beats. It’s slightly overwhelming but comforting. 

A gentle thumb on your cheek pulls you out of your gaze at Taehyung, and you see Hoseok kneeling next to your chair, wiping the tears you didn’t know had fallen. 

“Doll, Taehyung is correct in everything he said. We all want to be around you for at least the next eight weeks. Each of us wants to grow this connection with you to see where it goes,” Hoseok says, now cradling your face in his palm. 

“Y/n,” Jimin calls your attention as he stands behind the kneeling Alpha. “None of us are signing the contract or inviting you into our lives because of an accident.”

“No one is being forced, either.” Jimin clarifies before you can express any doubt. “Maybe one day you should ask Manager Sejin and Namjoon about the argument they had with Bang PD-nim while we were on the flight after he heard your voice over the phone.”

“You guys have no idea… No, I have no idea what to say. You three have said plenty,” you chuckle at your misspoken words. 

Pulling your hands out of Taehyung’s, you lay one over Hoseok’s and snuggle into the warmth. After collecting yourself, you say, “Thank you for everything you have expressed. I feel a lot calmer about everything. Yoongi had said to look to him, Jungkook, and Seokjin to see how things should be.” 

“He isn’t wrong. However, I would much rather have what you have with them be experienced with the rest of us,” says Taehyung as he slides the contract closer to you.

The contract's last page rests on top; it’s the signature page. Per standard procedure, Derik and Director Johson sign the copies before the meeting. 

But that is not what catches your attention. 

Every signature line is filled but one…

Yours. 

“Luna y/n, Miss Y/n, Yoongi’s princess, Seokjin’s dear, Jungkook’s sugar, my doll, and all the additional names to come…” Hoseok holds out a pen to you and asks, “Will you please give us a chance?”

PART 1 / Next

Series Taglist - Closed

@nenefix-on @im-gemmy @fluffy-canada-pancakes @staytinyville @juju-227592 @levislifeline @carolinexkpop @m00njinnie @drenix004 @singukieee @avadakadabra93 @dazzlingjade @sehun096rainbow @sunshinecallie @seoullove96 @reallysparklychaos @tired7o7 @channiespup @cryingpages @kittycatkrissa @captain-joongz @roseidol @hecateslittlewitchling @ayoo-bangtan @someshinesomedont @cerulean1riz @butterfliesinthenightsky @kayways @elliegrace1999

Perm Taglist - Open

@bethanysnow @braveangel777 @danielle143

[the-kr8tor]

hey i was wondering if you could write a fic about the reader teaching Hobie how to roller skate?? It’s so oddly specific but i can imagine him just struggling with it and it’s funny to me. Plus my dream date is to teach someone how to roller skate 😭. Thank you so much. Also please remember to take breaks and rest. I lysm and appreciate all the effort you put into ever story ❤️

What a cute prompt! Thank you for requesting!! And I will!! You're too sweet ❤️

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.2 k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader (except for a mention of Hobie being tall and brief mention of clothes), cw food mention, set in Hobie's 70s dimension, FLUFF

ʕ⁠·⁠ᴥ⁠·⁠ʔ

Being a part of the spider society has numerous Perks— Free therapy if you're willing to wait months for a single appointment. The cafeteria providing three meals a day to starving spider people from all walks of life, (and dimensions) not to mention the unmatched camaraderie with your fellow spiders. That alone makes all the jet lag from traveling through dozens of multiverses, and all the aches and pains that comes with being bitten by a radioactive spider. But, there is one thing that trumps all of those perks, and that's hopping to your partner's dimension for a not-so-quick date at the roller rink.

Hobie didn't take much convincing, especially after showing him your timeline appropriate outfit to him. His dimension is practically stuck in the 70s, filled with groovy psychedelic colours from the top to bottom. And of course there's the leather jackets that you've grown accustomed to just by being with Hobie. Hell, you especially love those leather pieces like the one you're wearing now. You went all out with your outfit, researching the trends back then with a splash of punk looks that had Hobie almost melting the second you stepped out of the portal. You fit in, to say the least. But after all the research and countless hours in the library just scouring for history books and life in the 70s, they don't compare actually being there and seeing it with your own eyes.

A glorious disco ball hangs in the ceiling, twinkling lights dancing around the funky, swirly and fluffy walls of the roller rink. Everywhere you look there's a burst of colours, and there's no lack of laughter ringing above iconic disco music you've heard before.

Smiling, you sit on a bench, eyes turned upwards at the sparkling lights twirling around the whole place. Hobie kneels before you, insisting to tie your rollerblades for you, citing that if it's not done well you could fall over and smash your face on the polished granite. You of course don't refuse, loving how much he dotes on you when there's no mission to rush to or a certain Spiderman breathing down his neck.

Patting your foot, Hobie calls your name above the blaring music. “How's the weather up there, lovie?”

You tilt your head, chin tucked on your clavicle, admiring how handsome he looks under disco lights with his piercings and eyes shining. “How long have you been waiting to say that to someone, huh, tall guy?”

