#but I’ll continue giving hints and all that here so stick around

[halfratsalready]

Some little hints about my upcoming fic! ✨

It’s loosely inspired by this song.

The title comes from a line from this song (the line that inspired the fic the most).

It’s mainly Sara, Night Swan, and Jack-centric, but Disco and the other Just Dancers are there, too.

[freshl6ve]

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓. 𝐒 | 𝐁𝐄𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄

⭑.ᐟ : “𝐘/𝐍!” 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭’𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, and I could hear the frustration in his tone. “I need your help in here, and I need it now.”

I walked up the stairs, heading towards the bathroom and I was met with the sight of Matt, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, with Nick and Chris trying to apply the black eye paint.

I couldn't help but chuckle at the sight of them struggling, and I leaned against the doorway, crossing my arms.“Having some trouble there?”

Matt glanced my way, a mixture of relief and annoyance on his face. “You have no idea,” he grumbled. “These idiots can’t seem to get this right to save their lives.”

Nick shot Matt an offended look, while Chris just rolled his eyes. “Hey, we’re doing our best, okay?” Nick retorted. “It’s not as easy as it looks.”

I chuckled at their bickering and stepped forward, saying, “Okay, you two, wash your hands. I’ll take it from here.” Nick and Chris reluctantly complied, washing their hands in the sink while I moved towards Matt, studying his face.

As I hovered over him sitting on the edge of the bathtub, I couldn’t help but tease him. “You need to give them a little credit. They weren’t that bad.” He shot me a sidelong glare, clearly not amused. “Yeah, right. They made me look like I got into a fight with a raccoon.”

I stifled a laugh, trying to maintain a serious expression. “Well, at least now we know that raccoon makeup isn’t your look. Stick to Batman.” He grumbled, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Just get on with it, will you?”

I chuckled again and began to apply the eye makeup, carefully coating his lids with the black paint. As I worked, we fell into a comfortable silence, my fingers gently tracing his face. Our proximity was electric, the bathroom suddenly feeling smaller and more intimate.

I could feel his gaze on me, studying me as I focused on my task. Time seemed to slow as I finished the first eye and moved on to the second. Every touch of my fingers against his skin sent a jolt through me, the atmosphere thick with undeniable tension.

My back had started to ache from leaning over for so long, and the subtle shifting was giving it away. Matt, noticing my discomfort, whispered to me. “Sit on my lap, baby, you’ve been on your feet long enough.”

My breath hitched slightly at his casual use of the pet name, but I complied, my legs straddling his lap as I continued to apply the paint. From this position, I was even closer to him, our faces almost touching. His breath was warm against my skin and sent shivers down my spine.

As I continued applying the paint, I could feel Matt’s hands slowly making their way around my waist. He gripped me firmly, holding me in place so I didn’t fall backwards. The warmth of his touch sent sparks shooting through me, and I found it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

I finished applying the paint and stepped back, taking a moment to admire my work. I couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. “Nick,” I called out, “do you have a small towel you don’t use?”

Nick’s voice echoed from his room as he responded, “Yeah, there should be one in the cabinet next to the tub!” I nodded and opened up the cabinet, rummaging through it until I found a small, unused towel.

As I returned to Matt, I settled back into his lap, the towel in my hand. I began to gently rub off the excess of the black eye paint, making sure to leave a faint, lighter shade. The process was slow and intimate, our faces close together once again.

“There all done,” I breathed, getting off his lap and gesturing for him to look in the mirror.

He stood up and moved to the mirror, studying his reflection. The black paint around his eyes accentuated the sharp angles of his face, making him look every bit the dark and mysterious Batman. He turned to me, a satisfied grin on his face.

He stepped towards me, his arms encircling my waist. “Thank you,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending shivers down my spine. He leaned in, his lips brushing against mine in a slow, passionate kiss.

The world around us faded away as he deepened the kiss, his hands pulling me even closer to him. The tenderness behind the kiss left me breathless and weak at the knees.

Just as I was completely lost in the kiss, the moment was interrupted by the sound of Nick’s voice. “Alright, get a room,” he teased, standing in the doorway. Matt pulled away, a mischievous grin on his face, still holding me close to him.

Nick stepped closer to take a better look at Matt, studying the final product. “You did an amazing job, Y/N,” he admitted, a hint of surprise in his voice.

I smiled at the compliment, feeling a sense of pride in my work. “Thanks,” I replied. “I’m just glad it turned out alright.”

Just as the conversation died down, Chris burst into the room. “The party is almost about to start, we should all get going!” he exclaimed, a sense of urgency in his voice.

We all shared a collective groan at the interruption, the moment of peace shattered by Chris’s announcement. “Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” Matt muttering, reluctantly releasing me from his arms.

As we all made our way downstairs and through the hallway, Matt veered off to his room, retrieving his car keys from his bedside dresser. He then caught up with the rest of us in the garage, where we filed into his car in a chaotic and haphazard manner.

Matt climbed into the driver’s seat, and I scooted into the passenger seat beside him. The other two filed into the back, jostling and laughing with one another as they buckled their seatbelts.

Matt flicked a button on the visor and the garage door slowly creaked open, revealing the night. He reversed out of the garage and pulled away, the engine purring. I leaned back in my seat, the streetlights flashing through the windows as we made our way to the house where the party was being hosted.

The car came to a stop at a red light, and Matt took the opportunity to glance over at me. His hand found its way to my thigh, resting there in a possessive yet tender gesture. The touch sent a rush of heat through me, my heart skipping a beat.

Matt returned his gaze to the road, his expression a picture of nonchalance. His hand, however, remained on my thigh, his fingers tracing small, lazy circles on my skin, as if he was completely unaware of the effect his touch was having on me.

I could feel myself growing flushed, the warmth of his hand on my thigh sending tingles through my body. As the light turned green and we resumed driving, I wondered if he was intentionally trying to get a reaction out of me, or if he was truly oblivious to the way his touch was affecting me.

We pulled up in front of the house, the sound of music and laughter pouring out of the open windows. The parking lot was already filled with a few cars, a sign that we weren’t the only ones who were fashionably late. I unbuckled my seatbelt and gave one last glance at Matt, who removed his hand from my thigh and gave me a sly smirk.

We all exited the car, the cool night air a welcome relief after being cramped in the vehicle. As we made our way to the front door, Matt reached for my hand and intertwined our fingers together. His grip was firm and confident, and I found myself feeling a sense of comfort from his gentle touch.

Together, we followed the others into the party, the noise and energy of the room washing over us. The house was packed to the brim with people dressed in all sorts of elaborate costumes, the scent of cheap cologne and alcohol hanging in the air.

We wandered through the crowded room, and several people stopped us to compliment our matching costumes. Matt, in his Batman costume, and I, dressed as Catwoman, drew plenty of stares and admiring glances.

Throughout the entire night, I had been by Matt's side at all times. He wasn't one for parties; he much preferred the comfort of his own home and his own company. But tonight, he was putting up with the loud music and the rowdy atmosphere because he wanted to be with me.

Every time someone attempted to pull him away to chat or join a game, he would politely decline, his hand finding its way back to mine, or wrapping around my waist, as if to silently assert that his focus was on me and no one else.

I stood quietly next to Matt who was currently engaged in conversation with Chris, Nick, and a few other friends. They were all clustered together, laughing and joking. His hand held mine firmly, his thumb idly tracing patterns on my skin.

I noticed that instead of alcohol like most others were drinking, Matt had opted for a red solo cup filled with soda or water. He never was one to drink at these kinds of events.

As the conversation continued, I leaned into Matt's side, listening in on the banter. His free arm instinctively wrapped around my shoulders, drawing me closer to him. Occasionally, he would chime in or laugh at a joke, but for the most part, he seemed content just to have me by his side.

My head was slightly fuzzy from the couple of drinks I'd had, and the loud music and laughter around me had heightened my desire to be closer to Matt. I leaned in, my body pressing against his as I whispered into his ear. “Dance with me,” I pleaded, my words slightly slurred but laced with a seductive edge.

“Not now, baby,” Matt whispered back, his voice calm and nonchalant. He gave my waist a gentle squeeze before continuing his conversation with the others.

A pang of slight disappointment shot through me, a mixture of the alcohol in my system and my desire to be closer to him.

I positioned myself in front of Matt, my back pressed against his chest. I rocked my hips, moving my body against his, the fabric of our clothing rubbing against each other. Matt's arm instinctively found its way around my waist, his hand resting on my hip.

He continued to talk with the group as if nothing was happening, sipping casually from his cup. His expression remained calm and nonchalant, although the heat of my body against his was impossible to ignore.

I continued to move against him, each gyration of my hips a silent plea for his attention. But Matt maintained his cool composure, his conversations with the group never faltering. The tension between us was palpable, but he stubbornly refused to give any indication of it to the rest of the world.

Matt's breath hitched, and a low moan escaped him, the sound lost among the music and laughter. He leaned down, his lips close to my ear as he whispered, “Behave yourself, baby.” His voice was low and rough, a hint of warning and desire threading through it.

Despite his words, his grip on my hip tightened. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, contrasting with his outward nonchalance. The mixture of his proximity and the alcohol in my system was making it increasingly difficult to ‘behave myself’.

I turned to look up at him, my eyes roaming over his features. His dark, tousled hair, the sharp angles of his face emphasised by the eye paint, the way his baggy clothes made me want to take them off and explore what’s underneath them — all of it made him even more attractive. I leaned in close, my breath against his skin.

I pressed myself against him, my body flush against his. “Can we go home?” I whispered into his ear, my voice low and sultry. The music and the noise from the party faded into the background as I focused on the feel of his body against mine.

Matt chuckled lowly, his grip on me tightening. His voice was a low husky tone when he replied, “Can’t control yourself, can you?” He lowered his head further, his lips close to my ear. “Patience, baby. We’ll leave soon.”

Matt’s lips found the sensitive skin of my neck, trailing kisses along the column of my throat. As he did, I threaded my fingers through his hair, my touch both reverent and desperate. Our bodies swayed in rhythm with the music, the movements almost languid as we clung to each other.

Matt continued his ministrations, his lips lavishing kisses upon my neck and jaw. His free hand, the one holding the cup, gripped it tightly, his knuckles turning white as he struggled to maintain his composure. Each sway of our bodies brought us closer together, the air around us thick with a heady mix of desire and suppressed tension.

We were suddenly interrupted by a bright flash of light, the camera of Chris's phone capturing our intimate moment. I heard him calling out, “Get a room!”

Matt lifted his head from where it had been buried in the crook of my neck, his smirk visible even in the dim light. He gave Chris a casual salute, unperturbed by the invasion of our privacy.

I twisted in his arms, my face now facing his. I looked up into his eyes, my own pleading and earnest. “Please,” I murmured, my voice barely audible over the music. “Let's go home.” My hands gripped his costume, using the fabric to pull myself up closer to him, our bodies flush against each other.

Matt gazed down at me, his eyes softening slightly at the needy expression on my face. He leaned down, his lips brushing gently against mine in a quick, affectionate peck. “Okay,” he murmured against my mouth. “We'll go.”

Matt reached down and intertwined his fingers with mine. He shot a glance at Nick and Chris, the two of them seemingly unfazed by our need to leave, their eyes already returning to their various conversations.

“We’re heading home,” Matt announced, his voice just loud enough to be heard above the noise. “Get an Uber or call me when you want a ride back.” With that, we began to make our way towards the front door.

Matt led the way, his firm grip on my hand guiding me through the crowd. As we navigated the sea of bodies, he pushed his way through, making sure to keep me close.

The cool air hit us as soon as we stepped outside, a welcome relief from the stifling heat and noise of the party. Matt didn’t stop, continuing to lead me to where he’d parked the car.

Matt opened the passenger door for me, ushering me into the seat before closing it behind me. He then walked around to the driver’s side, sliding in and turning the car on.

The familiar hum of the engine filled the silence, the quiet only interrupted by the soft music from the radio and the sound of his breathing. As we started heading home, the warm glow of the streetlights illuminated his features, each passing second bringing us closer to our destination.

I watched him drive, my eyes tracing the lines of his face, particularly the area around his eyes where the black paint outlined them. The way his focus was solely on the road, his hands firm on the wheel, the way his body moved as he shifted gears, was like a silent taunt, fueling the heat already building within me.

I tried to act nonchalant, keeping my hands still in my lap, but my thighs pressed together involuntarily, a silent plea that he could likely see.

I reached down, grabbing his right hand from the wheel, and pulled it up to my thigh. His eyes flicked towards me, a hint of surprise on his face. “Baby, what are you doing?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I bit my lip, shifting slightly in my seat, the need building within me. “Touch me,” I pleaded, my voice low and breathy. He glanced over at me, his gaze lingering on my face. “We’re almost home,” he replied, his tone firm but laced with a hint of restraint.

I could see the internal battle playing out in his eyes, the struggle between his own desire and his determination to wait until we were home. His hand remained stationary on my thigh, but his fingers flexed slightly, a small sign of his weakening resolve.

“Please,” I repeated, my voice almost a whisper. My own self-control was slipping, and I knew that if he didn’t give me what I needed soon, I would snap. “I can’t wait that long.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and raspy. “You’ll have to,” he responded, his eyes never leaving the road. “We’ll be home soon.”

I huffed, frustrated by his unyielding stubbornness. I continued to cling to his hand, the contact grounding me but doing nothing to soothe the fire burning within.

The car ride felt like an eternity, each second passing by in agonizing slowness. I fidgeted in my seat, my thighs clenching and unclenching beneath his hand, my body silently begging for him to do something, anything, to relieve the tension that was coiling tighter with each passing mile.

Matt continued to drive, his face calm and collected, as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on me. His fingers moved slightly against my thigh, the light caress just enough to tease but not satisfy.

The car pulled into the garage, the door closing behind us with a soft click. Matt switched off the ignition, the sudden quiet feeling almost deafening.

He looked over at me, the faint light of the garage illuminating the planes of his face. His eyes raked over me, taking in my state: the way my breathing was ragged, the way my body was tense, the way I was practically squirming in my seat.

Matt got out of the car first, his movements fluid as he stood up. He closed the door behind him, the thud echoing in the silent garage.

I followed suit, stumbling slightly as I got out of the passenger seat. My legs felt weak, my body thrumming with pent-up desire. I closed the door, my eyes never leaving him as he made his way around the car towards me.

Matt grabbed my hand and tugged me forward, his grip firm and urgent. As soon as we were inside he led me quickly upstairs, my feet barely touching the steps as he practically dragged me along.

Once we reached the top, he pushed me against the wall in front of the staircase, his body pinning me in place. His breath was ragged, his eyes dark with need.

The house was cloaked in shadow, the only light coming from the glow of the moon filtering in through the kitchen window. It cast a soft, silvery glow over the room, creating an intimate ambiance.

Matt pressed closer to me, his body flush against mine. His hands roamed across my skin, leaving a trail of heat and gooseflesh. “You’re so needy,” he murmured, his lips against my ear. “So desperate for my touch.”

Matt's mouth moved over my collarbone, his lips trailing a path to my ear. “You couldn’t even wait until we got home for me to touch you,” he whispered, his voice rough and low. “You were all up on me, grinding against me at the party.”

His hands gripped my waist tighter, his fingers digging into my skin. “So desperate for my attention,” he continued. “So impatient for my touch.”

His words, combined with his hands on my body, sent shivers down my spine, a heat pooling in my core. Matt's proximity was intoxicating, his body and words making it impossible to think straight.

I whimpered softly, my head tilting back against the wall, exposing my neck to him. Matt immediately latched onto the exposed skin, kissing and biting lightly. “You need it, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice husky. “You need me to touch you, to take you.”

Matt's lips moved along my neck, the words low and commanding. “Will you behave if I give you what you want?” he murmured against my skin, his hands still gripping my waist tightly.

I nodded, my breath hitching as his teeth grazed my pulse point. “Yes, god, yes. I’ll behave,” I breathed, my words a desperate plea.

Matt pulled back slightly, his face close to mine. He studied my expression for a moment before murmuring, “Good,” and kissing my deeply.

His lips on mine were everything I’d been craving. The world condensed to the feeling of his mouth moving against mine, the taste of him overwhelming my senses.

Matt’s hands on my waist pulled me closer, his body pressing against me. He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing against my lips, seeking entrance. I willingly obliged, our mouths moving in a familiar dance, a symphony of desire and need. My hands moved to his hair, fingers tangling in the soft locks as our bodies entwined.

As we pulled apart for a moment, Matt’s voice was low and commanding. “Jump,” he whispered, his hands sliding down to the back of my thighs, urging me up. On instinct, I obeyed, leaping up and wrapping my legs around his waist as he picked me up with ease.

He held me tightly, my body cradled against him as he turned, pinning me against the wall. His mouth returned to mine, kissing me with a renewed intensity, our bodies pressed closely together. The sound of our breathy gasps echoed through the dark house, the atmosphere charged with the need for each other.

Matt’s hands held my thighs securely, his fingers digging into my skin slightly. He held me in place, my back against the wall, as he kissed me fervently. The heat of his body against mine was almost overwhelming, every touch and movement stoking the fire within me.

With ease, Matt carried me down the hallway, his footsteps barely making a sound. I held onto him tightly, trusting him to guide us to his bedroom. As we reached the door, he nudged it open, carrying me inside and kicking it shut behind us.

Matt gently set me down on the bed, the darkness of the room creating an intimate ambiance. He stepped back, slowly removing his sweater and, piece by piece, shedding his clothes.

I watched as Matt removed his clothes, my hands reaching out to help him. My fingers grazed his skin, undressing him slowly, the gesture both sensual and reverent.

His eyes never left mine as I undressed him, the intensity of his gaze making my heart race. As each piece of fabric fell away, leaving him completely bare in front of me, I could feel my desire growing, my fingers lingering on his skin as though committing his form to memory.

The faint light from the moonlight filtering underneath the blinds illuminated him, his form slightly silhouetted. The shadows played across his features, highlighting the strong lines of his physique. The world was fuzzy and out of focus, my eyes focused solely on him, the rest of the room a blur.

I knelt before him, my movements slow and intentional. My hands reached out, tracing over his hips and down to his thighs, my eyes never leaving his. I could see the desire in his eyes, the way they darkened with anticipation.

My hands trembled slightly as they reached the waistband of his remaining clothing, my fingers teasing at the fabric as I prepared to remove it. My breathing was shallow, my own anticipation building with each passing second.

I felt his hand on mine, guiding it slightly, a silent indication of his permission. I took a deep breath, my heart beating wildly, and slowly started to pull down his remaining clothes, exposing him fully to me.

My eyes widened slightly as I took in the sight of him, bare and vulnerable before me. I reached out, tentatively, my fingers brushing against his soft skin. He let out a slow breath, his body relaxing under my touch.

Emboldened, I wrapped my fingers around him, feeling his warmth. He moaned softly, his hips bucking forward slightly. I looked up at him, seeking approval. His eyes were closed, his face a mask of pure pleasure.

I began to move my hand slowly, exploring the silky smoothness of his skin and the hardness beneath. His breathing hitched, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“That's it,” Matt encouraged, his voice low and husky. “Just like that. You're doing so well.” His hand covered mine, guiding my movements to speed up and tighten my grip. “A little harder now,”

I followed Matt’s instructions, my hand moving faster and tighter around him. He let out a loud groan, his hips jerking forward eagerly. Pre-cum dripped from the tip, making my hand slick.

“Can I…?” I asked hesitantly, looking up at him. He opened his eyes, the heat in them making me blush. “Can you what?” he asked, his voice barely audible. “Can I… taste you?” I managed to stammer out, my face flushing crimson.

Matt's face softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “No need to ask, baby,” he murmured. “Whatever you want, it's yours. Come here...” He guided my head down, his hand tangling in my hair. “Open up for me...”

