#as of right now this moment I am simply. too fucking tired to do that

[youngpettyqueen]

wrote something unbearably fluffy and I will be posting it on ao3 tomorrow but I wanted to do something a lil different and post it here. this is because I dont have the energy to do the format editing for ao3 rn but I want people to see it right now immediately

garashir, post-canon Cardassia, short and sweet, fluff that will rot your teeth out. enjoy <3

“Elim?” 

Gentle hands resting on his shoulders rouse Garak from a sleep he didn’t even realize he’d fallen into. He jerks awake with a rather undignified snort, more startled than he’d care to admit as he straightens himself up in his chair. Falling asleep at his desk… he really is getting sloppy.

Those hands squeeze his shoulders gently. He would know that touch anywhere.

“Only me, love,” Julian’s voice murmurs, soft and reassuring, “Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

Garak glances back over his shoulder, wincing slightly at the kink that’s developed in his neck from his awkward sleeping position. “You’ll have to forgive me, my dear,” He replies, offering Julian a tired smile, “I seem to have lost track of the time.”

He takes a moment to give Julian a quick once-over, his eyes heavy with sleep but no less sharp. He looks dishevelled, his hair a mess of loose curls and his jaw lined with a shadow of stubble. He doesn’t have any visible injuries, and his uniform is rumpled, but intact. So today was long, but likely not life-threatening. Good. He’d been worried, before he went and passed out.

Julian smiles back at him, a warm expression, though very tired. The lines under his eyes are deep. “I’ll forgive you, if you forgive me for being so late,” He offers, gently rubbing Garak’s shoulders, “Sorry to have kept you waiting. I was drafting requests for more medical equipment, and lost track of time myself.” He explains.

“How could I ever fault you for such a noble endeavour?” Garak asks, leaning back into Julian’s hands, which are doing wonders for what’s become a permanent stiffness in his shoulders, “I’m sure the staff appreciate your efforts.” His doctor has done marvellously, adapting to working in a Cardassian hospital. It took a couple of crisis situations before the rest of the staff finally took him seriously, but he’s managed to find a place for himself with minimal friction, as far as the hospital staff are concerned. Usually a Human would never have been accepted so quickly, but these are desperate times, and they can seldom afford to turn away such a capable pair of hands. 

“They’ll appreciate it when I actually get the equipment,” Julian replies. He works his thumbs into a knot at the base of Garak’s neck, and Garak all but melts against him, a pleased sound rumbling low in his chest, “Dare I ask what you’re doing with Kukalaka?” 

The question snaps Garak out of his pleased little trance. He glances back at his desk and finds that the bear is, in fact, sitting there, a needle still attached to thread hanging loose from his leg, which is half-sewn to his body. “Ah,” He says, now recalling what he was doing before sleep so unceremoniously claimed him, “Yes, that… well, I was rather hoping to surprise you with that tomorrow…” He hums, feeling a flash of annoyance at his plans being thwarted. 

Julian leans over his shoulder, examining his handiwork. “Oh, Elim…” He murmurs, like Garak has just handed him the world, “You wonderful, wonderful man. You really are too good to me.” He wraps his arms loosely around Garak’s neck, rests his weight against him as he presses his warm cheek to the side of his head.

It never ceases to amaze Garak, just how easy it is to make Julian’s day. The smallest acts have him behaving as if Garak has put the suns in the sky just for him. “Hardly,” He refutes, because he could never be too good for the man who reminds him days after day that good exists in this universe simply by existing, “You may have convinced the little ruffian’s mother that you weren’t upset over Kukalaka being torn asunder, but I know you far better than that. I may not understand the significance of the little fellow, but I would be remiss if I allowed him to remain in tatters when I could easily repair him.” He reasons, and it’s an awfully long way to say I hate to see you sad.

“That little ruffian was all of 3 years old,” Julian points out, a smile in his voice, “And teething, might I add, so understandably cranky. But… thank you,” A warm kiss is pressed to Garak’s cheek, an action that turns him into a puddle of bliss and affection, “I would tell you just how much it means to me, but I’m afraid I’m much too tired to adequately express myself.” He kisses Garak’s cheek again, and nuzzles against him.

Garak hums happily, reaching up to rest a hand on Julian’s arm. “Oh, I don’t know,” He muses, rubbing circles into Julian’s arm with his thumb, “I believe I could infer the depths of your gratitude from, say… more kisses.” He suggests, tilting his head so that he can flash Julian a cheeky grin. 

Julian snorts, buries his face in Garak’s neck as laughter shakes his slender shoulders. When he lifts his head again, he has the loveliest smile lines on his rosy-cheeked face, and the lines under his eyes don’t seem quite so deep anymore. 

“You’re incorrigible.” Julian tells him, earnestly and completely affectionate. 

“Yes,” Garak agrees, “And I do believe you love me for it.” 

“Oh, very much,” Julian agrees, leaning in till his nose taps against Garak’s, “It’s one of your most endearing traits.” 

Garak rubs their noses together, a gesture that is indescribably affectionate and also quite silly. “Tell me again about all those endearing traits of mine?” He requests.

“I’m far too tired for that,” Julian replies, his eyes flicking to Garak’s lips, “I think I’d much rather kiss you silly. Is that an acceptable substitute?” He asks. 

Garak doesn’t respond verbally, just angles his head and pushes up to capture Julian’s lips with his. Julian makes a happy little hum as he kisses him back, and his smile as he presses his lips to Garak’s again and again says more about his gratitude and his love than any string of words ever could. 

[hannieehaee]

Hi! I love your work I was hoping I could request something? this may be a little nsfw but I was wondering how SVT would react to having a girlfriend who likes to cockwarm them? like even after they’re done she just wants them to stay inside her like she could literally go to sleep like that. I just think it’d be interesting! you don’t have to do it though!

18+ / mdi

reaction to you liking to cockwarm them

content: afab reader, smut, cockwarming, mentions of riding, etc.

wc: 966

a/n: thank u for requesting!! i hope i did this justice <3

masterlist

seungcheol -

this wouldve become a common occurrence during his hiatus from seventeen. due to his injury, you'd have to ride him whenever the two of you wanted to have sex. at some point he wouldve dragged you back down as you moved to slip him out of you, pleading with his eyes to stay around him. would probably be unable to control himself and eventually try to fuck into you, not caring for the pain he'd bring himself.

jeonghan -

smirks to himself any time you whine at him when he goes to slip out of you after you're both done. the moment you showed any indication that you wanted to cockwarm him, he'd to squeeze your hips and feel up your ass and back rather than remove you. would entice you into another round after some time, hoping to create a vicious cycle in which he fucked you and you cockwarmed him, only for him to fuck you again.

joshua -

he'd wanna take care of you in any and every way, so if you were too sleepy after sex to get up from his cock, that simply meant you'd be going to sleep with his cock still buried deep inside you. it was a win-win situation for joshua. he'd have a restful sleep with the prettiest girl he'd ever held in his arms, and he'd probably get to fuck you just as the two of you woke up. there were no bad sides to the situation.

jun -

a little caught off guard the moment you simply pressed down against him after both your orgasms had subsided. regardless, he would understand you might be tired and just hold you as the two of you fell asleep. the next morning it would click that you'd slept literally wrapped around each other all through the night. that might've been one of his best sleeps ever, making him want to do it again and again.

soonyoung -

practically becomes hypnotized the moment you bring up cockwarming, now obsessed with the idea. he'd be so giddy every single time the two of you had sex right before going to bed, knowing he'd get to go to sleep while your arms held onto him and your pussy held onto his dick just as tightly. this would become his new favorite act of intimacy to do with you.

wonwoo -

would naturally happen one day in which you rode him while he was gaming. you'd both finish and you'd simply fall limp against him. after a few moments of no movement, he'd ask if you wanted to just stay sitting on his dick (not complaining! just wondering, he'd clarify). after your tired affirmation, he would smile and hold you closer, continuing to game but caressing your back every so often, adoring the intimacy of the situation.

jihoon -

it kills him every time you insist on letting him stay inside, face scrunching up in pleasure at the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him in such an intimate way. would insist that you can only do it for a little bit, knowing he'd probably cum the moment he grew hard again.

dokyeom -

would reluctantly agree, wanting nothing more than to be as close to you as possible, but knowing your cunt would overpower his senses at some point, which would probably make him beg you to fuck him in the middle of the night. the obvious would end up happening, making you ride him in the early hours of the am, only to cockwarm him again all the way into the morning.

mingyu -

he'd nod in agreement so fast his neck would hurt. holding you in his arms after sex? hell yes. being inside you as he held you in his arms as you fell asleep? nothing sounded better to him. would probably underestimate how pussydrunk he could get and beg to fuck you halfway through the night and then proceed to fall asleep buried deep inside you, only to fuck you again in the morning.

minghao -

he'd be a lil flustered at the bold way in which you simply tightened around him the moment he tried to slip out, wordlessly allowing you to lean against him as he stayed buried in you. would easily fall into the habit of you cockwarming him, now looking forward to that part of the day every single day. would feel most relaxed in those moments, feeling a level of intimacy with you he had never before.

vernon -

he'd insist you cockwarm him. after cumming you'd both probably be super spent and wanna rest, so he'd ask if it was okay for him to just stay in your cunt as the two of you cuddled and eventually fell asleep. this would prove to be a bit of a challenge, as the pulsing of your cunt and softness of your walls would probably take him a bit to get used to.

seungkwan -

he would also fall asleep right after sex, only waking up a few hours later to realize you were still wrapped around him as the two of you cuddled. his heart would swell at the warmth he felt both from your embrace and the tightness around him. he'd want this again and again, wordlessly begging you day after day to please give him your warmth as he slept.

chan -

he'd thank god under his breath as soon as you brought it up to him. he'd have wanted to try it out, knowing how warm and cozy it'd be to have you wrapped around him as he held you in his sleep, but he wasnt sure if you'd be into it. would probably underestimate how good itd feel, making him not realize how hard it was going to be to not fuck into you as you slept in his arms.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Figuratively Dying

Summary: the night before their wedding, Cassian is losing his mind.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: a tiny lil fluffy drabble to let you all know im coming back w my fics now that many of u are done with exams hehe 🤭

Cassian was dying.

Figuratively, he was dying.

Literally, he was very much alive, if his restlessness was any indication.

Every few moments, his wings would twitch, nervousness and anticipation slowly trickling into his bloodstream, making it impossible to sit still.

"Sit down brother. Time is not going to pass quicker if you burn a hole in the floor."

Cassian snarled in response, eyes flitting over to meet star flecked ones of Rhysand, who exposed his palms in a placating motion. "I’m just saying. Instead of tiring yourself out and making us dizzy, why don’t you sit down and have a drink?"

Azriel snorted in response. "Do you really think he cares about your opinion right now?"

Cassia reigned in a snarl, instead turning to stare out the open doors of the balcony, his mind again contemplating knocking out his brothers just so he could go to meet his love.

Cassian was being held captive.

It was downright cruel, if he said so himself. Mor had come up with the stupid rule. That he was to stay away from his soon to be wife for a whole day before their wedding.

Why, Cassian couldn’t understand. But here he was, being forced to comply.

"Cass-"

"I swear on the dark waters of the cauldron Rhys, if you don’t shut you big mouth now, I am going to fucking knock you out."

"I’m just-"

Thump.

Wide hazel eyes flew to Cassian’s, alarmed, as Rhys lost consciousness.

Cassian stared back, hand burning from the blow he had dealt, and finally, Azriel gestured at him. "Go. I am not stopping you."

"Fucking finally." Cassian mumbled as he stalked out into the open night, his wings stretching to catch the wind in their leathery grip, and then let them carry him away.

The clear air penetrated his lungs, expanding them to their full might, and washed all his nervousness for the day after away. Everything was going to go well. He was sure of it.

But he was so tired. He missed her so much.

It didn’t take long until he was hovering over the balcony that led to the room he shared with his lover, Y/n.

Slowly, so slow that a snail would have laughed at him, Cassian let himself land, eyes already searching for her without permission.

"Sunshine?"

Silence. Heavy, pregnant silence.

And then- "Cass?"

The puff of air turned white in front of his face, and steeling himself, he stepped forward.

There she stood, in nothing but a silk nightgown, staring at him with wide eyes. "What- what are you doing here?"

He said nothing, giving himself a moment to admire the angel that had blessed him by just even looking in his direction.

"Cass?"

He stepped forward, his wings folding of their own accord the closer he got to her. Y/n simply stared at him, perplexed, and refused to move even when he reached out to her. Which he was happy about as he grabbed her in his arms, releasing a breath of relief.

"Oh I missed you, sunshine."

"Is that why you are here? You do know Mor will have your head if-"

"Mor can shut the fuck up. The fact that she does not have an angel of a wife to cuddle with does not mean I should stay away from mine."

He could hear her blood rushing to her face, and sure enough, when he pulled back from mumbling into her neck, she refused to meet his eyes.

"Cass-"

"Yes, sunshine?"

She rolled her eyes at his teasing smirk, finally leaning into his embrace. "I missed you too."

Cassian hummed, walking her back until they had reached the bed. Then he picked her up, her thighs wrapping around his waist, and crawled onto the plush material of the mattress. "Good night."

She yelped as he dropped all his weight onto her, and even though Cassian knew she liked it, he could not help but wonder if he should have been gentler. "Are you staying here?"

He scoffed. "Of course I am. Where else would I stay?"

"Mor-"

"Shh. I love you." He mumbled, pressing his face into her chest.

He could feel her vibrating laughter, and it made him smile too, knowing he was the reason.

"Good night. I love you." She muttered, reaching her fingers out to caress the back of his head softly. "I can’t wait for tomorrow."

"Me neither."

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[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 20

Emily Prentiss x reader warning: language, alcohol, smut mentioned. i think thats about it? 4.7k

Salt Lake City was boring, tedious even with little to nothing to keep your brain occupied as you sat through meeting after meeting, several interviews, and public statements. It was a walk in the park type of excursion for Heather, supporters already wooed, state governors already in her pocket, it was as if she was just visiting a bunch of old friends and family. You honestly weren’t even sure what she needed you there for, Cynthia was there, her PA had tagged along now that they were back from vacation, you easily could have done your job through the internet from the comfort of your couch and not had to cancel on Emily. Your phone ended up holding your attention for most of the day and most of that wasn’t actually work related. After exhausting all your brain power on what she could possibly want you on there was only one thing left on your mind.

Which is why when you got back from dinner you stepped out of your heels and wandered through the adjoining door to her hotel room.

“That was practically torture.” You grumbled as you padded through her room.

Heather had her back to you, her phone in her hands as she shot of a couple of texts, a small laugh escaping her lips, “and here I was thinking you would enjoy that caviar flight.”

“I’ve had fresher.” You replied with a huff, “and I meant the whole day not just dinner.”

She chuckled again, removing her earrings, placing them down for safe keeping, “no wonder you were so distracted, you spent more than half of it on your phone.” She finally turned to face you.

“I was simply killing time.” You stated with a shrug, the strap of your dress falling past your shoulder, “and now we’re here…” you cocked a brow in her direction and her lips pursed for a moment.

“Wait.” Her fingers reached out, neatly pulling the strap of your dress back over your shoulder, smoothing the fabric over your skin and she could feel the way you nearly tensed under her touch.

“Wait, what?” You dropped down onto the edge of her bed, suddenly feeling rather self conscious, “you need to take a call or something?”

“No, but I think you might have some thinking to do.”

“I’m confused.”

“We don’t need to do this.”

“We always do this,” you replied, your brows furrowing. It wasn’t that you were hurt or even disappointed, honestly you were a little too tired for her usual level of exertion. You were just incredibly perplexed, “it’s almost like a …tradition or something by now.”

“Sweetheart, know that I am definitely not turning you down,” she started, her hand gently pinching at your chin, “but are you sure you even want to fuck me right now? Or is this purely out of habit?”

Your lips parted as if you had something ready to say to her when your head tilted and your mouth shut once again, your lips pressed against each other tightly as you thought it over. You looked back up at her, your head still tilted as you surveyed her.

“Have you finally hit menopause?”

Heather gawked, barking out a laugh as she stepped towards the mini bar, plucking two of the mini goblets of wine and passing one to you. “Why on earth would you assume that?”

“I ‘ve known you over twenty years and you don’t turn down sex.”

A small grin took over her lips as she stepped back towards you, “I do when the other person is taken.”

“I’m not”—

She cut you off with a look and you were even more confused when her fingers slipped into the neckline of your dress, knuckles brushing your chest as she tugged it down and a sudden blush took over your cheeks.