He takes your unlaced rollerblade, pushing it in your socked foot and then propping it up on his knee. He's smiling all through it, happy to indulge you even for a quick moment without anyone to kick or web up. “Believe it or not, I've said it a few times.”

You fake a gasp, and he chuckles at your antics while he ties a ribbon. “Someone is taller than you?! I thought that was impossible!”

“You're impossible.” Hobie's hand remains on your ankle, hand rising up to cup your knee, thumb drawing circles around your tights. Leaning up, he holds your hip with his free hand, pushing you down gently to meet him halfway; which you gladly let him guide you.

Beaming, you peck his nose and the space between his brows. Earning a soft chuckle from him. “Says the one kneeling before me.”

“Which makes my comment correct.” He follows suit, kissing where your Cupid's bow lies before standing up shakily on his rollerblades. (That he hides with his nonchalance.) “C’mon, let's get this over with before I change my mind.”

Taking his helping hand, you pull yourself up, effortlessly standing on the wheels. “It's not too bad, I promise. Even little kids get it right after a few tries.”

He raises a pierced brow. “Those little kids aren't as tall as me and don't have a reputation to keep.”

You poke his side, “I've seen you backflip off of Rhino's head. Roller skates are nothing compared to that. Besides, no one you know is here to see you fall flat on your ass.”

“You won't film it like last time we went ice skatin’?” He can't help but ogle you under the light and amidst the bright colours.

Leading him towards the rink, you hold his hand, slowly inching your way inside. “I promise I won't take videos this time.” He huffs in reply as you guide him to the shiny floors. “It was for personal use anyway.” You mumble to yourself.

Hobie immediately holds onto the railings next to him the second his feet leaves the carpeted floors and onto granite. His knees are bent and shaking while he tries to keep his balance on the wheels. “Love, why'd you let go?!”

Giggling, you reach for him with open arms, rolling towards him. “I didn't! You did!”

Panic spreads through him unlike all the times he has fought countless villains as his rollerblades smack loudly on the floors as his feet skidaddles in place, struggling to even stand up. After reaching for you, your six foot three baby holds onto you like a life raft. Long arms grasping with none of the cool nonchalance he usually exhibits.

“Do you want me to get a training cart for you—?”

“No, I've got this.” Hobie straightens up, hand holding on to your jean pocket as if he wasn't whining a few seconds ago.

“Oh okay—”

“Don't let me go this time.”

“I won't, Hobs. Maybe try moving your legs?” Smiling, you roll around the rink as he uses you as his personal guide while he barely moves his stiff legs.

His eyes roam around the rink where people of all ages whizz past him without a care. He looks over to you with a new found determination. If those children who are barely five years old can skate like they own the place, he too can do it. “What do I do now?”

You don't laugh or giggle at him, instead, you help and support him throughout the lesson like you promised him when you suggested the date. Hobie picked up on the skill real quick, quicker than he did for ice skating. Maybe the music helped him, or maybe he really wanted to impress you this time instead of the ‘baby deer learning how to walk’ he exhibited earlier.

After a while he's already skating around you. A bit wobbly but his form makes up for it. Hobie thanks his spider senses and balance for not stumbling and crashing into another person.

You're all tired out after the exercise. Head placed on his shoulder, arms looped around his middle as he's the one guiding you this time while you two skate mindlessly on the shiny floors as the skating rink dies down for the night. He blows air in your ear, waking you up.

“Thank you.” Hobie affectionately pecks your brow, you hum in content. “You've got some patience in you, love.”

“Nope, you're just a fast learner. And you're welcome, thank you for indulging me.”

“You chose well.” His eyes smile, hand splayed over the small of your back. “Next time it's my turn to pick the place.”

“What do you have in mind?” Tilting away, your hand snakes up from his back to his nape, kneading softly.

“It's a secret, innit. For now,” he skids to a stop, hand still holding on to you. “you need to see some food that your dimension hasn't seen in decades.”

Your eyes widens, gasping. “So much food that shouldn't be in jell-o.” You're already unlacing your rollerblades.

[vaokses]

Anger, a daughter (Pirtir, Ch.1)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon x Rhaenyra's Daughter!Reader

Summary: You return to Dragonstone after nearly two years away, having done what was expected of you and secured your mother's standing with the Great Houses. The safety that you felt after once again doing what was expected of you is taken once you learn that in your absence, your family arranged for you to marry Aegon.

Word Count: 4.5k 

Warnings: Topic of arranged/forced marriage. Threats of violence. The usual Targaryen incest stuff.

Some AU/Setting stuff: Reader is a bastard of Daemyra (claimed by Laenor of course), firstborn child of Rhaenyra and heir to her mother’s claim. It is mentioned she has Valyrian features (the hair). She rides Vermithor. She and Aegon had a thing when she was still in King’s Landing. How relevant or impactful that ‘thing’ was depends on who of the two you ask. I’ve stretched the timeline a bit. Rhaenyra spent a few years more in King’s Landing (making Aegon around 16/7 when she leaves, and the Reader, the eldest of the Velaryons, around 14/5). Instead of six years in Dragonstone, the Blacks have spent around three there in this story. Viserys still lives (and is rotting slightly slower), Aegon and Helaena did not marry. Mysaria left for Dragonstone with Rhaenyra, but is still the information broker of the first season, just working from afar. The Reader has spent nearly two years touring Westeros, as her mother did, in search of a husband.