I parted my lips, my tongue darting out to lick away the bead of pre-cum at his tip. He shuddered, his fingers tightening in my hair. Encouraged, I took him into my mouth, my lips stretching around his girth as I began to suck.

Matt let out a low groan, his body tensing. “Relax your throat, baby,” he instructed, his voice strained. “You don’t have to take all of me, just follow your instincts.”

I did as he said, relaxing my throat and taking him deeper. The head of his cock hit the back of my throat and I swallowed around him, my nose pressing against his pelvis. He cried out, his grip on my hair tightening.

“Pull back, baby,” Matt gasped out, his voice hoarse. “Not gonna last if you keep doing that...” I pulled back, my cheeks hollowed as I sucked hard. He let out a string of curse words, his hips jerking forward. “Shit, Stop, Y/N...”

I ignored his plea, instead bobbing my head faster, my hands tightening on his thighs. I could feel his muscles tensing beneath my touch, his breath hitching in his chest. “Y/N...” he panted, his voice a warning. “I’m gonna...”

His words trailed off into a moan as he spilled into my mouth, his body convulsing. I swallowed every drop, my hands continuing to pump his shaft until he was spent. I pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and looking up at him with a satisfied smile.

I stood up slowly, my lips meeting his in a deep, passionate kiss. He tasted like salt and sweetness, and I couldn't get enough. Our tongues danced together, our hearts pounding in unison.

Matt's hands grasped my waist, slowly pushing me backwards onto the bed. I fell back with a soft gasp, my breath hitching as he hovered over me, his muscular arms braced on either side of my head. His blue eyes bored into mine, filled with unspoken promises.

His head dipped down, his lips finding the sensitive skin of my neck. He kissed and sucked, his hands reaching for the zipper of my catwoman costume. The sound of the zipper lowering filled the room, the cool air brushing against my heated skin.

Matt slowly peeled the costume off me, his lips following the path of the fabric as he exposed more of my skin. He paused at my breasts, his mouth closing around one peak while his hand caressed the other. I arched into him, a soft moan escaping my lips.

He lavished attention on my breasts until I was writhing beneath him, my hands clutching at his hair. Then, he began to kiss his way down my torso, his fingers hooking into the waistband of my catsuit. He looked up at me, his eyes filled with desire.

With a swift tug, he pulled off my bottoms, tossing them aside. I was now fully exposed to his hungry gaze. His hands caressed my thighs, pushing them apart. He settled between them, his breath hot against my most intimate area. I shivered in anticipation.

Matt hooked his fingers into the hem of my underwear and slowly pulled them down, his eyes locked onto mine. As the fabric reached my knees, he leaned down and used his mouth to pull them the rest of the way off, his teeth gently scraping against my skin.

Matt looked up at me from between my thighs, his blue eyes dark with lust. He placed a soft kiss on the inside of my thigh, his hands caressing the sensitive skin. He alternated between kisses and licks, slowly working his way higher.

His hands gripped my thighs, parting them wider as his mouth finally reached my center. He kissed me there, his tongue parting my folds and delving inside. I moaned, my hips bucking against his mouth as he feasted on me.

Matt hooked his arms under my legs, lifting them over his shoulders as he continued to devour me with his mouth. I was completely open and exposed to him, my most intimate parts on full display as he ate me out. I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him close to my aching core.

His hands gripped my backside, tilting my hips to give him better access as he buried his face between my thighs. He growled against my flesh, the vibration sending shivers through my body. I could feel the pressure building inside me, my breaths coming in short gasps. “Matt...”

I was so close, my body trembling on the edge of release. Matt seemed to sense this, doubling his efforts. He sucked my clit into his mouth, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive bud. I shattered, my back arching off the bed as my orgasm crashed over me.

As I convulsed around him, Matt slid two fingers inside me, curling them upwards to hit that spot that made my eyes roll back. He continued to suck on my swollen bud, his fingers pumping in and out of me in a steady rhythm.

Tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes as the sensations became too intense. I was so sensitive, yet I couldn't push him away. I needed more. He added a third finger, his hand moving faster as he brought me to the peak of pleasure once more.

I came with a shout, my inner muscles clenching around his fingers. He gentled his touch, slowly licking me through the aftershocks. When he finally lifted his head, his chin was glistening, and his eyes were filled with satisfaction.

He kissed my thighs, then my stomach, and finally my mouth. I could taste myself on his lips, salty and sweet. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down onto me. “I need you inside,” I whispered against his ear.

Matt chuckled low in his throat, his voice husky with desire. “Since you behaved so well, I think you deserve a reward.” He reached down, positioning himself at my entrance.

Matt sat up, his thighs straddling my hips. He rubbed the thick head of his cock along my slit, coating himself in my wetness. The sensation made me gasp, my hips lifting off the bed seeking more. He teased me, denying me the full penetration I craved.

“Not yet,” Matt murmured, his hand pressing down on my abdomen to keep my hips still. He continued to rub against me, his hot, hard flesh parting my swollen folds but never quite pushing inside. I squirmed beneath him, my breathing growing faster and shallower. “Please...”

“Please what?” Matt taunted, his voice low and seductive. He knew exactly what I wanted, how much I needed him to fill me, to move inside me. “Say it,” he demanded, his hand tightening on my stomach.

I was panting now, my body trembling with need. I looked up at him, my eyes pleading. “Please, Matt. I need you to fuck me. Fill me up.” I spread my legs wider in invitation, my wet heat aching to be claimed.

Matt’s expression grew intense, his jaw clenching as he finally lined himself up and slowly pushed inside. He watched my face as he inched forward, his thick length stretching me wide. I bit my lip, my hands gripping the sheets as he buried himself to the hilt.

He started to move then, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in. I cried out at the sudden intensity, my back arching off the bed. He set a hard, fast pace, the wet sounds of our coupling filling the room.

Our bodies slapped together, the sound of our moans and ragged breaths mingling. His large hands gripped my hips, tilting me to change the angle. He hit that spot deep inside me, making me see stars. “Oh god, Matt!” I cried out.

“That's it, baby,” Matt rasped, his voice thick with passion. “Squeeze my hard cock with your inner muscles like a good girl.” His words spurred me on, and I felt the familiar pressure building once more. “Matt...it’s...too much...”

“Too much what, baby?” he asked, his thrusts becoming erratic. “Too much pleasure? Too much love? Too much of me inside you?” He leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. “Tell me what’s too much, and I’ll give it to you.”

“Too much...love,” I whimpered, my body tensing as another wave of pleasure washed over me. He groaned deeply, his movements becoming harder and more urgent. “And you’ll take more, won’t you, baby?” He growled, his fingers digging into my flesh.

I could only nod, my words lost to the sensations overwhelming my body. He grunted in approval, his hips snapping forward as he increased his pace. The room filled with the sound of our harsh breaths and the wet slap of flesh against flesh.

Matt’s mouth found my neck, his teeth scraping against my pulse point. He sucked hard, leaving a dark mark on my skin as he claimed me. His lips trailed up to my collarbones, placing open-mouthed kisses along the delicate bones before latching onto the soft skin and sucking.

He marked me as his, leaving a trail of love bites across my chest. He sucked on my nipples, biting down gently before moving to the space between my breasts. He kissed and nipped at the soft flesh, leaving a pattern of bites that only he could decipher.

I moaned and writhed beneath him, the slight pain only heightening my pleasure. “You’re mine,” he growled against my skin. “Every inch of you belongs to me.” He pushed himself up, his hands gripping my thighs and draping them over his shoulders.

He leaned down, his face mere inches from mine. His eyes were dark with lust and something deeper, more intense. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice rough with need. “Tell me who you belong to.” His hips rolled forward, grinding against my sweet spot.

“I’m yours,” I gasped. “All yours, Matt. Oh god, Matt!” His thrusts became deeper, his pace punishing. Our bodies slapped together, the sound of our moans filling the room.

Matt's grip tightened on my thighs, pulling them further apart and draping them over his shoulders. He leaned forward, his body folding over mine as he increased his pace. He buried his face in my neck, his hot breath against my skin as he moaned loudly.

I turned my head, seeking his mouth. Our lips met in a desperate, hungry kiss, our tongues tangling as we moaned into each other's mouths. He thrust deep and fast, his hips pistoning forward in a frantic rhythm.

Matt pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting our mouths. His eyes were wild with lust as he looked down at me, his chest heaving. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hips never stopping their relentless motion.

I looked up at him through heavy-lidded eyes, my gaze taking in the changes to his face. His dark hair was damp with sweat, strands plastered to his forehead. The black eye paint he’d worn was smudged.

The dark lines ran down his cheeks like tears, giving him a wild, untamed appearance. His jaw was clenched, the muscles bunching and releasing with each powerful thrust.

“Oh god, Matt! Oh god!” I cried out, my body tensing as another wave of pleasure crashed over me. “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I chanted, my head thrashing from side to side on the pillow as he pounded into me.

Matt's hands flew to the bed beside my head, his fingers curling into the sheets as he propped himself up. He began to thrust faster and harder, his hips jackhammering between my thighs. “Cum for me, baby,” he grunted, his jaw clenched.

He leaned forward, his head fitting perfectly between my neck and shoulder. I wrapped my arms around his back, holding on for dear life as he fucked me with reckless abandon. The bed creaked and groaned beneath their combined weight, the slapping of their skin echoing through the room.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Matt bellowed, his voice raw and husky. “Take it, baby! Take my fucking cock!” I screamed in response, my voice hoarse from all the loud moaning. “YES! YES! FUCK ME HARDER, MATT!”

Matt’s hand left the bed, moving to press down on my stomach. He pushed me into the mattress as he continued his relentless pace, his other hand still propping himself up. The new angle allowed him to go even deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside me. “Oh god, right there!”

“This is what you wanted, isn't it?” Matt growled, his hips slamming forward. “Wanted my cock so bad that you had us leave Chris and Nick behind. Couldn't even behave and control yourself.” He punctuated his words with particularly hard thrusts. “And here we are.”I whimpered, my hands clutching at his back as I tried to hold back. "P-Please, Matt...It's too...It's too intense..."He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. "You can take it, baby."

“You better take it all now, like you were asking for it,” he continued, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “Gonna fill this tight little pussy up. Make you scream my name.” His hand on my stomach pressed down harder, forcing me to arch into his thrusts.

His words, combined with the new angle and his powerful movements, pushed me closer and closer to the edge. “Matt...Matt, it’s too much...I can’t...I’m gonna...” My words dissolved into incoherent babbling as he continued to pound into me.

“Hold it,” Matt grunted. “Hold it until I say you can let go.” His pace increased, his hips a blur as he pistoned in and out of me. “You’ll cum when I say you can, understand?”

I whimpered, my hands clutching at his back as I tried to hold back. “Please, Matt...It’ too...It’s too intense...” He leaned down, his breath hot against my ear. “You can take it, baby.”

His words gave me strength, and I clenched my teeth, determined to hold back despite the overwhelming sensation. My body shook with the effort, my nails digging into his back. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice low and approving.

He continued to fuck me at a frantic pace, his thrusts hitting that perfect spot over and over. I could feel my orgasm building, coiling tight in my core. I was so close, but I held back, refusing to let go until he gave the okay.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Matt paused, his hips frozen mid-thrust. He held me in place, his cock buried deep inside me. “Now,” he commanded, his voice rough with need. “Let go.”

I screamed as my orgasm ripped through me, my body shaking violently as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over me. Matt didn't hold back, fucking me through my climax with relentless force. His own release followed soon after, his cock pulsing inside me as he filled me with his hot seed.

“Fuck, yes!” Matt groaned, his hips jerking as he came. I moaned long and loud, my inner walls fluttering around his shaft, milking every last drop. Our combined moans filled the room, a symphony of pleasure as we rode out our intense orgasms together.

As the last tremors of his release subsided, Matt collapsed forward, catching himself on his elbows to keep from crushing me. He buried his face against my neck, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. “Wow.” His voice was a mere whisper against my skin.

I could only whimper in response, my body still quaking with aftershocks. Matt pressed soft kisses along my neck and jaw as we lay there, basking in the afterglow. “That was incredible,” he murmured, slowly pulling out of me.

Matt carefully extracted himself from me and got off the bed. I heard the faucet run in the bathroom, and a moment later, he returned with a warm, damp washcloth. He gently cleaned me up, his touch tender and caring. “You okay, baby?”

I nodded, a soft smile on my face as I looked up at him. “Mmhmm. That was... intense.” I stretched languidly, feeling deliciously used in the best possible way. Matt chuckled, tossing the rag into his laundry basket and crawling back into bed with me.

Matt pulled the sheets over us, tucking me against his side. “Well, it's what you wanted,” he said, a playful edge to his voice. “And I gave it to you.” He nuzzled my hair, his arms wrapped protectively around me.

I groaned, “I’m going to have such a big headache and hangover in the morning.” Matt kissed the top of my head. “I’ll get you some hangover pills and water later, just rest for now.”

I felt the comforting warmth of Matt's body behind me, his chest against my back. His arms wrapped around me tightly, his face pressed into the crook of my neck, inhaling the familiar scent of my hair. As I closed my eyes, the exhaustion and alcohol finally claiming me, the sound of his steady breath lulled me into a deep slumber.

I woke up to the sound of rustling and the closet opening. I turned around, my eyes still heavy with sleep, and found Matt shuffling through the hangers, searching for a top. He was already dressed in sweatpants, his hair mussed from sleep, and his muscular back was on full display.

I yawned and rubbed my eyes, shifting slightly in the bed as I watched Matt rummage through his closet. “Where are you going?” I asked, my voice raspy from sleep, my words a sleepy murmur.

Matt paused, grabbing a red crewneck and pulling it over himself. “Chris called, said him and Nick need to be picked up,” he replied, his tone casual. He continued rummaging for a second, his gaze focused on the closet as if he was looking for something else.

Meanwhile, I snuggled deeper into the blankets, still drowsy from sleep. “What time is it?” I asked, stifling a tired yawn, my body half hidden beneath the covers.

He closed his closet door and pulled out his phone, glancing at the screen. His voice was low and calm. “It's two in the morning,” he responded. He put his phone back into his pocket and started his search for his keys. He finally found his keys hidden underneath a pile of clothes and pocketed them.

As he moved around, I noticed the change and looked him up and down, my drowsy eyes picking up on the details. His hair was damp, the smell of shampoo lingering in the air, and his black eye paint, a telltale sign of his costume from the party, was completely gone, revealing his natural, chiselled features beneath.

“You showered,” I murmured, still half asleep, the observation slipping out despite the tiredness. Matt turned to face me, his hair tousled, his face devoid of the makeup. I saw the slight amusement in his eyes, a hint of a smile dancing on his lips.

Matt nodded, a small chuckle escaping him as he responded, “Yeah, the black eye paint was getting annoying and sticky.” He ran a hand through his damp hair, pushing it back. “Had to wash it off,” he added.

He walked over to the bed, leaning against the frame as he looked down at me, his form silhouetted against the light. “Go back to sleep, baby,” he said quietly. His words were a soft whisper, his concern evident despite the nonchalance.

“Will you be back?” I murmured, my words slurred from the remnants of sleepiness. I couldn’t help but feel a hint of worry, wondering if he'd return to the warmth of the bed next to me.

Matt gave a reassuring nod, his voice gentle. “Of course I will, just have to go get Chris and Nick,” he murmured, his tone comforting. He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, tucking it behind my ear.

I felt a small smile tug at my lips, comforted by his words and his gentle touch. “Be safe,” I drowsy murmured, my eyes already closing again, tiredness weighing on my eyelids.

Matt leaned down and planted a soft peck on my lips, his lips lingering for a brief moment. “I will,” he whispered, his voice a soothing promise.

I opened my eyes slightly, my voice slightly pleading but drowsy. “Before you leave can you start the shower for me?” I murmured, my words slurred with sleep.

Matt's expression softened, concern evident in his eyes. He asked, a hint of worry in his voice, “Are you sure? You won’t fall or anything while I’m gone, will you?” It was clear he was concerned for my state, even if I was only half asleep and slightly out of it.

I nodded, a sleepy smile on my lips, my eyes still half-open as I reassured him, “I won’t fall. Just start it for me, please.” My voice was soft and drowsy, the promise of a warm shower before he returned sounding too nice to pass up, even in my tired state.

Matt gave a small sigh, his expression momentarily softening at the sight of my drowsy state. He nodded, his voice gentle. “All right, just let the water heat up and you know where the towel is. Careful, okay? I’ll be back soon,” he said quietly, his words a whispered promise, his hand brushing against my cheek.

With that, he pushed back from the bed, pausing for a moment to watch me as he walked out of the room and into the hallway. The faint sound of water turning on could be heard as the shower warmed up for me, and then the garage door closed, signaling Matt leaving to go get Chris and Nick.

After finishing, I threw on one of Matt's hoodies and a pair of sweatpants, feeling comforted by his familiar scent. I made my way back to the bedroom and crawled back into bed, the comforting familiarity of our shared space soothing.

As I lay there, waiting for Matt, I felt the bed dip slightly beside me, the mattress shifting under the added weight. Warm breath caressed my neck, the faint hints of the night air on his sweatshirt-clad body. His arms wrapped around me as he settled in behind me, his body slotting against my back like it belonged there.

I felt the warmth of his body press against me, comforting and familiar in its presence. He held me closer, his arms securely wrapped around my waist, his nose nuzzling against my neck. His breath was steady and I could sense him letting out a soft sigh, relieved to be back.

Matt whispered playfully against my neck, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Stealing my hoodie, I see,” he murmured, his tone light and teasing. His arm tightened around me, a gentle squeeze that communicated his subtle approval.

“Guilty as charged,” I murmured in response, my voice drowsy but playful in tone. My hands found his, interlacing our fingers as I nestled against him, finding comfort in the warmth and safety of his embrace.

I shifted, turning around to face him, my body nestling closer against his. I grabbed his arm, pulling it over me, draping it like a comforting blanket. My head rested against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart in the quiet room.

He adjusted slightly, pulling me even closer, his arm wrapping around my waist protectively. He kissed the top of my head, holding me in a gentle yet firm embrace, the gesture both possessive and comforting. His fingers traced slow circles on my back, the soft touch an unspoken form of reassurance and affection.

A/N: HAPPY (late) HALLOWEEN!! — FOR @st6rify ❤︎︎

TAGS: @st6rify ✮⋆˙ @jetaimevous ✮⋆˙ @certifiedstarrr ✮⋆˙ @slvtf0rchr1s ✮⋆˙ @l3sbiancvnt ✮⋆˙ @wh0remikasas ✮⋆˙ @r0s3luvr

── .✦ MASTER—LIST ⭑𓂃

[almostempty]

he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add  

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3! 

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls! 

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest. 

“Anymore?” 

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point? 

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you. 

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor. 

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you. 

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized. 

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you? 

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing. 

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead. 

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock. 

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his. 

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat. 

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath. 

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time. 

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk. 

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure. 

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave. 

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan. 

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating. 

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath. 

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives. 

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure. 

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn. 

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing. 

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him. 

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.” 

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry. 

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once. 

“Then don’t.” 

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?” 

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth. 

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.” 

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy. 

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.” 

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled. 

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes. 

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.” 

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name. 

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length. 

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless. 

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him. 

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself. 

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight. 

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking. 

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?” 

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move. 

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer. 

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you. 

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore. 

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now. 

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip. 

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next. 

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.” 

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly. 

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness. 

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.” 

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre. 

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you. 

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void. 

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you. 

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word. 

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track. 

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath. 

Maybe he does know. 