“Maybe not by a label, but you are covered in possessive marks. Three that I can see on your tits, one that you’ve done a decent job covering up on your neck and I’m not even sure I want to know what I’ll find on your thighs.” She let the fabric spring back into its proper place, and you felt a little less exposed, shifting in your seat you could still feel the ache between your thighs.

“You’re over thinking things Heat, we had a rough session. I told her to be rough, to bite harder, she was just doing what I asked.”

“Possibly.” She unscrewed the wine, taking a sip, “but I think when it comes down to it, Emily Prentiss isn’t an idiot. She’s a profiler no matter what situation she’s in, it’s what comes naturally. She saw that bracelet, heard the teasing and jokes about how much it cost and your winter bonus after we’d been out of town and put two and two together that we fucked that week.”

You let out a tired sigh, your hand brushing over your face before you cracked your own drink to take a swig, “the literal teeth marks you left on my leg probably didn’t help.”

“Those should have healed by the weekend.”

“I saw her the night we got back.” You looked up to her with another groan, “and she knows I had blood taken that day…”

“And now she knew that we were travelling again and wanted to leave a little reminder. Whether for you or me, that’s still up for debate.” She chuckled, “it might not be jealousy, but I know how to read a situation and that’s what’s coming off right now. I highly doubt she wants to share anymore.”

“She always said she never wanted strings.” You shrugged, “I was just playing by the rules of the contract.”

“Contracts can always be ripped up,” she noted, “but that’s not important. What is, is what do you want.”

Looking up at her you were surprised when nothing instantly came to your mouth, instead gaping at her as your brain tried to unscramble all of the wires. You knew you enjoyed sex with Emily, that you enjoyed your time with her and certainly wouldn’t complain about more. Tony’s arguments had already been lingering in your brain all week, hell, you’d spent most of the day smiling at your phone like an idiot texting Emily about how bored you were.

Heather burst you out of your bubble back to reality when she tapped her finger to the tip of your nose, a knowing grin on her lips.

“My point exactly. You don’t spend a week and a half in the Maldives with someone and not fall for them. Especially with how incredibly sappy you get over the damn ocean. What I find puerile she likely finds endearing.”

“Sorry, what?”

This time the gentle poke landed on your forehead, “you’re smart. Now use that brain of yours to figure it out. You’ve been doing this arrangement for a while now, maybe it’s time to pull the plug. What direction you choose to go in after that is up to you and I think you already know. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you at this point.” Her fingers fiddled with your earlobe, “you’ve been wearing those since you came back.”

“Huh…” you clucked your tongue, your own fingers replacing hers as you toyed with the starfish earring.

“Now go,” she swatted at your side, handing you the mini wine she’d taken a sip out of, “rack up a mini bar charge and do some thinking. Lord knows you didn’t use your brain for anything today but texting.”

You let out a mock scoff as you shuffled from the room, knowing that the comment was in jest, but made sure to swipe another drink from her fridge before you stepped back into your own room. Before you could even circle back and ask the original question, she was already a step ahead of you.

“And I brought you on this trip because we have brunch with the governor tomorrow and she’s got a soft spot for you. Thinks I’m too harsh or something, thought maybe you could warm her up.”

Right. There it was.

**

Over in DC, Emily was nearly in the same boat as you, although she’d already done her thinking about how she felt, it didn’t take a mastermind to realize that she had feelings. Feelings that were more than just sexual. If she had still been struggling with that last week, it was made pretty clear to her when the rage of jealousy surged through her at even the thought of DiNozzo managing to sleep with you. As the days crept by, she had finally accepted that the trip to the Maldives had been to get one up on Heather, to prove that something like that and the quality time that came along with it was worth far more than a stupid bracelet. A bracelet she hadn’t seen since, and on top of that, in every cute picture you’d sent her since coming home you’d been wearing the earrings she bought for you. Earrings that meant a hell of a lot more than a price tag.

Still, there shouldn’t have been any reason for her to still be closed in her office when it was pushing eleven pm.

Except that she didn’t want to go home. Home meant quiet, too quiet, too personal, too much space for her thoughts to start to get lost in. That meant seeing the toothbrush that belonged to you next to hers when she went to wash her face, the mini bottle of skin care tucked in a corner of her basin. It meant noticing that you’d left a sweater strewn over the back of her couch, a novel you were halfway through forgotten on her coffee table that would bring back the memory of you curled up on a chilly Sunday morning with a cup of coffee completely engrossed in the story while she slept in. It meant tossing and turning when she couldn’t sleep and ending up grabbing the other pillow only for the scent of your shampoo to invade her nose and keep her up all night until she spewed off some sappy revealing middle of the night text to you.

All things considered; work sounded like the safer option.

She was going back and fourth between a handful of casefiles, trying to figure out which one deemed priority once they wrapped their current one (or NCIS decided they could oversee the closing on their own). Take out sat relatively untouched to her side, at the very least she’d eaten the spring rolls and fortune cookie and there was no way she was getting through tonight without sneaking a coffee mug full of wine. The building was relatively quiet, and she thought she was alone until there was a knock on her door and she jolted upright, looking across the room to find DiNozzo lingering in the doorway.

He muttered an apology, crossing the room to add another file to her inbox as he ran through what he’d found. Emily could have sworn she was listening, she could hear his voice, she was processing the information, her brain already figuring out how to approach everything with the rest of the team in the morning, what kind of homework it likely meant for her and Garcia. Tony watched as she scribbled something down on a post it, sticking it to her computer monitor and started to step out of the room, half wondering if she was listening at all. She kept glancing towards her phone, poking the screen as if she was expecting a call, like phantom vibrations were going off and pulling her attention. He mumbled something about leaving, that she should probably head home soon too and she made a noise in his direction as her eyes fell to her phone again, this time swiping it open to her messenger app before letting out a soft sigh. He had made it all the way to the door by the time her voice rang through the office clear as day.

“Hey, what time is it in Salt Lake right now?”

“Uh…” He pulled his wrist up, studying his watch, “they’re two hours behind us so… eight fifty three?”

Emily let out a hum of sorts, her fingers prodding at her phone again as if she expected it to jump to life out of nowhere. As much as Tony wanted to get out of there, a movie and a cold beer calling his name, he knew that look of longing too much, hand faltering on the doorjamb as he pulled himself back into her office.

“You know, those political dinners, they’re insane, entire theatre productions from start to finish.” He waved his hand for exaggeration, “it doesn’t matter how fast anyone wants them done with, someone’s gonna order every single course and one of every dessert, they drag on for hours.” He glanced down to her phone screen, “she’s probably out rubbing elbows pretending she knows how to smoke a cigar.”

“Huh?” Emily’s attention was finally pulled from her thoughts and she looked up at the man, a near concerned look written across her face and he sighed softly, daring to step further into her office.

“Listen, I know this isn’t exactly my place, and I’m definitely not a profiler, but I’m still an investigator…”

“Go on…” She folded her arms in front of her, elbows propped on her desk.

“This is about Walton and Heather being out of town together again, right?”

“She’s out of town, that doesn’t bother me.”

“But you found out about their… extracurriculars…” He offered, cautiously sitting down in a chair across from her desk and she let out a small huff, her eyes darting over to her phone for a second to avoid the question.

“Yeah.”

Tony’s head nodded, biting his lip for a second as he debated just how much of a verbal lashing he could get for something like this, “and you’re not a fan of that, so you’re sitting here still pretending to work rather than going home to relax because you know once you do you won’t be able to think of anything except that and that sounds even worse.”

Emily’s eyes snapped from her phone up to Tony as she jumped back into the conversation that was actually happening rather than the thoughts flying around in her head and her eyes narrowed, casting him a look so hard that he nearly gulped.

“I’m in my office late all the time.” She attempted to justify, “maybe you wouldn’t get it but as a team leader there is literally always something to do, another problem to solve another case to dwell over.”

“Yeah but it isn’t all about work, you’ve gotta have something to distract yourself.”

“I did—I- ac- do!” She tried to hide her flub but the smirk on his lips was telling that he already caught it and she groaned, praying her cheeks weren’t visibly heated, “c’mon. What does Gibbs do?”

“Builds boats in his garage.”

“Miniatures?”

“Full sized. In sailable condition.”

“Huh…” Emily’s head titled, her brow furrowing as her gaze drifted out the window, silence taking over the room for a moment before she spoke again, “how does he get them out?”

“No one knows.” He shrugged.

“Huh…”

Tony chuckled, letting her try to figure it out for a minute before shoving his nose back into her business, “listen, I know it’s not my place at all, but I do know her pretty well and I know she really likes spending time with you. She can be a bit of an enigma and that’s only gotten more intense the longer she’s worked the job she has, having to play pretend and like she’s best friends with half those douchebags when in reality she doesn’t let a lot of people in… ever.”

“And what? I’m ‘the one who’s different’?” Emily nearly scoffed as her fingers made air quotes around the words, pulling a small laugh out of DiNozzo.

“Considering the amount of crap you have lying around her apartment, yeah.” His lips curved up into a grin at her surprised reaction, “she likes you. And she’s reasonable. You wanna change whatever agreement you have, I’m sure she’ll be up for it.”

“Yeah?” She raised a brow, an unsettling feeling in her gut as her eyes dropped to her phone once again, still utterly void of notifications, “and if she comes home with teeth marks again?”

“From what I’ve heard you left some pretty impressive bruises yourself.” It slipped out of his mouth before he even realized and Emily made an unintelligible noise before blushing, sinking deeper into her chair. “Besides, Heather is the last of your worries, okay? She’s never going to be a threat, she’s married, always will be and always has a string of other mistresses, that isn’t long term for anyone and it was always incredibly casual between them. But that doesn’t mean that someone else won’t come along, take it from me, you’re gonna wanna say something before it’s too late.”

A sparkle flashed through Emily’s eyes, a sneaky grin taking over her lips as she shifted gears, “yeah? Ziva get a boyfriend?”

“Arrrhhhh!” Tony let out a frustrated groan as he pulled himself up from the chair, stomping his feet in a little tantrum, pouting when he turned back to her, “she went on a daaaaaate.”

“Then buck up and take your own advice DiNozzo.” She laughed and he huffed.

“Fine.” Grumbling he made his way back to the door before he suddenly turned back, “can I ask one last thing?”

“Sure.”  She figured the least she could do was humour him at this point.

“Do you guys have some kinda Pretty Woman rule going on?”

“What?” Her brow furrowed as she let out a laugh, “DiNozzo come on, I thought you of all people would have put t together by now. Yeah, I take her on dates, gift her cash, she… compensates otherwise.”

“No.” He chuckled, “have you seen the movie?”

“Not in about a million years.”

“Julia Roberts character has this thing, she doesn’t kiss her clients, especially on the lips, it’s too intimate, too personal.”

“Okay…” The confused expression remained on her face, having no clue what he was getting at.

“Think about it. When you greet each other, or say good bye, is it an actual kiss greeting, one of the more casual cheek kisses? Are there those longing goodbye kisses where you can’t let go of the other person because you don’t want to leave, or is it brief and that lingering feeling’s like, tickling away under your skin instead?”

“I…” Emily’s gaze dropped, thinking through as many of your interactions as she could. It made sense that any greetings were impersonal, they were usually in public, everything had been kept on a strict business level of communication when you’d first started. You barely kissed on the mouth in more intimate moments. “Huh…”

“See?” Tony stepped backwards toward the door, “movie magic, always a truth to it. Next time you see her? Kiss her. Really kiss her. Because if anything it’ll help you realize that you never want to let her go.”

“I think you might spend a little bit too much time watching romance movies.” She laughed.

“Really?” He raised a brow, “then prove me wrong.”

**

You were sitting on your hotel bed, phone twirling around between your hands as you stared at whatever the television was playing. You’d spent far too long in the shower trying to clear your head, using every single toiletry they had before drying yourself off with the fluffiest towel and putting on your pyjamas. Sinking against the headboard you’d drifted off to a field of memories, the visions replaying in your mind as you ignored the television. When those weren’t enough you’d opened the photo gallery on your phone, scrolling through the assortment of pictures, mainly ones from the Maldives, too many of the ocean to even count.

The door between your rooms remained unlocked, cracked open so you could still bother each other. Heather had assumedly gotten an email or update about the morning, knocking briefly before swinging the door open. She stayed perched in the doorway, letting you have your space while she rambled on. She stopped suddenly, looking up from her phone to catch you staring into space, your eyes completely unfocused.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Huh?” You looked up, blinking a few times as you returned to earth.

“What is going on in that pretty little head?” Heather asked, relaxing against the doorjamb as her arms crossed over her chest, “I leave you for a couple of hours and your zonked out? Talk to me.”

You let out a tired huff, swiping the mini wine bottle from the nightstand and draining it in one go, “how am I supposed to do this?”

“Do what?” Her voice was softer than you’d expected it, the more maternal side of her beginning to come out.

“Shift from being a sugar baby to… more…” When you looked up at her there was a level of hesitancy she had never seen behind your eyes.

“Just tell her you want to end the arrangement, gauge her response, readjust and go from there.” She replied, as if it was easy as placing a coffee order.

“I dunno…” your eyes dropped, “I mean, all I’ve heard are the horror stories of girls crying on your doorstep being nearly pathetic cause they want more. Hell, I’ve witnessed that Heather. It doesn’t exactly look like a fun time.”

“You’re overthinking. And you’re worried.” The other woman’s face fell at the way you started picking at your cuticles.

“Obviously.” You let out an unsure laugh before looking up at her, “I mean, c’mon. She’s a fucking profiler, there’s no way that she hasn’t figured me out yet, even if it took me longer. She reads body language for a living and if she wanted to have more she would have said something already.” You took another swig of wine, “I let you and Tony get under my skin, let you plant ideas in my head and now it’s all I can think about. I can’t focus, I haven’t gotten a single piece of work done and I…”

“Oh sweetheart…” Heather’s voice softened once again, moving through the room to perch on the foot of the bed.

“What?” You asked dryly, looking up at her.

“You’re not just worried, you’re scared.”

“Well…” you gestured vaguely and let out a huff, “it all seems kind of ridiculous. I mean, have you ever felt like this? Been this confused?”

“Of course.” She chuckled.

“But you’re so… distant, cold even. You’ve got all these rules and they’re strict.”

“What a pleasant way of calling me a bitch.” She teased with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, “I had those kind of feelings and internal panic when I first started dating my husband.” She let that sink in, “which is why you shouldn’t think about or compare anything that has ever happened with me and a sugar baby, because its not the same.”

“What’d you mean?”

“They’re never long term.” Her head shook, “It’s all about the business, the transaction and as you said, I keep extremely strict lines. Yours have started to blur. Emily’s not married, she’s not committed to anyone else and neither are you, it’s easy to start to slip out of whatever boundaries you previously set, especially if you like each other. What started out as an arrangement sometimes does turn into something real, and while I haven’t really seen the two of you together I can definitely understand why it would work out so I think it’s worth a shot.”

You sighed, and Heather frowned at how dejected you looked in that moment, “I dunno….”

She squeezed at your hand, “you’re all caught up in your head thinking about all the things that could go terribly wrong, but hear me out… what if they go right?”

Heather didn’t give you time to reply, rather she leant in, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head before sweeping from the room, the adjoining door swinging shut behind her and you heard the click of the lock shutting.

**

Emily finally dragged herself out of the office after DiNozzo’s visit, try as she might to get a little bit more work done, she now found that his words kept repeating themselves through her brain. If she couldn’t focus on anything, she may as well be able to do it in the comfort of her own home and definitely without her bra digging into her ribcage.

She poured a glass of wine, taking her first sip as she stared out the windows, sweeping across the view and let out a soft sigh. It felt like not that long ago she was standing in the same spot trying to figure out what was missing from her life. Now she knew exactly what she was missing, she missed you, missed your weekly dates that had become more frequent over time. Spending time with you made her happy, you made her happy, wasn’t that what she had wanted in the first place? Happiness? Someone to spend time with that made her heart sing? She huffed out a laugh, maybe that was a little too over the top. She’d wanted someone to spend her time with that made it enjoyable, that brought out a different side to her than the one who worked constantly. You just so happened to be that for her. You also just happened to be the one who was across the country not thinking about her at all while you were the only thing she could think of.

“Fuck..” She whispered softly, dropping her gaze from the window as she sulked towards the living room to drop down on the couch.

She was jealous.

And she absolutely hated that.

You weren’t technically hers, you had both agreed on your limitations, on what was okay outside of your agreement and until the two of you had time to revisit that, she had no real right to be feeling like this. Her free hand twitched and her eyes darted back to the kitchen cupboard she had a pack of cigarette’s stashed for times just like this. She took another swig of wine, nearly draining the glass in an attempt to clog her thoughts, about to stand up when her phone buzzed on the coffee table.