A/N: No Aegon or any of the greens yet, but I wanted to set up some things, so this can be considered a prologue of sorts. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy!

Title is from the "anger, a daughter" by volatilepoetry (link to the piece here, I couldn't find the author's socials)

“Cousin.” You greet with a wide smile, taking the riding gloves off as she comes closer, a mirror of your own smile on her lips. 

“Sister,” Baela greets in kind in well-practiced Valyrian, at your reprimanding glare answering with a defiant one of her own. She grabs your hands in hers, smile wide and mirrored in your own face. “I thought you would return to Dragonstone, at the end of your…tour.” 

“Even I tire of politics, of playing,” You admit, linking your arm with hers and letting her guide you towards the Driftmark castle. “I wish to rest for a while, before I am to report back to f-…to Daemon. I hoped our grandmother would grant me a few days here?” 

“I’m afraid it won’t be possible,” She tells you, pulling from her belt a rolled up message and offering it to you. “A raven brought this shortly after dawn.” 

You immediately recognize Daemon’s handwriting, as well as the parting message he directs at his daughters and you in place for a goodbye. Fly, daughter. 

Your sister is needed at home, tell her to return to us at once. You must ready yourself to fly to Dragonstone at my command. I’ll send word. Sōvēs, tala. 

“So, who did you choose? Whoever it is, you made father angry.” 

“Your father.” You correct, but she pays it no mind, as she always does. 

“So, who will be the lucky man?” 

You turn to face her as you both stand in the base of Driftmark’s stairs. 

“I didn’t choose anyone.”  

Of course, a Tyrell knight caught your eye and your attention for a while, and you could use the strength of the alliance marrying Vaemond Velaryon’s son would bring, or Rickon Stark’s. You even considered the proposal of Hobert Hightower’s grandson, if only to see your mother breathe fire at the mere idea of it, were you to propose such a union. 

But the tour was never organized for the purpose of finding you a husband, this you knew from the beginning. It is the reason you agreed to such a circus in the first place. As Rhaenyra’s first-born child, heir to the Iron Throne and future Princess of Dragonstone, you were sent throughout Westeros to remind the noble Houses of the pledges they made, of where their allegiance is to lie if they hope to remain on the Crown’s good side. 

What foolish Lord you couldn’t charm with a well-placed smile or compliment, Vermithor’s presence in their city would remind promptly of the risk of turning on your House, of undermining your mother’s claim. What wouldn’t bend to your will, you would remind how quickly you could break. Such was your task, what was demanded from you, and you played your part as you have always done. 

It matters not if by the end of this tour, after twenty months away from home -though a part of you reminds you it has been much longer than that, it has been over three years-, donning whatever face was deemed ideal to realize your objective; you cannot really remember who it is you were before it all. It matters not if it has been months since you’ve been able to meet your own gaze in a mirror, in fear of seeing a stranger -or worse, a familiar face, your mother’s, your father’s, Lady Mysaria’s- looking back. 

Your eyes meet Baela’s, and you whisper, “Have you heard I am to marry?” 

She hesitates, and that is enough of an answer. You shake your head, step away, stumble over your own feet. 

___ 

You almost feel a young girl again, in the worst possible way, dragged like a dog on a leash after your mother as she departed King’s Landing, gritting her teeth at your cries and answering with soft caresses of your silver hair to your promise that you would never forgive her for taking you from your home. 

Now, over three years later, you are to be dragged back to the city that saw you be born, away from your mother’s side, from your brothers’ and stepsister’s sides. And the people responsible for arranging for such a thing are set on hiding, on ignoring you since your return to Dragonstone. 

For a time, especially since your aunt’s death and Aemond’s claiming of Vhagar, you believed your mother and Daemon kept you unmarried, kept you here, so that if war were to break out, they would have you and Vermithor to send to battle, to which he is no stranger. You believed if you would one day have to marry, it would be to defend your own claim, offering your hand in exchange for an army, to a man that would know to bend the knee before his queen and before his wife alike. 

You believed they kept you near, they let you remain unbound and unmarried, because you served a purpose while free. You believed by playing your part as was demanded from you, twisting and turning to fit into whatever face you were expected to wear, you would have some control over any of it, you would be safe. How foolish, childish, those notions were. 

Since Vermithor flew you into Dragonstone, your mother has secluded herself in her rooms, and you have only Daemon to ask for answers to the madness that brews past the safety of the island. 

“I do not wish to leave. I will not leave, unless you tell me what awaits me in King’s Landing.” 

But you know, some part of you knows, and that part of you is gnawing at you, at your composure, at your resolve. 

Daemon shrugs one shoulder, “Why? It was once your home. That shithole of a city saw you be born, after all.” 

“My home is, as has always been, Dragonstone.” Lie, lie, lie. You remember the halls of the Red Keep better than you know the halls of this very castle. 