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

[theodorenmyth]

Reader doing a small prank where they don’t say their usual “good morning/evening/night” for a week towards Enzo and mattheo

Tiny Prank

Pairings ; Lorenzo Berkshire x GN!Reader x Mattheo Riddle

Summary ; You prank Lorenzo and Mattheo by stopping your usual morning and night greetings for a week. As they grow suspicious, they cling to you constantly, holding your hand and sticking close during cuddles. Frustrated, they demand an explanation, but when you refuse, they start smothering you with kisses. Eventually, overwhelmed by their affection, you give in, saying your usual greetings and promising not to prank them again. Even after you surrender, they continue pampering you, enjoying their victory.

A/N ; enjoy babyyy ❤️❤️

warnings ; None

word count ; 1.2k

It started innocently enough — just a small prank to see how Lorenzo Berkshire and Mattheo Riddle would react. For weeks now, you’d made a habit of greeting them at every turn with your usual warmth: a soft “good morning” over breakfast, a casual “good evening” when you crossed paths in the corridors after classes, and a quiet “good night” before bed when the three of you ended up cuddling in the common room or sneaking off to the Room of Requirement.

But one day, you decided to stop. No morning greetings. No “good night” kisses. No acknowledgment of their presence when it came to those endearing moments that usually made your bond so close-knit. You wanted to see if they would notice… and oh, they definitely noticed.

By day three, it was clear they were growing restless.

"Are you mad at us?" Lorenzo asked as he slid into the seat beside you in the Great Hall for breakfast, his eyes squinting in mild confusion.

You didn’t even glance up from your plate, merely taking a sip of pumpkin juice as if he hadn’t spoken at all. He stared at you, visibly unsettled by your indifference.

"Baby, what's going on?" Mattheo’s voice came from across the table. His dark curls were messy from sleep, his sharp eyes fixed on you, clearly waiting for an explanation.

You looked at him briefly, offering a slight shrug, then resumed eating without so much as a word.

Mattheo groaned audibly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting weird."

"I’m not acting weird," you responded simply, the first words you’d spoken directly to them in a while, but still lacking the usual affectionate tone they were used to.

Lorenzo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "You’re definitely acting weird. You haven’t said ‘good morning’ in days, and I swear if you don’t tell me why, I’ll hex you right here."

Your lips twitched upward into a sly smile, but you quickly covered it with your hand, pretending to yawn. "Maybe I’m just tired."

That, of course, was not the reason, but you enjoyed watching them squirm. You got up from your seat after finishing your meal, leaving both of them to stare after you, clearly more confused than ever.

⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ — ⋆.˚꩜ —

By the end of the week, things had escalated.

Mattheo and Lorenzo had taken to clinging to you at every possible moment. At first, it was subtle — Lorenzo holding your hand more often, Mattheo sitting a little too close during meals, their touches lingering longer than usual. But now? They were practically glued to you.

"Are you really going to ignore us all day?" Mattheo asked one afternoon, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. He was lounging beside you on the couch in the Slytherin common room, his arm firmly wrapped around your waist.

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing.

Lorenzo, who was on your other side, let out a dramatic sigh. "This is torture, you know that?" His hand slipped down to your thigh, fingers drumming impatiently. "You haven’t said ‘good morning,’ ‘good night,’ or anything. We know something’s wrong."

"Yeah," Mattheo agreed, pulling you closer until you were practically sitting in his lap. "You’re not yourself, and we don’t like it."

You rolled your eyes, trying to stifle a grin. "I’m fine."

"Clearly, you’re not," Lorenzo countered, pressing his forehead against yours. "You’re holding out on us, and we’re not letting you get away with it."

Before you could respond, Mattheo's hand slid up your back, his lips pressing against your temple. “You’re really going to make us work for it, huh?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin.

You shivered slightly, but you kept up the act, determined to see this prank through. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Lorenzo scoffed, shifting so he could better face you. "You’re such a liar," he teased, though his tone was laced with affection. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed your cheek. Soft and deliberate.

You flinched, startled by the sudden affection. "What—?"

But you didn’t get to finish your sentence. Mattheo followed suit, pressing his lips against your other cheek, then your jawline. "We’re not letting you get away with this," he murmured between kisses.

Before you knew it, they had you pinned between them, Lorenzo's hands gently cradling your face as he planted kiss after kiss across your forehead and temples, while Mattheo trailed kisses down your neck and shoulders.

"Alright, alright!" you gasped, wriggling in their hold, but neither of them relented.

"Not until you say it," Mattheo demanded, his lips hovering just above yours, a smug grin playing on his face.

"Say what?" you asked, feigning ignorance, even though you knew exactly what he wanted.

Lorenzo smirked, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth. "You know what we want, love. You’re not getting out of this that easily."

You tried to suppress a laugh, but it bubbled up anyway. "Okay, okay! You win!"

Mattheo pulled back slightly, raising an eyebrow. "Say it."

Rolling your eyes, you let out a long sigh before finally giving in. "Good morning. Good night. Good evening. All of it. Happy now?"

Lorenzo grinned, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in to kiss you properly, slow and sweet. "That’s more like it."

Mattheo, not wanting to be outdone, tilted your chin up and captured your lips in a kiss of his own, his hands slipping down to your waist as he pulled you even closer. "Took you long enough," he murmured against your lips.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation, thoroughly trapped between the two of them, both of them showering you with kisses until you were breathless.

"You guys are insufferable," you muttered, though there was no bite to your words.

"You love it," Mattheo shot back, a teasing glint in his eye as he kissed the tip of your nose.

Lorenzo chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder. "Maybe we’re just making up for lost time. After all, you did ignore us for a whole week."

"I didn’t ignore you," you corrected. "I just… withheld some things."

Mattheo snorted. "Same difference. But don’t think we’re done with you yet."

Lorenzo hummed in agreement. "We’ve still got a lot of kisses to make up for."

They were relentless, taking turns pampering you with affection, holding you tightly as if making up for the lost week in one single afternoon. And honestly? You didn’t mind one bit.

"Alright, alright!" you groaned, finally giving in to the onslaught of affection. "I get it. I won’t prank you again."

"Good," Mattheo said, leaning back just enough to look at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Because if you do, we’ll just do this all over again."

"And next time," Lorenzo added with a wicked grin, "we won’t let you off so easily."

You couldn’t help but laugh, thoroughly overwhelmed by their affection. "Alright, you win."

They both grinned, satisfied with your surrender, but neither of them moved away, still keeping you firmly tucked between them. You had a feeling they wouldn’t be letting you go any time soon — and honestly, you were perfectly fine with that.

[mitsuyeaah]

my present.

— ran haitani x f! reader

cw: nsfw (mdni), smut, bdsm (handcuffs & ran’s baton), unprotected sex, creampie, slight degradation, pet names (princess, sweet, baby)

a/n: hello, i’m most likely on a break (again) if you see this post. i didn’t want to leave without writing for ran haitani’s birthday so i’m writing this the night before and have scheduled to post this the next day (today). i did promise you all hehe. hope you guys enjoy <3 happy birthday ran!

ran’s arms were around you as soon as he walked through the door. work was rough—even on his birthday—and all he wanted to do was be with you. to be engulfed in your presence, your scent, your everything.

of course, being the loving girlfriend you were, you had prepared something special for ran. the two of you were supposed to be in a fancy dinner, getting tipsy over expensive wine and laughing about his fellow executives in bonten. then, the two of you would take a romantic walk under the twinkling stars, sharing endless stories about anything and everything.

key word, supposed.

you didn’t know how you got into this position but here you were, naked and hands bound over your head and tied to the headboard—completely at ran’s mercy. he hovered over you, knees planted on either side of your legs and his gaze locked on you. you already got the gist of his idea when he said he only wanted you as his present for his birthday but this was definitely on another level.

his right hand firmly held onto his onxy-coloured baton, the stick glimmering under the light as if to tease you. to remind you how helpless you were. you haven’t seen him use his baton for combat for a very long time, so it definitely brought back memories.

“so pretty f’me, my princess..” he purred, bringing the baton down to your chest to trace at one of your hardened buds. your brows furrowed in pleasure as your chest pushed towards the end of his baton, your teeth biting down at your bottom lip. fuck, he hasn’t even done much, yet you were already a mess.

you looked up at him, your eyes—an evident hint of plea—meeting his amethyst ones. this earned a saccharine smile from him, followed by a honeyed laugh, the hanafuda tattoo embedded on the skin of his neck moving with every gesture.

“mmm.. you’re going to have to do much better than that.” the tip of the baton travels down your torso, leaving goosebumps in its trail as it ghosts over your skin. the tip of it stops at the apex of your legs, a slight pressure pressing against your clit.

it drove you absolutely crazy, the pressure was too soft to give any kind of satisfaction.

your hands tugged on the silver cuffs against your wrist, making a loud clinking noise which only fed onto ran’s saccharine smile. god, he loved seeing you like this. all pretty and ready for him.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he started rubbing the tip up and down your slick folds, back arching upwards as a whimper escapes your lips. “aah! ran, please, baby. i need you..”

he ignored your pleas and continued rubbing the tip of his baton against your wet cunt. you clenched around nothing, the pleasure was there yet it was unsatisfying. you needed ran’s cock inside you.

“beg for it, then. beg for my cock like the good girl you are.”

you let out another whimper as ran increases the pressure against your clit. “please please, ran! i want your cock inside me.. ngh! i’ll be a good girl!” you breathlessly pleaded, your exposed chest heaving up and down as you held ran’s gaze.

you didn’t know that your pleas were actually going to work but it did. normally, ran would’ve had you shaking and crying before giving you his cock but it seems like he was being extra nice today. although, the huge tent in his pants gave you a clear indication.

he was just as eager as you were.

after releasing your wrist from the metal cuffs, ran positioned your body into all fours. he settled behind you after getting undressed, his free hand roaming your ass, squeezing and massaging at the supple flesh which earned a moan from you.

he wasted no time before slipping his cock inside you, a loud groan rumbling deep from his chest at the feeling of your delicious walls sucking him in. his left hand squeezed at your ass as he bottomed out, pants slipping past his lips. he closed his eyes for a few seconds, letting his mind wander somewhere else to hold himself back from cumming right then and there.

the two of you fell into a unison, profanities and loud moans reverberated throughout the room as ran finally started moving his hips. loud squelching noises filling your ears, reminding you how much effect ran has on you.

“fuck! just like that, my princess.. ngh—ah!” ran threw his head back as you clenched around him, biting down on his bottom lip at the heightened pleasure.

“mmm.. such a good girl f’me..” he breathlessly chuckles before striking his baton against your ass, earning a loud yelp from you. you clenched around him again, the searing pain was sharp and it spread throughout your skin, but ran was quick to massage that very spot.

he tilts his head to the side even though you couldn’t see him, “oh? does my princess like that? you like it when i use my baton on you, huh?” you nod your head before releasing your bottom lip from your teeth to mutter a small ‘yes’.

ran lets out an exaggerated gasp, “how naughty, my princess. y’know.. most of my enemies fear for their life when they’re met with my baton, but you.. you’re here enjoying yourself like a complete slut because of it.”

his hips pick up its pace causing your body to roughly jolt forward with every thrust, heavy balls slapping against your clit. “mmm—fuck, ran!” your nails dig into the mattress, your arms burning as you held yourself steady against his powerful thrusts.

another strike lands on your ass, this time causing your arms to give out. the hit was much harder but the pain felt so good combined with the pleasure his cock gave you, the way the blunt tip kissed the spongy spot inside you over and over again .

your face met the mattress, moans muffled but were still as loud due to ran’s unforgiving thrusts. “ah! ah! i’m close—fuck!” your face contorted in pleasure, muscles becoming taut at the familiar sensation bubbling at the pit of your stomach.

ran brings down his baton for the third time, striking your ass which earned another loud muffled moan from you. at this point you were gone, the pain from the baton mixed with the pleasure from his cock. you only had one thing in your mind, and that was to cum.

he throws the baton somewhere in the room—making a loud clanking noise as it met the floor—before planting both his palms on your hips and roughly fucking into you. “s-shit! are you—ah! are you near, my princess?” he whines, hips stuttering as you give his cock another clench.

you try to form the word ‘yes’ but it betrays you and instead, loud moans and whimpers escape from your throat. your eyes were shut tight, focusing on the immense pleasure you felt.

“mmm—ah! cum for me, my princess. c’mon, give me the best birthday present and cream around this cock.”

that was all it took for you to let go. your body stiffened as the knot deep in your lower stomach finally snapped, your mouth agape but no sounds dared to come out. tears brimmed around your eyes at the immense pleasure, you swore you could hear a faint ringing.

ran stills his hips flush against your ass as ropes of his thick cum paint your walls, hands massaging at the spot his baton hit. he shudders at the pleasure, letting out breathless high pitched moans and crying for your name.

“ngh! fuck yeah.. that’s it.” his hips softly ruts into your ass, riding his orgasm out to milk every last drop of his cum. he pulled out of you, watching the way your juices leaked out of your sopping wet cunt before throwing himself on the mattress next to you to catch his breath.

“best birthday gift ever, my sweet.” he pants, looking into your eyes as you settled beside him as well. smiling at him, “happy birthday, baby.” you croaked.

ran haitani was a simple man with simple needs. he didn’t need expensive gifts to be satisfied on his birthday, no. all he needed was you, because,

after all, his present was your presence.

© mitsuyeaah

[intricatechaosofyou]

GORGEOUS

Pairing: Bob Floyd x f!reader, callsign: Romeo

Fandom: Top Gun: Maverick

Summary: Bob might be observant in the sky, but with girls he’s completely oblivious

Based off of Taylor Swift’s Gorgeous

Warnings: language

━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━ ━

This was getting ridiculous.

For someone whose job description was being observant, Bob was completely oblivious to every single move you had tried on him.

You had tried everything.

But it failed every time.

When you tried to buy him a drink, it only ended in embarrassment.

“C’mon, Robby,” you begged, with a smile. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“It’s okay.”

“But I wanna. To congratulate you on a good flight today. You and Phoenix killed it.”

“It’s really not necessary, Romeo.”

Pouting, you tilted your head. “But why not?”

“I don’t drink.”

When you got him to teach you how to shoot a combo in pool, he barely even touched you.

“Robby?” you asked, innocently batting your lashes at him.

His eyes snapped to yours, immediately disregarding whatever Rooster was telling him. “Yeah?”

“Will you teach me how to shoot a combo?” You pointed back at the pool table where Fanboy had just lost to Payback.

“Sure.” Sliding out of his chair, Bob made his way over to you and grabbed a pool stick of his own.

He bent over, giving you a fantastic view of his ass in his khakis, and started explaining how to angle the stick so you’d be able to hit both balls.

“Give it a try,” he said with a smile.

With your best doe eyes, you mimicked his previous stance. “Like this?”

“Almost.” Bob gently nudged your shoulder back and moved the stick in your hands. “There. Now the angle’s good.”

“Are you sure?” You questioned, looking up at him.

He nodded. “Give it a try.”

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to lean over you to set up the shot. That’s how it happened in the movies. But Bob was too polite to do that.

And you didn’t want to disappoint him by not trying. Sighing, you took the shot and the balls went right into the pockets.

Bob smiled proudly at you. “You got it, Romeo!”

You forced a smile as you nodded. “Yeah. Guess I did. Thanks, Robby.”

And when you tried sitting in his lap, Bob still didn’t get the hint.

Coming back from the bar with two beers in hand, you noticed that Hangman had taken her seat. It looked like he and Coyote had finished messing around with the dart board and had decided to join the group again.

Instead of complaining, you simply handed Phoenix her beer and sat right down on Bob’s lap.

Bob stared at you, cheeks lightly stained pink.

You had him now.

“Here, have my seat,” Bob said.

“I’m fine right here, Robby.”

He shook his head, two large hands grabbing you waist and lifting you off his lap. “I insist.”

Bob stood up and gestured at the seat.

You did your best to smile at the man. “Thanks, Robby. Ever the gentleman.”

Sliding onto the stool, you saw the faces of the rest of the Dagger squad. They were all suppressing their laughter at your failed attempt at flirting with Bob. They had watched this little game go on for months now.

Bob just smiled at you, oblivious.

“You know, not talking to him isn’t gonna make him disappear,” Phoenix commented, snapping you out of your memories and bringing you back to the incessant noise of the Hard Deck.

“I know, Nix. But I’m tired of continually flirting with him only for him to not understand it. So, ignoring him is the best option.”

Sighing, Phoenix passed another beer to you. “He really likes you, ya know. Even if he can’t take a hint.”

“He can’t, can he?” You laughed, shaking your head fondly. Even if you were annoyed at him for being so oblivious, it’s part of what made Bob, Bob.

“Speak of the devil,” Phoenix muttered, gesturing to the WSO who was now making his way towards the two of you. “I’ll catch ya later, Romeo.”

With a wink, Phoenix was gone and Bob was now seated by your side. “Hey, Romeo.”

You just hummed in response.

“Have I done something wrong?” Bob asked suddenly.

With worried eyes, you turned to him. “What?”

“It’s just that you sat on the opposite side of the room from me and you haven’t talked to me all night. You’ve just been glaring at me from across the circle. Have I done something to upset you?”

You chewed on her bottom lip, feeling slightly guilty for being so rude to him now. “You haven’t done anything to upset me, Robby. Not knowingly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you’re gorgeous!” You blurted, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “You should take it as a compliment that I’m talking to everyone in this room but you! Because you’re so unbelievably gorgeous that it actually hurts me, Robby! You’re kind and you actually have manners! I have fallen so hard for you that I don’t think I can ever get back up! And I’ve been trying to make moves on you for months but nothing seems to get through that thick skull of yours!”

Bob’s face flushed scarlet at the admission. “Y- you think I’m gorgeous?”

“That’s what you got out of that confession?” You questioned, exasperated.

“No, not just that. I just wasn’t expecting any of it. I’ve…uh…been trying to make moves on you, too. I just didn’t think you noticed.”

That comment caused your brows to furrow in confusion. “What? When?” You asked.

“Like when you tried to buy me the drink.”

“I don’t drink.”

Your face flushed slightly at the explanation. “Oh.”

“But I can go get you something if you want?” Bob offered.

Bob watched as a small smile appeared on your face, his heart fluttering.

“Yeah, that would be nice. A-“

Bob cut you off with a wide smile. “I know what you like.”

A few minutes later your favorite drink was in your hands and Bob was sitting next to you.

“Thanks, Robby.”

“Anytime, Romeo.”

“And when I taught you that combo in pool.”

Bob smiled proudly at you. “You got it, Romeo!”

“Yeah. Guess I did. Thanks, Robby.”

“Wanna play a game?” He asked, gesturing to the pool table.

“Sure. And you’re taking me to get ice cream when I win.”

“You’re pretty confident there, ain’t ya, Romeo?”

“Always, Robby,” you responded with a wink.

What you didn’t know is that Bob purposely let you win that game just so he could take you to go get ice cream afterwards. Sure, Hangman would make fun of him for losing, but it was all worth it when he saw you smile at the sprinkles adorning your prize.

“And when you sat on my lap that one time.”

“Thanks, Robby. Ever the gentleman.”

Bob just smiled at you. His mama taught him to be a gentleman and giving you his seat only felt right. As he stood next to your seat, he let his hand rest on the small of your back, tracing random patterns into the fabric of your shirt. It grounded the both of you, reminding you that the other was there.

Sometime in the middle of the conversation, his hand grabbed yours, intertwining your fingers as you continued your conversation with Fanboy. It was so natural that you barely even noticed, but the rest of the squad shared knowing looks when they saw your connected hands.

“Oh my god, Robby,” you mumbled quietly. The sudden realization that he had been trying to flirt with you the entire time made you feel dizzy. Maybe you had both been oblivious. “I was trying to hit on you when I did all of that!”