She was genuinely surprised to see a message from you flash across the screen. While you had been texting pretty regularly throughout the afternoon, the moment dinner time hit had been nothing but radio silence. She picked it up, swiping open the thread.

‘God, remind me to never take a SLC trip again. I’ve never been so bored in my life. We’ve got a pit stop in Kansas City on the way but I should be back in DC in time for a late dinner tomorrow… if you’re interested?’

Her heart leapt in her throat and she had to try to resist immediately typing out every little feeling that was flying through her brain in the moment. Instead, she took a breath, finished the last of her wine and replied with something easy.

‘I’d love that.’

She got up, moving toward the kitchen, though the thought of a smoke was far gone from her brain now, she just figured another glass of wine wouldn’t hurt.

‘You better not still be at the office.’

The warning text came through with a playful emoji to make sure she knew you were teasing. She smiled softly, snapping a picture of the wine glass with the view in the background and sending it back to you. It didn’t take long for your next message to come through.

‘Good. But it’s late. Make sure you get some rest tonight.’

‘You too.’

Emily felt her shoulders drop as she let out a breath, moving back to the couch sans cigarettes to finish her wine with a feeling of hope resting in her chest.

_________________

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[pookietv]

silly and trivial | arthurtv

i am usually awful at writing arguments but trying it out to hopefully get better! (but because deep down i'm a softie, all ends well)

george alt of the same scenario will come soon!!

arguments were no ones favourite thing, that was obvious.

but being stood in a stand off with arthur over something so simply resolved, so trivial as whose turn it was to do the fucking washing? you two had gone into some frenzy.

entering your shared apartment to dishes not being done was about the last thing you had needed on this particularly shitty day, and walking into your kitchen to see the grown pile, you raised a frustrated eyebrow at arthur.

"what?" he asked, his tone not too moody but definitely with a certain tone to it.

"you haven't done the dishes, still," you said, voice quiet but with a slight tinge of accusatory remark.

"you're being a tad dramatic, it's a couple of days worth," he rolled his eyes slightly, looking you in the eyes for a moment, his hair slightly messy and his stubble a little overgrown. you had both been overworked, that much was obvious.

"arthur i'm just sick of being the only one doing it! you literally have not done a load of washing in fucking weeks," you said frustratedly, your hands slipped in your own hair and fighting the urge to tear it from your head.

you both knew this wasn't really about washing - you hadn't seen eachother much, you had both been busy and tired and not enough communication had happened, which led to this - a cut throat argument about dirty dishes.

"i've barely been here! you're overreacting here, stop being ridiculous!" arthur bit back, and your eyes narrowed a little.

"oh, i'm overreacting? how am i possibly supposed to cook for us when there's nothing here!" you said, swallowing slightly, biting the inside of your cheek gently

"i've been busy! it's not easy to juggle everything you know," he paused, breath slightly bated, "look, we can just order in tonight an-" he said, before you cut him off with a wave of argument.

"we've ordered in four nights this week already, arthur. you're trying to temp fix a bigger issue here - i just want to be able to come home and cook the meal i planned to cook, without having to worry about if you have pulled your weight around the house!" you said, your lip slightly curled into a pouted snarl.

arthur hissed back, "you're being fucking ridiculous, it's dishes! stop being so fucking stubborn," he said, his voice raised louder than either of you had spoke this argument - sure, you were being bitchy and petty to each other, but his pointed and raised voice made your eyes widen a little and your head turning to the ground, biting a lip to try and stop your eyes from going misty, you hadn't heard that tone from arthur, ever. he was the most gentle and considerate guy you knew, so to hear such a asserted and snappy thing from him stung that little bit more.

hearing a slight gasp from him, like even he was surprised he had snapped at you like that, he stepped a little closer, "listen, i-i didn't me-"

"don't start shouting at me," you murmured, cutting him off. "i'm gonna go in the shower."

arthur's eyes widened a little "please don't walk away, i was being a dick, didn't mean to snap, sweetheart, i jus-"

"i just wanna go in the shower right now," you said, turning your heel slightly to try and hide your face, clearly betraying the hurt as you heard arthur sigh to himself as you left the room, the bathroom door signalling you were gone.

once you were in the bathroom, you instantly turned the shower on, the steam filling the room as you allowed your eyes to go slightly clouded, wiping them off with the sleeve of your shirt. you had no intentions to shower, but you just needed five minutes to gather yourself and not let arthur see you cry.

you felt so silly, was this something you should be crying over? sure, he snapped and he was being unkind, but you felt so childish, crying because you got shouted at.

after a couple minutes, you heard a soft knock on the door, before a more mellowed arthur, his voice soft and dejected, completely contrasted from before, "lovie? please, can hear you're upset from out here. i didn't mean to snap, i'm sorry, that was completely my fault. fighting with you is the last thing i want, i swear. i think we're just arguing 'cause we've been so busy lately, barely seen each other. we can sit down and have a talk about chores, if thats what you need. i don't want to make things harder for you, i'm supposed to make them easier, to help you." you heard him drabble on, and once he paused to take a breath, you cracked open the door slowly, facing him with a slightly red face, tears wiped from your face and a softened but still hurt expression.

"c'mere, i'm sorry," he said, arms wrapping around you easily, one hand going to the back of your head and stroking gently, "i was being a dick,"

you let out a slight soft laugh into his jumper, still a little sniffly, "i probably didn't help, i was being a bitch about something so trivial,"

"no, you're right, i haven't helped enough," he said gently.

you pulled slightly away from him for a moment, "think you're right, we were just getting snappy and short 'cause we're both tired, and have barely seen each other, seems silly 'cause we live together but we've seen each other without really seeing each other for a while, you know?" you said softly, and he nodded, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"i know what you mean. what would you rather do, we can order in or if you'd rather cook the pasta you've been craving i'll do the dishes now and we can cook together and chill out?" he offered gently, and you tilted your head a little.

"i can make the pasta. we haven't ate a proper meal together in a while." you said with a soft smile, "you wash and i'll dry?" you offered, and he nodded his head reassuringly.

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part:𝟷𝟸

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 4624

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

It was quite the struggle to train with Ben for a week, especially when he took it extremely seriously and pushed you to the very limit. It was not that he hurt you; it was that in the lab you either lost your will to fight or you just got really weak.

There were moments when you stated to Ben that things might get serious about your power, but he chose to ignore you and aggravated the training, which left you worn out. But you were relieved that he could, in his own irritating way, encourage you that your strength was still there.

Ben answered, “No,” right away when you wanted to stop the exercise.

Right now, the entire home was a mess, and the hole you had made in the wall remained.

“I'm tired here, Ben,” you complained as you fell to the ground, gasping for air. You had been there exercising together since the morning, and it was nearly the sun going down. Except when you needed to eat or pee, he rarely gave you a moment's peace of mind. “I mean it. I'm done.” 

You opened your hands wide on the ground, and he looked at your body while saying, “You're a supe; you can't just feel exhausted that easily.”

You blushed as you noticed him staring at your soaked entire body and replied, “Give me some break.” There's a good chance that you were both thinking the same thing. “How on earth can you find that much energy? Even for a supe, it's too much.”

Ben stared at you and then took off the shirt he had taken off hours earlier, wiping the sweat from his muscular chest. You grimaced, knowing you probably smelled like trash. 

“It's because I am the strongest; I am not just any average Supe.” With the most arrogant way possible, he threw his t-shirt back to the ground and said, “Simply better and more powerful than anyone. But don't worry; we'll return you to the way things were, sweetie. You have my word.”

He gave you a sneaky smirk when he saw you staring at his broad, sweat-damp chest. Ben was waiting for you, literally, from above, all the time you tried to get some rest. His eyes narrowed, and you suspected his head was full of filthy stuff. 

You just muttered, “I hope so,” and avoided giving him a glance as you closed your eyes.

He sighed and went down on the floor next to you, crossing his big arms over his head. 

“Don't think about it that much. You're going to do even better than you are now. Maybe we should just do those trainings more frequently. What do you say?”

“It’s fine. I don’t have another choice anyway,” you replied, cutting it short while keeping your eyes closed. Even if you felt his intense stare on your face, you didn’t react. “What did the doctor tell you, by the way? The one who supervised Compound V's improvement for decades?”

You remembered that there was a lot of discussion following the news that Ben had killed him at his home. You kind of hoped you could have dealt with that cruel piece of shit on your own, though. He was just a monster with a white robe. He had always made an aggressive attempt to cause damage to you and showed no sympathy or compassion for anyone. You got scared and insecure when you opened your eyes, recalling the physical harm he had inflicted. 

“Fucking piece of shit!” Ben angrily exclaimed, his fists clenched over his head. “I should have killed him properly.” 

“What did he say, so you blew up?” 

“Isn't it obvious? That pussy told me how little supes are in the big picture of science, the future of the supremes, humanity, and some other bullshit. It's certain that Vough paid that cocksucker generously during all those years. He lived in luxury, torturing us, and he didn’t even regret it.”

“Did he tell you what kind of research he did on my body?” You asked as you moved your body to face him. 

Ben fell silent for a minute, enraged by what he remembered the doctor had said about you. Nevertheless, his eyes softened as he saw your expression and saw that you were excited to hear what he was about to say and that you were feeling at ease and comfortable next to him. That was all he needed. Ben recognized that if he made a determined attempt to be by your side and touch you in the way he desired, you would push him even further away and that you weren't

ready for physical contact at this time. He therefore forced himself to keep his distance from you and let you do whatever you wanted.

He just turned to face you and stated, “I didn't give him enough time to talk,” straightening his posture and sitting straight up on the floor. “He's just an animal, and he sees supes as rats for research in order to make profit. That's all.”

“When we agreed to live this life as supers, Ben, we already knew that.” You said bitterly, “People in charge always wanted to play with us like we were toys. They used us as they pleased and needed us for their own good. I wanted to leave the company for a number of reasons, one of which was that I was unaware of how serious that whole picture was. What I need to learn is what they succeeded in doing during the decades we were unconscious and at their mercy.”

Ben sighed and got up to get some weed from the nearest table, just after helping you off the floor.

“I was told by that son of a bitch that he examined you to make the future supers flawless. Though I'm not really sure what he meant, it seems to me that Queen Maeve—the woman from Seven—is their new you.”

“Do you think they might have found a way to weaken me? Don't say 'no' right away,” you said in a hurry when he opened his lips to object. “It just doesn't feel right about what's going on and everything.”

Your concerns, which were constantly lurking beneath the surface, took over when you realized that Ben had remained silent. Something was off with you, you two sensed that. Although after your first training day you felt a little stronger, your weakness remained under your skin.

You pulled open a window to let some fresh air in and muttered, “If you hadn't just killed the doctor, we could have learned about it.”

Ben offered you one of the glasses and sighed as if he regretted what he had done, filling the other one with wine. “I didn't intentionally kill him. It simply happened beyond my control. But I would still murder him anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow and sat down, realizing that your tiredness was taking over. “You need to find a way to control it since your nerves are always on edge,” you said. “And also, I need to find someone who can understand all of this.”

Ben sat beside you, stretching his muscles and leaning back into the coach while he listened to you attentively. As you spoke, you noticed that your gaze lingered a little too long on his sweating body, almost making you flush. 

He studied your expression to see how you would react to his suggestion. He said, “I guess the best option is to kidnap or torture a doctor who is in charge or fuckever who's doing supe studies for Vought right now. We can use Mindstorm to look at your memories and thoughts to see whether they have hurt you in any way.”

His suggestion caused your eyes to widen with excitement, and you exclaimed, “That's actually a smart idea. But how are we supposed to find him?”

“Remember the new technology, sweetheart. Anything is possible with these phones, Bluetooth, and GPS technology. Remember how I found you very easily?”

You gave a nod to him, knowing that what he stated was right and that you would be able to reach Mindstorm with ease thanks to modern technology.

After you had your shower, you saw Ben watching the TV with a dead serious face, and you sat beside him.

As you used the towel in your hand to dry your damp hair, you inquired, “Is there any news about us? Almost a week has passed.”

“Not much,” he replied as he continued to listen to Homelander talk about the two of you.

‘They pose no threat to the United States,’ Homelander confidently stated, grinning, as he extended his arms and turned to face the screen. 'As Seven, we've been trying to find them for a week, but it looks like they are hiding pretty well,' he continued. I, Homelander, the Seven's leader, swear to you that they shall answer for their actions. It has been proven that Soldier Boy rescued Y/N, and it's very likely that the two of them murdered the hapless doctors as well as every lab employee in cold blood and without hesitation.'

You and Ben exchanged a look as Homelander continued his speech. ‘Their families and children are in agony even though our government gives them the best care they can. These two criminals are responsible for the deaths of the orphans whose parents they killed. It breaks our hearts to see them weeping and grieving the loss of their families. There are even toddlers among them. Soldier Boy and Y/N will be held liable and made to pay for the harm they caused to the United States and its citizens. They have little time to conceal; they cannot get away.’

As the audience gave him a loud applause and he flew opening his arms out like.

Ben angrily said, “Fuck that. Son of a bitch,” and threw the remote control onto the table in front of him. “They were just another piece of shits who enjoyed torturing supes, nothing else.”

“But I didn't kill anyone,” you mumbled. “We are past the point of self-justification. Homelander is basically controlling the crowds. They would never pay to listen to us, Ben.”

Ben stared at the TV and said, “I'll teach them how to listen,” in a menacing manner. “You see? It's no longer about Butcher and his useless group. It has to do with our future.”

You could have argued with him about the future, but all you wanted was to avoid getting into another fight with Ben. 

“I think such a guy wouldn't be innocent at all. We might be able to defeat the company if we can figure out how to properly express ourselves, explain to them how Vought tricked us, and show the real Homelander to the rest of the world. There isn't another way.”

 “I know, I know,” he muttered.

As you could tell Ben was becoming enraged and feeling overwhelmed, you touched his bare chest, which had a little glow to it. “Hey, are you okay?”

He responded with, “I am,” placing his hand on yours and giving you a gentle squeeze. 

“Can you please stop getting angry for a second? I can sense the heat building in your chest.” You muttered, “You're stressing me out here,” but you didn't remove your hand from his upper body. You could feel him cooling down beneath your touch once again. It was fine as long as it worked; you simply didn't know why. 

“Well,” he said, arching an eyebrow, licking his lips, allowing you to touch him, and gently tracing his fingers over yours. His powerful, slow beats were calming in a way. “It's not too bad. Is it?” 

You withdrew your hand from his sweating chest while rolling your eyes at him and making sure he was okay. 

Ben had just showered when Butcher and Hughie showed up at the house. 

Butcher remarked in a sly manner, “Glad, I delayed for an hour coming here to pick up you two,” as you and Ben got into the back of the car. “We could have interrupted something funny, judging by the all-wet hairs and all.”

“We were just finished training there!” you exclaimed, your face heated. 

“It must be very good training, indeed. The entire fucking house was damaged like hell. You two spent a whole week all showering and training while we were dealing with the shit Soldier Boy caused.”

“Sorry for that, but it's not what you think, really.”

“I thought Soldier Boy and Crimson were having a relationship. Yet life goes on, don't they? There are always new, fine chickens and dolls all around.” Butcher smirked at Ben.

You were ready to add something about Ben and you having nothing to do, but Ben became enraged right away when Butcher brought up the Crimson Countess. 

“Don't you fucking know how to stay silent and shut your useless mouth?” Butcher was obviously enjoying himself when he suddenly made Ben mad. 

“What made you so furious now? Have I said anything untrue?” 

Hughie leaned back in his seat and said, “Butcher, stop that,” sounding distressed as Ben continued to swear at them both and told Hughie to make Buther to suck him soon, so his mouth would be filled enough not to talk stupid.

“Why even do you become irate out of nowhere? After all, you murdered the poor woman.”

You looked up at Ben, asking with disbelief, “What? Why did you even kill Countess?”

The fact that Ben never brought it up startled you even more than Butcher's statement, as though it were nothing important. You were stunned and shocked beyond belief. At that point, you were at a loss for what to think. You were not sympathetic to her, though. After all, Vought used her as a cunning evil to harm both you and Ben. She was the one who paid you a visit in order to deceive you that day. 

He tried to convince you immediately, giving you a gentle look as if he wanted you to understand what he had done. “She deserved whatever I've done,” he defended himself. 

You acknowledged, “I know she did. But why?”

He looked at Butcher and then turned to face you, almost whispering, “Let's discuss this at a later time. All right?”

You found Annie nowhere to be found when you got to Butcher's home, where only Kimiko and Frenchie were inside. Kimiko watched Frenchie play with his phone, seeming bored.