“Then you must be used to homesickness by now. Five and ten years raised in King’s Landing, nearly two years touring Westeros. You have spent…what? A year settled here?” 

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t much care, walking past you to pour himself a cup of wine. He lifts an empty cup your way to offer a drink, but you hold your ground, and insist, 

“I detest games, Daemon.” 

“You sound like your mother when you talk like that,” He quips, with cruel humor, chuckling at a joke that only amuses him. You turn to look at him with narrowed eyes and jaw set tight, and he lets out another mad little chuckle, “You also look like her when you glare like that.” 

“I only ask that-…” 

“When in your life have you asked for only one thing?” 

“And yet you have always indulged me. Indulge me now,” You ask, walking to him, forcing the tension in your shoulders to loosen and your face to reflect the softness of the child he has always had a weakness for. What is expected, what is needed, if you are to win this particular battle. Your mother, your brothers, they are to be faced with callous strength, with a temper and a certainty you inherited from the man who made you who you are; but the man himself is to be faced with the pleading eyes of his daughter, with the docile manners of a maiden who needs his guidance, his protection. And so, you show the face required to get the upper hand. Quietly, softly, you plead, “Do not insult me or my intelligence by acting as if I cannot understand whatever game is being played.” 

“You wield lies effortlessly,” He concedes, head lolled to the side as he considers you, “But you should know better than to try with me.” 

You allow yourself a smile, despite yourself, and let go of pretenses. Even so, you aren’t sure if the face you show Daemon now is an honest one, or merely yet another mask to try and gain his favor. 

Shrugging one shoulder as you lean against one of the stone pillars, you admit, 

“It was worth a try.” 

“It is more of an instinct than a choice by now, I’d say,” Daemon corrects, taking a few steps in your direction. You don’t miss the fact that he has positioned himself between you and the door, a physical reminder that whatever he is about to say is as inescapable as this room. “A useful instinct, now that you are to marry.” 

Your refusal is immediate, “No, I’m not.” 

At his answering look, halfway between surprise and anger, you wonder absently if this is the first time you’ve denied him since he married your mother. 

“You are aware this is not a request.” 

“I’ll feed to Vermithor whatever man you try chaining me to. You are aware this is not an empty threat,” You tell him. It feels good, to admit such a thing, to promise such a thing, because it feels true. “I told you I wouldn’t marry unless the war demanded it.” 

“It does. You are to avoid war, and marry my brother’s son, Aegon,” He promises, and he knows it, you see it in his eyes, that at the uttering of a single name your threat is made null. You realize then why it is your mother hides from you. “It is done, a deal has been brokered with my brother and his wife, y-…” 

“You have no right to make arrangements in my name.” You blurt out, a desperate attempt, not unlike a cornered beast lashing out and wounding its own maws as it bites the approaching spear. Now this, shamefully, terribly, this feels yours. This anger, this desire to hurt. With all the venom of a lifetime of wasted deference, of useless loyalty, you ready yourself to speak a lie once again, “You are not my father. Whore out your sons to the Hightowers if you wish, but you have no right t-…” 

Your words die in a gasp as Daemon hurls the cup in his hand at a wall and advances towards you, quick strides until he stands before you, towering over you with quickened breath. He doesn’t strike you, never has. But it is no less of a threat. A warning not to step out of line, a reminder of what your lies protect you from. 

A twitch in his expression, a glimpse of a snarl, before he warns, 

“Careful now.” 

“We both know there are things my mother won’t forgive,” You answer, “It is you who ought to be careful.” 

“She has approved of this union.” 

You doubt it. You want to doubt it, need to. It is one thing to try and link the warring branches of the House of the Dragon by joining Jacaerys, kind and gentle Jacaerys, and your sweet aunt Helaena. 

It is another to send her only daughter, her heir, to one of Alicent’s sons. 

Still, because some part of you, small and still in the carriage as it drives away from King’s Landing, grasping your mother’s hand in yours even as you curse her and her choices, cannot stand the thought of standing corrected, of being made to face that for the security of her claim Rhaenyra would give you away to a man on the far end of the Crownlands; you do not voice an argument, and instead clarify,  

“I was speaking of what you are threatening to do with your hands,” Daemon leans back with a thoughtful hm that does nothing to hide the way he still bristles at the faintest reminder of powerlessness. Careless, you push forward, insist, “Let us wait, let me stay, and…” 

“And what, hm? Let war come to us? Let those vipers continue to undermine your mother’s claim? Let them put Otto Hightower’s pawn on the throne our forebears forged?” 

You are shaking your head before he is even done speaking, and you can only offer a sigh as an answer, a plea as a retort, 

“Let me fight.” 

“You will fight as I see fit that you do,” He answers, simply, carelessly. “You will play your part, as is your privilege, your duty.” 

“If I had been a son, y-…” 

“I have had a lifetime of hearing your mother speak the same nonsense. I will not hear it,” Daemon interrupts, before leaning closer and reminding you, cruel, mocking, “You are not a son.” 