“I realize that now,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“God, how could we both be so stupid?” You asked with a fond smile.

“I don’t know. Maybe now we could…ya know, go get dinner sometime?” Bob proposed, still somehow shy.

“Dinner tomorrow. Ice cream tonight?” You suggested.

He nodded, a small smile gracing your face. “Yeah, ice cream tonight works.”

You smiled and grabbed his hand, leading him out of the Hard Deck, ignoring the whistles from your friends as you left together.

“Hey, (y/n)?” Bob mumbled as the two of you got out into the cool night air.

“Yeah?”

“I think you’re gorgeous, too.”

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Chapter Ten

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 4177

Warnings: 18+ Blog; Lots of Fluff, these two can’t keep their hands to themselves, oral (m receiving), two dumb dumbs in love, mentions of food, Readers nickname is Poppy (no physical description at all), talks of sobriety

Series Masterlist / Playlist/ Main Masterlist

Previous / Epilogue

FLASH * CLICK * FLASH * CLICK

It’s blinding, even with the late afternoon sun perched high above Hollywood Boulevard. 

The theater, El Capitan, its signage bold and ornate give the movie house its old Hollywood charm, welcoming those in attendance to the star studded movie premiere. 

There are so many people, stacks and stacks of bodies with cameras and flashes barricaded behind a wall of bigger cameras with more people holding microphones— masquerading as a friend-next-door the moment the camera rolls, dropping the facade the second the interview is over. 

Dieter is grateful the minute you both step out of the car that you had agreed to attend the event with him, having you by his side to ground him, not knowing what feelings or emotions this movie celebration would evoke— but having you as his plus one, as fans and paparazzi wailed and cheered for him after being away from the spotlight for close to 3 years—made it feel less paralyzing. 

FLASH * CLICK * FLASH * CLICK

It’s a precise balance of excitement and jitters, mixing and swirling a heady cocktail of emotions, nerves tickling at the surface— but the dizzying sensation settles, not dissolved but thinned and manageable the minute his voice hits the chaotic noise filled air. 

“You good?” A steady hand settling on the small of your back, his words a whispered question only meant for you, knowing how overwhelming this whole scene can be, even for someone who has been in the business for as long as he has. 

“Yeah, I’m good— it’s just a lot to take in. I don’t know how you do this regularly?” A hint of a nervous crack in your voice.

“Honestly, I have no clue— my memory of them is a bit hazy— I do know though, having you here makes it seem less terrifying, so thank you for coming. If it’s too much, you can skip it? I can do my obligations and meet you on the other side?” His thumb draws comforting circles to the opening where your dress reveals your bare skin.

“N-no— I can manage, I’m sure once we get moving it will be fine. Would rather stick with you anyway.” Your teeth gnawing at your lower lip, keeping your focus on him only, as you both wait for the line for actors, producers and directors before you to continue down the strip of red plush carpet. 

“Have I told you how hot you look in this dress?” He asks against the shell of your ear, a feather light kiss to the juncture of your jaw before pulling back to fix his gaze back on yours.

It's a simple cut, tailor made to your figure. It’s champagne in color with delicate wide straps draped down the curve of your breasts, the satin fabric flowing down the length of your body, the low-cut exposing your back and a romantic train pooling around the ground as you stand. 

“Hmm, I think beautiful, sexy, gorgeous were a few of the terms you used since I slipped into it— I’ll add hot to the list— Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself, Handsome.” 

His double breasted all white suit fit him so well, his white button down lacking the buttoning of the top few buttons, emphasizing the taut lines of his gorgeous neck.

“Alright Mr. Bravo, right this way. You’re going to stop on the designated tape marks briefly, let them get their shot, then make your way to the interviewers and there will also be some fans at the end of the carpet before making your way inside.” 

The sweet young lady assigned to Dieter for the evening debriefed the two of you as you prepared to step out into the sea of flashing madness. Putting you both front and center to the onslaught of yelling and demanding requests from photographers, ensuring they get the angle and shot that their Big-Name-Magazine-Boss will plaster across glossy pages accompanied in tiny print ‘shot by’ next to their name.

“You ready for this?” Dieter asks, almost as if he’s giving you one more chance to bail.

“No, but lead the way Mr. Bravo.” A kiss for good luck to his cheek as he removes his hand from your back, interlocking your fingers together followed by a few squeezes as he starts to guide you to the first stop on the carpet. 

“DIETER! TO YOUR RIGHT!”

“MR. BRAVO! DIETER— RIGHT HERE!”

“DIETER!”

“DIETER!”

“DIETER!”

Dieter’s confident and casual demeanor is charming, standing off to the side as he gets his photo taken, watching him as he does his dutiful requirements as the leading actor at his movie’s premiere. 

You study his profile, angular and captivating, his demure half smile on display as he does his best to look in every direction is name is being called to, the way his chestnut locks look lived in and controlled at the same time,  his overwhelming beauty is doing wonders to keep your nervous thoughts at bay— selfishly eager to get him home to have him all to yourself. 

As the line moves, Dieter keeps you close, your body angled in towards him at the next stop, an arm wrapped low around your waist. Your noses nearly touch when he looks over to you, a silent check in and an excuse to give his eyes a break from the bright bursts of light— honestly any reason to look in your direction. 

“Poppy, babe— I think they want your attention.” His husky voice breaks through the riotous hollering, his head tilting in the direction of where the ‘Miss, this way please!’ is being called out. 

You manage to tear your gaze away from Dieter, no real idea where to look or who to focus on, giving your best not super forced almost toothy grin, taking a few breaks to focus back on Dieter then looking back out to the wall of intense flickers— Dieter’s constant need for his sunglasses making total sense now.

It’s near the end of the carpet, where the interviewing line begins. Reporters asking their stream of questions— some related to the movie, others more personal. But all fairly tame and revolving around the shooting of the movie, wanting to know more about how Dieter worked to bring his character to life and if his sobriety was hard to manage at any point in time during filming. 

The focus directly on Dieter, letting you ride through the interview process with a front row seat. 

“Dieter, this is not a role we’ve seen from you before— it’s new and refreshing I would think. How different was it from your usual rogue characters, to play this soft romantic heartthrob?” The interviewer asks, utilizing her time with many substantial questions. 

“Soft romantic heartthrob? You’re feeding my ego right— give me more! It is very new and refreshing, like you said. But also kind of intimidating, since I’m usually playing some asshole— oops— Sorry! Um, some jerk in most of my roles, which kind of seemed like second nature for me at a point in my career. To then jump into this role, it felt foreign and scary when we started shooting— but I found a rhythm and I’m really happy with how it worked with the rest of the cast.” 

It’s ‘nice meeting you’ or ‘great talking to you again’ before progressing further down the carpet, to the next round of questions. 

“Dieter, congratulations on being almost 3 years sober now! That must be an incredible feeling? Did you find it hard to jump into this movie all while trying to manage your sobriety?” The next interviewer asks. 

“Thank you, that’s kind of you to say. It’s definitely an indescribable feeling, but I’m grateful for it everyday.” He gives your hip a light squeeze as he says it. “Sure, it was hard at times— not because of temptation or anything, but because I wanted to be fully present and show the entire team that I wasn’t going to let them down, it’s just something I actively work on daily now. But coming  into this movie in a new head space,  I was determined to hold myself accountable, making sure I was checking in with everyone too was a big thing for me. Plus, it didn’t hurt to have this gorgeous woman in my corner— I was grateful I got to come home to her every weekend, reset before the new work week.”

It’s the first he’s mentioned you out of all the answers he’s given so far— mostly sticking to directly related to the topic and movie. Your relationship is no big secret in your small town, but this is the first the two of you have attended something of this magnitude as a couple, even after being together for 2 years.

You’re not going to lie though, it makes you melt when he looks at you as he says it, awarding you with his lopsided smile and a wink before redirecting his attention back to the reporter.

“Miss, what do you think was the contributing factor in helping Dieter stay on track for this role.” The microphone pointed at your face as the interviewer looked to you for a response. 

“Umm, I don’t think it was anything I did in particular— Dieter was the one who made all of this happen, I was just there making sure he knew how amazing he was doing through it all— and supported him however he needed me. All of his success is because of him, I can’t take credit for any of that.”

The reporter seems satisfied, thanking you for answering it honestly. 

“You better hang on to her, Dieter. I think you’ve got yourself a keeper with this one!” Trying to strum up some playful banter as the interviewer comes to a close. 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t dream of letting her go.” No care to the cameras or anyone around you, as he softly presses a quick peck to your lips— once, twice, three times just because he can. 

“Thank you for your time, Dieter. Enjoy yourselves tonight.” A hand shake to both you and Dieter, sending you off with a grateful smile for chatting with her. 

Each interview had similar questions to previous ones he had already done, but he did his best to give each of them original responses. 

One last interview, a major publication, waiting patiently as you both approach their little assigned space. They’re kind with their questions, which has been a relief for him the entire evening to not be bombarded with any humiliating or embarrassing comments. 

“What does Dieter Bravo do in his spare time now? You’re no longer living in LA, any plans to move back?” A string of new questions are asked to finish off this interview. 

“We own a gallery back in my hometown where I’ve been staying since officially leaving LA, still looking for a permanent place though.” 

“He owns the gallery— I just help run it when he’s off doing his movie star things.” You interject, correcting his statement in a playful manner. 

“Says the woman the gallery is named after. I call her Poppy— Les Coquelicots is poppy in French, also after one of my favorite Monet paintings, so in a weird roundabout way, she does own it— don’t tell her I put her name on the paperwork, so she owns more than she thinks she does.” The last part isn’t a secret because you signed the paperwork, but he loves using the line wherever he can, so you play shocked and laugh right along with him. 

“Are you able to find time to utilize the gallery for yourself? Will we be seeing any art made by the hands of Dieter Bravo?”

“I’ve been working on some things— I won’t say what, don’t want to spoil anything, but there may be something in the works that will be debuted soon-ish.” 

The report congratulates Dieter on his new movie and wishes him the best. 

“That wasn’t so bad. Plus, it was fun listening to you answer all those questions.” 

“I knew you’d enjoy yourself.” Pulling you close to his side as you make your way through the crowd that’s formed at the end of the carpet— agents, assistants, significant others who chose to forgo the carpet entirely, all waiting for the person they came with to finish. 

The assistant from earlier, meets up with you and points to a small group of fans who are all waiting for a chance to meet the stars before they head into the theater. 

You stand back and watch him interact with each of them. Signing magazine and movie posters, pausing for selfies and listening to each of them tell him how proud they are and how excited they are to watch their favorite actor perform in a new film. 

It warms your heart to see him showered with love the entire time. 

“Mr. Bravo, you're going to head in through these doors and there will be someone to help you to your seats.” The sweet young lady guides you both to the main lobby of the theater,  indicating the direction of the main entrance to where the movie will be shown. 

“Actually, can you point us to a side exit— our driver should be waiting for us outside.” Scanning the space for any potential exits that would be easy to slip out unnoticed. 

“Sir, the movie hasn’t started yet— I’m not sure leaving is the best idea. I can have someone come get you and walk you to your seats, the movie should be starting shortly.” The young woman is flustered by Dieter’s attempt to leave early, but just trying to do her job. 

“No offense, but I don’t watch my own shit— you never watch your own shit. You just wipe, flush and move on. I know you’re just doing what you’re told, but if you’ll kindly point out an exit, we’re gonna head home.” 

*

The constant low humming of the car's engine and the way Dieter’s fingers aimlessly map out shapes over your thigh, head resting on his shoulder you’re tucked in close to his warmth in the small back seat, enough to lull you to sleep on the hour and a half drive back home. 

“Hey, Poppy— we’re home.” Dieter murmurs softly as he kisses the top of your head. 

“Hmm?” Lifting your head, dazed as you look out the windows to see the car is parked in your driveway. 

“We’re home. Let’s get you inside.” 

Dieter offers the driver a tip and thanks him for the ride, then grabs for your discarded shoes and your small purse as he slips out of the backseat, hand extended out to you as you follow suit. 

“Oh, shit!” It’s a slight stumble out of the car when your feet hit the cool concrete, falling into Dieter’s awaiting arms, steadying your sleepy frame against his until you're upright and balanced. 

“Thank you.” Voice raspy with sleep, but cognizant enough to give him lingering kiss, a buzz of desire fully awakens you when Dieter deepens the kiss. 

“Mmm, why don’t we take this inside? I think your neighbors have had enough of us at this point.” He mumbles against your eager lips. 

“Meet you inside then.” You purr with one last kiss, before you pull up the hem of your trailing dress and head towards the front door, peeking over your shoulder, bottom lip playfully drawn between your teeth as you wink back at him, still standing in the driveway. 

Shaking his head and laughing, your purse and shoes still in his grip, he follows your lead into the house. 

Dieter’s barely made it over the threshold, closing the door when he feels his body being pressed up against the wooden door, your belongings falling to the hardwood floors with a heavy thud. 

Your mouth moves against his with a fiery want, Dieter falling into the motions seamlessly, his hands gripping at your hips pulling you as close as possible. It’s a dance of angles as your tongue dominates his, exploring as you lick feverishly into his mouth. 

Abruptly, you drop to your knees below him, his eyes blown and he tries to catch his breath. 

“Pop— Poppy…”

His sentence cut off by the sound of his zipper sliding down, rustling of his pants and boxers being pulled to his knees, his cock half hard at just the mere sight of you.  

The press of your lips and tongue against his hip bone is enough to make him fall to the floor, the drag of your upper lip across his skin, breath heated and stirring as you place another to his lower abdomen, wiry hairs tickle at your lower lip— then mirroring the same effort to his other hip. 

“Fuck! Poppy— shit!” His length is hard and throbbing, his mind trying to focus on the way you’re licking the pre-cum as it weeps from the head of his cock, a thick haze of arousal clouding his mind. 

He moans— fucking moans as you take fully in your mouth, his head falling back against the door, a staticy sensation building at the base of his spine at the way he’s repeatedly hitting the back of your throat. 

There’s a lot he wants to say, tell you how perfect you feel around him, how much he loves the way your hands roam about touching every little bit of him as you bring him closer and closer to the peak of his delirium. 

His breath ragged between lovesick whimpers, body tensing in preparation, a slow hum of satisfaction as you continue to move up and down his length— hand gripping tightly at the base of his shaft igniting a hungered fuse. 

“Pop— Fuck! Poppy, I’m gonna— fuckfuckfuckfuck! Babe, I’m gonna come!” 

There’s stars, fireworks, bursts of light. Fists slamming into the door. 

His spend hits the back of your throat, managing to take all of it as he continues to come. 

Warm. Salty. Perfectly him. 

Licking your lips, satisfied with your work, working his suit pants back up, fastening the button as you stand to your full height. 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw then to his neck, his pulse rapid against your lips, you pull back to take in Dieter’s blissed out state. 

“Th-that was unexpected— holy fuck! I just— w-when you— I don’t even know, my brain is mush now.” There’s a rasp to his voice as he tries his best to properly form words, pinched brows and  breathless as his lungs desperately fill with air. 

“Just wanted to make sure you know how amazing I think you are— watching you tonight, seeing how much you love being in your element— I’m really proud of you, I think everyone else is too.”

“Fuck, I love you so much Poppy.” 

He tastes remnants of himself on your tongue, and if he hadn’t just come down your throat minutes ago he would definitely be hard and ready again for you. 

Instead he takes his time just kissing you, pouring every ounce of love and affection he has for you into it, your dress bunching and pulling as his hands anchor your body to his, kneading the swell of your backside— your presence is overwhelming and not enough at the same time. 

There’s a low grumble that cuts into two of you making out, still situated in the front entry of your home. 

“I love you, Dieter. But I think I need something with a little more sustenance, though. I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick, then I’ll pull something out to reheat.” Taking a few steps back from him, wiping the corners of your mouth with the back of your hand and adjusting the strap of your dress. 

“Dessert before dinner kind of woman, I like it.” A throwback to your first date. 

“Mmm, you should know me better by now— I’m a dessert anytime kind of woman.” You smirked, mindful of your dress with each slow step backward. 

Dieter pushes off the door, closing the space between you, his mouth molding perfectly over yours, unhurried and attentive. 

“Hurry your sexy self back here.” He murmurs into the last kiss, swatting playfully at your ass before you turn and head towards the bathroom. 

*

A soft ballad drifts through the house as you make your way back to the main living area, the flicker of light emanating from your studio lets you know where Dieter is. 

“Do you want leftover pizza or some of that pasta?” You call out to him, cold air hitting you as the doors to the refrigerator open. 

“Dieter?” 

You pull the containers from the fridge and set them on the island counter, both options sounding like a great idea the more you think about it. 

When you get to the doorway of your studio, you find Dieter sitting, his brush moving with intent over  one of his finished paintings, still finding reasons to add to it.

Arms crossed over your chest, heading resting into the wooden frame as you lean into the doorway, taking in the picturesque scene before you. 

Recounting the moments over the last 2 years that led you to now. 

How every waking minute you want to be consumed by Dieter in some way, he nestles into every single thought or emotion you experience, always able to bring a smile to your face. 

Up until this point, love was the downfall for many of your relationships, loving too much or not enough, a hindrance to your own happiness. 

But with Dieter, there’s a deeper purpose, a greater feeling of being loved and respected. 

His effervescent spirit radiates from his soul, embedding himself into every corner of your heart. 

He’s a tidal wave of intensity, pulling you under and filling your lungs to their fullest capacity, you drown in him, never wanting to surface again. 

You’re grateful for his existence, for barreling into your life at full speed and for loving you with a passion you never knew before him. 

Dieter is your home. 

“That one is my favorite.” You state, moving into the room closer to where he is. 

“Hmm, I think you’re just saying that.” 

“Could be— or it could be the truth.” Your fingers carding through his curls as you stand behind him, admiring each brush stroke and line he created. “I know you don’t think you are, but you’re more than ready— they’re all so beautiful and I’m so lucky to have been witness to you painting each one of them.”

Dieter’s first art opening was next week, but he still found himself second guessing every little detail in each painting— his self criticism lashing out as the days grew closer. 

Silhouettes, every curve and crook shaded and painted in a manner reminiscent of your naked form, not recognizable to anyone but Dieter and yourself. Heads replaced with elaborate bouquets of poppies in washes of pinks, oranges and reds. 

“Okay— they’re done.” He says, placing his brush in the jar of stained water. 

He swivels to face you, his hands resting on your satin covered hips, three brief squeezes— I love you. 

You brush a loose curl off of his forehead, fingers trailing down his face, light scratches to his patchy beard he so proudly grew out. 

“So, you said you’re still looking for a place?” A cheeky smile forms on your face, looking down at where he’s still sitting. 

“I did, didn’t I?” There's a hint of sarcasm as he says it, the corners of his mouth starting to quirk up. 

“Mhmm— is staying on my couch getting too boring for Mr. Movie Star Dieter?” Your head tilts to the side in question, knowing well that in the last two years he hasn’t slept a minute on your couch— save for his afternoon naps. 

He stands, pulling you into his chest, eyes gleaming with an unexplainable excitement as he looks at you. 

“Nah, I love your couch.” He reaches into the pocket of his pants to grab for something. 

“So much so, I think I want to stay on it permanently— if that’s okay with you?” He asks, holding up a shiny object in front of you. 

A gold ring with a 3 carat, princess cut green emerald stone, flanked by two smaller diamonds. It’s ridiculously flashy, looking  exactly like something Dieter would pick out—  and you’re so taken aback by how perfect it is. 

You’re shocked, speechless, in complete awe of what he’s asking you right now, without even outright asking.

“You want to marry me, Dieter?” Your eyes glistening in the candle light, a few tears managing to slip down the slope of your cheeks. 