“Why did it take so long for you to come here?” Frenchie inquired in an irritated manner to Butcher. “You give me too much to deal with, though you know I have things to do. Kimiko is also exhausted.”

Butcher sarcastically remarked, “Hello to you too, baby,” as he removed his coat. “I have not even once heard a complaint from her; she is an incredible Supe. She can't possibly be exhausted, right, doll?”

Ben moved you over to the edge of the coach and sat by you, resting his legs on the table, just as you were about to strike up a conversation with Kimiko. You were fine with him being close, though, so you said nothing at all. In fact, if you were honest with yourself enough, you would admit that his behavior around you somewhat comforted you. 

“Kimiko and I have spent days looking for Black Noir and Queen Maeve, but we haven't made any progress so far. It's strange that they were absent from everything for so long. You see, something isn't quite right. According to Starlight, they have vanished.”

“The fuck you mean they are missing?” Butcher asked in disbelief.

“Why would Noir would go missing? It's not his thing to disappear,” you said. You thought you were thinking to yourself, but you had said it loud.

“He must have ran away when he saw us back together,” Ben said in am amused tone. “He fucking knows I'm going to kill him too. He’s a fucking dead man.”

You told Ben, “There must be a reason,” ignoring the way he talked about taking Earving's life. Right now, you don't need to see Ben being enraged over Noir and losing his temper again. 

“How the fuck doesn't Starlight know where Queen Maeve is?” Butcher questioned Hughie. 

Hughie took his head in his hands and responded, “She thinks Homelander did something to her. Maybe he killed Maeve.”

“How about Ninja Cunt, though? He is known as Homelander's right wing. Suppose he murdered Maeve. What about Noir?”

Frenchie remarked, “That's what I'm trying to understand,” and Kimiko communicated with him using sign language swiftly. 

“All right, we'll watch out for this and see if he shows up again.” Butcher ended it quickly and continued. “Tomorrow, Soldier Boy and I are heading to New York.”

You eyed Butcher with suspicion, asking, “Why and why not me?” 

“You two stayed at a lovely house for a week, for God’s sake. Aren't all of the showers enough? Is it not possible for you to separate for even a single day? Would you really miss this cunt that much?”

As Butcher continued to make assumptions about you and Ben, your face heated. Kimiko and Frenchie turned to face you in harmony, taken aback. 

“You're just making the wrong assumptions.” You distanced yourself from Ben and explained, “It's not like that,” acting as though you had been proven guilty. Ben didn't appear to be supportive when you stared at him, yet it seemed as though he was okay with Butcher's comments. “What I want to know is what you're going to be doing here and why I have to stay here.”

“Yes, doll. To catch up with your old friend TNT Twins, we are going to join Herogasm. It's almost like we have to clear your names first. Maybe they know anything about the specifics of those events from decades ago, and they could say something that we could use against Vought. Though things might get messy soon, don't you worry, I'm going to keep an eye on your soldier so that he won't be pouding into any supe cunt there,” he said with a wicked smile.

Ben said, “Maybe we can also find a thing about Mindstorm there,” giving you a meaningful glance and a small touch on the arm before you could respond. You nodded to him. 

“However, why must I stay here?”

“Kimiko needs to get some work done, and we need more muscle to help Frenchie and Hughie here. Let's don't take too much attention.”

“Okay,” you said, acknowledging the situation and giving up on further arguments. Herogasm was something you've always detested and loathed. Ben, the founder of it, was making it even worse. Yet the one thing about Ben's inconsistent anger—the energy in his chest—that scared you was his unpredictable temper. You weren't sure if he could find a way to control it soon enough. 

You questioned Hughie, “By the way, where is Annie?” As a member of Vought and Seven, you were aware of how difficult it must be to handle the entire company's evil by yourself. 

“I don't think she'll find Maeve anytime soon, but she's doing some research in order to locate her. She seemed to have disappeared in a heartbeat.”

You figured she was kind of involved in this too, based on the way they talked about her. 

Ben abruptly stood up and stated, “I guess all the rooms are full. So, which room are Y/N and I staying in tonight?”

“Not full,” Hughie smiled in response. “I suppose there are now two available rooms since I will be seeing Annie tonight.” 

Kimiko nodded quickly as she gave a smile to you.

Ben's expression darkened as Hughie continued to tell him and Annie that they would not be staying in this house any longer, while Ben quietly cursed. He glanced at you for a moment, but you ignored him and asked Kimiko to show you the room where you would be sleeping. 

After an hour of inspecting the room and all of the furniture within, you heard a light knock on the door and knew it was Ben.

After a minute, you said, “Come in,” startled that Ben was holding back, opening the door this time without your permission. 

He whispered, “As you wish, baby,” and carefully shut the door behind him. 

In the dim light, his hair fell over his forehead, and his white t-shirt made your heart melt just a bit. Under his large arms, his t-shirt was too tight. Perhaps you weren't used to seeing him in his regular clothes, which is why you were still excited when you were around him. 

“What now?” you muttered as you sat on the bed and observed him approach you. 

He joked, “Don't get excited; I'm just here to make some conversation,” and sat down next to you right away. 

You said, almost in a whisper, “Which is about?” while he briefly studied your body.

His darkened eyes lingered on your revealing nightgown, but you remained silent, intensifying the tension in the moment. 

Ben's desire to force your body to the covers, get on top of you, take off your sweatpants, and get you ready for some post-breakup fucking was unbearable. He was well aware that you never touched yourself when you were by yourself in the house, and that really disturbed him because he knew that he was the reason for it. Ben could tell by the way you looked at him and by the beating in your heart that your body still yearned for him, but he also understood that he had to rebuild your trust in every way. He had to take care of his meat by hand up until that point. 

After sighing and searching for the right words, Ben uttered, “About the thing I told you that we can discuss later.” He made an effort not to speak about Crimson bitch right away. She was the reason your nerves were already fragile. He had no reason to blame you for it. 

As he attempted to read how you were feeling, you questioned in a cold voice, “Why did you kill her? Was it unintentional?” 

You were curious as to whether he truly intended to murder her or if this was just another unintentional incident similar to the others. You needed to comprehend it, even though you didn't know why it mattered. 

After a while, he said, “I blew up,” and when you realized he hadn't done it on purpose to exact vengeance for you, your posture straightened. 

Ben said, “I was just trying to get information about you and your location before killing her,” as soon as he saw the look on your face. “I was cautious to do anything until she had spoken about you. But I was unable to control myself when she touched my nerves.”

“Did you kill her just because she was unfaithful?” You questioned him suspiciously, attempting to make sense of his motivations. Ben might tell you the truth or a lie, but you would still listen to him even if you weren't sure he would be completely honest with you. “In the end, it's her who deceived you. Whether Vought commanded her or not is important. She was the one who brought you there so they could capture you and then transport you to Russia.”

After pausing to comprehend what you were asking, Ben responded, “I would kill her anyway because of what she had done to both of us,” as if he had no idea how to answer properly. “Especially to you.” 

You said, your eyes softening with sorrow, “I wonder what you would do to me if I were the one to trick you, Ben,” knowing that, after all these years, loyalty was what mattered most to him. “Even if I had every right to do so.” 

“I would never hurt you,” he abruptly rejected, emphasizing each word in a hard voice. “I knew I would deserve it anyway.”

“I'm not so sure of that, Ben,” you said. “You're even more dangerous considering I'm getting weaker and you're ready to blow up anytime.” 

His smile expanding, he added, “Hey, don't say such things,” took one of your hands, placed it on his warm chest, and whispered, “You have every power over me.”

Under his focused gaze, your face flushed, and after a moment, you reluctantly withdrew your hand. 

“So, you're going to Herogasm tomorrow?” you said, attempting to change the topic. “Given how difficult it was to persuade you not to join decades earlier, you must have missed it quite a lot.” 

“Are you feeling jeaolus?” he asked with a mischievous smile, and you grimaced. 

“Why should I be? I'm just saying you might have missed the chance to join the party that you organized after all this time.”

“I'm not going there to fuck, baby; I'm not interested anymore,” he murmured, retaining an arrogant chuckle. “I'm going to call you when I get there.”

“I'm not sure.” You said to quit talking about Herogasm anymore. “I might be busy to pick up when you call.” Herogasm was the world's dumbest thing, especially since Ben founded it. 

“Why may be you even busy, anyway?” This time Ben uttered serious words: “I'll call you nonstop, so keep your phone with you every moment.”

You responded with the same heedlessness, “I might.” 

Ben smiled playfully and narrowed his eyes. “Since you too need to take care of yourself, it will actually be good for us to be apart for just a small amount of time.”

You naively asked, “About what?” as though he would make a crucial point. 

“You might as well relax on this bed while I'm away because I’m pretty aware of you're not touching yourself, knowing I'd hear you in a second, huh?”

You became the deepest shade of scarlet in your cheeks and murmured, “I can't believe you.”

“I'm not making fun,” he declared with seriousness. “It is also a bodily necessity. You don't have to reject playing with yourself a bit. Being the reason is something that irritates me a lot.”

“I don't feel ashamed of taking care of myself because of you or anything else,” you immediately argued, ignoring the heat on your cheeks. “I have no problem touching myself while you're here. It's not all that important.” 

Ben arched an eyebrow at your quick, brave, “If you say so,” followed by a sigh. 

“I'm serious here, Ben,” you continued, growing agitated by his haughty demeanor and enormous ego. “I'll prove it.”

He studied your figure and growled in a low voice, “I won't promise that I won't focus on you or listen to the way you sound.”

“Then don't.”

Next Chapter

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A/N: Comments and reblogs are appreciated very much.  They keep me going. ♡˚.

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[izaanagi]

There is a moment of panic when you knock on the door, your nerves giving a jolt - before a curt ‘Come in’ seals your faith. 

As the door creaks open, exactly like it would in a horror movie, you step in only to have the man sitting at his desk and typing away at laptop fill up your vision. He does not look up from the task he is completing, but even the clacks of his drawn out fingers sound elegant and useless to argue with. The aura that Barou exudes is simply that of complete devastation and utter dominion: there is no way to fight such a beast and even for a second hope you could come alive out of it. 

“I have the documents you asked for earlier. I am going to leave them on the desk, sir,” you put out, as the boss has not spared yet a glance, and you don’t  have enough time to waste. 

He does not answer, and so all is left to do is to pace forward, place the pile on top of the flawlessly arranged working desk and turn around to leave. But you still have to make a step towards the door, when the clacking stops. 

“Wait,” he snaps, as you hear him getting up and cross over to go towards the door, and shut it close. 

It’s not a good sign, and you swallow the clump of saliva just formed inside your mouth. There is anticipation and dread, and they’re both equally as powerful. 

As Barou approaches, all you can do is step back - but there is nowhere to go, as soon your back hits the desk and his splayed hand trap you right where you would not like to be at this time: right in his cage, his eyes fixed on yours, his cologne being overbearing of the citrus lemon ambiance diffuser he has somewhere hidden on one of his shelves. 

“You thought you could simply go like this after what happened yesterday?” He asks, almost curious. “Did you think that it was a one-time thing and that now we could just go back to working in the same space with no repercussions?” 

You swallow again, and shake your head. “I did not dare to think so, sir.”

Then, he comes closer and closer, until your mouths are a breath away and his deep red eyes are the only splash of colour you can focus on. 

“Then you can get on your knees and make me forget that for a second you did, little peach,” he whispers, as a grin tries to appear on his mouth. 

There is already a knowing pool of wetness forming over your grey panties, your hands slightly trembling both in fear and anticipation of what his newly formed connection will be like. It does not matter that Barou’s cock was inside you not even twenty four hours prior, this is a place of work and tainting it with the smell of sex is not something that you could have imagined. 

Almost on autopilot, a dull throb possessing your faults hidden beneath a layers of clothes, you sink on your knees, your face landing directly in front of your boss’ crotch, a tent in his pants evident. He’s semi hard by the time you pull down his zipper and his pants. 

Your nose bares close to his cock, a small smear of pre cum staining the white boxers - when Barou’s hands grabs your neck, almost enveloping it, and presses your face against himself. 

“This is all your fault. I’m sitting here and all I can think about is how tight your pussy was,” he almost moans. 

Your lick his shaft through the fabric, the firmness of his member weighting on your tongue. The fabric gets in the way, wet under your ministrations, until Barou gets tired of it and with a small “Fuck this,” simply tugs at his waistband, and draws his dick out, red and swollen. 

You lose no time to envelope his tip inside, sucking on the soft skin and trailing your tongue over his slit, salty from the precum. Your left hand then wraps around his length, from the base up to the middle, as your struggle to let your fingers meet, given his girth. There is a ton of Barou and your mouth is simply too small to take him all in. 

“You look good on your knees with my cock in your mouth,” he says, as he pushes your head once again, his tip almost hitting the back of your throat with the power behind it. “Make use of that mouth wisely.”

Your head starts bobbing up and down, taking as much of him as you can, as your tongue swirls around his vein underneath, his glans and wherever it reaches. You almost gag before you can remove yourself from him, a thread of saliva connecting you to the majestic statement of manhood. You look up only to find Barou Shouei flushed, one hand still on the desk to support himself and the other ready to take advantage of you again. 

Blowing him is a hard job, as you twist your hand around the parts you cannot reach with your mouth, licking his shaft up and down with your tongue, and then sucking in his tip, cheeks hollowed up. 

As his cock hits the back of your throat again and you gag for the umpteenth time, you can feel Barou’s cock twitch. It reverberates throughout your wet pussy, looking for some kind of release, but Barou’s hands are soon on your head and all you can do is grasp his hips as he thrust into your mouth with ferocity, seeking a climax. 

There is an abrupt “Holy fuck,” as cum flows into your mouth, thick and hot, the taste of sea water. There is no time to spit out as his hand closes your mouth and all you can do is swallow his semen, make a disgusted face and wipe your mouth. 

“I hope you enjoyed your meal,”he says as he shoves his dick once again in your mouth, in order for it to be clean. But that’s as far as it goes, as you stand up, your knees hollering at you from being in that position a minute too long and wobbling at the door, mentally scanning your desk to remember whether you brough some water with you. 

“Close the door as you go,” Barou adds, as he zips himself up and goes to sit back again at where you found him when you came into the office. 

“You are such a dick,” you mutter to yourself as you bang the door after you, and can all but see the satisfied shit eating grin that Barou Shouei has plastered on his lips. 

[yuri-is-online]

Well Maybe the Octopus was Being a Dick! (Or Tsunotarou tries to do Yu a solid but he misunderstood a joke)

A/N- I am so sorry this is my first post I swear I have real writing ON GOD- EDIT- Made a part 2 with the other guys (x)

Various x Reader

"Human courtship rituals are truly as bizarre as they are fascinating."  Tsunotarou muses as you fight with your sleep deprived brain to remember how you even got on to this topic.  Today hadn't been a good day, Grim had been in a bad mood, Trein had popped a quiz on you, and Deuce had somehow managed to land you both in detention because he screwed up a potion.  By the time you managed to drag yourself back to Ramshackle, you were so tired you were practically falling over, only to find Tsunotarou pouting outside your gate.  You didn’t really have it in you to tell him no, so you’d stumbled around the woods outside your dorm for a few moments talking about… courtship?  Apparently?  You could have sworn you were just talking about some anime Idia suggested you watch.  “I never would have expected watching fish to be such a fundamental step in one’s relationship."

“Yeah there’s a thing in my world about it too.”  you say thinking about a visual novel you’d played once (or was it thirty?) times.  “Some sort of bit about a date where you go to an aquarium and when your person points out fishes they like you jump into the tank to fight them for their affection.” You blink and Tsunotarou suddenly fills your vision, staring intensely into your eyes.”

“Child of man, are you serious about this?”  he asks, and you just blink in response.  You’re pretty sure you are missing something here.

“Uh, yeah?  It was pretty funny I guess.”  you say, extremely confused.  Tsunotarou simply nods with a look of utmost seriousness on his face.

“I see, how very interesting you are child of man.  Fear not, I will make sure you receive the courtship you deserve.”  The only response you can think to give is a blank stare, but Tsunotarou is already gone and apparently on a mission.

“Fully intends to do combat for your hand but gets too distracted”- Malleus

He really wants to do this the right way, if fighting the fish in the aquarium tank will show the extent of his devotion then beloved, you need only point at the offending article and it will be turned to cosmic dust.  But you’re just too ethereal in the aquarium lighting and he ends up completely forgetting his objective in coming here and follows you around like a love struck puppy the entire time.  Whoops, objective failed successfully.

"Claims to know it's a joke, fights anyway"-Jade, Leona

Look, he knows there's no way what Malleus is claiming is even remotely true.  Your world might not have any magic, but it sounds pretty “normal” by human standards.  Fighting fish for someone’s affection?  Un-fucking-likely.  Jade enjoys being a mild inconvenience to everyone around him and Malleus really has just given him the best excuse to be an absolute menace.  He’s responding to everyone’s complaints with a put upon sigh, lamenting what drastic lengths he has to go to for your affection.  Leona’s more the type to directly tease you about it; he shredded Azul’s contracts and left him a crying mess, that’s got to count as beating up a fish right?  He’s just waiting on your response, herbivore.  

“Shrimp heaven really is now!”- FLOYD        

Doesn’t even think twice about it.  He’s already obsessed with picking fights with strong people anyway, now you’re telling him he gets to beat people up and win shrimpy’s affection at the same time?  Floyd’s kicking up his feet and giggling a little too much for anyone’s comfort, almost like he’s misinterpreted fish to mean friends.  Please prefect, Ace is begging you, just give your eel some kisses so he knows you're already his or direct him towards some actual fish before they are fuCkING UNDER ATTACK-

“Claims to know it’s a joke, overthinks anyway”- Jack, Azul, Riddle    

Ok ok look, just hear him out on this one.  Some cultures do place a significance on ritual combat to win a prospective partner’s affection.  Sure he doesn’t THINK you come from a culture like that, but maybe you do and just haven’t mentioned it this whole time and that’s why his obvious not so obvious attempts at flirtation have gone over your head.  Because he wasn’t offering to fight fish for you.  No now that he tries to say that out loud it sounds even more ridiculous BUT WHAT IF- repeat ad nauseum until he timidly (Jack, Riddle), slyly (Azul) just asks you about it and can’t decide who he’s more embarrassed for: Malleus or himself.

“Brings you actual fish”- Trey, Rook, Ruggie      

He has enough of a head on his shoulders to realize Malleus is probably misinterpreting something that was meant to be funny, but hey, it’s given him an idea.  For Rook, the idea of hunting wild game to provide you with nourishment is an idea he’s toyed with more than once.  If Roi du Dragon deems him worthy of advice, the least he can do as an appreciator of beauty is take it.  Trey’s already a fan of puns and dad jokes, and he knows A LOT of ones about fish.  Probably invites you over to help him bake it with the excuse of prepping for an unbirthday party and shamelessly teases you the whole time.  Ruggie’s the only normal man here I’m sorry to say, he just gets the idea to take you fishing as a date.  He gets to spend time with you AND supplement his diet, it’s a win-win situation.

“COMPLETELY ignores the fish thing and rags on your sleep schedule”- Vil

He’s not mad, he’s just disappointed spudling.  Really you need to be taking better care of yourself, how else are you supposed to blossom into the beautiful flower he knows you are if you aren’t getting those full 8 hours honey?  Tells you to be thankful he isn’t being unreasonable while he’s waltzing through your dorm cursing every energy drink he can get his hands on.  He will brute force your circadian rhythm back into shape so help him GOD.

[sameschmidtdiffname]

hai i have a request for a mike fic, so i was thinking of a comfort/hurt type of thing and maybe like a “i didn’t know where else to go” kind of trope where reader shows up to his house in the middle of the night distressed and he comforts her

To All I Think is Safe

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: After a family dinner gone awry, something guides you somewhere where your mind can safely wander in better memories than the ones you're making right now.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific pronouns for Reader, mentions of arguments, heavy disassociation, heavy nosebleeding, flashbacks, first kiss, date, fear of heights, fair date, author is fucking trying, fluff.

Notes: I think my bosses want me dead. Anyway, here's Wonderwall.

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

I can handle family. Who can't handle family?

The part of me knocking on the green door illuminated only by the orange streetlight a few yards away, trying to peak through one of the three window slots on the door to see if there's any sign of life inside of the modest house, praying that there is out of selfish desperation. That's who.

I hadn't called. Hadn't given notice. I'd been too caught up in the emotions of myself to do so, worried I'd be turned away if I had. The thought makes me feel ill now, my mind chastising me for such a self interested act.

For a moment I almost turn to leave, sure that no one is awake and that I've simply wasted the gas in the trip over here. But at the loud clunk of the door unlocking, I feel my heart jump and sink simultaneously as Mike peaks his head through the crack in the door, bags under his eyes and hair tossled from sleep.

"Hey," he croaked, blinking away the sleep as his tired face managed a look of surprise.

"Hey," I said softly, trying not to let my voice crack. But it does. "Is this a bad time?"

I don't know what gives my state away. Maybe it's how swollen my face is, puffy and burning from the overexposure to salt water. I can already feel the skin on my eyes balloning in a disastrously unattractive manner. Maybe it's the snot that's still on my face even after trying desperately to wipe it away, my problem being I'd run out of napkins in my car some time ago and hadn't replaced them, so I'd been resorted to just trying my best to sniff back the snot or use the arm of my jacket, which is now soaked and covered by my hand to conceal it, to wipe it away. God, it's fucking sticky and I feel gross. I don't understand why the snot won't just stop fucking flowing.

"Shit, you're bleeding," Mike says. His eyes widen as he steps forward, instantly dragging me into the house, down the hall and into the bathroom.

Oh. That's why my head hurts.

The white light is blinding and overstimulating in the small, disorganized room. One glance in the mirror and I can see the bottom half of my face is grossly smeared in the snot-blood combo running from my nose, my eyes bloodshot and more dry than a British comedy from all of the tears. I stare at myself for a moment, hardly even realizing Mike is yanking my coat off of me, stroking my hair and trying to ask me questions about what happened. I can hear his voice but the words are muffled, and even though my eyes are staring at him now, I don't know when I turned to face him or what I'm really looking at. I'm just staring at anything. My mother used to call it 'staring off into space.' It's actually a disassociation episode. The kind that can make me lose myself in other thoughts, making me distant from reality where I assume the worst of things.

I'm rational enough to know not to lean into him. If I throw myself into his arms I'll smear my shit everywhere and then he'll be grossed out and will have to play nice after I interrupted his sleep to beg for comfort that should come easily enough from my aforementioned mother, but clearly I'm adult enough now that I don't need coddling and I shouldn't have driven here and-

Am I saying this out loud? Because my mouth is moving and I'm trying to say something but I'll be honest, my head is in disarray and Mike looks worried. Me too, buddy. Me too.

My hands try to help his find a wash cloth in his closet, trying to be useful, but they're covered in snot and blood too and it's dried and horrid looking and I just feel like some sticky toddler that's wailing over nothing because that's what I'm doing, and I'm trying not to dissolve into a new wave of tears because my eyes really, really hurt and I'm gonna end up hiccuping and sobbing and I shouldn't even be here right now.

Mike's hands wrap around mine and he's trying to pull me somewhere. But he won't get out of my way, tugging me forward and blocking me like it's some game. Then I realize it's him he's trying to drag me to, and I try to push away, not wanting to get him dirty or let him fulfill some duty of pity just because he feels obligated seeing me in such a state. He's touching my hair and there's snot in that too and this is all just entirely too much, making me burst out sobbing once more as I try to hide my face in my arm, feeling all too vulnerable and alone while in a house that's not mine in any way, shape or form. But his arms feel nice around me, and he's guiding me to the bathtub and helping me lay down inside of it. When he pulls away I'm paranoid for a second that he'll turn the shower head on and wash me like a drunk, especially when he reaches for the shower handles. He presses a clean, white cloth to the spout and let's just a little bit of water out to wet the washcloth before turning the water off and coming closer to me, dabbing and wiping gently at the drying mixture on my face.

There's a long while of silence. Him carefully washing me, his touch gentle and caring as I feel the wet glumps with dried crusts fade away. The pounding in my head begins to dull to an overwhelming ache, making me shut my eyes as I softly groan. When I think he's done I dare peaking at him from under my lashes, trying to read his mind. His brows are furrowed, probably in disgust. Lips pressed together as he sits on the balls of his heels,, watching me carefully. Most likely he'll let me sleep on the couch and then kick me out in the morning. I'll be lucky if I get the "We should see other people" speech. I wouldn't blame him if my calls just couldn't connect when I get home, leaving me to wonder what could've been if I hadn't been so selfish.

I don't even know the time for fucks sake.

"I'm not crazy," I say in this broken voice that only a crazy person would have.

I don't know what's funny, but he's laughing. His hand reaches out to stroke my cheek, and he feels so warm. His callouses have this smooth texture to them. Working hands. It's the first thing I noticed when we held hands the first time. It was at some carnival thing, and Abby was with us. It was sweet under those neon lights. The rides always look so cheap, but there's something enchanting in that. It's what I focus on now as my mind finally begins to relax, allowing me the guilty pleasure of mentally slipping away into an actual memory instead of just static filling my mind and drowning everything else out unpleasantly.

"I know," Mike says softly, his thumb stroking the raw skin under my eye as he watches me with a gentle smile, one probably meant to hide his contempt. "You're okay."

The rides had these giant speakers built into them. And the workers would play songs from them, loud enough it was blaring in your ear on the ride but it was a reasonable volume when you were just walking around on the wet, overgrown and matted grass that curls around the giant cables Mike and I both had to be irritating about reminding Abby not to trip on, both of us looking down to watch for them more than looking at anything else.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Mike asks gently. He's always so gentle. Well, not always.

"Ope, someone lost their drink," I said to Mike, pointing at a spilled lemonade on the dirt path that had been created by decades of the county fair foot-traffic.

"Five second rule," Mike said, his voice low and teasing in my ear, making me burst out laughing.

"That's fucking disgusting!" I exclaimed, looking at him incredulously. A mother passing by snapped 'hey!' At me, tugging her child harshly behind her as she glared. I blushed, covering my mouth with my hand at the outburst, which made Mike laugh just as hard as I just had.

I suppose I have to talk about it. I can't really just not show up at his doorstep in the middle of the night and not just explain myself. But my teeth feel cemented together, my throat full of glue that halts the words I could use to inform him of why I look like this. And my eyes are too tired to make contact with his. So I just melt into his hand, pressing it between my cheek and my shoulder. And he doesn't press any more.

"I always liked the rides that made me feel like I was flying," Mike said as we watched Abby spin round and round with some girl she often spent her days with. Lisa Something.

"Yeah?" I asked, turning to look at him, taking a drink from the giant lemonade that was not at all real lemonade and was instead some horrid sugar that's taking five years off of our lives mixed with whatever makes the color of the drink the same as construction workers glow-in-the-dark vests that I'm sure will have like, ten different studies on how it gives you some cardiovascular disorder from overexposure in twenty years. There's a waxy ring of chapstick around my straw, so it's easy to tell which one to drink from. Mike had gotten just the one giant drink and two straws, shoving them in with a smooth smile as he handed me the already sweaty, Pepsi branded cup to hold while we walked. I think he didn't know that I noticed the twelve year old boy who'd been five people ahead of us in line do the same thing with his date earlier, but it was a cute gesture nonetheless.

"Yeah. I don't know why, it just felt comforting. Wind fuckin' up my hair and shit," he said, hands shoved in his jean pockets as he watched the two girls, who are sticking their tongues out at us as they whirl by.

"What, like you were flying away from your problems?" I ask, genuinely guessing.

"Nah, I don't really think of it like that. Just felt like I was somewhere else for a bit. Could close my eyes and the only anxiety I felt was whether or not Genie there was gonna fucken drop me," he said, glancing at me and smirking as he points at the giant airbrushed painting of Genie from Aladdin on the side of the ride. That's definitely not licensed.

"Have you eaten?" Mike asks softly, coming a little closer to me as his other hand cups my opposite cheek. At that I shake my head, pressing my lips together.

"It was all just some giant fiasco," I said as I laughed while trying to aim my basketball for the hoop several feet in front of me. Mike's made like five goals in a row and is proudly holding a very cheap rainbow dolphin with lopsided eyes for me while he watches me struggle just to get one.

"What, your prom date?" He teased, leaning closer to my ear as I take a shot. And miss. Again. "Or this?"

I turned to him, glaring and trying to suppress my amused smile.

"The date was fine, my hair was horrid," I said, turning away from the man working the booth who was trying to convince me to try again.

"I always like your hair," Mike says softly, one hand stroking my hair as he presses his forehead against mine. God, why won't he just tear into me already? The anticipation is fucking killing me.

I open my mouth to respond, but I just hiccup instead. At that he gently helps me up, guiding me out of the bathroom and leading me into the kitchen where he promises a leftover bowl of chicken noodle soup has my name written all over it in the fridge.

There's a thousand insecure questions I want to ask right now. Does he hate me? Will he hate me? Is this just a prelude to an awful breakup? But instead I just cling to my thoughts quietly, not wanting an answer to anything. Reality fading in and out of focus.

The kitchen is quiet as he moves about, dishing out the leftovers and putting them in the cheap, stained microwave he'd had to buy when Abby blew up the last one with a pitiful attempt at making her own rice Krispy treats. He leans against the counter as we wait for the rattling machine to finish, neither of us really saying anything as my leg bounces wildly in anxiety.

"Are you okay?" Mike asks softly after a moment, tilting his head. His arms are crossed in front of him, which is normal for Mike but it still makes me on edge.

I try again to speak, but I can't. It feels like I'll just blow up again if I do. So I just shrug instead, not wanting to talk about the lengthy screaming match I'd managed to find myself in earlier that night.

The microwave beeps loudly, causing us both to start, Mike pulling the door open quickly to shut it up and take out the now hot bowl, hissing under his breath at himself for not grabbing a towel as he quickly moves to set it down in front of me. If I'd been in a better state I would've laughed at the admittedly comical sight, but I felt like I'd done enough at his expense for one night.

Once situated, there's long while of silence. No other noise except for my spoon clinking against my bowl as I eat quietly, Mike watching me across the glass table as he takes a few drinks from his clear glass of water, head on his large hand. A clock ticks in the other room, the hour later than I'd wanted to be when I showed up unannounced.

"I'm sorry," I finally say in a soft voice, my spoon scraping soundlessly against the maroon bowl. "I just didn't know where else to go."

He smiles softly at that, his hand reaching across the table for mine. The touch meant to be comforting instead sends me back into my thoughts, my body stiffening as my mind tries to distract me from my anxiety and doubt.

Our hands had been brushing against each other for hours as we'd walked. Both of us were too nervous to take the others, which is a bit silly since we were grown adults. But really we hadn't had any serious discussions yet. We were still in the dinners and texting phase, dancing around any serious 'what is this' talks until we felt like we would both have similar answers ready for any questions. The night had settled in solidly now, the fairgrounds only alive by the bright lights of the rides.

The grazing, however, had come to an end when the ferris wheel started clicking towards what felt like my untimely demise.

I fucking hate ferris wheels, fun fact.

I don't think Mike particularly likes them either, based off of how stiff his body was next to mine, his eyes trained dead ahead, his jaw clenched. I think he might break a tooth. Or maybe I'm projecting.

Abby and Lisa had been insistent on riding it, and had been even more insistent that Mike and I needed to ride something with them before the night was over. And even though we both looked at the thing with a pit in our stomach, neither of us felt ridiculous about being grown adults on that ride as opposed to all the others flooded with teens and kids dodging in and out, stomping in puddles of who knows what on their way to the next ride. So we gritted our teeth, handed over our tickets and got into the cart right behind Abby and Lisa, who wouldn't stop looking back at us with amused eyes, whispering into each other's each as they covered their mouths.

"My dad worked as a carnie," I blurted out as we hung mid air, halfway up the ride while they still loaded people in. "These things are fucken sturdy."

Mike didn't look at me. Or at least he didn't turn his head. I didn't either. His silence makes my anxiety a bit worse, wondering if my random fact had somehow irritated him, or if there was something I was supposed to do that I wasn't picking up on.

"... I'm gonna die to Creed," he finally said between his gritted teeth.

My brows furrow for a moment before I realize what song is playing, and then I'm laughing. Maybe a little too much, but that's the anxiety. Abby and Lisa are darting their heads around to look down at us, trying to see what's set me off, and Creed's taking One Last Breath on the blaring radio somewhere around us as they have been for the past however many months with the top song.

"I'm never gonna escape this, they play this way too much at work," I laughed. And he started laughing too, both of us white knuckled as we gripped the bar in front of us. Then we move up again, and the cart is slightly rocking, making me feel ill.

"That's okay," Mike says softly, his thumb trailing across my knuckles as I stare down at our hands. "I was missing you, anyways."

I look up at him, trying to read his expression, my head still trying to balance my focuses. There's concern in his eyes, obvious as he realizes how awful this particular episode is.

Abby is yelling something at us, but my head is buzzing with too much anxiety to hear her.

"Go away!" Mike yells back at her, waving his hand in irritation, then stopping as he realizes he's rocking the cart. He looked back at me anxiously, trying to smile. It just looked like he'd been shot instead. "Sisters," he said shyly.

"What's she saying?" I asked him, leaning closer to hear him better over the heavy guitar.

"Nothing," he insisted. "She's just being twelve."

I go to look up, only to feel his hand on top of mine, warm and strong as he grips it a little too hard for the first time, but I think that's out of anxiety too. No matter what, the first move makes me more dizzy.

"Your dad worked fairs?" He asked anxiously, obviously trying to change the subject.

"I should've called first," I say softly, leaning onto the table and pushing the empty bowl away from me as I lay on top of my arm.

"It's okay," he reminds me in a soft voice, rising from his chair while still holding my hand. "You're home now."

"Well, I'm at your home now," I hiccup into my arm. His arms wrap around me, guiding me up and into his warm embrace that I'd been longing for for what felt like hours.

"I thought you said you liked flying!" I laughed, terrified.

"Flying! This is sitting still while dangling above death!" Mike clarified. The carts began clicking again, and we now had an easier view of the two girls in front of us, making him gasp and yell out Abby's full name in scolding.

I see why he didn't want me to look up. Abby and Lisa are miming a make-out session while they giggle obnoxiously.

"Oh my God, I'm gonna fucking ground her," he groaned, covering his forehead with his other hand. His face is completely red, his body so stiff it feels like I could break off his arm with barely any pressure, and my own heart is slamming so hard against my chest I think it's visible.

One more click and we'll be at the top. Great.

He's looking down at me, I think he's trying to get me to refocus but I just can't. I've done my duties for the night, and now I'm stuck in this emotional pit of hatred and numbness as my mind tries to remind me of a better time that just makes me feel worse because Mike is speaking again and I just can't hear him.

"She's being a wingman. Really, she's just spotting a good opportunity," I rambled in Abby's defense. Mike glanced at me, then at the tweens in front of us.

"Yeah?" He asked, his voice nerve wracked.

"Oh yeah. Every little sister does it. I mean, it's partially based in torture, but overall she's trying to help," I said quickly, my breath shortening.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking just as pale as me.

"I fucking hate heights, please distract me," I pleaded quickly, only to immediately feel his teeth click loudly against mine as he kissed me, his lips sweet with sugar and hands nearly breaking mine from his tight grip, Abby and Lisa whooping obnoxiously in front of us as we freeze in the moment. It's clumsy, certainly. And it's obvious on both ends how long it's been since either of us have done this. But it's an effective method, my mind beginning to refocus on the taste of the borderline awful lemonade fresh on his breath, his shaking hand moving from the bar to cup my cheek cold from the wind. My eyes widen in surprise, the music swelling around us and the lights somehow brighter as we rock above the rest of the fair in the squeaking booth.

When he pulls away, there's a soft smile on his face, his tongue quickly darting out to taste his own lips.

"... I like your chapstick," he said shyly, neither of us focused on the fact that we're now moving steadily in the ride, fully tuned in to the other.

"Thanks," I said softly, cheeks burning against his touch. "Strawberry."

There's a long second of nothing, and I'm vaguely aware of Abby and Lisa screaming "Can You Feel the Love Tonight?" And someone is trying to shush them. I know it's not Mike because he's staring at me like an idiot. Completely satisfied and dramatically more calm as he leans in for another kiss, this time pulling me fully into his embrace.

"You're home," Mike repeats against my lips, then moving to trail along my cheeks, his hands carefully cupping my face once more as his touch grounds me back in reality. "I'll be here when your mind gets back."

As my own hands graze along his soft, cotton shirt, I feel my pulse begin to relax. Doubt beginning to creep away as his lips trail along my jaw, slowly working to my neck. It's not a demanding touch. It's just comfort. And he'll keep doing this until I return to him like I always do, and then he'll keep doing it until we both fall asleep in a tight embrace under a dozen blankets, half of which will be gone by morning as we wake in a pool of sweat across the bed from each other, only to seek the other out again in wakefulness. And there will be answers for his questions, and I'll be fine.

I'm home now.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

I FINALLY FUCKING PUBLISHED SOMETHING. HOLY FUCK I'M OVERWORKED. (Fun fact, this was fucking hard because I was actively disassociating while writing the whole thing. Reader just like me frfr)

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool. Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[vssail]

aventurine x fem! reader

warnings: boss x secretary, VERY out of character, reader is tired of avens gambling addiction

this is my first post here and also my first time trying to write something in english that isn't for school, so sorry if there are mistakes. hope someone likes it!

Many times you regretted picking up this job.

It was the 10th missing call you left to Aventurine. As always, he didn't picked the phone.

Sighing, you got up from your confy bed. You didn't even bother to change to proper clothes, judging by the time, almost 3 am, everyone at the casino would be too drunk to notice some girl walking in there in sleeping clothes. Your priority right now was to take Aventurine out of there and go back to your confy bed.

After a short ride in your car, you got in that demonic place. The bright lights were blinding you. You really hated casinos.

You didn't have to search too much to find the man you were looking for. A fight in the poker table was the only necessary hint you needed to find your boss. When you reached the scene, it was the same as always: some looser that doesn't accept his bad luck.

"There's no way you won five rounds in a row!" a guy shouted while holding the little peacock of your boss by the shirt collar.

This always happened, and you always appeared to save him from a beating. But this night you were tired, tired of all the paperwork he gave you last minute, tires of staying up because he didn't want to pick his fucking phone, tired for having to take the car at 3 am and tired of seeing the same scene every freaking night.

He saw you behind the guy, and a proud smile appeared on his face, thinking that you were going to save him like always. You could see his face change when he saw the guy holding him and you not moving to stop him. In your mind, this would be a good lesson for him to stop his bad habits.

Then, the first punch came, making his glasses to fly away of his face. That was the fact that changed your decision of not doing anything. With his eyes exposed to the angry looser, what you expected that was going to be some punches was going to turn into another thing beyond a game.

"A damn Avgin, I knew you were a liar!" he said. You could see your boss looking for you while trying to recover from the punch.

"I'm gonna beat you so hard that you-" he stopped talking to scream in pain from your sudden grip on his arm.

"He what, little fucker?" You encouradged him to continue. Aventurine was suddenly at your side, with that horrible proud smile again in his face.

After giving the guy a little warning to never mess up with your boss, you let him go.

"For a moment I though you were going to let me on my own" he joked.

"I was" you simply said, getting out of that damn place. You knew he would follow you.

"What?!" he shouted, stopping you in the hall of the casino "Why would you let that man beat me up? You know that if I'm dead, you won't be paid, right?"

Before speaking, you took a long, long breath, so you wouldn't scream at him.

"In my contract there's nothing about saving my boss at 3 am in casinos" you breathed again ", there's nothing about risking my own life to save him from fights." you didn't breathe this time "Do you know how much I sleep beetwin finishing the work that you give me in the last minute and searching for you?! For the love of the Aeons, I'm a secretary! I shouldn't be beating people up for you!"

You didn't notice, but you started crying in the first sentence. And you wouldn't notice if he didn't wipe the tears at your cheeks. You were too angry to let him touch you, and tried to push him away, but he got close again and hugged you. This time, you just accepted the hug, but didn't hug him back.

"I didn't know I was causing you so much stress and trouble," he whispered in your ear "I'm sorry for everything"

"Being sorry isn't enough"

"I know, just as you know that I can't promise you to stop gambling" he separated from you to see your face, and took off his jacket to put it over you (you didn't realise you were trembling) "but I can promise you that I'll try to control myself"

You didn't reply, just buried your face on his neck and hug him.

"When I started working with you and saw you risking your life like it is nothing, I wonder if you knew what self-love is" you asked, holding him tighter

"Why would I care about risking my life when no one cares?"

"I'm gonna kill you" you broke the hug and prepared to beat him.

"Wait wait wait, it's not the same as what I mean" he got away from you "you only care because I'm your boss"

"You little..." you breathed to calm yourself down "If i only cared about you professionaly, I wouldn't go to casinos in the middle of the night in sleeping clothes only to look for you and make sure that you're okay. You don't pay me enough to do all that shit"

He seemed to think about what you said.

"Do you mean that you do that because you care about me?"

He looked at you like he just had discovered a whole new galaxy.

"Yes"

"In a loving way?"

"Maybe, can we go now?" you started to get embarassed of all this sudden confession.

"Wait" he holded you, one hand in your arm and other on your cheek "That means that I can kiss you?"

You easily got away from his hold.

"Yes, but not tonight" you started to go to your car, taking your keys to open it "You won't get a kiss until you return every missing call that I left you this week"

"Oh, common!" he run after you, unable to hold back the genuine smile that appeared in his face.

I really went out of character but hope that someone likes this.

[theemporium]

Hi! I hope you’re having a wonderful day.

Can I request jealous Sirius? The story can go however you like. I hope that’s okay

Have an amazing day x

i hope you have an amazing day too! thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“Mate, you’re glaring.”

“I’m not glaring,” Sirius scoffed dismissively.

“Yes. Yes, you are. What you are doing is, like, the definition of glaring,” James continued, watching his best friend with an amused expression. “Like, dictionary definition.” 

Sirius resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I am not glaring. I am just looking.” 

This time it was Remus who snorted, shaking his head as he took a long sip from his beer. “You’re fucking ridiculous, Pads.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed together, but still his eyes remained glued to where they had been for the last fifteen minutes. “What? Why?”

“Because you have spent all night getting pissy and jealous over a fucking cat,” Remus told him.

The worst part was that, deep down, Sirius knew he was right. He was jealous over a fucking cat but it was his own fault that the cat was now hogging all of your attention. 

He had been coming back home from a night out at the pub with the other boys when he noticed the little white cat curled in a cardboard box in some dodgy alley near your flat. He made his way back to the flat, the rain only getting heavier in the three minute walk where he burst through the door and told you about the poor creature. 

Being the ever-caring animal lover you were, you barely shoved your shoes on before you were racing out of the apartment. You had both spent the better part of forty minutes in the rain trying to coax the poor guy out of the box to come towards you before you scooped him up and took him back to your apartment where you washed and fed him. 

Now, less than three days later, the white cat—now affectionately named Vincent—was curled in your arms, purring happily and enjoying every ounce of attention he was getting from you and the other girls who had come to visit him.

And Sirius couldn’t help but feel bitter resentment in the pit of his stomach. 

He was being replaced by a fucking cat. Even at night, the little fucker always managed to wiggle his way in between you and Sirius was seriously losing his patience.

You weren’t unaware of your boyfriend’s feelings but you couldn’t help but find great amusement in the matter. Sirius would whine and complain that the cat was replacing him, that Vincent was injecting himself into your relationship and it wasn’t fair that he barely got any attention anymore. 

He would constantly find flyers for rehoming centres or mention how the family two floors up are looking for a pet or even suggesting sending him off to the pet shop a few blocks away. Sirius was constantly finding ways to get the cat out of your house. 

And it was fucking hilarious to you simply because of moments like this.

Everyone had left your place around thirty minutes ago and you had spent the best part of that time taking your makeup off and sorting out your skincare whilst your boyfriend said he would clean up the living room and kitchen. When you exited the bathroom though, you found your boyfriend already falling asleep on the bed. With Vincent curled up on his chest. 

You paused as you took in the sight, smiling softly as you moved around the room quietly before slowly sliding into the bed next to your boys.

“Baby?” Sirius murmured sleepily. 

“Seems like you’re replacing me now,” you teased lightly, watching as he slowly blinked his eyes open and stared down at the purring cat on his chest before his eyes fell shut again.

“He’s still a little shit,” Sirius told you.

“Uh huh,” you hummed as you settled down beside your boys after placing a kiss on each of their heads. “You love him.”

“I love you more,” he said with a tired smile.

“But you still love him.” 

Sirius just shrugged, though his hand was placed protectively on the cat. “He’s alright.”

.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Save a Horse (16+) Cowboy!Reader

Sort of a part two of this

A/N: I could have sworn I had an ask about saving a horse but I couldn't find it anywhere. If I can find it, I'll let whoever requested it know it's been posted but yeah. Hope this is okay, it's a bit late and I am very tired. Also this wasn't the fic I was going to originally post but I remembered it was basically written lmao. Slightly scared about posting this but we move and groove

Description: The team are all at a bar and cowboy just can't resist JJ ;)

Warnings: Hints towards nsfw, I've put 16+ to be safe but it's nothing drastic

Taglist: @xweirdo101x @xdark-acadamiax @ara-a-bird @heidss @chubbyboyinflannel @pendragon-writes @migwayne @bigolgay @technikerin23 @supercriminalbean @honestlycasualarcade @caffeine-mess @1s3v3n1 @oddmiles @kevyeen @stealing-kneecaps @criminalskies @woodandwaxwings @wizardmon3 @aphroditeslovr @ducks118 @azeal-peal @13thdoctor-run @introvertpan84 @goth-boi-atlas @iliketozoneout @chaosofmanyfandoms @logicalhorror @luvfornick @prmsn-17 @pinxeajin

After just finishing a case, you all decided to celebrate. With a bar and casino right across the road, it felt like fate. None of you were drunk, barely one drink in when JJ reaches for your hat and you're quick to dodge it.

"Ma'am, I feel inclined to let you know if you take a cowboys hat, you have to ride the cowboy," 

JJ raises an eyebrow, "Oh yeah?" She asks. 

"Yes Ma'am, I don't make the rules,"

She looks around, making sure none of the team are paying attention, before she reaches across and plucks the hat from your head, placing it on her head. Your jaw drops. 

"What was that rule again?" Your brain short-circuits because holy fuck that was hot. “You okay there cowboy?”

“I-” The sentence dies in your throat. “Can I marry you?” You whisper.

JJ pulls away as she looks up at you, “Seriously?” 

Shit. Seriously yes or seriously no get the fuck away from me? Unsure, you simply nod. She smiles, grabbing your shirt and pulling you forwards, crashing her lips against yours. “That a yes?”

“Sorry, of course it’s a yes,” She grins. 

“Ma’am I have one more question,” She looks up at you with a smile, “Can we go get married now? I just really wanna follow that first rule,” 

She thinks for a moment before nodding, “Okay, but we do this properly after. I want a white wedding as well.”

“Deal,” You agree immediately, “I’ll get Garcia and Morgan, you get Reid and Prentiss? I’ll get Hotch and Rossi too,” When JJ nods you spring into action, you clock Morgan and Garcia quickly, Hotch and Rossi in a corner, talking like civilised men, not far from the pair. You make your way over to them quickly, fully prepared to shove anyone out of the way. 

“Yeah, y’all need to follow us,” You said, grabbing Morgan’s arm with one hand, Penelope’s with the other. 

“What? Why?”

“No time to explain,” You say, making eye contact with Hotch and Rossi in the corner you call over to them, “Hotch! Rossi! Follow me! No time to explain, less talkin’ more walkin’!”

You lead them from the bar (and dance floor) through the pool table and the gambling, straight to the typical casino chapel. 

“Er, what exactly are we doing here?” Hotch asked, turning to you.

“This reminds me of my third wedding.” Rossi comments.

“JJ n I are gettin’ married,” You stated. Garcia gives a loud squeal, hugging you both. 

“Finally! Go! Go! Go!” She shoos you over the receptionist. 

Reid, always the voice of reason turns to the pair of you: “I thought JJ said you weren’t going to elope?”

“She took my hat,” You said, like that explained everything. 

“What exactly does that mean?”

“If you take a cowboy’s hat you gotta ride the cowboy,” JJ said.

You blush heavily looking at JJ in disbelief that she actually told them, as the team turns to look at you, “Wait, you’re doing this to get laid?” Emily asks.

“Hey, hey, that’s not the only reason. It’s just… another reason,” You said, “I knew I was gonna marry her long before when I told you her name was Darla,”

Twenty minutes of you pacing and Morgan looking like he wanted to murder you, you’re in the ‘chapel’. And you want to hit times two speed on the officiant, feeling like he’s talking two words a minute. 

“Yeah, Imma level with you here,” You say, leaning closer to the officiant, “Imma need you to talk a lil faster,” JJ laughs loudly at the desperation in your tone. 

The officiant gives you a strange look for a split second before its gone. Afterall, it wasn’t his job to judge. Eventually, you made it to the vowels.

“I don’t know if I can think straight enough for vowels,” You say honestly, ignoring Emily and Morgan snort in the background, “I love you so fuckin’ much and I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. I’m keeping this short, I’ll make a better one at the other wedding,”

JJ smiles, rolling her eyes slightly, “I love you too.”

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.”

“Oh thank god,” You mumble, you look at her with a smile, with your hands on her cheeks, you begin to close the gap between your lips - wanting to savour this moment. JJ’s hand snakes up to the back of your head and she closes the small gap between you. 

You wasted no time, turning to the team, “Thank y’all for comin’, but we needta get goin’.”

“Cowboy’s gonna get laid!” Morgan cheers, Penelope, Emily and Spencer quickly join in. The pair of you blush.

You don’t say anything, just lightly take JJ’s hand and the pair of you make your way back to your hotel room - which was conveniently just across the road (man, you loved Vegas). You barely greet the receptionist, the pair of you practically running to the elevator. You unlocked the door, letting JJ in before shutting and locking it behind her. Your shoes and jacket come off first before you turn to her. 

“Now, tell me, cowboy, what was that other rule we have to follow tonight?”

“Man, I love you so much.”

[fade to black ;)]

[mins-fins]

feel like a fool

&&. na jaemin hates strawberries, but maybe he'll deal with them for the sake of a cute guy.

pairing: na jaemin x m!reader

genre: fluffffffff

warnings: na jaemin vs strawberries

word count: 0.8k

notes: hiiiii.. i didnt mean to not update in a while its just the summer depression is HITTING and now im sort of kind of becoming a workaholic.. also im finalizing moving out… and getting ready for classes starting in a few weeks, life is in shambles, illuminati is confirmed 😭😭 anyway, this was for an idea for an smau, but i'm never making another one of those until im in a good mental headspace for it!! so take… jaemin 😇

na jaemin's eye couldn't have twitched enough in these past few minutes.

someone is baking.

and usually that wouldn't be a problem, jaemin doesn't care about what his neighbors do. he usually doesn't mind if people bake, or party, or blast loud music in the wee hours of the night.

but he's pissed right now.

because wafting through the walls is the smell of artificial strawberry flavoring. strawberries. good fucking lord. the smell wouldn't be that irritating if jaemin wasn't already pissed enough because of donghyuck's natural sense of.. well, being annoying.

he tried to keep himself calm, spend time playing with the babies and cleaning things which don't need cleaning before plopping onto his bed to stare at the ceiling for hours on end.

oh fuck this cheap apartment for having thin walls, because not only does jaemin have to lay here and take the flavoring of strawberries assaulting his ears, no! he also has to listen to the inhabitants of the other apartment get it on. lord they seem to do that a lot, are they never tired?

maybe the strawberries are the least of his problems tonight, but they still are a problem.

"who even bakes with strawberries at.." he feels around his bedside table for his phone, listening to the silent meows of his babies as he tries to figure out the time. "three in the morning?"

a frown tugs at his lips, it's so early and he can't sleep. lucy is the only one of the babies that is asleep, luna and luke are attempting to wrestle each other.

he chuckles at the display before almost startling when his doorbell rings, falling backward. oh he really needs to work on that.

jaemin rises from his place on his bed to shuffle over to his door, still irritated by the smell of artificial strawberries. he's ready to give the person who rang his doorbell a piece of his mind, mustering up a scolding for the inevitable culprit, the smell of strawberries simply getting stronger as he nears his door.

he swings open the door with a rough vigor he definitely plans to use when giving the person a piece of his mind; "do you usually ring people's doorbells at three am—"

but then he pauses when he sees whose at his door.

it's his neighbor. jaemin doesn't know your name, but that doesn't really matter in the current situation. jaemin can't help but think you're adorable, there's an insanely cute guy at his doorstep, he's pretty much won the lottery.

except then he grimaces.

the smell of strawberries fill the air, you're holding a container with strawberry shortcake in it. "oh, hi.. you".

you clear your throat, glancing down at the cake you baked. "hi i um— i baked all of this but i made too much so now i'm going around to see if anyone wants it but the last guy opened the door with a gun soooooo i didn't want take my chances with him.."

jaemin blinks, then laughs at the amusing display. you stare for a moment, still waiting for an answer to your question. "the guy in 164 pulled a gun out on you?"

"i'm pretty sure he was asleep".

you frown, and jaemin laughs again, not at your misery, but simply the delivery. who knew you could look so sad while presenting such humor?

"do you want some strawberry shortcake?" you mutter, extending the container forward, and jaemin steps backward, grimacing.

he glances at you, and you patiently wait for his response, smile stuck to your face. there's no reason for you to look so cute while doing literally nothing!

but jaemin guesses that sometimes things just happen in that way.

"if you don't want any it's okay i can just go ask the old couple down the hall—"

"it's okay".

"oh really?"

"yeah yeah it's fine" jaemin takes the container from you, noise again scrunching at the smell of strawberries in the air. "you always bake early in the morning?"

"i never sleep, but it always tires me out enough so it became a little routine of mine.."

jaemin lets a small 'ah' escape his lips. "well thank you for the strawberry shortcake.. uh.."

"y/n".

so that's your name. "y/n, thank you".

"no problem, please don't tell me if it's awful though because i'll cry".

you laugh at your own choice of words, which amuses jaemin again, because he has to stifle his own laughter. "i'll only leave good reviews, swear".

"you better" you raise an eyebrow as a way to appear threatening. "sorry for interrupting your night, also your cat is super cute".

jaemin looks to where your pointing, catching sight of luna hiding behind his legs. "oh.. thank you, good night".

you coo at the sight of the cat, but not for long, you also bid your own good night and go back to your unit.

now jaemin doesn't exactly know why he decided to agree to taking the cake in the first place. he went an hour long mental tirade on why he couldn't stand the irritating smell of strawberries in the apartment.

well.. maybe they're not so much of an issue now. the baker is cute, he can let the strawberries stick around.

[wokeupchrisbrezy]

Toxicity.

Lando Norris

Toxic.

That is the only word to describe it. 

Why would I do it? Why am I doing this? Why do I stay?

Multiple questions run through your mind as you watch the seconds count continuously during the call. Silence filled the void that was your relationship with your boyfriend. Emptiness took the place of love. Cold shoulders in the place of kisses and hugs. 

At first it was all sunshine and rainbows. Happiness galore. Smiles and affection in every crevice of the couple. Over the course of a couple months, communication dwindled between the two of you. Intimacy was scarce. Touches, innocent or not, were basically non-existent. What happened?

Your boyfriend is great. Was great. Emphasis on the ‘was’ part. Perfect boyfriend, a real ten out of ten. You could not be happier. But slowly, all that’ loving' ran out. You tried… and tried.. And tried.. And tried. 

You’re simply returning the energy at this point. Do you still care? Yes… sadly. 

Should you? No and your best friends are this close to strangling you. But for the plot… right?

“You still there..?” His voice rang through the speaker of your phone.

“Oh… yeah. I’m still here.” You respond slowly.

He hummed. 

“I fly in tomorrow, remember?” You remind him. “Do you need me to bring anything?”

You were flying from America to Monaco. Your boyfriend was successful, to say the least. He was in a whole different tax bracket. He lived with you for a couple months while he was working on a project for work. He worked hard. He earned his success. Most of it, his father’s connections did help, that's for sure.

“No.” He replied almost instantly. 

“Okay…” The silence was loud. “I’ll let you go. Sleep well. Goodnight.” You sighed with some defeat in your tone.

“Goodnight. I love you.” Liar.

“I love you too.” Liar.

He ended the call before you could even blink. A rush of irritation entered your body then left as quick as it came. It isn’t even worth getting angry over at this point. Too many arguments and screaming matches have drained the effort of getting angry from your body.

—

Your flight landed an hour ago. You managed your way through customs and luggage retrieval. It was almost midnight. Exhaustion couldn’t describe the tiredness you feel at this very moment. Your boyfriend didn’t even have the decency to pick you up from the airport.

“I’m going to be asleep by the time you land,” was his excuse.

 Bastard. Fucker. Bitch.

Multiple curses ran through your mind as you waited for your uber to pull up. 

Not even the moon could show its face for you tonight. The city lights were mild compared to the blinding lights in the airport. You watched as people got into expensive looking cars in expensive looking outfits with expensive looking luggage. You were really in the rich’s playground now. And you thought American Eagle sweatpants were expensive.

—

You didn't even bother knocking on his extravagant front door. He told you the code beforehand.

You lazily punched the four digit code into the lock with a yawn before the annoying beeping sound decided to wail. The door unlocked and you managed to cram your thick ass suitcase in between your body and the door frame. 

Fuck this tiny ass doorway. Were these doorways made for double zero models? Most definitely.

You let the door close behind you as you hastily find his bedroom. You know this place like the back of your hand. Your boyfriend has flown you out many times before. But that was back when you actually liked each other.

He wasn’t sleeping like he said he was. Wow, what a shocker. The bathroom light illuminated under the doorway to his bathroom.

You kicked off your shoes and placed them neatly beside his. Your suitcase is in a lonely corner due to the fact that you're too tired to deal with unpacking especially at this ungodly hour.

The plushness of the luxurious bed sheets and comforter welcome you as you lay down on the untouched side of the bed. It is an absolute ghost town in that noggin of yours. Not a single thought behind your pretty eyes.

“Wow, a hobo in my bed. Fun.” His monotone voice decided to grace the presence of your ears.

You raised your head to see your boyfriend. “I’m rolling on the floor with laughter.” The sarcasm was dripping from your tone. 

Almost all your conversations ended in arguments. If they didn’t, it was because one of you didn’t have the energy to argue. 

His tone of voice was always pale. Monotone and dreary. Like he was never happy to see you. Never wanting to be around you. Never wanting to talk to you. It seemed dead all the time. Some could say it was the nature of his voice but before, he would have some fondness that would seep into his tone. That fondness got sucked back up at this point.

“Going to sleep already?” He asked as he walked to his side of the bed. His hair was slicked back wet and he was fresh out of the shower. The thought used to make you want to climb him like a tree but now it felt like a routine. A grueling routine.

“Yup.” You hummed in a tired manner.

He let out an annoyed scoff before slipping under the covers. “Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I wonder if God forgives liars…

[zedif-y]

“So,” Joel says. “D’you think Tango would talk to me if I broke the bow again?”

Which, obviously, is a joke. Obviously. He’s a blummin’ actor, for goodness sake. He can handle an audience of one.

Even if that audience is Tango. And also– not quite an audience, is it, when you’re just two people having a conversation–

Grian pauses, looking up from where he's been checking Joel’s outfit, one hand tracing a seam. "Joel," He replies, deadpan. "You are not breaking another prop just ‘cuz you're bad at talking to people." 

Joel bristles, oi! “I’m not bad at–!”

"Then talk to him like a normal person!" Grian retorts, rolling his eyes. He focuses his attention back on the costume, "Pretty sure he'll notice and chew you out for it anyway. I'm doing you a favor by telling you this, really." Joel scoffs.

He’s choosing not to reply to that, by the way. It’s a choice.

Joel lets Grian do his thing, double-checking his costume until Joel’s arms grow tired of staying up, pinning stuff into place and calling Cleo over for makeup stuff. Joel lets his mind drift, letting Grian lead him in front of a vanity mirror– Ah, look. His handsome face.

Joel studies his reflection for a moment, turning his head this way and that. And just before Grian leaves–

“…Would he really get mad?”

Grian pauses in the doorway, “Huh?” He frowns for a moment, squinting, then sighs. “Yes, Joel. You’re not that cute.”

“Oi!”

Grian lets the door shut with a click, his cackling muffled as he goes. That little…

Joel huffs, glowering at his reflection.

“Not that cute,” He grumbles. “I’m plenty cute. The cutest.”

Someone knocks on the door. Cleo pokes their head in, “Hey, Joel.”

“Hey,” He hasn’t stopped glaring at his reflection. “Don’t ask about Grian.”

Cleo lets herself in, “Wasn’t going to,” She says simply. “Now stop sulking and let me do your makeup.”

With great effort, (not really) Joel relaxes his face, his features smoothing out.

He looks good, is the thing. No matter what Grian has to say. Joel looks– good. Attractive. Drop-dead gor– whatever. The point is, he’s handsome, and he could woo whoever he wanted. Definitely.

(He thinks of Tango, gold-spun hair catching the stage lights, red eyes dark as wine.)

…Probably.

Joel bites the inside of his cheek. Ugh, he’s gonna be thinking about that all day, won’t he?

Stupid Grian. 

—

(“Cleo,” Joel starts. “Am I hot?”

The brush on his face stops.

“The fuck?”)

—

He breaks the prop again.

In his defense, it was still mostly an accident. Mostly.

"How."

Joel squirms a little under Tango's gaze, hoo boy. 

He holds up the broken prop bow, "Ehh, the uh. The thing is, I keep, like, using too much strength on it?" He grins, straightening his back. "You know, 'cuz I'm so strong and stuff. Happens uh, all the time, you know?” At Tango’s silence, he tacks on, “…It's annoying."

Tango raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Joel's grin goes lopsided, withering under the look.

"I– uh," He thins his lips, runs his tongue over the front of his teeth. "...Sorry?"

Tango’s tail sways a little behind him, His arms are crossed, just. Looking at him.

Okay, Joel thinks, palms starting to sweat. Maybe Grian was right.

“You realize I’m not even a props guy, right?” Tango asks. Joel swallows. “Official title’s set designer.”

Joel is so fucked.

“I knew that,” Joel manages, still clutching the damn prop. “Just– you helped me fix it last time.”

And the time before that. And, also, the time before that.

…Joel’s sweating up a damn storm over here.

Eventually, Tango sighs.

"C'mere, I've got something for ya."

Joel's eyebrows leap up. He follows Tango as he leads him deeper backstage, past costume racks and other stage tech-y stuff– none of which Joel can make heads or tails of.

His mind races with questions, half of his brain going why is he leading me all the way back here while the other half is really trying not to ogle at Tango’s–

"There it is," Tango says, jolting him out of his thoughts. He scoops up what looks like a small toolkit, holds it out to Joel. "Here, for the next time you manage to break that poor bow again."

Joel opens his mouth, closes it again. He just stands there, dumbfounded and cheeks burning with shame, "I don't know how to–"

"You've seen me do it like five times, haven't you?" Tango asks, teasing. Joel's going to die. "You're a big boy, you can do it."

What'd he just call me, "Right," Joel squeaks, "That's– Right. Yeah."

He reaches out to grab it–

But Tango pulls it back, his grin growing wider.

"Wha–?"

Tango tilts his head, "There are better ways to get my attention, you know."

Joel's heart leaps into his throat.

He’s so fucked–!

It must show on his face, too, because then Tango laughs and it would've been a win if it weren't at him– "I'm serious, man! You didn't have to do all that stuff– You thought I wouldn’t notice?"

Tango shakes his head, gives Joel the toolkit. He closes Joel’s hand around it with his own.

Joel's breath hitches in his throat– Tango’s touch burns but in a good way, like sunlight on skin, like– 

"It's not like you needed help getting my attention, anyway."

If this were a movie, Joel thinks this is where he’d hear a record scratch.

Hold on. Rewind. What?

Tango looks surprised, “Did you really not know?” 

“I–” Joel closes his mouth. He’s trying to form words, honest, Tango’s hand is just so warm– “Would you believe me if I said I knew?”

Tango laughs, (Again! Joel’s mind crows.) “It wouldn’t be your best performance, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Answer’s no, then,” Joel replies, strangled. A pause. “No as in, I didn’t know– oh gosh, I hope I’m reading this right–”

Tango’s hand falls away, amusement twinkling in his red eyes. Joel tries to remember how to breath.

Tango’s lips pull up into a smile, “You know, you’re way different off-stage.”

Ouch. “Sorry to disappoint,” Joel blurts out, a faint sting in his chest. Tango’s eyes go wide.

“That’s not what I meant!” His tail lashes in panic, “You’re– you’re a completely different person on-stage, you know? Which I get is the point, you’re amazing, just…”

Joel blinks. Is his brain melting out of his ears? It feels like his brain is melting out of his ears.

It echoes in his head, you’re amazing.

A faint red dusts Tango’s cheeks, “…I think I kind of prefer the real deal.”

“Oh,” Joel says, voice faint. Tango’s blush deepens.

“I just made this weird, didn’t I–”

Joel’s brain kicks into gear, finally, “D’you wanna go out some time?” He asks. His hands shake, just a little. “Cuz I think you’re bloody brilliant, Tango, so if you’re gonna be saying stuff like that,” He swallows. “You better at least let me take you out to coffee.”

Tango’s grin is blinding, “Only if you promise to stop breaking props.”

Joel laughs, a giddy rush in his chest.

“I promise.”

(At the back of his mind– Take that, Grian!)

—

Somehow, somewhere, Grian just sneezed.

[ruhorih4ra]

Hi! ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

First of all, I want to extend a very heartfelt apology to the fellow sheep that belong to the Anti-Lucifer League JAJAJA because this chapter is completely about the viejo sabroso.

What did you say? that my favoritism is showing? That's ridiculous.

(I promise all of them will have their own special moment with Mc, yes even the killer cow.)

I kind of thought I had already put spoilers warnings in the first part but heheh surprise! I didn't! <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠> not much of a spoiler but I wrote the fic without explaining things that won't make sense if you haven't finished the game? (God I don't know but I think I did because I do that all the fucking time)

Part 15!

Get out of my way 🌈

“I hurt your brothers.” You said, curtly. Admitting it felt worse than you had expected. Your eyes were glued to your hands, avoiding those of the older brother, who hadn’t uttered a single word. “You were right when we met, I wasn’t and I am not trustworthy.” You couldn’t help the slight tremble in your voice. “I shouldn’t live in the house of lamentation anymore.” Lucifer remained silent.

“I shouldn’t be your master.” You finally said, feeling a pain in your chest that you were getting used to. You searched for Lucifer’s eyes expecting to see disappointment and anger, but to your surprise he had turned around and now you could only stare at his broad back.

He had turned around since your first confession, he was as much afraid to meet your gaze as you were of looking his. He knew you would be angry and ready to leave them as you should have since the first time he dared to threaten you. He knew it was for the best and wouldn’t have the nerve to deny you, not after he proved to be unworthy.

And then you spoke and he cursed the relief he felt, of course you would take all the blame, of course you would forget about their mistakes and the way they had hurt you too. You were like a mirror years ago, accepting all the pain and never asking why, forgive and forget. But Lucifer knows best, that path only has one end and the fall is long and painful.

The Avatar of Pride was tired. First, you wandered through the Devildom in complete solitude, getting hurt by who knows who without him being able to reach you, much less stopping them. Then, his brother almost died in his arms without him being able to do anything. No matter how hard he tries, the ones he loves the most are always out of reach. He looked at you and noticed how you had lost weight, another thing he had failed at.

“How old do you think I am, Mc?” He asked. The sudden question left you confused but you laughed nonetheless. “Jurassic Park brings memories?” You joked and he turned around with a small smile gracing his lips. “I’ll let that slide.” He walked towards the couch. “I’m very old.” Lucifer said as he sat on the sofa, next to you.

You smiled, still confused by the sudden change of topic, but decided to go with it, after all, whatever he wanted to say couldn’t be as painful as what you had to say. You took a strand of black hair, those few that were white at the very end, and replied. “I can see that.” Your eyes finally met and it wasn’t painful or filled with distrust. It was nice, simply nice. Both of you laughed.

“As I was saying, dear. I have lived for quite some time now. In fact, I am at least ten million years older than you.” Lucifer was smiling, caressing your hand with his thumb. You remained quiet, suddenly very aware of Lucifer’s face of fatigue and glassy eyes. “Naturally, my brothers are rather old too.”

You swallowed hard before removing your hand from Lucifer’s touch. As much as you wanted to go back to the same old routine, you knew it wouldn’t be long before the guilt ate you alive. “I don’t understand how this has anything to do with the fact that I hurt your family.” Your hand brushed the places that Lucifer had touched, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the demon. “I told them horrible things, you know that?” You watched carefully Lucifer’s face, waiting for his reaction. “I ordered them too, just like I ordered you to shut up.” The avatar of pride seemed absent, unamused. “I even thought of…” you forced the words out. “of hurt them, physically. Seriously harm them.” A couple of silent tears rolled down your face.

Lucifer wiped them gently, as slowly as he could, because he knew that was all he would ever get. “I think about physically hurting them almost every day.” Lucifer said, in a playful tone you couldn’t bear. “Stop! I’m not playing, Lucifer! This is serious, I tried and succeeded. I harmed them!” You hit Lucifer’s chest and, to your surprise, he stifled a whimper.

You came to a halt immediately, looking a drop of sweat slide off from his forehead. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” The prideful demon tried to get up but you were faster, or maybe it was just Lucifer giving up. You opened his already torn shirt to reveal a burnt wound of your pact mark, as if it had been branded with a hot iron. “What the fuck is that?” You stopped Lucifer from buttoning his shirt. “What happened? Tell me.” You fought a silent staring battle until Lucifer sighed. “You called us through the pact but it was…” the demon was searching for the right words but knew that the human in front of him wouldn’t listen. “It was uncertain. I don’t know what happened.”

You laughed bitterly. “You know what happened, you’re ten million years older, aren’t you? What happened, Lucifer?” He rubbed his face. “It’s not your fault.” You put your hand on his chest, pressing slightly harder. He winced in pain. “That’s not what I asked.” You said. He took your wrist but made no effort to stop you. On the contrary, he pushed your hand further into his chest. “It’s not your fault.”

You looked into his eyes as you pressed more. “...” He was clearly surprised, but it was difficult to express it since he was fighting the urge to scream. “Very well, Mc. That’s enough.” An immediate expression of relief reached his face the moment you removed your hand from his thorax. “I appreciate the romantic gesture but I want to know the truth Lucifer.”

“That’s the truth, it wasn’t your fault. You called us but it wasn’t on purpose. It was a reflex. Not a spell, but directionless magic.”, “So I hurt you even when I didn’t mean to.” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. “The only way you could do it.” Lucifer thought but he decided to keep that to himself.

“Mc, we have lived through worse.” The avatar of pride took your chin and forced you to see him. “We can endure this and more. What about you? What we did to you.” You pushed his hand once more. Lucifer tried to bury the pain he felt every time you decided to avert his touch, but it didn’t hurt any less. “Don’t be stupid, Lucifer. What did you do? Replaced me?” You gestured with your hand before he could deny anything. “And so what? I should have acted like a normal person and just leave.” You said. “Instead of developing a damn curse.” You thought, bitterly.

“I’m glad you didn’t leave.” He knew that was selfish and unfair, he knew he was no better than a little kid throwing a tantrum. “I can’t say the same.” You murmured.

You had called Levi more than the others, you had wanted to see him so badly and perhaps that’s why he almost died. It was ironic and twisted, but now it was obvious. The Little D. of envy really did a number on you and that little show he threw. You fell into their trap like a fool. The more you thought about it, the more anger grew inside you. You would get your revenge, all of those little demons would pay one way or another.

You were starting to regret having stopped Lucifer from leaving when he wanted, once again the conversation ended in nothing good, what you had wanted to say was left unsaid and forming a big and painful lump in your throat. You saw Lucifer from the corner of the eye and your heart skipped a beat. You had to make sure you weren’t seeing things. “You want to leave.” He said, letting you cup his face and watching your gaze full of worry, and once he looked at himself through your eyes he found out why.

“Don’t cry, Lucifer. I’m going to cry too.” You saw a single tear slide until it reached Lucifer’s soft smile. He had cried before, when his brothers were sleeping and silence was unbearable, when he is alone with a life full of memories, painful memories. He knows the art of suffering, the art of breaking down in solitude. However, it had been a long time since he had cried in front of anyone.

“Just because you can endure it doesn’t mean you have to.” You said, recalling his previous words. “Love shouldn’t burn.” The picture of that burn on the demon’s chest refused to leave your mind. Lucifer straightened up and took your hands again, hoping you wouldn’t reject him this time. “This unfortunate incident got out of hand.” He cleared his throat and you rolled your eyes, still finding comfort in Lucifer’s mannerism. “As an ancient and very wise demon, you should really trust my words.” You let escape a little laugh and hummed in response. “Love shouldn’t burn but it does, not always, but there are times, and even after touching the flame we tend to admit that it was worth it.”

“I know you’re not looking for metaphors and I’m not trying to sugarcoat my words. We hurt each other badly. There are no kind words to face the truth but, regardless of how selfish and naive I sound, I’m confident that we can fix it.” He tried to caress your cheek but ultimately decided against it. “I know I can fix it.” All the worries of the past few weeks were finally getting to him. You murmured Lucifer’s name, it was evident that he was crumbling.

“I assure you that I’ll never let this happen again.” Another round of silent tears fell from his eyes. You couldn’t take it anymore, you extended your arms towards him but, this time was his turn to move aside from you. “It’s okay, I’m fine. You don’t have to force yourself.” He said, already regretting his next words. “I know you don’t want me to comfort you, I know you’re not fond of my touch.”

You frowned. “Why do you think that?” You questioned, but Lucifer didn’t want to answer, he was afraid his voice would fail. He didn’t want to show you more of this pitiful side of him. His silence forced you to think, looking back at your previous interactions you realized that although not on purpose, you had still avoided his touch several times. “Lucifer, how can you believe that?”

“Is it not true? Don’t you repulse the idea of me approaching you?” He knew how needy he sounded. He also knew lacking confidence wasn’t his style and probably not what you would expect from the Avatar of Pride but it didn’t matter, he wanted to know.

Looking at an imperfect Lucifer was always unnerving, you’ve seen him before and it never ceases to amaze you how even when he’s crumbling he looks ethereal. Although you didn’t hate it, you preferred his more full-of-himself self.

“I don’t know.” You replied, climbing onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. “What does it look like, my morning star?” you rested your forehead on his, amused at Lucifer’s surprise. He cursed how infatuated for you he was, both the searing pain from his wounds and the memories of your rejections immediately faded when he felt your hands in his hair. It had been a long time since he saw heaven, but your eyes were more than enough to evoke it. “It seems that you pity me.”

He looked how you closed your eyes, a small and genuine smile gracing your face. “Now you’re only pressing your luck, love.” You said, unaware of the happiness you had aroused in him. “Say it again.”

“Now you’re only pressing your luck?” You pretended to be confused. He narrowed his eyes, feigning annoyance at your teasing but it was no use, once he let you see his soft side you could see through all of his facades. “Please?” He asked and you nearly gasped at how ridiculously innocent he looked.

“You’re a real menace, love.” You whispered in his ear and so did he. “Look who’s talking.” He was quick, one hand on your hips while the other cupped your chin. He was slow, your lips were as close as they could be without touching, a clear request from the demon. “Do you still think I don’t like your touch?” You questioned, lips slightly brushing as you murmured.

Lucifer wanted to kiss you, his grip on your hip was tight and his breath was uneven. You drove him crazy. He was certain that you wanted him to initiate the kiss, to show him that you wouldn’t back away, to force him to hang from your hand on the cliff. And so he did. He kissed you, slowly moving his hand from your hip to your back. Enjoying you as a fine wine but drinking you like a thirsty man.

Once that the kiss was broken you shook your head, hugging him and rubbing circles on his back. “I’m sorry, Lucifer, you must be very tired.” He cried against his will, the only way he knows how to. His trembling figure was holding onto you tightly, hiding his tears and shame. “I won’t leave the Devildom, I won’t leave you.” You said softly, trying to put all the love you had into those words. “We can fix this together.” He had stopped crying, soon after he laid his head on your chest. “I apologize for this uncalled for display of weakness.” You pinched his neck in annoyance and he complained with a low growl. “Enough with the fancy attitude. You don’t have to apologize.”

“I love it.” You reassured him, hurt to see him so broken. “I love you.” You said, wiping away his tears. “I’m sorry, I was cruel before.” He shook his head and a long suspire escaped him. “That’s my line, Mc. I said awful things, words I didn’t mean.” He frowned again and you resisted the urge to kiss his discomfort away. “You want to say something else, don’t you?”

“I won’t leave, but I want to stay in Purgatory Hall for some time.” You said, not without hesitation. Lucifer looked directly into your eyes hoping to see some explanation. “You don’t think we can keep you safe.”

“That’s not why.” You hurried to say, watching Lucifer distraught face. “But you won’t tell us who attacked you.” Lucifer moved enough to see your face.

“But surely Barbatos already knows.” You laughed dryly. Did Barbatos really know? Was it possible for him to see the Little D.s in those multiple rooms of his? Did the butler look at them to know the truth? Did he see the past? You felt embarrassed at the mere possibility. Perhaps that was for the best, all of this could finally be over. But where would that leave you? Useless, pathetic, stupid human who couldn’t even defeat their own demons. You watched your hands, useless. You are supposed to be a bridge between the three worlds, you have seven pacts with some of the most powerful beings in hell, your master is the most powerful sorcerer of humanity, that should mean something but… does it?

Are you really special or just a consequence of circumstances? If you couldn’t be of service, if you prove to be weak and incompetent, wouldn’t they be better off with someone like Sc?

But you love them, with all their flaws. You have loved them above anything, putting your own life at risk for them. You didn’t love them because of their intelligence, their strength, or their status. You love them because they were they. They should love you because you are you. So why? Why did they replace you despite all the love they claim to feel? Why did they choose to spend their time with Sc? Why did they treat you like that?

“Is it because I’m not as good looking as her? Or is it because I’m not smart enough? Perhaps I lack what she has to spare.” You saw how Lucifer’s face wrinkled in confusion, of course, he couldn’t read minds (as far as you knew), he wasn’t aware of all the twists and turns you took to end with that question. “What are you talking about, Mc?” You got off Lucifer’s lap and sat on the sofa again, still close to the demon.

“Because she would be a better council officer than me?” You said but your voice was flat and you sounded gone, bored even.

Suddenly, it clicked for Lucifer. He remembered again the face that Mammon had made when he told him how you had lost your trust in them and the sincerity and complete security he had seen in that gaze, because it wasn’t something that his younger brother decided to believe, no, it was something that he could feel, after all, he was painfully honest for a demon. Lucifer had tried to dismiss it, to cling onto that tiny possibility that you still had faith in them.

He wanted to cry again, because his heart threatened to burst out of his chest, probably angry for being forced to belong to such a prideful demon. He wanted to cry because he knew you didn’t trust them, but more than that, you didn’t believe in their love.

“It’s fair, Mc. If you don’t want to believe me when I say that I love you, that I would die for you at any time. It’s understandable and I’ll accept it for now but don’t compare yourself anymore, love. Please, let me protect you.” Lucifer desperately wanted to erase those words and stupid beliefs from your mind, he wanted to remove the blindfold they had accidentally put on your eyes, to let you see just how irreplaceable you are.

You shook your head, your jaw tensing at the inhuman effort you were doing to keep looking into Lucifer’s eyes. Not because it was painful, but because you were afraid of those blurry black spots you could see out of the corner of your eye.

You could see the five Little D.s surrounding you and Lucifer, you knew they were looking at you with eyes as wide as their smiles. You focused on Lucifer’s eyes, beautiful and calm, full of grieve and hope. The same hope you were clinging on. “If you want me to trust you, it’s only fair that I ask you the same.”

Lucifer knew he was egotistical, he himself hid things from you so that you could continue living without a care in the world, so you could be safe. That’s what he’s supposed to do, not the other way around. You should tell him who was responsible for hurting you so he could show them what he’s capable of, what true fear feels like. “Besides, I wouldn’t tell any of you, unless I want a bloodbath in the Devildom.” The Little D.s’ laughter filled the room, you could still feel their eyes on you.

“Why would you want to protect them?” The Avatar of Pride asked, he couldn’t fathom how anyone would show that level of mercy, but if there was someone capable of, it would be you (he had no doubts). You, on the other hand, were building a slow but solid thirst for blood. You were not defeated, you had let yourself hit hard ground but it wasn’t over. They are your demons, yours to haunt, yours to kill. “I’ll stay here for a while. Are you going to be okay without me?”

“No, I won’t.” He simply said, pondering his options, perhaps he should intervene with a direct approach. Maybe he could lock you up until he finds out who hurt you, securing you until he can keep an eye on you at all times. Never let you go more than 5 inches away from him. Always close to his reach. He laughed, passing a hand over his tired face. “Father really knew something when he kicked me out of his place.” He thought. “I’ll be waiting for you, love.” He said instead.

Even if he wasn’t by your side, he would keep an eye on you, taking care of you from the distance until he could earn your trust back. This storm would pass too, he was sure.

“I promise it won’t take long.” You hugged Lucifer again, facing The Little D. of Pride’s face. Smiling at him, a cold and unwavering smirk. “You just wait and get ready, okay? No takesies backsies!” You sang overly sweet, The Little D. of Pride laughed and spoke silently too. “No takesies backsies!”

The face of Lucifer was priceless, a shame that you couldn’t see it. He was completely taken aback, confused to the core by your strange change of mood. He felt like he was on a roller coaster or maybe in an intricate story that he was unable to follow, much like those ramblings Leviathan does. He opted to remain silent, firstly because he didn’t know what would be an appropriate response to “No taksies backsies!” but, most importantly, because he was trying to hide the sinister hunch that, as impossible as it seemed, you were not talking to him.

Part 17???

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