“I ride the second largest dragon in the world, I-…” 

“Then you should find it easy to tame a smaller one,” Daemon promises, not without cruelty. “We will depart in a month. The betrothal will be officially announced then, with us all in King’s Landing. Plenty of time to say your goodbyes.” 

“There have been…whispers of a royal event for months now. I didn’t know, I-…” 

“Did you think they were setting up a tourney for one of those shits? Or that my brother had somehow managed to sire another child?” 

You shake your head, but your heart races and your breath quickens, because how could you not see it before? 

You served your purpose, without faltering, without question. You amended the bonds your mother’s carelessness and her husband’s viciousness had broken, you strengthened the claim her mistakes had weakened, you lied and charmed to protect your brothers from the fate she imposed upon them. And now your use is through. 

The reward for your deference is a noose around your neck. 

“You had me travel the entire continent, entertaining countless proposals from the most insufferable of men and breaking bread with the most boring fucks alive, while you planned on giving me away.” 

“The tour was never meant to find you a husband, you knew that. A future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, birthing children for a…a…Tyrell? Or a Stark?” Daemon asks, as if the mere idea is unfeasible, ridiculous. “You are the blood of Old Valyria, and as wretched as that little cunt is, Aegon is my brother’s. A Targaryen.” 

You do not care for his tales of superiority, you do not care for those fantasies. Instead, you merely insist, “You plotted against me, while I was far from home.” 

“No. There is a plot, but it was not against you. If anything, this was done in your name, for your benefit,” He argues, pragmatically. Daemon leans closer, head bowed to meet your eyes. “Everything I’ve done has been to secure your claim, to ensure your ascension after your mother’s.” 

“To ensure your blood sits the Iron Throne.” 

He doesn’t deny it, and you don’t expect him to. The faintest of gestures of his head towards the door orders you to walk. You follow the unspoken command, for what else can you do but obey, and walk towards the door. 

“It is settled.” He calls out after you. At the absence of your answer, of your compliance, Daemon barks a call of your name. An order, a threat, even if it isn’t voiced as one, making you stop in your tracks. “You are a loyal daughter, and you know better than to forsake your duties to your mother. You won’t betray her.” 

“What you are asking of me is betrayal,” You argue, turning to look at him over your shoulder. “To marry our enemy, to lay with him, what is that if not a betrayal of my mother, of her claim?” 

“It is a sacrifice,” He corrects, but such appeasements, such manipulations, better suit Lady Mysaria. He has too much pride for the deceit to work, and so the lie stumbles in his tongue, rushing forward a truer sentence, “And I don’t ask.” 

___ 

Lady Mysaria finds you in the eastern balcony overlooking the sea, welcomes herself into the room and walks towards you, stopping only a few steps behind you She doesn’t announce herself nor ask for permission to speak, and you know better than to expect her to do either, after years of knowing her as your parents’ advisor. 

“I’m guessing you do not come here bearing good news.” 

“What would be good news to you, Princess?” 

“A freak dragon-riding accident leaving my future betrothed somewhere in the depths of the Narrow Sea?” You ask, rueful smile curving at your lips. 

“You speak as if you wouldn’t grieve for him.” 

“I would not grieve Aegon, or any of them, for I do not know the people they have become in these passing years.” 

“Is that why you ask my spies about him when they reveal themselves to you in your travels? To know the man he has become?” 

You sometimes wonder why you bother arguing with her. Not once have you been able to hold the upper hand for more than a breath. 

“I asked once.” 

You were wary, and far from home, and the flutter in your chest when Alasdair Tyrell laid a crown of Dragon’s breath on your lap -after his victory in the tourney organized to welcome you into the Reach- had felt familiar but wrong. Nostalgia and something else, something far more stupid, overwhelmed you, and you summoned one of Lady Mysaria’s spies, sent with you as a handmaiden, and asked her to tell you what she knew about how Aegon fared, who he had become in these passing years. 

You told yourself that while you knew better than to reach for a past and a bond long gone, neither could hurt you, so many years removed from the girl you were, so many miles away from what you once called home. And it didn’t, the past didn’t hurt you. What could have been did, however. 

“I will concede that you have learned to request information more subtly, but it does not mean you don’t ask, Princess.” 

“No, your spies offer information freely. Information I do not ask for,” You argue, but she breathes a short little laugh in response. It irks you, unsettles you, and you find yourself arguing further, explaining further, “I wanted to know if he was well, long ago, a-…” 

“And my spies told you he wasn’t.” 

“And so I never asked again.”

“It is a smart choice, to feign ignorance, but you should know better than to attempt to hide something from me.” 

“I have hidden nothing, for there is nothing to hide.” 

She hums lowly, considering her words with a sly smile on her lips. 

“You must refrain from defensiveness if you are to lie efficiently, Princess.” 

You grit your teeth but refuse her the satisfaction of knowing she prodded at a still-unarmored part of you. Instead, you bow your head as you did when you were barely five-and-ten and she had issued her first lesson on how to survive a world such as this. 

“Of course, Lady Mysaria.” 