He slips the ring onto your bare finger. 

“Baby, I want you to be mine forever. Marry me, Poppy?”

Both your worlds, so beautifully different but painted together so well. 

“Yes! Forever— yes!” 

There’s tears and laughter, between shared feelings and drawn out slow kisses, text to friends and family sharing the exciting news. 

 “Thank you, Dieter. I’m so glad I gave your best a chance.” 

Next

A/N: I’ve been so eager to finish this chapter, and the minute I did I cried! I love these two so much!! I’m so fucking grateful for every single one of you who took time out of your day to read, reblog, comment, like, message about this series in any way shape or form— it’s truly been an amazing journey with all of you!! Thank you!! An even bigger thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for her constant support through every single chapter, you are my hero! Epilogue coming soon!

[yomica12345]

Witches, Familiars, and Crushes, Oh My!

Ao3 Link

Summary: Roman, a witch with a crush on Janus, and Virgil, his familiar with a secret crush on Logan, find themselves tangled in a web of magic and awkward confessions. As their feelings come to light, Remus, another witch with a fondness for chaos, adds even more mischief to the mix. It’s a night of magic, secrets, and a whole lot of crushes—what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: Remus being Remus

"What the heck was that?" Roman snapped, slamming the door behind him. "Do you have any idea what people are going to think of me after my own cat hissed at me? My own cat , Virgil!"

Virgil rolled his eyes, curling up on the couch near the fire. "First of all, I'm not your anything. Second, maybe you shouldn’t hint at things you really shouldn’t be talking about in front of non-magics. I was just giving you a friendly warning."

"Friendly?" Roman scoffed, taking the armchair to Virgil’s right. "You could have ruined my reputation! It’s not my fault you make it so blatantly obvious you like Logan. How could I not make a joke about it?"

Virgil bristled, sitting up. "I do not!" he snapped, raising a finger after each point as he continued. "I only spend time with him at these stupid parties because Patton’s allergic to me, Janus is a snake—literally—Remus only ever wants to see if I’ll actually land on my feet, and you’re always too busy flirting with every man who breathes."

"Excuse you, not every man," Roman replied with mock offense, crossing his arms. "I have standards. You’ve never seen me flirt with Janus."

Virgil snorted. "Really? You were literally flirting with him before you got mad at me and dragged me in here."

"Was not!" Roman retorted. "I was just... trying to keep Janus out of trouble."

"Sure, because stroking a finger down his head and winking at him is the universal signal for 'stay out of trouble,'" Virgil deadpanned, leaning back with a scowl.

"Oh and you purring in Logan's lap really doesn't mean anything?" Roman snapped his fingers, sending a book flying off the nearby shelf. It bonked Virgil lightly on the head before landing neatly in Roman’s lap.

Virgil hissed, glaring at him. "What was I supposed to do then? Cats purr all the time when they’re content."

"It didn’t look like contentment to me," Roman muttered, barely holding back a smirk.

"It wasn’t more than—" Virgil’s rebuttal was cut short as the door flew open, startling them both.

Their friends tumbled into the room in a flurry of limbs and awkward apologies.

Patton was the first to his feet, brushing himself off with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, kiddo! We didn’t mean to eavesdrop; we were just worried."

"I definitely meant to eavesdrop," Remus said gleefully, adjusting his hold on a snake coiled snugly around his arm. "I was hoping to catch you two sticking your tongues down each other’s throats."

"Remus!" Roman snapped, his face turning an impressive shade of red.

Logan cleared his throat, stepping into the room and adjusting his glasses. "I, too, apologize. I was merely curious about who you were speaking with." His sharp gaze landed on Virgil, taking him in for a long, quiet moment before stepping closer.

Virgil shrank back, pulling his legs onto the couch defensively as his cheeks flushed a light pink. He shot a panicked glance at Roman, who was already wearing a victorious smirk.

Logan stopped in front of the couch. "Is this seat taken?"

Virgil shook his head quickly.

Logan sat beside him, calm and deliberate, while Patton plopped down on the other side. Adjusting his glasses again, Logan turned his focus to the group. "So, I gather that Patton and I are among the 'non-magics' mentioned earlier. And this must be Virgil, whom we believed, until now, to be solely a cat. I presume Janus is also capable of a human form?"

Roman floundered, gesturing vaguely at Virgil. "What? No, no, this is... uh, Jeffery! An old friend of mine, visiting for the night—"

"Oooh, wanna see a magic trick?" Remus interrupted, his grin wide and mischievous.

Patton’s eyes lit up. “Ooo, I do!”

Remus clapped his hands together gleefully, motioning for everyone to step back. "Watch and be amazed!" he declared, holding Janus out in front of him with one hand.

Janus’s tongue flicked out in annoyance.

Remus tossed him into the air. The room gasped as Janus twisted midair, glowing faintly, and landed gracefully in his human form in Remus’ arms, draped dramatically in black and gold.

"Ta-da!" Remus shouted, throwing up jazz hands.

Janus gripped Remus’s arm for balance, narrowing his eyes as he slid unsteadily to the floor. “I told you to never do that to me again.”

Remus chuckled, completely unbothered. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

Logan, who had been staring at Janus with wide, analytical eyes, turned back to Roman with an expression of calculated calm. “It seems evident that both you and Remus are magically inclined.”

Roman groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he rose from the couch. “Remus, what part of don’t tell anyone do you consistently fail to understand? Do you have any idea how much trouble this could cause? They could take away our membership cards for this!”

Remus snorted, leaning lazily against the wall. “Oh, yours , maybe. They can’t exactly take back something they already shredded, can they?” He puffed out his chest proudly.

Roman’s glare sharpened, his patience visibly thinning. “This isn’t a joke, Remus.”

Unfazed, Remus leaned closer to Janus and whispered something into his ear, his grin twisting into something even more wicked. Whatever he said made Janus’s golden eyes flick toward Roman, his expression shifting into a slow, deliberate smirk.

Janus titled his head, biting his lip as he studied Roman. “Did I hear you have a thing for snakes?”

Roman took a step back as Janus advanced, his cheeks turning a bright shade of red. “Me?! No, I—”

Janus took another step forward, and Roman instinctively took another step back, only to trip over the couch. He tumbled onto the cushions with an undignified yelp.

Janus gracefully leaned down, placing a hand under Roman’s chin and tilting his head upward. His voice was a low purr. “Well, surely someone as bright and dashing as yourself would’ve noticed that I find you attractive. So… what’s your answer?”

Roman chuckled nervously, gripping the armrest for support as he leaned back. “My answer?”

“Hmm,” Janus hummed, his smirk widening. “Do try to make it interesting.”

Before Roman could sputter out a response, Logan cleared his throat, drawing attention away from the scene. He reached out a hand, helping Virgil up from the couch.

“Well,” Logan began, his voice measured, “while they figure out… whatever it is they’re doing, I did have an important question for you, Virgil.”

Virgil hesitated, staring at Logan’s hand still wrapped around his own. “A question for me?”

“Yes, for you.” Logan adjusted his glasses with his free hand, his expression calm but unusually warm.

“Okay…” Virgil’s voice was cautious. “What is it?”

Logan straightened slightly, his posture perfectly composed. “Would you accompany me on a date this Saturday? Perhaps lunch?”

Virgil’s face heated up instantly. “You want to go on a date with me?”

“Yes, I would rather like to get to know you better.” Logan smiled. “That is if you would like to get to know me better as well.”

“I, uh…” Virgil fidgeted with his hands, ducking his head to hide the growing blush on his face. “What time?”

Logan’s smile grew slightly. “I could pick you up at noon if that works with your schedule.”

“That’s—”

“Okay fine, I have a thing for snakes!” Roman suddenly interjected, his voice louder than intended. His face was nearly as red as his shirt, the outburst drawing every pair of eyes in the room.

“Okay fine, I have a thing for snakes!” Roman suddenly interjected, his voice louder than intended. His face was nearly as red as his shirt, the outburst drawing every pair of eyes in the room.

Before Roman could retort—or combust—the door creaked open a little more, and a familiar voice interrupted the charged atmosphere.

Remy was blowing on his hot drink to cool it, quirking an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. “Did you just say you have a thing for snakes?”

[ikeprinces-stuff]

Event: Leon Dompteur sequel route release

Host: @aquagirl1978

Characters: Leon x Reader

Words: 2266

Previous fic: Love

A/N: second entry, this time a day late from the second day ahaha, thanks to Leon's current story event I was able to come up with an idea✨💝

Day 2 - “Dreams: What dreams (past or present) does Leon have?”

Sometimes, chasing our dreams starts with just a single step. No matter how big or small, we all need that push—be it our own determination or the support of those around us. And that's a game changer. Take Leon, for instance. This kid climbed all the way to the throne of Rhodolite, but every time he thinks back on it, he realizes that the crown wasn’t really his dream; it was the dream of "Leon, the fourth prince." That thought forces him back to his tough childhood, shuffling between houses as a slave, envying the lives of those he served. He thought he'd never taste that kind of joy—at least, that’s what he told himself.

Even after trading rags for royal garb and basking in the admiration of the kingdom, deep down he felt like an outsider. Those people at the castle? They weren’t his family; they were just… well, people. He longed for that warmth and affection he'd witnessed in the families he'd served, thinking that once he got crowned, he’d finally find it. But it eluded him, a phantom dream slipping between his fingers. Then you came into his life—showing him what real family meant. Through your kindness, you opened his eyes, and suddenly, he realized that happiness wasn’t just about the crown or the title. With you, he found a deeper joy, one that made every moment worth it.

Now, he’s got a chance to flip the script—to be the one who helps someone else reach for their dreams. It’s his turn to be the champion, to lift someone else up, and finally fulfill that yearning he didn’t even know existed.

"I can't thank you enough for what you’ve done, Your Majesty," the nanny said, her warm smile lighting up her weathered face. The joyous sounds of children’s laughter filled the room, a beautiful symphony of innocence that followed you and Leon after distributing gifts and sweets. Leon had chosen to visit one of Rhodolite's oldest orphanages as a way to give back to the community, and of course, you, the future queen, were by his side. "Their laughter is pure music to my ears," you remarked, a nostalgic smile creeping across your lips. The memory of their wide-eyed joy as they tore into their presents replayed in your mind, their expressions a priceless treasure. "I picked the toys with Vernard's guidance—he’s practically a kid-whisperer—and nobody can resist Yves's sweets. But what really blew me away was how much they loved whatever Clavis whipped up," Leon chuckled, glancing around the room, his eyes dancing with delight.

The nanny nodded knowingly, her eyes glistening with memories of happier times. "We don’t get many visitors here, so when children saw you both, they lost it! To them, you were just two friendly faces—nothing more, nothing less." Her voice hung heavy with the weight of history, but before she could continue, a gentle tug on her dress interrupted her.

Looking down, she found a small child, his big round eyes shining brightly, "Can I go outside?"

With a soft sigh, the nanny replied, "I’ll let you, but only if you have an adult with you." The child puffed out his cheeks and crossed his arms defiantly. "But! Why? I won’t cause any trouble, I promise!"

The nanny’s expression shifted to a firmer tone. "Sorry, darling, but rules are rules." Defeated, the child turned away, a frown etched on his little face, leaving a lingering curiosity in the air that you shared with Leon through a knowing glance.

"Why the strictness about going outside?" you asked the nanny, your brow furrowing in confusion. Leon chimed in, "Kids should have the freedom to explore, right?"

The nanny's gaze turned somber, a hint of sadness clouding her features. "We have to stick to the rules, especially after… what happened years ago."

You and Leon shared a questioning glance, intrigued yet apprehensive. "What do you mean?" you pressed gently, prompting her to explain.

"There was a child who grew up here who managed to escape and never came back," she said, her voice heavy with implications. Your eyes widened at the revelation, but Leon remained stoic, urging her to continue.

"The story spread like wildfire. The reputation of this orphanage took a hit—everyone was quick to point fingers at the staff, claiming negligence. Since that day, the administration instituted a law: if a child wants to leave, even for a moment, they must be accompanied by a guardian. Safety first, after all…"

You felt a chill run down your spine as you processed the tragic tale. How could a small child escape, and what had become of them? Questions swirled in your mind, each one heavier than the last. It was clear that the nanny carried the weight of that history, an anchor bound to her heart. As dedicated as she was to the children, she, like all the staff, lived under the crushing reality of rules designed for protection—yet they felt the bittersweet sting of freedom lost.

After a brief tour around the orphanage with the nanny, Leon's eyes were drawn to a room tucked away at the end of the hall. It wasn’t the room itself that captured his attention; it was the small girl sitting by the window, bathed in sunlight yet shrouded in shadows of her own. She gazed outside, her delicate features marred by an expression of deep-rooted sorrow, the frown etched onto her face telling stories of heartache that words could never express.

“She was left at our gate when she was just a baby,” the nanny said, her voice tinged with an undeniable sadness. “As she grew, we discovered she had a form of paralysis in her legs. It’s just heartbreaking... she can’t walk, or even wiggle her little toes.” Leon’s heart sank as he took in the reality of the girl's situation. He felt an urge to reach out to her, to somehow ease the weight of her solitude.

“Can I talk to her? Just for a minute?” he asked, the hopefulness in his voice contrasting sharply with the heaviness in the air. The nanny paused, her brows furrowing in concern. “I don’t know, Your Majesty. She isn’t very sociable. She likes to keep to herself, even when the other kids try to play with her.” Still, after a moment's consideration, she relented, giving him a gentle nod.

Leon and you slowly made your way towards the little girl, her gaze fixed sadly on the window, as if the world outside held sorrows too heavy for her small heart. In an instant, she noticed you, the flicker of surprise in her eyes quickly replaced by a heavy sadness, and she returned her attention to the outside—a world she felt utterly disconnected from. "Hey there," you said gently, taking a seat beside her. Leon settled in front of her, trying to catch her gaze, but her eyes remained glued to the glass. “What’s your name?” he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper.

She glanced at him briefly, then turned back to the scene outside. "Remy," she said, her voice barely audible. "What a beautiful name," you replied, curiosity bubbling within me about what could be so captivating beyond the window.

Outside, the children from the orphanage frolicked in the garden, laughter ringing out as they chased each other, their joy painting a stark contrast to Remy’s solitude. You whispered her name, the syllables laced with empathy, “Remy…” Almost instinctively, she bristled at the gentle acknowledgment, the weight of her emotions spilling forth. “Now you think I’m pathetic, right?” she said, the bitterness bubbling up. “They’re all running around, having the time of their lives while I just sit here, and I can feel the envy festering inside me—growing into something ugly. It’s like… like it feeds the hatred I have for this place.”

Leon stayed silent, the words hanging in the air like a storm cloud, allowing her to continue. “Ever since they realized I couldn’t walk, they’ve kept me like this, as if I’m some fragile thing that’ll break if I try to stand. They always say I’ll never walk again…” Her gaze turned steely, her frustration almost palpable. “When I do walk, you better believe I’m bolting from here… just like that kid did…”

Remy’s fiery whisper jolted Leon, who finally shifted his position, his expression softening. “But… do you know what happened to that kid after they ran away?” His voice broke through her anger, and she hesitated, her defiance wavering.

“No, I don’t know what happened to them,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “But I think… that kid ran away because they hated this place, just like I do.” In that moment, the flicker of tears threatened in the corners of her eyes, her heartache visible. “They must’ve had dreams… dreams they wanted to chase… That’s why they left…”

“Dreams…?” Leon echoed, a hint of wonder lacing his words as he absorbed the gravity of her longing. The atmosphere tightened, and you wrapped an arm around her fragile shoulders, holding her close, determined to shield her from the weight of it all. She didn’t pull away, and for the first time, it felt like in that moment of pain and vulnerability, you were all seeking a glimmer of hope together.

~~~

That night, Leon paced the long, echoing corridors of the palace, the weight of Remy’s words crashing over him like waves against a rocky shore. The lingering questions twisted in his mind, refusing to loosen their grip as he finally reached his room. With a weary hand, he turned the handle, stepping inside only to find you perched anxiously on the edge of the bed. The moment your eyes met, a spark of concern danced across your face. “Where were you?” you voiced, the worry hanging thick in the air, more protective than accusatory.

“Just wrapping up some ‘work,’” he replied cryptically, his tone suggesting there was more to the story he wasn’t ready to share. The tension crackled between you like static. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” you shot back, and Leon could only nod in acknowledgment, the unspoken truth hanging heavy.

“I’m worried about Remy...” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly as the weight of those words settled between you. But Leon understood the depth of your concern, how it nagged at both your hearts. He crossed the distance in a heartbeat, wrapping you tightly in his arms, his lips brushing your cheek in a soft, reassuring gesture. “Everything will be okay, I promise,” he whispered, and even though the words were simple, they resonated with a depth that calmed the storms brewing within you. Losing yourself in his warmth, you allowed the comfort of his presence to wrap around you like a shield against the uncertainty that lay beyond your room's door.

~~~

Several days later, after your persistent nudging, you and Leon returned to the orphanage, hope fluttering in your chest. But the moment the nanny greeted you with that sunny smile, dread settled in your stomach. “Remy has been adopted,” she chirped, her cheeks glowing as she spoke. “A lovely family came and took her away, and you should have seen Remy’s face when she found out—pure joy, you know?” You stood there in disbelief, searching Leon's expression for a clue to how he felt. Yet, his trademark grin remained, as if he’d been waiting for this news, as if he understood it all along. Then it hit you—his words from before: “Everything will be okay, I promise.” You didn’t say anything more but kept quiet until you both stepped outside into the cool air.

“I know exactly what you’re thinking,” Leon eventually broke the silence, and you pierced him with a knowing gaze. “You had a hand in this, didn’t you?” you stated, your tone both trusting and a bit accusatory. “I might have mentioned her to a family that was itching to adopt,” he replied, calm and collected, as though it was just another Saturday morning errand. “I talked about her quirks, her struggles, her dreams—you should’ve seen their faces when I described her. They were in love before I finished my pitch.”

A sudden recollection struck you then, pulling you out of your thoughts. “You remember what she said? About the kid who ran away to chase their dreams? I think she meant herself, not some random kid.” Leon nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “She’s got dreams too, you know. And staying there without someone to give her that little nudge? It would’ve suffocated her potential. What better nudge than a family?”

“So you actually helped her chase those dreams?” you whispered, the weight of the words settling over you.

“All I did was help her take that first step. From there, she’ll take the bigger ones, trust me.” He swung his arm around your shoulder, and together you strolled down the street. “Just like you helped me. You helped me figure out my dreams, showed me what family really means. Now I want to pay that forward. I want to give someone else that shot at happiness—the same kind that you gave me.” His voice was soft but carried a passion that made you lean into him a little more.

He had turned his childhood aspirations into reality once, and now, he was determined to do it again for someone else. The weight of his intention wrapped around you like a warm embrace, charging the air with a sense of purpose. He was on a mission to share the joy of fulfilling dreams, one life at a time.

Fin ❤️✨

Tagging: @violettduchess @leonscape @lorei-writes @the-bird-and-the-flute @chirp-a-chirp @solacedeer @judesmoonbeauty @wistfulwanderingone @candiedcoffeedrops @scummy-writes @rjthirsty @reborn-elven @candied-boys @citrusmornings

(PLS LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT TO BE REMOVED FROM THE LIST)

[angeliqueiguess]

kitchen nightmares (s.jn)

005. maybe w.count: 1,017

warnings: swearing, death jokes

It was Saturday, and Y/n could already feel the weight of the weekend and all the work waiting for her.

“Well, at least by the end of the month, I’ll have money for boba… C’mon, Y/n, you got this!” she said to herself as she climbed into her car, forcing a smile and determined to stay positive on her way to work.

When she arrived at the restaurant, she parked, took a moment to look in the rearview mirror, and took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself. She got out of the car, locked it, and walked calmly to the entrance, offering a small smile to a couple of customers eating outside. As she entered, she spotted Renjun at the register.

“Hey, Y/n!” Renjun greeted her enthusiastically.

“Hey, Renjun! How’s it going?” she asked, walking over to the counter.

“Just counting down until my shift’s over. How about you?” he replied with a smile, and Y/n chuckled softly.

“Good… mostly. Just getting ready; I heard today’s gonna be rough,” she said, and Renjun nodded with a knowing smile.

“Yep, but hey, don’t stress too much… You got this! Fighting!” He pumped a fist in the air, and she mirrored him with a small smirk.

She headed to the back where the staff lockers were, right by the employee restroom, put her things away, and put on her apron with the restaurant’s logo. Just as she was about to head into the kitchen to say hi, she noticed a door slightly open. Curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned in to catch a glimpse of Heechul and Siwon talking about something.

“Eavesdropping, huh? Classy move,” said Johnny suddenly, passing by her and pushing the door open like it was nothing.

“Ah!” Y/n yelped, quickly covering her mouth, realizing how loud she’d been. Heechul and Siwon turned toward the door, surprised.

“Uh, Y/n… are you okay?” Siwon asked, looking concerned.

“Y-yeah, yeah… I, uh… nothing,” she muttered, her gaze landing briefly on Johnny, who didn’t even look back at her.

“Alright… anyway, I was actually waiting for you,” Siwon said.

“Guess we’ll continue with the paperwork later Siwon” Heechul said, walking past her. “Good luck today, Y/n,” he added with a slightly ominous smile before leaving.

“Thanks… I guess,” Y/n muttered.

“Here, I came to give you this.” Siwon held out a small gold name tag with her name on it. “It has a pin on the back—careful not to prick yourself,” he said with a smile, and Y/n took the tag, pinning it to her apron.

“Oh, and Leeteuk’s waiting for you out back. Said he needed to go over something with you,” Siwon added. “Good luck today. Fighting!” He gave her a thumbs-up before heading off.

Now alone in the kitchen with Johnny, who was facing away from her, she wondered why he was even there; Jeno was supposed to cover the shift until 2.

“If you had laser vision, my back would be toast by now,” Johnny said suddenly, making her jump.

“I wasn’t staring at your back,” she mumbled, a little flustered.

“Your brother is waiting for you,” he replied in a monotone, not even turning around.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of irritation and amusement as she headed toward the back door.

---

As expected, the place was total chaos. Customers kept coming and going, while Y/n and Karina were taking orders at lightning speed. In the kitchen, Johnny and Jeno were cooking and throwing not-so-subtle hints at Haechan to hurry up with the dishes.

“I’m trying!” Haechan yelled, sticking his head out from the dishwashing station, clearly frustrated.

“Well, try harder,” Jeno shot back, plating up two dishes and setting them on the counter, ringing the little bell to let the servers know they were ready.

“If I hear that bell one more time, I’m gonna hear it in my nightmares,” Doyoung muttered, covering one ear with his hand.

“I didn’t want to agree with Haechan, but I kinda have to,” Karina sighed as she grabbed the plates to take to their tables. “We’re getting seriously wrecked out there.”

“You’re telling me,” Y/n said, sticking an order slip on the kitchen rack before noticing Mark struggling to clear a table with way too many plates stacked precariously.

“Mark, let me help you with that,” she offered.

“No, no, I got it…” he said, trying to sound confident but quickly sighing. “Actually, yeah, please help,” he admitted, handing her a few plates. They made their way to the back, where Haechan was knee-deep in dishes.

Y/n handed the plates over to her best friend, who let out a dramatic sigh at the mountain of silverware, glasses, and plates piling up in the sink.

“Have fun Haechan-ah,” she teased, smirking.

“Die,” Haechan shot back automatically.

Just as Y/n turned to head back to the kitchen, she walked right into someone—or rather, into something that promptly shattered. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, wincing at the sound of glass breaking. Opening them, she found Mark staring down in horror at a pile of broken glasses scattered across the floor.

“Oh my god, Mark, are you okay?” she asked, worried, as he just stood there, looking at the mess in shock.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m fine, let me… let me just clean this up,” he stammered, already reaching for a broom and dustpan.

Y/n glanced around to find Jeno looking concerned, while Johnny seemed on the verge of a breakdown.

“Do me a favor and get out of the kitchen,” Johnny said, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, clearly trying to keep it together amidst the noise from the dining area and the sizzle of food on the stove.

“But…” Jeno started, trying to ease the tension, but Johnny wasn’t having it.

“Now!” he snapped, making the three of them scurry out. “Not you, Jeno. You stay here,” he added with a pointed look that left no room for argument.

prev. masterlist. next

angie’s note: i can´t stop thinking about johnny's back oml

taglist: @thegracerammy @neocupidd @pjsteroid @peterm4rker

[pent0graphy]

Zach wasn’t meeting her eyes. Liv was sitting on the opposite end of the large sectional couch. She just watched him for a moment. His eyes were turned down to his beer bottle, he turned it in his hands and picked at a corner of the label. Liv could sense they were getting to the honest part of the evening, when you’ve had enough to drink that the truth starts to come out. They had started with one six pack and it was turning into 2. They were both on their 4th beer.

“I have to admit I’m super jealous of what you have here.”

Liv was surprised he just came out and said it. She was sitting with her arm draped over the back of the couch. While she thought of what to say she pulled her knees up under herself.

“I’m not trying to bring the vibe down or anything. Sorry.” He added before she could find words.

“No… it’s ok, but I’m not really sure what you mean though?” She was being a little cruel she knew exactly what was bothering him.

“Well I mean I thought the last one was the one that would stick. I thought I was going to have a wife, a house like this, a kid. But that shit just doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me.”

There was something both pitiful but endearing in the way he wouldn’t look at her.

“You can still have the house, even the kid without her, or any one else if you really want to!”

“But there’s other stuff I wanted that I can’t have…”

“Ok now I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” She swirled her bottle around and then lazily enjoyed the last, long, sip. She could tell he was increasingly embarrassed by the topic.

“Well I wanted to experience the whole thing. I wanted to…. wanted to see her belly grow, her body change. I wanted to know I did it. I wanted to just be a part of it and have that close look at it.”

Liv already had the tiny seed of what had to be a very bad idea sprouting in her head. She jumped up suddenly.

“I got to pee! Need anything while I’m up?” She stood and didn’t wait for him to answer before she was heading down the hallway towards the bathroom. She didn’t stop at the bathroom, instead she proceeded through it into her bedroom. There she quickly stripped down and then put on a pair of low cut panties and a baggy terry cloth robe. She took her time heading back to the living room, stopping in the kitchen for a glass of water on the way. While she was at the sink filling her glass Zach noticed the wardrobe change.

“Wait it’s only 10pm! You can’t bail on me now! We haven’t hung out in the longest time! C’mon!”

She smirked a little and headed back over to the couch. Except she stopped at Zach’s side of the sectional this time and plopped down beside him. He was very clearly confused and Liv got a little thrill knowing that there was no possible way Zach could guess what was going to happen next.

“Ok. Im only going to make this offer once. I’m pleasantly buzzed and feeling very generous. And vulnerable. If I even see the hint of a laugh, a grin or anything that is not completely serious I’m going to stop talking, stand up and leave the room and you can let yourself out. Got it?”

“Got it…” he waited for her to continue.

“So after having two kids my body is very different now. I’m also loaded up with beer. Like way too much liquid. I can still to this day look every bit of 6 months pregnant if I want to. And if you want me to I can maybe give you something close to the experience you want…”

“Now I’m confused.” Was all Zach could say.

“Ok look. I’ll open up this robe and I’m going to make every attempt to look like I’m growing your baby in this belly. And we can pretend for as long as this buzz lasts that that’s what happened. Sound good?”

All Zach could do to respond was nod silently, and very seriously. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Liv felt a thrill run through her as she began to untie her robe. She hadn’t lied, her gut was massive tonight with all the beer, on top of dinner, but even still as she started to pull the two halves of her robe apart she pushed her belly out as far as she could. Liv heard Zach gasp. Her belly looked every bit of 7 months pregnant and her belly button that had perpetually remained popped out after her most recent pregnancy completed the illusion. Her belly was completely on display, the panties were skimpier than she had intended (blame it on the buzz) and they just barely covered up the bit of stubble she kept well manicured over her pussy. Zach very clearly was too stunned to make the first move so she gently took his hand in hers and rested it where her lower belly swelled.

“This is where your baby’s head should be. I’m about 7 months along now, which means your baby’s feet should be up here.” She took his hand and lead it on a slow and wandering path up over her strained belly button to the upper right side of her engorged belly. “But my favorite part is the way the sides of my belly curve out just so. Here give me your other hand.” And he did and she placed them on opposite sides of the butterball of a belly that was so achingly swollen and round tonight. “Now you get 10 minutes of uninterrupted belly time. You enjoy it. You have free rein. I’ll tell you if I don’t like something. Oh also what do you think about breast feeding?”

“What do you mean?” He could hardly whisper the words.

“Well I have to pump and dump after all this beer. Do you want to try some? You can try it straight from the tit if you want. I don’t mind!” She pulled the top of the robe apart until one very hard nipple clung just to the edge of the robe. The full swell of her breast on display.

“But only if you want to!”

[artyandink]

we could be more | dean winchester | 8

Summary: Ivonne Rainer was practically a trained killing machine. Stripped to the bone then built back up by her father in order to become one of the best, like he was. She was forced into hunting when she was nineteen, having developed powers that couldn’t be explained. That is, until she was paid a visit by Azazel’s lackey. Her powers were gone, she needed help, and that’s when she found her father’s journal. Pointing to Sam and Dean Winchester.

SERIES MASTERLIST

THE USUAL SUSPECTS

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : ROLLING IN THE DEEP - ADELE

“Miss Ivonne Rainer.” A dude with black hair and green eyes stepped into the room, holding a case file. He was around my age, well built, and judging by the confidence, high up in the precinct. He was also, now that I mention it, sexy. “You’ve got a very chequered past, by the looks of it.” 

“I’m not playing chess, mate, so just cut to the chase.” I retorted, tapping my watch. “You’ve got 48 hours, so why not tell me your name so we can move things a bit quicker?”

”Detective Sergeant James Rhodes.” He showed me his badge. 

“Where’s the bad cop, eh?”

”With Dean Winchester. Good cop’s with Sam, and the even worse cop is with you.”

”I feel special. Flattered.” I smiled sarcastically. “Why are you holding us?”

”Your buddy Dean is being held on charges for suspicion of murder.” 

I frowned, leaning forward. “Murder?!”

”You sound genuinely surprised. You should’ve gone to acting school.”

”Who could he have murdered?” 

“We’re getting onto that.” He replied, opening a file and giving me a once over with a hint of red on his cheeks. I smirked a little, leaning back in my chair. “Let’s just look through your file first. I’ve got a lot of research on you, Ivonne. You’re 27, born in ‘79 in Jersey to Michael Rainer and Audrey Rainer neé Singer. You went to a good primary, got a score of 174 on your LSATs, an almost perfect score on your SATs and scored a full ride to Princeton on the course of economics while trying to help your younger sister Quinn battle cancer, which ultimately failed.” I gritted my teeth. “But, here’s the catch. One year after your admission, you were forced to drop out due to your father’s untimely death, a murder which was never solved. Do you want me to continue?” 

I stayed silent. 

“Tough crowd. About a month after your father’s death, you were the centre of an open and shut case eight years ago in which your brother Carter descended into insanity and killed your family by sticking knives into their throats, and also killed your mother’s unborn child. However, in defence, you shot him after he tried to do the same to you. You were proven innocent after a CCTV recording placed Carter as the killer of your sister Lily and your mother. You went off the grid, but then conveniently seven or eight years later, you were kidnapped by your boyfriend Xavier Jackson, but you broke free, wrestled for his gun and shot him twice, killing him. Your witness? Sam Winchester.” 

“You done relating my life story?” I scoffed. “I’ll admit it, you’re cute and this macho, intimidation act is as well, but if you’re aiming to take me out to dinner after this, you’re gonna have to take a step back and reassess the situation.” He looked taken aback, and I nodded. “I’ve met people like you before, Serge, and I know exactly how to deal with them.” 

“We’re here to discuss Dean Winchester.”

”And so far all you’ve done is relate something that isn’t important and check me out.” I smirked. “Get on with it, will you?”

”Why I listed every bit of your family history is because one thing doesn’t add up.” He put down the file. “How you ended up with the Winchester brothers. You have no connection to them. Your family had no contact with the Winchesters. So how did you end up with a man who’s charged with assault, murder and grave desecration and his brother?” 

“I found them.” I frowned, pulling out my dad’s journal. “Read about John, Sam and Dean Winchester, knew I had to find ‘em. I had a stalker after me. Not anymore, but Dad’s journal knew that they could help me and they did.”

”What about Tony and Karen Giles?”

”Anthony Giles was a friend of John Winchester.” I explained. “I went with Sam and Dean once they found out that he was dead, throat slit with no trace of any bad things happening in Giles’ life to make him do such a thing.”

“There you go.” Sam gave Dean and I a cup of coffee while Dean handed Sam a paper while I dried my hair with a t-shirt. I was wearing a baggy black cashmere jumper with jeans, my necklace around my neck as usual.

“Anthony Giles.” Dean stated. 

“Who’s Anthony Giles?” I asked, leaning in with my hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

“He’s a Baltimore lawyer. Working late in his office, check it out.” 

I read the paper, raising an eyebrow. “Room was clean, throat was slit… but no DNA or prints.”

”Keep reading. It gets better.” 

“Security cameras failed to capture footage of the assailant.” Sam muttered. 

“So either someone tampered with the tapes, or…” 

“There’s an invisible killer.” 

“My favorite kind. What do you think, Scully? You wanna check it out?” 

“I’m not Scully. You’re Scully.” 

“No, I'm Mulder. You're a red-headed woman.” 

“You two are idiots, more like.” I sighed. “Let me dry my hair, then we’ll head out.” 

“C’mon, Beanie,” Dean laughed, “you look good with wet hair.” 

“Then again, it doesn’t feel great in cold air.” I winked. “Maybe next time.” I rifled through my box of IDs, buying my lip. “Who are we today?” 

“Insurance investigators.” 

“I’ll get my suit from the Mustang.” 

“But, if you think about it, Dean couldn’t have murdered Tony, being at my house, right?” I asked. 

“You’re right.” He nodded. “Tell me what happened next.” 

“We went to see Karen, to help her keep herself together. And boy, she was fallin’ apart.” 

Karen Giles sat on her sofa, sniffling and wiping her nose on a tissue. “Insurance. I totally forgot about the insurance.” She whispered, holding back the fifth wave of tears. 

“We're very sorry to bother you right now, but the company is required to conduct its own investigation. You understand.” Sam pressed on, and she nodded. I forgot to mention, we were insurance investigators. 

“Sure.” 

“So, if you could tell us anything you remember about the night your husband died.” I asked, sitting down next to her. 

“Uh, Tony and I were just supposed to have dinner. He called and said he was having computer troubles and that, that he had to work late. That was it.” Karen recounted, and I nodded. 

“Do you have any idea who could have done this to him?” 

“No, like I told the police, I… I have no idea.”

”Did Tony mention anything, you know, unusual to you? In the days before his death?” Dean asked. 

“Unusual…” 

“Yeah, like… strange?” 

“Strange?” 

“Y’know, like… weird noises, visions-“ I cleared my throat, stopping Dean. 

“He had a nightmare the day before he died.” She whispered, and Carl wrote it down on my flip notebook, and I was loosely holding the pen to give an impression that I was writing and not a magic pen. 

“What kind of a nightmare?” Sam frowned. 

“Uh, he said that he woke up in the middle of the night and there was a woman standing at the foot of the bed, he blinked and she was gone, I mean, it was just a nightmare.” 

“Did he say what she looked like?” Dean asked. 

“What the hell difference does it make of what she looked like?!” 

“Our company’s thorough, Mrs Giles.” I smiled, stepping in to save Dean’s butt. Again. “We’d like to get a detailed description of the days prior to the incident so then we can make a good analysis. As many details as you can spare, if that’s ok.” 

“Yeah.” She nodded, calming down, while Carl wrote down ‘good job’ on the paper. “He said she was pale, and she had dark red eyes.” 

“Thank you for your time.” I gave Karen a side hug, giving her my fake calling card, but had my burner phone number. “Call me if you need anything.” 

“I told Karen to call me if she had any problems and then we set off.” 

“Doesn’t explain why you broke into Anthony Giles’ office.” He persisted.

“Okay, look, Karen called us later, said that there was some stuff that she wanted from Tony's office, but the police weren't letting her in- like, a picture of the two of them in Paris, and some other stuff. She gave us the key. It wasn’t a break in.” 

“Hey. Anthony Giles' body was found right about here.” Sam gestured. 

“Throat slit so deep, part of his spinal cord was showing.” I read out, sitting at the computer. 

Dean whistled. “What do you think? Vengeful spirit? Underlining vengeful?” 

“Yeah, maybe. I mean he did see that woman at the foot of his bed.” Sam shrugged. I found something at the printer, whipping it out. 

“Take a look at this.” I showed it to them. It had the word/thing ‘danashulps’ written all over it. “Dana Shulps.” 

“A name?” 

“A name that’s everywhere.” Dean chuckled. “Well, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” 

Sam checked the desk, shining his torch down. Then he breathed on it, revealing the word Dana Shulps. “Well, I think we’ve crossed over to a whole new level of weird.” 

“Tell me about it.” I typed quickly, trying to crack the password to Giles’ computer.

”Maybe Giles knew her.” Dean suggested. 

“Or it’s the name of our red-eyed mystery girl.” Sam shrugged. We went through available files, I scoured the internet, hacked into police databases, but… 

“Nada.” I grimaced. “No girl name Dana Shulps ever died a horrible death or even existed. The surname Shulps isn’t even a name.” 

“So what now?” Dean groaned. 

“I’m a few clicks away from unlocking Giles’ laptop.” I clicked my tongue. “There could be something in his personal files.” 

“How long?” Sam asked. 

“Fifteen minutes, give or take. Carl, lend a nib.” Carl started helping, while I counted down the seconds until-

There we go.

“Seriously?” Sam sighed.

 Dean’s fart noises.

”Your story checks out.” Rhodes nodded, closing the case. “But fact remains that Dean was found at Karen Giles’ murder scene.”

”Fact remains that Dean Winchester saved my life.” I frowned. “On multiple occasions, won’t specify which, and if that warrants anything, it warrants a hell lot of respect and favours. Come on, Serge. You’re smart, it’s obvious. You’re probably the type of guy to take one look at who you’re dealing with and say whether they’re guilty or not. And you’ve taken a long, hard look at Dean. At me, maybe even Sam. Give me your honest opinion. Do you think any of us are guilty?”

”No.” Rhodes admitted. “Facts don’t add up. Dean wasn’t holding a weapon when they found him. He wasn’t present at the murder of Tony Giles. No prints, no DNA, just him conveniently at the scene. But I’ve got nothing else to work with, unless something else is at play here, and I wouldn’t be surprised if it was because a murder isn’t that clean cut.” 

“What if it was something else?” I shrugged. 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“At the crime scene, we found two words written over and over. Dana Shulps.” I showed him the printed paper. “Help me figure out what this means. If you find Dean guilty after this, go ahead, arrest him, put him on trial and get him in prison with a lifer, but for now, consider the fact that he’s innocent.”  

James sighed, conceding. “Fine, but it has to look like I’m interrogating you.” 

“Not so much of an even worse cop, huh?” 

“I bend to reason. Now, Dana.” I wrote down the name, staring at it. 

“Best thing I’ve got is an anagram.” I shrugged, tapping a pen on the table. 

“Scramble it, then?” We both wrote down the words in different ways, switching things up, thinking, until I got something. 

“Ashland sound familiar?” I asked, and he nodded. 

“Ashland’s a street name.” A woman knocked and walked in, and she looked to be in her late forties. Her badge read ‘D. Ballard.’ 

“Detective Ballard.” Rhodes’ demeanour switched up, turning to Ballard with a smug air. Wow, that was quick. Smoother than butter. “How’re things going with Sam Winchester?” 

“Story matches Dean’s. How about Rainer?” Ballard replied. 

“We’re getting somewhere.” He smirked, glancing back at me. “Miss Rainer and I were having an intense heart to heart, but story still matches the other two’s. Though, I have to say, tough customer. Not sure Pete would be able to keep his cool for long if he had her.” 

“I doubt it too.” She nodded. “Keep at it, we can only hold ‘em for 48 hours.” She left, and Rhodes switched again, turning back to me with an easy smile. 

“How’d I do?” 

“You lie almost as well as I do.” I grinned. “Am I turning a good boy soft?” 

“Cut the bad girl act, Rainer.” Rhodes chuckled. “Yeah, I have to admit, I was checking you out, but I can look through a guise if I see one.” 

“Again, flattered.” 

“You’re a hard case to crack, aren’t you?” 

“I like to give people a challenge.” I wrote on the paper. “Get this to Dean and Sam, any way you can without being spotted. They need to know.” 

He took the paper, standing up. “I hope to God that you’re right, Rainer.” He left, leaving me to contemplate all my life decisions.

”Trust me, I hope so too.” I sighed.

Rhodes came into my room later, looking grim.  “I got you a ticket out, but Dean’s decided to confess. You might wanna come watch.” 

“Confess to what, though?” I asked, picking up my leather jacket and putting it on. 

“That’s what I wanna find out.” We went into the interrogation room, where they were setting up a camera. 

“Beanie.” Dean grinned upon seeing me. “Are you ok?”

”I’m doing fine.” I nodded.

”Your boyfriend decided to confess, sweetheart.” One detective smirked. “Speak directly to the camera, and state your name for the record.” 

Dean faced the camera, a smug smirk on his face. Wait, I know what he’s going to do. “My name is Dean Winchester. I'm an Aquarius.” Here we go. “I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky women. And I did not kill anyone. But I know who did. Or rather what did. Of course it can't be for sure, because our investigation was interrupted. But our working theory was that we're looking for some kind of vengeful spirit.”

”Excuse me?” Ballard scoffed. 

“You know, Casper the bloodthirsty ghost?” Dean shrugged. “Tony Giles saw it. I'll bet you cash money Karen did too. But see, the interesting thing is the word it leaves behind. For some reason it's trying to tell us something. But communicating across the veil, it ain't easy. You know, sometimes the spirits, they, they get things jumbled. You remember ‘REDRUM’. Same concept. You know, it's, uh, maybe word fragments... other times, it's anagrams. See, at first we thought this was a name, Dana Shulps. But now we think it's a street. Ashland. Whatever's going on, I'll bet you it started there.”

“You arrogant ass.” Detective Sheridan hissed. “Tony and Karen were good people, and you're making jokes.”

”I’m not joking, Ponch.”

”You murdered them in cold blood just like that girl in St. Louis!” 

“Oh, yeah. That wasn't me either. That was a shape-shifter creature that only looked like me.” Sheridan lost his temper, hauling Dean up by his collar and slamming him against the wall. I was going to step in when Rhodes held me back, other officers jumping in to help.

”Pete!” Ballard gasped. 

“That’s ENOUGH!” Rhodes yelled, stopping everyone. “I’ll cuff him myself, just go return to your jobs. Rainer, you stay with me.” Everyone left, leaving Dean, Rhodes and I alone. 

“Well done, you locked me up.” Dean grimaced as he looked down at the cuffs now around his wrists.  “Whatcha gonna do, gloat?”

”Ask you two if this Casper thing is real.” The answer took Dean aback, and he blinked at Rhodes, wondering why. “I talked to Rainer. The facts don’t add up, and a spirit seems most obvious when it comes to a murder with no prints or DNA.” 

“Beanie, you sly fox.” He chuckled.  “She can talk her way out of anything.”

”Long story short, yeah, it is.” I nodded. “Shifter is real too, all of the likes of it are.”

”So, Ashland?”

“Street name.” Rhodes nodded.  “Why this spirit is trying to tell us that, I’m not sure.”

”The girl died there.” Ballard stepped in, and Dean sighed, rolling his eyes and opening his mouth to speak. “Can we make this quick? I'm a little tired, it's been a long day, you know, with your partner assaulting me and all.” 

“I want to know more about the stuff you were talking about earlier.” She gulped. 

“Time Life. Mysteries of the Unknown. Look it up.”

”Let’s pretend for a moment that you aren’t entirely insane.” 

“Mhmm.”

”What would one of these things be doing here?”

”A vengeful spirit? Well, they're created by violent deaths. And then they come back for a reason, usually a nasty one. Like revenge on the people that hurt 'em.” 

I noticed something on Rhodes’ wrist, and I took out, pushing up his sleeve. 

“Where did you get these?” I asked.

”These weren’t there before.” He gulped, looking freaked. Ballard pulled up her sleeve too, showing the bruises. 

“You two saw it, didn’t you?” Dean frowned. 

“How did you know?” Ballard gasped. 

“Because Karen had the same bruises on her wrists. And I'm willing to bet that if you look at Giles' autopsy photos he's got 'em too, it's got something to do with this spirit, I... I don't know what.” He paused, staring at Ballard’s stunned expression as she turned away. “I know. You think you're going crazy. But let's skip that part, shall we? Because the last two people who saw this thing? Died, pretty soon after. You hear me?” 

“You think we’re going to die.” Rhodes breathed. 

“You need to find Sam.” Dean urged. “He can help, and so can Ivonne.”

”You’re giving up your brother.” Ballard stammered. 

“Go with Beanie. She’ll find Sam and they can help figure this out. You can arrest him if you want, or you can let him help you.” 

“Lead the way, Rainer.” Rhodes agreed, and I immediately walked out of the door, both of them following.

I knocked on Sam’s door at the motel. “Jim Rockford? It’s Tabitha from room service.” Sam opened it immediately, spotting the two behind us. “They saw it. This is James Rhodes and you know Detective Ballard.”

”Get in.” We all got inside, and Sam hugged me before turning to the other two, holding their wrists. “These showed up after you saw it?” 

“Yeah.” Rhodes nodded. 

“You know, I must be losing my mind. You're a fugitive. I should be arresting you.” Ballard shakily told us, but we shared a look. 

“Fine. Arrest Sam, then.” I shrugged. “After we save your life. For now, just trust us to do this, ok?” 

“She’s right, Diana.” Rhodes vouched, and she conceded. I gave him a thankful smile, pulling out Sam’s folder of crime scene photos and booking photos. 

“Okay, great. Now, this spirit. What did it look like?” 

“She was, um, really pale, and her throat was cut, and her eyes, they were like, this deep dark red? It appeared like she was trying to talk to me. But she couldn't. It was just... a lot of blood.” Diana stammered. 

“Alright.” I showed them the photos. “I’m gonna flick through these one by one, and you’re gonna tell me if you recognise her.” I went through the photos one by one, and then Rhodes cleared his throat when I stopped at one. 

“That’s her.” He nodded. 

“Yeah.” Diana agreed. 

“Claire Becker? Twenty eight years old, disappeared about eight or nine months ago.” Sam frowned. 

“But we don't even know her. I mean, why would she come after us?” 

“Well, before her death, she was arrested twice. For dealing heroin. You ever work narcotics?” 

“Pete, Diana and I did.” Rhodes gulped. 

“Did you bust her? Any of you?” I asked. 

“I did, but I got her a shorter sentence than she was going to get.”

“It says that she was last seen entering 2911 Ashland Street. Police searched the place, didn't find anything. Guess we gotta check it out ourselves. See if we can find her body.” 

“What?” Diana coughed.

“Well, we gotta salt and burn her bones. It's the only way to put her spirit to rest.” Sam explained.

”Of course it is.” 

“You guys go and have a glass of water. Keep an eye on each other. Ivy and I need to talk.” The other two went into the room behind us so Sam and I could have a chat.  

“Rhodes seems to be taking it well.” I smiled. “Ballard, not so much.” 

“I think Rhodes is taking it well cause of you.” Sam smirked, and laughed when I raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think I don’t see the sparks. Dean would’ve already commented on it.” 

“He’s a man of the law.” I sighed. “I have more fake IDs than I’ve had birthdays.” 

“Maybe that’s the danger of it. Forbidden love-“ I slapped him across the head with a piece of paper. “Ow, okay, okay!” 

“You better not mention to this to Dean.” 

“I think he knows.”

We walked into an abandoned warehouse, my gun drawn just in case. 

“A firearm?” Rhodes scoffed.

“It’s licensed, so untwist your boxers.” I smirked. 

“So what exactly are we looking for?” 

“We’ll let you know once we find it.” Sam informed, then we split up, searching for a possible place to hide a body. I scaled the wall, knocking on it to try and find a bit of hollow wall that I could bust open-

“Sam!” I heard Diana yell, sounding scared. “Sam! James! IVONNE!” All three of us came running back, and we found Diana alone. 

“What happened?” I asked. “Did you see Claire?” 

“She, she was here.” 

“Did she attack you?” Sam questioned, looking around. 

“No, she was just… reaching out to me. She was over there by the window.“ There was a shelf blocking the window, so Sam and Rhodes got to work and moved it, revealing the word ‘ASHLAND SUP’. 

“I’m guessing the SUP started the word supplies.” I grinned, then followed the reflection to a wall on the other side. “Sam, did you bring the sledgehammer?” Sam held it up, so I took it and started cracking a hole the wall. I peered in, and nodded. “Yep. There’s something here.” Sam joined me and helped me tear the rest of the wall open, revealing Claire Becker’s body.

“God.” Rhodes breathed. 

“Something about this is bothering me.” Sam frowned. 

“You’re digging up a corpse.” Diana pointed out. 

“Digging them up is pretty par for the course. But why would a vengeful spirit lead us to her corpse?” We bent down to take a look, and Diana reached out, touching the necklace. 

“Does it mean something to you?” I asked. 

“That necklace. It’s rare, custom made on Carson Street.” She pulled out the same one from her neckline. “I have one just like it. Pete gave it to me.” 

“Now this all makes perfect sense.” Sam nodded, piecing it all together. 

“What does?” Rhodes frowned. “Apart from Pete killing Claire.” 

“Claire’s not a vengeful spirit, she’s a death omen.” I explained. “She’s not killing people, she’s warning them that they’ll die by the same hand she did. You see, sometimes spirits, they don't want vengeance, they want justice. Which is why she led us here in the first place. She wants us to know who her killer is.“ 

“Detective, how much do you know about your partner?” Sam asked. 

“Oh my god.” Diana gasped. 

“What?” 

“About a year ago, some heroin went missing from lockup. Obviously it was a cop. We never found out who did it. But whoever did it would need someone to fence their product.” 

“Someone like a heroin dealer. Someone like Claire.” 

“I’m going to make a phone call, find out where Dean is.” Rhodes stood up, pulling out his phone and walking to another corner. “If we’re right, he could be next.” 

“Did you bring the Mustang?” Sam asked me, and I held up my keys. 

“Yeah.” I nodded, then turned to Claire’s body. “We’ll catch him.” 

Rhodes came back, looking freaked again. “Pete just left with Dean. Said he had to be transferred and just took off. He’s not answering the radio, either.” 

“We need to cut him off.” I grimaced, cocking my gun. “He’s in a county vehicle, so we need to access the lo-jack and find the route. Let’s go!”

I was driving with my pedal to the metal, with Diana and Sam in the back and Rhodes at the front with me. 

“Tell me.” Rhodes turned to me with a smile. “How does a girl like you end up in a job like yours?” 

“What do you mean, a girl like me?” I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re smart, quick on your feet, obviously good with a gun. You got almost perfect scores on your LSAT and SAT, got into Princeton, practically a shoo in almost anywhere. You could’ve been great on the force, instead you’re hunting the impossible.” 

“Hunting the impossible seems like a better option, in my opinion.” We reached the GPS location of the county vehicle, appearing behind Sheridan just as he was about to kill Dean. 

“Pete!” Diana yelled. “Put the gun down!”

”Diana?” Sheridan gasped. “How'd you find me?” 

“I know about Claire.” 

“I don't know what you're talking about.” 

“Put the gun down!” 

“Oh, I don't think so. You're fast. I'm pretty sure I'm faster.” 

“Why are you doing this?” She asked. 

“I didn’t do anything, Diana.” Sheridan lied, while I flicked down the safety pin on my gun. 

“It’s a little bit late for that.” 

“It wasn't my fault. Claire was trying to turn me in, I had no choice.” 

“You had a choice, Pete.” Rhodes frowned. “Instead you killed an innocent woman. Then why Tony and Karen?” 

“Same thing! Tony scrubbed the money, he got skittish, and then he wanted to come clean. I'm sure he told Karen everything.” He reasoned. “It was a mess; I had to clean it up. I just panicked.”

“How many more people are going to die over this, Pete?” 

“There's a way out. This Dean kid's a friggin' gift. We could pin the whole thing on him. Right? No trial, nothing. Just, just one more dead scumbag.” 

“Hey!” Dean barked, but backed away when the gun was turned on him. I rolled my eyes, ready to pounce, but with a gun trained on Dean it wouldn’t be wise.

“No one will question it. Diana, please. I still love you.” I gave Diana a look, but she put her gun down. “Thank you. Thank you.” Sheridan turned to Dean, but then Diana quickly picked up her gun, shooting Pete in the stomach and making him fall, giving Dean time to roll out of the way. 

“Then why don’t you buy me another necklace, you ass?!” She hissed, before she was tackled herself, and Sheridan got up, instantly going for the gun, facing off Rhodes and Sam. However, Claire showed up behind Sheridan, making him turn around and gasp in horror as she smiled, giving me time to pull the trigger and shoot him in the back. He fell to the floor, more permanently this time, and Claire gave me a nod before disappearing. 

“Hell of a shot.” Rhodes breathed, glancing to me. 

“Thanks.” I smiled. We gave Diana time to mourn her partner, then she came back to us. 

“You doin' all right?” Sam asked, concerned. 

“No, not really. The death omen Claire, what happens to her now?” 

“Should be over. She should be at rest.” 

“So, what now, officers?” Dean asked. 

“Pete did confess to me. He screwed up both your cases royally. I'd say that there's a good chance that we could get your cases dismissed.” Rhodes explained. 

“You’d take care of that?” I smiled. 

“I hope so. But the St. Louis murder charges? That's another story. I can't help you. Unless... I just happened to turn my back, and you walked away. I could just tell them that the suspects escaped.” 

“You sure?” Sam blinked. 

“Yeah, they’re sure, Sam.” Dean urged. 

“No, I mean, you could lose your jobs over that.” 

“Look, we just want you guys out there doing what you do best. Trust me, I'll sleep better at night.” Diana sighed. “Listen, you need to watch your back. They're gonna be looking for the three of you right now. Get out of here. I gotta radio this in.” 

“Do you know where my car is by any chance?” Dean asked. 

“It’s in an impound lot on Robertson’s.” She gave Dean a look. “No. You’re not stealing it.” 

“Of course not.” I smiled, patting the boys on the shoulder. “We’ve got my Mustang, and we’ll improvise. We’re good at that.” 

“Clearly.” Rhodes grinned, and Dean and Sam shared a look. 

“We’ll meet you at the car.” Dean smirked, dragging Sam with him. Diana had slipped off, leaving me and Rhodes. 

“This’ll be one heck of a story to tell.” 

“I bet.” I laughed, storing my gun in my arm holster. “Just leave out the part of the death omen and people won’t call you insane.” 

“That sounds best.” He chuckled. “You’re a really hard case, Rainer, you know that, right?” 

“I’ve heard. Well, I’ve better get going.” I smiled, then pulled my car keys out of my pocket. I stared at them, then raised an eyebrow. “Wait, I have my keys. If I have them, how are the boys in the-“ My focus was thrown off course by a pair of lips on mine, an arm wrapping around my waist. I dropped my keys because of the impact, forgetting about them and cupping the nape of his neck, the other arm hanging loosely around it. I could feel his smile, tilting his head-

“HAUN HAUN! YOU GOT THE GIRL, OUI OUI?!” I pulled away, turning to where Dean was. 

“DEAN WINCHESTER, I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” I yelled, then stepped back from Rhodes. “Sorry about them.” 

“Nah, you’re good.” He picked up my keys and gave them to me, kissing me again quickly and then my hand. “It’s gonna take a lot to forget you, Rainer.” 

“Don’t worry about that, Serge, nobody can forget me.” I handed him a note with my burner cell number. “Call me sometime. If I don’t pick up, I’m hunting another demon. And, uh, call me Ivy.” 

“Then call me James.” He took the note, pocketing it. “I’ll lead the cops off your trail. Just go, and don’t die, cause those two will need your help. You’re a smooth talker.” 

“I guess that solves the mystery of why I joined them in the first place.” I smiled. “See you around, James.” 

“You too, Ivy.” I walked back to the Mustang, unlocking it and getting in. 

“You boys are idiots.” 

“I like him the best.” Dean smirked. “Cool dude.” 

“Yeah, we love a rogue officer.” Sam teased. 

“Shut up, you two.” I groaned, flooring it and waving goodbye out of the window to James, who was watching me leave. 

PREVIOUS | NEXT

[eddiemunching]

Stick Around (Part 2) - Eddie x Reader

I am sorry I decided to split it up into another part but I’m busier than expected and would rather give some parts than make you guys wait longer.

“It’s not like you won’t be seeing me like this anyway.” You shrugged.

“So tell me.” He started, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What are we doing in the future that requires minimal clothes?”

“Many, many things.” You laughed. “Like saving a freezing girl from looking like a drowned rat.”

“You’re too pretty to be called a rat.” He butted in, how eyes lingering on the sight of you in his clothes. The shirt seemingly too big and the boxers hugging your ass a little too tight due to the lingering wetness from the rain.

“Okay but Robin would call me a rat in two seconds.” You said, completely brushing past Eddie’s comments. “Why don’t you two ever smoke together. You’re like the biggest stoners I know.”

“She’s not you.” Eddie said a little too quickly. “What I mean is, she’s not as fun and I don’t really know her.”

“Well if you don’t know her, how do you know she’s not as fun?” You began. “I should organize a group hangout!”

“God, you are clueless.” Eddie sighed.

“What?” You turn to face Eddie, a puzzled expression evident.

Eddie walked closer to you, holding strong eye contact. His brown eyes looking down upon you with a gentleness behind them. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what?” You stared up at him. “Are you mad at me? I can go check if my mom is home and be out of your way. I guess it was stupid of me to assume I could be here. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop rambling.” Eddie pushed a finger to your lips, pressing it lightly. “I couldn’t be mad at you.”

“But-“ before you could continue, Eddie was pressing his lips against yours. They were soft and had a hint of strawberry. Despite being caught off guard, you lean into him, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and deepening the kiss. Eddie got the same idea and placed his hands on your waist, being careful to not go far enough down to upset you.

Pulling apart to breathe, you giggle softer to yourself, avoiding Eddie’s eyes.

“Hi.” Eddie says quietly into your lips, noses brushing against each other.

“Hi.” You reply back, smiling and still very much giggling to yourself. “So that’s what all the cheap weed was about. You are so slick Eddie Munson.”