“I would have expected you to be relieved, if nothing else, at the revelation of who you are to marry,” She muses. If she understands the threat written in your eyes when you turn to look at her, she cares not for it, and presses on, “You were quite close when you were younger.” 

“I was close to all of them.” 

“I mislike repeating myself. You cannot hide things from me, Princess.” 

You take a breath that feels a tad too shallow, you grit your teeth until you hold yourself under control, you hold your tongue until you’re certain it won’t betray anger, sorrow, something else. It feels invasive, unbearable, like fingers prodding at a well-hidden wound. 

“It was nothing. A passing infatuation of youth.” 

“Passing fancy,” She corrects. “The words the Queen used were passing fancy. If you are to shield yourself with the words of others, do so properly.” 

The troubling and annoying thing about sharing a home with someone that trades secrets is that none can be kept from her, and the frustrating thing about counting amongst those closest to you the person that taught you to lie and deceive is that you find it impossible to fool her. And with no secrets, with no lies, there is no fun in playing the game anymore. 

“What is it you mean to ask, Lady Mysaria?” 

“Aren’t you at the very least relieved? Contented?” 

You shake your head. 

“I do not know who Aegon is any longer. Who I-…” The revelation stumbles in your tongue, remains sealed past closed lips. The admission that you have forsaken yourself somewhere in the road to this day is something she might know already, but you refuse to admit aloud. “I have spent the last two years on lands foreign to me, many of them hostile to me. I am…I am wary, and I do not wish to do so again. I am tired of feeling…defenseless.” 

Mysaria lets silence linger for a few moments as you both watch your brothers’ dragons at flight in the skies above you. 

“You want war,” She states, “You deem fire and blood the only future in which you are safe.” 

It is a truly horrifying talent that she possesses, that uncanny ability of hers of digging under your skin until she finds the truer face out of all you wear and brings it to light in all its ugliness and its monstrousness. 

But perhaps that is why you can allow yourself to speak in honesty now, for the first time since you left Dragonstone for a royal tour, or perhaps for the first time since you left King’s Landing. 

“In war, me and my dragon are useful here, defending my claim. In war, I remain unbound, able to fight back,” You tell her, not caring about considering your words, about guarding your back. Turning your head to look at her, you argue, “In times of peace, I am sent away. Twice over, I have lost my home for the sake of peace.” 

“Hm,” Mysaria muses, and when she walks past you towards the balcony, you cannot help but follow. Your eyes seek the horizon, while the White Worm’s linger on Arrax and Vermax playing in the clouds above you. “You will not find yourself without allies, Princess. A spider can spin a web anywhere in the world, it needs only time.” 

“Speaking of time,” You start, straightening yourself and turning on your side to face her. You bow your head, in goodbye and in something else, something closer to gratitude than your hurt and your pride let you admit right now. “I fear our time together has come to a close.” 

“Your family isn’t leaving for King’s Landing for another two days.” She argues, but she knows, you are certain she does. It is no coincidence, that she has come to find you now, that she has come to say goodbye. 

Because honesty comes easy with her, you admit, “I dislike feeling like prey.” 

You could swear there is the beginning of a smile curving softly at her lips, but Mysaria merely bows her head and whispers a wish of, safe travels, Princess. 

___ 

Daemon approaches, you know him by the cadence of his footsteps by now, as you stand on one of the cliffs near the castle. He says nothing, joins you in watching as Vermithor stands before you, proud and stubborn, head held high despite your request that he bow it to allow you to climb onto his saddle. 

“Are you two having a fight?” 

“The old brat doesn’t want to leave the Dragonmont, and thinks we have a choice in the matter!” Your last words, hissed in Valyrian as you argue with the old dragon, make Daemon chuckle. “If I ask that Silverwing fly with us, y-…” 

“You know better than to ask that from us.” 

“He doesn’t want to leave her side. Vermithor, sweet thing, I feel for your broken heart, I truly do. But I won’t go by boat, much less carriage,” Vermithor answers with a huff of steam, and flaps his wings slightly, a warning that he will shake you off like he would a bothersome fly if you attempt to mount him regardless. You heave a sigh, “Stubborn fuck.” 

Vermithor understands the Common Tongue, you are certain he does, for he lowers his head for a moment as if to taunt you to try, and the call that echoes from deep in his chest truly sounds mocking. 

“It is your own restlessness, your own fear, that make him refuse you. You do not wish to leave, and so he doesn’t want to take you there.” 

“I did not want to visit half the places we did during my tour, and yet he took me anyways.” You argue, and though for a moment you think to ask him if he will try to stop you, you refrain.  

Daemon somehow knows that you have decided to take flight to King’s Landing tonight, and he has chosen not to stop you. Perhaps he understands the restlessness that has only grown in you since you were told of your betrothal, as perhaps that same restlessness consumed him once, when he was also young and sent off to marry for duty. 

“You weren’t afraid during your tour.” Daemon argues, but you shake your head. 

“Of course I was afraid. I did it anyways, because…because it was what you and mother demanded from me, but I was terrified,” You admit. Perhaps it is the darkness and quiet of a night in the vast openness of the Dragonmont, perhaps it is the defeat that clings to your very bones like the most bitter cold, but you do not care for lies, for masks, right now. “I haven’t stopped being afraid since we left King’s Landing.” 

Daemon turns to you, but you cannot look at him. You dread to look into your father’s eyes and see disappointment at your admission; you dread to see anger at your weakness. Most of all, however, you dread to see a shadow of regret, at what he’s done, at what he has failed to do. 

For it wouldn’t change a thing. You would still be sent off, you would still be given away, you would still be left with no control over any of this. 

At your silence, Daemon turns back to look upon the Bronze Fury. 

“And yet you do not want to return. And your dragon defies you because of it.” 

“He took me there once already, you know. A month or so before the tour began,” There’s a ghost of a smile playing at your lips as you share the memory. “It was…the worst storm I can remember, and he had us fly right through it. I cursed his name until I was hoarse and once it was over, I demanded he take me home at once. He took me to King’s Landing.”

"Did you land?"

"Of course not. It is hostile territory."

“It is your birthright,” Daemon promises. It used to feel liberating to hear him reaffirm your claim and your mother’s. Now it feels heavy. The weight of a crown you do not yet wear is entirely too great, and you bow your head. Daemon continues, “It was Vermithor who called to you, who allowed you to claim him. Vermithor, a dragon who only ever bonded with Kings.” 

“But I am no King,” You argue, returning your gaze to him. “For I am not a son.” 

Thank you for reading, i hoped you liked it! I would love to hear your thoughts on this!

Next chapter >>

[delicatebarness]

cry baby | chapter twenty four

Summary: Cry Baby gets some good news, surely nothing can ruin the night?

Warning: Bucky being Bucky.

Word Count: 1658

Spotify Playlist | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I'm not crying, I'm sweating from my eyes. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as it is mine. - B

Tags: @buckys0whore | @thezombieprostitute | @lanabuckybarnes | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @softieekayy | @noonespecial90 | @hello-therree | @randomawesomeperson102 | @whoreforbarnes | @thejutvtsupport | @somnorvos | @cjand10 | @plasticbottleholder | @birdenthusiastez | @am-3-thyst

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick

A few days pass as you suffer a whirlwind of emotions and self-reflection. The time was spent working on your art, losing yourself in the sketches as a way to deal with your turmoil within. 

You struggled to focus as the dream about Bucky lingered in your mind, and the emotions stirred up. Then, one afternoon, as you were lost in the shading of your latest piece, your phone buzzed. Glancing over at the lit screen, you saw an email notification from the gallery you recently submitted your work to. 

You took a deep breath, your heart racing as you opened the email. As you read the words, your eyes widened at their confirmation that your art exhibition would be held in their prestigious space. 

The excitement surged through you as you pushed aside the confusion and heartache you had been grappling with. You had been waiting for this break and the chance to showcase your work for as long as you could remember. Quickly, you got to sketching out leaflet designs that included the information from the email. 

~

With a stack of freshly printed leaflets, you rushed to the bar where you knew your friends would be that late afternoon. As you opened the door, you spotted your brother at the corner booth, making your way over to him you held a wide smile on your face. 

“Hey!” you called out, waving the leaflets in the air. 

“Steve looked up, his expression brightened as he saw you. “Hey, Kid! What’s got you so excited?” 

Handing him a leaflet, you were practically bouncing on your toes. “I got a spot at the art gallery! I’m going to hold an art exhibition!” 

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise and pride as Sam returned from the bathroom, taking up his usual seat. “That’s amazing! Congratulations!” 

Sam glanced over the leaflet that you set out in front of him. “We need to celebrate!” 

It wasn’t long before the rest of your friends came through the bar’s entrance, you felt a warmth spread through you as they each read over the information. They offered their congratulations and excitement. 

You didn’t stop there. With your heart racing, you rushed around the bar, handing out leaflets to everyone you could find. Approaching groups you smiled and shared the exciting news about the upcoming event. 

“Hi! I’m hosting an art exhibition next month! I’d love it if you could come and check it out!” you exclaimed, handing out leaflets to groups of bikers. 

They looked pleasantly surprised as they looked over the leaflets. “Sure, we’ll check it out.” 

“Thank you!” you replied, excitement grew with each positive response. 

Continuing to move around the bar, you shared your news with anyone who would listen. You received overwhelmingly supportive reactions, filling you with a sense of accomplishment. Howlett even asked to take extra leaflets from you to add to the bar’s notice board.

~

As the bar started to quiet down after expressing their excitement for you, you found a moment to slip away. Stepping outside for some fresh air, the cool breeze felt refreshing. You took a deep breath, savoring the sense of calmness. 

Your thoughts drifted to Peter, and you checked for a notification from him on your phone hoping to see if he had replied. The screen remained blank. 

Sighing, you slipped your phone back into your pocket. Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice a presence approaching until they were standing right beside you. “Hey,” Bucky said softly, the familiar comfort of his voice filling your senses.

You turned to him in surprise. “Hey, Bucky. I didn’t know you were here.” 