“It took you long enough.” He whispered into your forehead before kissing it. “I called you pretty straight to your face!”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you lose balance and end up falling into Eddie — and perhaps, for him. The fall causes you and Eddie to end up sprawled on the couch, Eddie hovering above you with an unfamiliar look in his eyes.

“I guess I found my bed for the night.” You joke, attempting to move Eddie from this current position.

“You are not sleeping on a couch.” Eddie demanded. “You can sleep in my bed and I’ll take the floor.”

“I can’t let you do that. I can just go back to my house.” You began, feeling bad for kicking Eddie out of his own bed for your own stupidity.

“No.” Was all Eddie could say.

-

It must’ve been around 2am when you woke up. Rain was still pouring outside, evident by the constant pattering on the rooftop of Eddie’s trailer. You couldn’t sleep at all. Unaware if it was due to the unfamiliarity of Eddie’s bed or the fact that you two had just kissed hours before with no conversation to indicate what was next for your friendship.

There was a soft snore emanating from a dark corner spot on the floor where Eddie fell asleep hours ago.

Before you could even stop yourself, you call out to Eddie “Eds?” You test to see if he could hear you. “Eddie?”

You hear a grumble before a croaky voice responds. “What’s wrong?” He shoots up, looking around to identify the problem.

“I can’t sleep.” You sigh, feeling anxious for waking Eddie up for such a minuscule issue. “Can you please get in the bed with me. I feel too bad that you’re on the uncomfortable floor.”

“I’d thought you’d never ask.”

If anyone wants to be apart of a tag list let me know! I haven’t done it for this part because it was not the smut I promised, sorry!

[sweetestlittledarling]

Banter at the Rowdy Raven

Part of @monthly-challenge 2024 | Banter

Rating: PG

Pairing: JulianxSparrow (Female Apprentice)

Summary: The more the city changes the more it stays the same

“Hey there sexy can I buy you a drink?”

              Sparrow had to sigh as she set her drink back down on the bar. The city might have been rebuilt but clearly the clientele of the Rowdy Raven would never change. Leaning back against the bar, she could see that this was not one of the normal patrons. He looked like he could be one with his only mother, could love face and smell that bordered on dead sewer rat but clearly, he was new in town, probably a sailor just off the boat. She might just give him a pass just this once. “No thank you, I already have one,” she said giving him a fake little smile.

              “Let me buy you the next one then,” the thug said, clearly not catching the hint. He stepped a bit closer, leaning in so she could smell his not so pleasant breath. “Or maybe I’ll let you buy me one seeing as you’ve already stolen something of mine.”

              “If you are going to say your heart,” Sparrow answered picking up her drink for another sip, “I assure you that I wouldn’t touch that with a thirty-foot pole.”

              “Aw come on don’t be so cold baby! Me and my friend’s noticed you from across the bar and we like your style, especially since it’s been a long time since we seen a lady as pretty as you.”

              Out of the corner of her eye Sparrow could see the equally unenticing sailors at the far table and silently sized up each of them. She kind of wished Mezalinka was in town, would be nice to have some back up right about then. But alas the pirate captain wasn’t expected back in town till tomorrow, and it was actually a fairly slow night sadly. Only Barth sat behind the bar watching and by the look in his eyes saying he could already see what was coming. He would not get involved unless necessary as was his custom as the bartender. “Well as nice a complement as that is,” Sparrow said, turning her eyes back to her drink, “I am sadly going to have decline the offer as I am already waiting for someone.”

              “Oh really?” the thug chuckled, “and who might that be? Your boyfriend?”

              “No, my partner,” Sparrow continued, unfazed, “he’s currently finishing up rehearsals down at the local theater and should be here any minute.” 

              The thug and his entire table erupted into laughter as if she had just told the funniest joke. “You mean your boyfriend is one of those froufrou actor types? Is he one who wears wigs and dances all around pretty like?”

              “Again, he is my partner and yes, he has worn wigs and danced, both at the same time. He’s actually very talented.” Sparrow had really hoped they would take the hint at this point but unfortunately it just wasn’t sticking in his pea brain head, because the next thing that happened was, he put his hand on her thigh. She made a face as he leaned in again.

              “Why don’t you come with me, and I’ll show you how a real man treats a lady?”

              Sparrow’s eyes narrowed. “How about you remove your hand before I remove it for you?”

              “I like them feisty,” the thug said licking his teeth. “Go a head hot stuff, show me what ya got.”

              Sparrow for a moment thought about showing him how hot she could actually get but thought better of it. He wasn’t worth the magical effort. So instead, she stood up right, tossed the last of her drink into his face and then decked him hard. She sent him stumbling back as his friends looked up in surprise, rising to their feet as she cracked her knuckles. “Now I was going to give you a pass seeing as you are new in town, but I see that you failed to take the hint,” she told them with a little smirk, “so let me clue you in. I am neither your baby nor your sexy lady. My name is Sparrow, and I am not someone you want to pick a fight with.”

              The thug spit out a tooth before he turned an awful glare at Sparrow. “Why you little- “He probably would have said something nasty if he hadn’t been hit by a bottle to the head knocking him unconscious. Sparrow watched him drop and then looked up to find her handsome doctor standing there in his black coat, his ever-famous grin near glowing in the low light of the bar.

              “Sorry I’m late my love,” he said, stepping over the unconscious body to take her hand and give her a kiss. “Rehearsal ran late. Did I miss anything?”

              “Just a rowdy thug who didn’t know how to keep his hands to himself,” Sparrow answered, smiling. “Nothing I couldn’t handle, though I think I might need your help for the next bit.” She motioned over to the table where the other thugs were looking ready to throw some hands, as well as chairs, and bottles.

              Julian’s grin grew devilish as he waggled an eyebrow at her. “Shall we dance my dear?”

              Sparrow nodded. “Let’s.”

              The next few minutes were a whirlwind of chaos, destruction, and bodies hitting the floor. It was glorious and, in the end, both Julian and Sparrow stood triumphant amongst the carnage. Sparrow had managed to make it through unscathed. Julian unfortunately had not. He hissed slightly as Sparrow gently touched the bruise just under his eye where a lucky punch had landed.

“You know, we should probably be careful as to not damage your face too much before your debut,” Sparrow mused, “I would hate to make the director angry.”

“I don’t think we’ll have to worry too much,” Julian chuckled, his bravado returning, “a little ice and some makeup and I’m sure no one will ever know the difference. Besides any wounds I get fighting by your side are wounds I wear with pride.”

“Oh really?” Sparrow asked, her voice sultry as she wrapped an arm around his waist pulling him in, “and what about the wounds I’m going to leave on that pretty neck of yours?”

The color rose quickly to Julian’s face as he bit his lip in that sexy way of his. “Gods above Sparrow, the things you do to me,” he groaned as he leaned in to kiss her passionately. Unfortunately, the mood was cut suddenly when a clear cough came from the bar. They both looked over to find Barth raising an eyebrow in their direction, cleaning rag in hand.

“Sorry Barth,” Sparrow apologized, as she tossed a few coins onto the bar, “two salty bitters for the road? And you can put the damage on my tab, actually- “Sparrow reached down and pulled out one of the thug’s coin purses, tossing it onto the bar with a smirk. “ -Put it on theirs.”

[yeonkimintakecare]

Best Friend’s Brother

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader; Angsty Fluff

Summary: You've always had a crush on Hobi, but your best friend is his little sister, so nothing could ever happen between the two of you...right?

Author's Note: I mentioned this on my last post, but this is all old writing from when I had an instagram account for these, which is why they're all pretty short too.

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, some swearing, some fighting.

You sit on your best friends couch with the both of your legs intertwined. You both were working on your Organic Chemistry homework. You both had an eight page essay on Stereochemistry due in four hours. Your best friend played music as you both sat there typing. Suddenly her roommate walks in.

Eunho comes from a family with money so they pay for her apartment, but their rule was her older brother, Hoseok, had to live with her. They got along well, but lately they had been fighting, she didn’t tell you why, and you weren’t one to stick your nose into personal matters.

You wave and smile at Hoseok but he looks at you, gives you a small nod, and continues to walk into his room. You knew you should try to focus on your homework anyways, but you couldn’t get your mind off of how he brushed you off. Normally he would stop, give you a large smile, and talk to you for a while. You had a little bit of a crush on him, but because you were Eunho’s best friend, you pushed them down. Deep deep down.

After the two of you had finished your homework and finally submitted it, you both stretch.

“I’m kind of hungry, what about you?” Eunho asks while yawning.

“Same, but I’m really just craving a beer” you say while cracking your knuckles.

“We could always just go pick up some and get some fried chicken on the way back.” She offers while she stretches her back.

“Sold.” You say while smiling. You guys were alway on the same wavelength. You guys had been best friends for years, you guys became friends when you kicked a boy in the crotch for taking photos up her skirt when you guys were 16 and you guys have been best friends ever since.

You both collect your coats, but you notice that she doesn’t ask Hobi, which was unusual for her.

“Should we ask your brother?” You hint, not wanting to push her buttons, but to at least try. She shrugs.

“I don’t want to. He can starve for all I care.” she says in a joking tone, but there seems to be a level of seriousness under it all.

You shake your head and walk to his door and give it a light knock. No answer. You try one more time. No answer. ‘Do I open it? I would hate for us to get food and him to be upset we didn’t include him...’ you continue and open his door. When you walk in you see him with his headphones one working on music. You smile and lean up against the door frame. He looks so cute there, working on his music, his head bobbing and his foot tapping. Your attention is snapped away when he turns around. He has a very confused look on his face when he sees you.

“Oh, hey Y/N, what up?” He asks while sliding his headphones to sit on his shoulder. You blush, realizing how weird you must’ve seemed to him.

“Oh, um, so Eunho and I were going to go pick up beer and fried chicken, and I was just wondering if you wanted some.”

“Sure, thank you for offering.” He said with a big smile on his face. You blush harder. He had this vibe around him that would just melt your heart. He was so cute. You give a small nod and you close the door.

Around 45 minutes later you and Eunho return with food. You go and let Hobi know while your friend sets it up on the table. This time when you knock, you get a response.

“Come in.” He calls out. You open the door, he’s still sitting in front of his computer working on his song.

“I just wanted to let you know that the food is here and ready.” “Ok I’ll be right there.” He says while giving you a small smile. You were about to turn around but then you stop yourself. Before you can stop yourself you talk.

“I don’t mean to pry, but I was wondering-“ He turns back to you, you feel a knot in your stomach when you make eye contact with him. “I was just wondering what the music you make sounds like.” He gives out a cute chuckle that makes your knees weak.

“Do you want to listen to it?” He asks while taking his headphones off and gesturing for you to put them on. You slip them on and he presses play. You close your eyes to fully take in the music. It all starts with a fun beat that gets you to bob your head. You are surprised when he starts to sing. His vocals coat your eardrums and it makes you smile. You can’t help but imagine what he looked like while recording this. His singing turns into rapping and you subconsciously bite your lip. You continue to enjoy the music but it’s cut short to a hand touching your face. When you open your eyes you are surprised to Hoseok’s lips on yours.

You fall into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and his hands falling on your waist.

You guys are quickly interrupted when you hear your best friend, his sister, Eunho.

“You have to be fucking kidding me right now.” She scoffs while standing in the door frame. “I thought I had told you I wasn’t comfortable with you dating my best friend. Now here you are practically forcing yourself on her.” She turns around and walks out. That must have been what they had been fighting about. You follow after her, because as much as you like Hobi, your friendship matters more.

“Eunnie!” You yell out to her, but she continues to her room. She furiously sits on her bed, stewing. You sit next to her. You rest your hand on her back. “Eunnie… I think you know that he wasn’t forcing himself on me. I think you know that I’ve liked him for awhile. It also seems that you know he liked me too.” You give her an eyebrow raise.

“I was scared that if you started dating him, you’d stop being my friend. I just figured that if I didn’t intervene, nothing would happen and I wouldn’t have to share you.” Eunho states while sheepishly looking at you. You smile at her lovingly. On one hand you understood where she was coming from, but not the other, you were upset that she didn’t realize that you can love them both and can give both of them attention without neglecting the other.

“I would never leave you behind, you mean too much to me. If you want we can forget about what just happened. I’ll never look at Hobi again if it makes you uncomfortable.” You volunteer, hoping that she turns it down. She cocks her head sideways and gives a small laugh while shaking her head.

“That’s ridiculous, everything is out there now. I’m not going to ask you take back your feelings. But the fact that you offered means a lot to me. Do you promise that you won’t stop being my friend because of him? Even if things don’t work out with you guys? Because if that happens I am so willing to cut him out of my life for you.” She says with a large smirk on her face, looking at the door frame. To your surprise Hobi had been standing there the whole time.

“I can’t believe that I'm so expendable to the both of you.” He says jokingly. All of you laugh, you all continue downstairs to the fried chicken which is probably cold by now. You enjoy your dinner with your two favorite people.

You can’t help but think about how lucky you must be to love and be loved by the two of them.

[blooming-water-roses]

Fuck it, ShiIta ArtCollege!AU

This is unfinished but I re-read it today and kinda like the banter, so I may write more disasters like this continuing the storyline.

Relevant tags: Crack, Comedy, Adult Humor

Pairings: ShiIta, KakaObi, feat HashiMada

Warnings: Shisui and Itachi are cousins who date in this, kindly don’t like don’t read!

Summary: Konan, Itachi, and Genma are songwriting majors at Konoha Arts, Sasori, Hashirama, and Yamato are wood sculpting art majors, Madara is an audio engineering major, Shisui is a music production major, Kakashi is a creative writing major, Obito is an acting major, Deidara is a clay artist (ofc) and Gaara is glass sculptor.

They all are friends one way or the other, around the same ages, and engage in their usual shenanigans at lunch. Here is their conversation:

“Ya know, it would pay for you and Itachi to quit being so serious all the time.”

As if on cue, the two turn their expressionless gazes to Shisui, who raises his brows. In front of them, Genma and Kakashi snicker.

“Sorry. I don’t have a magical button to change my default mood from ‘neutral constipated’,” Konan says dryly. Genma laughs around the sucker in his mouth.

“Heh, at least you still have a sense of humor.”

“Hey, my ‘Tachi does have a sense of humor. He just doesn’t show it most of the time,” Shisui insists, dramatically rubbing his cheek against Itachi’s own. The younger Uchiha flushes.

“Whose side are you on?” Asks Genma, but the question goes unanswered.

“Shisui, you’re smothering me,” his voice is soft with a hint of annoyance.

“You’re gonna give him a heart attack with your PDA,” Kakashi points out.

“But I want the whole world to know Itachi has my heart.”

“Trust me, the world already knows. Pretty sure you’d be on your third kid together by now if Itachi had a uterus.”

Said man finally widens his eyes as a horrible blush overtakes his cheeks and ears. Shisui even turns red.

“Ope, double homicide. You bulls-eyed the breeding kink.”

That was Genma.

“Why do we even hang out with you?” Itachi is exasperated.

“Entertainment.”

Genma smirks at Konan. “We should date.”

“I’m actually insufferable, gloomy, and weird as fuck. So for your sake I’ll decline.”

He sighs. “You sound like my younger brother rejecting his nineteenth girl of the week.”

As if on cue, Sasori plunks down beside him and looks up at them through his unruly mop of cherry red-dyed hair. His honey eyes are rimmed with a thin line of smoky black, as usual. It’s an aesthetic choice, partly, but also to hide his dark circles. The damn insomniac never sleeps.

“It’s twenty now.”

“Oh? Who was it?”

“Matsuri, that undeclared first year.”

“I thought she liked Gaara?”

“Seems she has a type.”

Genma blinks. “What, insane edgelord sentient candy apples?”

“Only you could come up with such an abomination of a sentence,” Konan tells him with the hint of a grin.

“I’m not a lyricist for nothin’, baby.”

“Baby? You two finally dating?” Sasori asks with mild interest.

“Nope. She rejected me again.”

“Ouch. I’d give you my period-three sculpture as a consolation gift but Deidara put air bubbles in his and blew up the kiln again.”

“I thought he only did that if no one else was using it.”

“He claims he forgot mine was in there since I never use clay.”

“Hmm. Could be. Sorry about your art.”

“I’ll just stick to wood pieces,” Sasori shrugs. “Sleep will be last priority to get my project done on time. I’d hate to make the professor wait.”

“You already do that though. Not sleep, that is. You’re painfully on time. We all know you’re impatient as fuck,” Obito laments the times where Sasori has rushed everyone in order to be on time.

“Guess things are according to plan then.”

“Ah, there he is! My dummy-husband!”

They all look to see Obito just before he plops down beside Kakashi, planting a kiss on his face mask and smiling happily.

“Hey, idiot,” is Kakashi’s fond greeting.

“If it isn’t Grandpa Obito,” Genma wise-cracks, and Obito makes a face.

“We’re the same age as you, Shiranui.”

“And? Maybe if you guys didn’t act like such geezers you’d have been designated better roles in our dysfunctional friend-family.”

“Is that what we are?” Asks Kakashi as Obito interlaces their fingers.

“Yup,” Shisui answers. “We talked about it the other day working the radio station. You and Obito are Grandma and Grandpa. ‘Tachi and I are Mom and Dad. Konan over here is the exhausted yet supremely talented older sister, and Genma and Sasori are the two neighbor kids who are in a love triangle with Konan.”

Konan sighs exasperatedly, and at the same time, she and Sasori say. “There is no love triangle.”

Obito blinks. “You guys are insane.”

“Says the guy who eloped with his boyfriend a week before his junior year.”

“We got the idea from Hashirama and Madara.”

Konan raises a brow. “They’re married?”

“Yeah! They eloped last year. You haven’t noticed their rings?”

“I don’t really pay attention,” she shrugs.

“Madara wears a shit ton of rings and Hashirama wears his on his neck ‘cause he sculpts,” Shisui adds as a further explanation.

“Hashirama’s a damn genius at wood sculpting,” Sasori muses, “His cousin Yamato is talented as hell too. I need to work harder.”

“Can’t punch the gas if it’s already floored,” Itachi reminds, trying to be helpful. Shisui beams at him as if he just wrote a Bible that makes sense and actually solves all of the world’s problems.

“You’re so smart.”

“Or just really neurodivergent.”

“Same thing in my book.”

“He has a point,” Kakashi shrugs.

“Say, what was eloping like?” Shisui asks, arm around Itachi’s waist tightening. “You think me and ‘Tachi could do it?”

“It was great,” Obito grins. “Why not? You two act married anyway.”

Itachi sighs. “Has everyone forgotten we’re cousins? My family would never approve.”

“Eh, what’s the big deal? If you wanna ‘sweet home Alabama’ each other to the Moon and back, you go right ahead,” Genma winks for good measure. “It’s no sweat off my balls.”

Itachi stares, blinking slowly at his fellow songwriter.

“Couldn’t you just have said it doesn’t bother you?” He asks.

“Like a normal person?” Sasori adds in, not hiding his disgust.

“Coming from you, that’s rich,” Genma grins wolfishly, elbowing his brother in the ribs. “None of us are normal at all.”

“Yup. We wouldn’t be wackos who decided to get art degrees otherwise,” Shisui grins broadly. No one misses the rather lovesick, gentle expression Itachi bestows upon his face, but everyone ignores it. It’s as far as Itachi goes with PDA, but damn if it isn’t more potent than an actual physical gesture towards Shisui at making everyone avert their eyes at the display of intimacy.

Except Genma.

“Or wackos in love with their own cousins.”

Itachi’s eyes shift from their warmth to fix Genma with an only half-venomous glare.

“Shut up.”

The Shiranui raises his hands in defense. “We’re all wackos, this is a safe-space. Completely judgement-free zone.”

Despite his tendency to joke, those words are entirely sincere.