“I heard the news,” he said, gesturing to the stack of leaflets in your hands. “I’m really proud of you.” 

“Thanks,” you replied, your heart raced and your stomach fluttered at his words. “It means a lot.” 

Bucky’s eyes held a mix of emotions that you couldn’t quite place as he shifted his weight slightly before speaking again. “Um, Leah and I just got here. She’s inside with the others,” he added with a hint of guilt as if he was apologizing. 

You nodded, offering a small smile to mask your true emotions. “That’s great. I’m glad you both could make it.” 

“This is your moment,” he gave you a reassuring smile. “You’re doing amazing.” 

The bar door opened as you both stood there, and Peter stepped out. His eyes searched until they found you, a rush of relief washed over his face as he approached. 

“Hey, baby, sorry I was tied up with work,” Peter said, slipping his arm around your waist and placing a kiss against your lips. Your gaze never felt Bucky’s. 

Bucky’s expression shifted, shaking his head and rolling his eyes before turning to go back inside. “I’ll see you in there,” he scoffed.

A pang of longing rushed through you as he walked away, however Peter’s presence grounded you. Turning to him, you forced a smile. 

“I’m glad you made it,” you said softly as you leaned into him for comfort. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replied, his eyes filled with sincerity. “Let’s go back inside, I know your family wants to celebrate you.” 

You nodded, allowing Peter to lead you back into the bar. The atmosphere was lively, filled with laughter and cheers. Leah was chatting with Wanda and Natasha, her smile bright and genuine as a knot formed in your stomach. Bucky was talking to Sam, Steve, and Howlett at the bar. You noticed his eyes flicked to you occasionally. 

~

Later in the night, you decided to get up and grab another round of drinks. Leaving your friends to discuss between themselves.

“You know, she’s so talented,” Peter said to your friends with his eyes shining with admiration. “Her art is incredible. I know from the moment I saw her work that she had something special.” 

Bucky’s voice was laced with thinly veiled irritation as he responded. “Yeah, we’ve been friends since we were kids,” his tone was almost challenging. “I know all the spots in the city that inspire her art.” 

Peter nodded, still smiling. “Oh, she’s mentioned some of the places to me. I can’t wait to visit them all with her.” 

You approached the booth, your hands trembling slightly as you balanced the tray of drinks. You could see the frustration in Bucky’s eyes as the tension around the table grew. 

Bucky leaned closer to Peter, he tried to keep his voice low but it was audible enough for you and the rest of your friends to catch. “You know, Peter, there’s something you might not know about her… we kissed.” 

The booth fell silent as the words hung in the air. You froze in shock, your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to process what he had just confessed. Peter’s smile faltered as confusion flashed across his face. 

“What?” he asked, his eyes darting between you and Bucky. 

Bucky’s gaze met yours for the first time, his eyes filled with a mix of defiance and regret. Standing there, looking between them, you didn’t know what to say. His confession left you speechless. 

Peter stood up, a mixture of hurt and disbelief spread across his features. “Is this true?” he asked, his voice strained. 

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. Bucky’s piercing blue eyes pleaded with you, but you couldn’t allow yourself to focus on him. Looking at Peter, you finally found your voice. “Peter, I–” 

Before you could finish, he stepped away from the booth and shook his head. “I need some air,” he interrupted as he turned, heading for the door. 

Without another word, you rushed out of the bar. As you made your way to the door, Bucky stood up as if to follow you both. Steve rose from his seat, placing a firm hand on Bucky’s chest. “Not now, Buck,” your brother said with a low and steady voice. 

Frustration warring on his face, Bucky looked at Steve, pushing his arm away. “I need to–”

“Leave it, Barnes,” Natasha interjected before taking a sip of her beer. “You’ve done enough damage for one night.” 

Slumping his shoulders, he watched helplessly as you rushed to be by Peter’s side.

~

Peter’s shoulders were hunched as he walked toward his car. “Peter, wait!” you called to him, breaking into a run to catch up with him. 

Peter stopped, turning to face you. Pain and confusion etched on his face. “When was it?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

You took a deep breath, tears welling up in your eyes. “Peter, pl–”

“When?” his voice commanded. 

Sniffling, a tear slipped down your cheek. “It was… the night you met him.” 

He echoed your words as his face contorted with a mix of anger and hurt. A crushing weight became heavy on your chest as you nodded. 

Shaking his head, his eyes reflected his inner turmoil. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I was scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling as you picked at your fingers. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought if I could just move past it, everything would be okay.” 

A bitter laugh escaped his lips. “Move past it?” 

Reaching out, you were desperate to make him understand. “Peter, please. It was a mistake, it didn’t mean anything.” 

Avoiding your touch, Peter stepped back. “I need time to think,” he said, keeping his voice cold and distant. He turned away, walking closer to his car. “I need time,” he repeated, getting in and driving off without a word. 

A deep ache reached your chest as you stood there, watching him disappear down the street. The night air began to feel colder as Bucky’s confession hung over you. It nipped at your skin as you stood alone on the quiet street. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you took a deep breath as the tears blurred your vision and sobs escaped your lips. 

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter