#but its about her continuing to try and holding his hands and smiling at him during it. the love that lives anywhere

[aspenmissing]

OMG. Arcane with an S/O with a cat that disapproves of them. Bring the chaos! 🤣

ʜɪꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴊᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

8520 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ꜰᴜʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ! ᴀɴᴅ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ. ᴄʜᴀᴏꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀꜱꜱᴜʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴏɴ!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

It was a typical evening in Y/N’s home, the crackling fire casting warm, flickering shadows across the stone walls. The room smelled of freshly baked bread and the earthy aroma of herbs, mixing perfectly with the subtle hum of Piltover in the distance. Jayce had come over to spend time with Y/N, but as always, there was one little problem—her cat.

From the moment Jayce stepped through the door, the feline was already positioned in its usual spot, high up on the bookshelf, perched like some regal observer. Its yellow eyes narrowed in disdain, watching Jayce’s every move with an air of quiet judgment. Jayce paused, frowning as he looked up at the cat, who refused to look away, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

“Your cat doesn’t like me,” Jayce muttered, sighing in resignation as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Y/N looked over at her cat with a smirk, then back to Jayce, her eyes dancing with amusement. “It’s not that,” she replied, casually pouring herself a drink. “She’s just… picky.”

“Picky? She’s staring at me like I’m some kind of intruder. What do you mean by picky?” Jayce said, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s observing,” Y/N said with a mischievous smile. “You’ve got to earn her trust.”

Jayce scoffed. “Observing? She’s watching me like she’s about to strike.”

The cat flicked its tail lazily, clearly unbothered by the conversation. Its gaze didn’t waver, even for a second, and it seemed to silently question Jayce’s very existence. Y/N chuckled at the scene. “She’s very thorough.”

=

Later that night, as Jayce was settling in to stay over at Y/N’s house, the cat’s territorial behaviour continued. Jayce changed into his nightwear, and when he came out of the bathroom, the cat was already there, on the bed, like it had been waiting for this moment. There was no hesitation in its movements, no tentative pawing at the sheets. The cat just hopped up, claimed the spot next to Y/N, and sprawled across the bed in a show of dominance, staring at Jayce with those penetrating eyes.

Jayce climbed into bed beside Y/N, pulling the covers over himself. “She’s really not even trying to hide it now, is she?” he grumbled, eyeing the cat, who was already lying with her back to him, her tail flicking slowly, almost as if she were waiting for him to make a mistake.

Y/N laughed softly, propping herself up on an elbow and glancing at the cat, whose posture was practically regal. “You’re not wrong. She’s just… warming up to you.”

“Warming up?” Jayce gave a dramatic sigh, rolling onto his side. “She’s staring at me like I’m about to make a run for it. I’m pretty sure she’s planning my demise while I sleep.”

Y/N laughed, brushing the cat’s fur as it lay between them, her fingers scratching behind its ears. The cat’s half-lidded eyes closed for a moment, seemingly content, but it still didn’t soften its gaze towards Jayce. It was clear who ruled this bed.

As soon as Jayce shifted in bed, the feline’s eyes snapped open, tail flicking again with a precision that made Jayce feel like he was under some kind of scrutiny he couldn’t escape. He tried to adjust the blanket, only for the cat’s gaze to follow his every movement like a hawk stalking its prey.

A few moments later, Jayce attempted to hold Y/N’s hand as they both lay in bed, hoping for some quiet intimacy. But before he could even settle into the gesture, the cat immediately rose up, stretched lazily, and positioned itself directly between their hands, its cold eyes now fixed on Jayce, daring him to try.

“Really?” Jayce muttered under his breath, looking down at the cat, which now had both of its paws tucked neatly under its chest, as if to say Not on my watch.

Y/N just laughed at the absurdity of it all, brushing her hand through the cat’s fur with a fond smile. “She’s very protective,” Y/N said, as the cat mewed softly but didn’t move an inch. “Just accept that she’s not going to give you easy access to me.”

Jayce, feeling utterly defeated, leaned back against the pillow, giving the cat one last, dramatic look. “She’s like a little bouncer at the door to my heart. I’m never going to get past this.”

“She’s just making sure you’re good enough,” Y/N teased. “It’s her way of saying she cares.”

Jayce rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “One day, I’ll win her over. You’ll see. It might take a while, but I’ll get there.”

Y/N smiled softly, a mix of amusement and affection in her eyes. “I’m sure you will. But don’t be surprised if it takes longer than you expect. She’s a tough nut to crack.”

As the night stretched on, the cat remained unyielding in its position between them, still glaring at Jayce whenever he shifted too much. Eventually, the rhythmic flicking of its tail as it lay against Y/N’s side began to lull Jayce to sleep, but not before he muttered quietly to himself:

“Just you wait, kitty. I’ll win you over yet.”

The cat, of course, didn’t respond, too busy with its important task of watching over the bed like a sentry. Its tail flicked one more time before it settled, and its eyes closed slowly, as if to say This is my domain, and you’re lucky to be here.

And as Y/N drifted off to sleep, she couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all. It might take some time, but maybe, just maybe, Jayce and her cat would learn to get along.

VIKTOR

Viktor stood in the lab, his cane lightly tapping the floor as he adjusted a delicate hextech device. The quiet hum of the machinery was a welcome sound, until the soft padding of paws interrupted his concentration. Viktor glanced up, his expression softening, as Y/N’s cat—an irritable grey tabby with eyes like molten gold—sauntered into the room with a slow, deliberate pace. There was no mistaking the cat's intentions: she was here to remind Viktor who truly ran the show.

"Ah, there you are," Viktor said, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. "Y/N mentioned you'd be visiting. Always a pleasure."

The tabby paused in the doorway and shot him the kind of flat, unblinking stare that could only be described as judgement in its purest form. Viktor straightened, feeling the weight of her gaze.

"Careful, Viktor," Y/N’s voice echoed from the hallway, casual but with a hint of mischief. "She’s very well trained. Just, uh... don’t leave her alone with anything valuable."

Viktor, ever the optimist, had dismissed the warning. How much trouble could a small cat cause in a lab filled with state-of-the-art hextech devices? he’d thought. And so, he continued to fiddle with his equipment, not realising the cat had already taken full note of his every move.

As Viktor turned back to the device, he felt a soft thud as the tabby made her move. She ambled up to a shelf nearby, giving Viktor a glance that was equal parts calculating and smug. With a flick of her paw, she nudged a device—an intricate piece of work that Viktor had spent hours perfecting—towards the edge of the table.

"Wait!" Viktor yelped, reaching out just a moment too late. The device wobbled, and then with a slow, inevitable fate, it fell to the floor, shattering into pieces with a sharp crack.

The cat didn’t even flinch. She just stared at Viktor, her tail flicking slowly, as if daring him to do something about it. Viktor was momentarily stunned. He bent down, muttering under his breath, "You little menace," as he picked up the shards. "You’ve got more destructive power than an army of chem-barons."

From the hallway, Y/N’s voice called out, oblivious to the carnage unfolding in the lab. "Viktor, I’m just grabbing a snack. Be nice to my cat!"

The moment the door clicked shut, the tabby saw it as her cue. Viktor was still distracted, kneeling to gather the broken pieces, when the cat, as if on a mission, darted between his legs. Viktor’s cane was caught between his feet as he staggered, barely managing to keep himself upright.

"Not now!" Viktor groaned, but the tabby was relentless. She weaved between his feet like a small, furry shadow, causing him to stumble back and knock over another stack of components. His cane slipped, and he grabbed the desk to steady himself, but—

The cat was already on the counter, her eyes gleaming with mischief. With a quick flick of her paw, she sent a mug—his favourite mug, a gift from Y/N—tumbling off the edge of the table. It fell in slow motion, and Viktor could do nothing but watch in horror as it shattered into pieces on the ground.

"Really?!" Viktor exclaimed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and frustration. The tabby just gave him another one of those looks—that infuriating, knowing stare that seemed to say, Your problem now, not mine.

Just as Viktor was about to give the cat a stern lecture, Y/N returned, her voice light and cheerful. "Everything okay in here?"

The tabby immediately leapt into her lap, curling up as though she hadn’t just spent the last few minutes turning Viktor’s workspace into a disaster zone. Y/N looked down at the mess, her brow furrowing playfully.

"Uh-oh, what happened in here?" she asked, though her tone made it clear she already knew the answer.

Viktor, standing there with his cane in one hand and a pile of broken equipment in the other, sighed dramatically. "Your cat, Y/N. She’s... she's a menace."

Y/N smiled sweetly, unbothered. "She’s a very well-trained cat," she said, a sparkle in her eye. "She’s just, you know, testing your patience."

Viktor’s face twisted in frustration. “I don’t know if I’m more frustrated with her, or the fact that she’s winning.” He shot the cat a look of pure betrayal. She stared back with the air of someone who had just won the game—and she knew it.

"Well," Viktor muttered dryly, rubbing his forehead, "I’d rather be facing down a dozen chem-barons with hextech cannons than trying to deal with this little terror again."

Y/N chuckled, clearly enjoying his discomfort. She leaned against him, her arm wrapping around his shoulders as she spoke in a teasing tone. “She’s just... warming up to you. You’ll see.”

Viktor, who had been pacing the lab in frustration, paused and cast a sideways glance at the cat. “Warming up to me? She’s out for blood, not friendship!” He glanced down at his cane, his expression a mix of defeat and determination. "I might need another cane, but this time... to defend myself from her."

Y/N laughed, her head resting on his shoulder as she looked at her cat, who was now grooming herself innocently. “She does have a way of, um, marking her territory.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow as the cat, as if on cue, stretched out and knocked over a stack of papers from the workbench. The papers fluttered to the ground in an elegant cascade, landing in a mess on Viktor’s carefully organised floor.

“Are you serious right now?” Viktor’s voice cracked with a mix of amusement and sheer frustration. “Is she trying to bankrupt me with these paper cuts? Is this her master plan?”

“I told you,” Y/N teased, “she’s very well trained. Just not in the way you expected.” She winked at Viktor, clearly enjoying the show.

Viktor let out a deep, exasperated sigh. “She’s a natural-born saboteur. I’m starting to think I need to install a forcefield around my workbench just to survive her visits.”

Y/N smirked, kissing him on the cheek. “Maybe she’s just trying to get your attention.”

Viktor glanced at the cat, who was now curled up peacefully in Y/N’s lap, purring as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Well, she’s certainly succeeded... just not in the way she intended.”

Y/N chuckled, scratching her cat behind the ears. “Don’t worry, Vik. She’ll come around eventually.”

Viktor stared at the cat, now blissfully content. “If she does, it’ll be with a weaponized tail and a caffeine-induced panic attack.”

JAYVIK

The atmosphere in the living room was warm and inviting, the low crackle of the fireplace providing a comforting background hum. Viktor, ever the picture of calm, was settled into his favourite chair, his cane resting neatly by his side. He smiled as he watched Y/N laugh at something he’d said, her laugh light and melodic, a sound that always made him feel at home. Her eyes twinkled with amusement, and Viktor couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment as he observed her in this peaceful moment.

Jayce, on the other hand, was bouncing off the walls—his usual bundle of energy. He paced the room, occasionally pausing to gesticulate wildly, lost in the latest idea or invention that was bubbling in his mind. His movements were rapid, almost frenetic, and the sound of his shoes tapping against the floor punctuated the otherwise quiet room. But even his ceaseless energy couldn’t escape the presence of Y/N’s cat, which had taken its rightful place in Viktor’s lap. The fluffy ball of disdain looked as though it were royalty and Viktor its devoted subject.

The cat lay sprawled across Viktor’s legs, its eyes half-lidded as it purred softly, completely unperturbed by the chaos around it. Viktor absentmindedly stroked its fur, a look of fondness on his face.

Jayce, however, had clearly had enough. He stopped in his tracks, a mischievous glint in his eye as he glanced at the cat. He cocked his head slightly, sizing it up like a challenge he couldn’t resist.

With a bright grin, Jayce placed his hands on his hips. "Hey there, little guy. How’s it going?"

The cat, looking entirely uninterested, flicked its tail slowly, almost in slow motion, its gaze narrowing ever so slightly at Jayce. Then, in an act of complete disinterest, it turned its back on him, curling up even more tightly on Viktor’s lap.

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head in amusement. "It’s not you, Jayce. Cats... they have very specific tastes."

Jayce, ever the optimist, puffed out his chest and gave a confident smile. "Specific? It’s just a cat. How bad can it be? I’ll win it over, you’ll see."

With that, Jayce dashed off to the kitchen, returning moments later with a small bowl of treats. He held it out, almost as though presenting an offering to a deity. "Look! I brought you some treats! Peace offering?"

The cat glanced briefly at the bowl, then lazily turned its head back toward the wall. Its gaze flickered over Jayce for a fraction of a second, as though considering whether he was worth even the smallest bit of attention. It wasn’t. With an exaggerated flick of its tail, the cat rolled over onto its back, completely ignoring him and settling deeper into Viktor’s lap as though to make a point.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he continued to pet the cat. "It seems I’m the preferred option, Jayce."

Y/N, her voice teasing, couldn’t resist a little jab. "Well, you do tend to attract the... more discerning crowd."

Jayce, momentarily deflated but not one to back down easily, threw his shoulders back and leaned forward, a new plan forming in his mind. "Alright, alright. How about this? What if I sing you a song? You like music, right?"

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back a laugh as she watched Jayce prepare for his next attempt. Viktor, too, raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Jayce’s unrelenting determination.

Without missing a beat, Jayce cleared his throat dramatically and began belting out a popular song. His voice was full of energy, but unfortunately, not much in the way of musicality. It was loud, off-key, and filled with all the fervor of a man who thought he was giving a world-class performance. The cat’s ears twitched slightly at the noise, and for a moment, it flicked its eyes toward Jayce. But that moment was brief. The cat yawned—a long, deliberate stretch of its jaw—and then, with an almost bored sigh, jumped off Viktor’s lap. It strutted confidently over to the back of the couch and curled up in a perfect little ball, completely indifferent to Jayce’s efforts.

Jayce stood there, the bowl of treats still in his hand, watching the cat move with an air of smug satisfaction that was almost palpable.

"Alright..." Jayce sighed, shoulders slumping. He placed the treats down on the table, defeated. "I get it. No singing. I’ll... just leave you to your royal highness."

Y/N couldn’t hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, her shoulders shaking as she tried to stifle it. She patted Jayce’s arm comfortingly. "It’s like it has its own aesthetic, Jayce. And you just don’t fit that vibe."

Viktor, still petting the cat, chuckled softly. "Some things can’t be rushed. Cats are a... patient breed."

Jayce, though deflated, wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He crossed his arms, looking stubbornly at the cat. "I swear, I’m going to get that cat to like me one day."

Y/N, with a playful glint in her eyes, raised an eyebrow. "Maybe next time you’ll bring it a better peace offering—something it can actually respect."

Jayce groaned dramatically and flopped down onto the couch, crossing his arms like a petulant child. "This is an outrage! I’ve tried treats, I’ve tried songs, and the cat’s still... winning! How is this fair?"

Viktor, clearly enjoying Jayce’s frustration, smirked and pulled Y/N closer, kissing the top of her head. "It’s a battle you’ll have to accept, my friend."

The cat, completely satisfied with its victory, curled up even more comfortably on the back of the couch. It gave Jayce one last glance, a look that could only be described as smug, before it let out a contented purr. The war was won, and the cat was the undisputed ruler of Viktor’s lap.

=

Later that night, when it was time for bed, Y/N and Viktor were already snuggled up together, the soft rustling of sheets and the quiet warmth of their embrace filling the space. Viktor’s arm was protectively wrapped around Y/N, and he was already beginning to drift off to sleep, his head nestled comfortably on the pillow.

Jayce, still determined to join the cuddle pile, moved toward the bed. He had no idea that the real battle was just about to begin.

The cat, who had been lounging peacefully on the floor, noticed Jayce’s approach. In a move so quick it was almost comical, it jumped up onto the bed, trotting directly to Y/N’s side. With a huff, it nestled itself between Y/N and Viktor, as though staking its claim on the spot. It didn’t even look at Jayce, just settled down and purred contentedly.

Jayce froze at the edge of the bed, staring at the cat in disbelief. "Uh, excuse me? That’s my side!"

The cat didn’t even acknowledge him. It turned its head slowly, giving him the longest, most disdainful look it could muster. Then, with a flick of its tail, it curled itself even tighter into the blanket, as though to say, This is my domain now, human. You have no place here.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, wrapping her arm around Viktor and pulling herself closer to him. Viktor looked down at the scene with an amused expression, clearly enjoying the absurdity of it all.

"Looks like you’re not getting in, Jayce," Y/N teased, her voice light with laughter.

Viktor, pulling Y/N closer and kissing the top of her head, smirked. "Seems like your efforts have been... entirely futile."

Jayce, deflated and thoroughly defeated, dramatically flopped down onto the floor beside the bed. He lay there with his arms crossed, staring up at the ceiling as if the world had conspired against him.

"I’ve tried everything," he sighed dramatically. "I can’t even get into my own bed with my partners anymore."

The cat let out another exaggerated purr, a sound that seemed to mock Jayce’s defeat, and then nestled even deeper into the blankets. It was clear: the cat had won, not just the battle, but the entire war.

Y/N, her voice full of teasing, raised an eyebrow. "Maybe next time you’ll bring it something it actually respects, Jayce. A proper peace offering."

Jayce rolled over onto his back with a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms in defeat. "I’ll never win this war... will I?"

Viktor laughed softly and pulled Y/N even closer into his embrace. "It’s a battle you’ll have to accept, Lásko"

=

After a beat, Y/N, realising that Jayce was still outside the warm bed, sighed and gently nudged the cat. She coaxed it with soft words, carefully shifting it from its position to lie between her and Viktor. The cat begrudgingly moved, its tail flicking once more, but ultimately it settled in the new spot, casting a final glance at Jayce as though to say, I’m not done with you yet.

With the cat now comfortably between them, Y/N patted the space beside her. "Alright, come on, Jayce. You can join us now."

Jayce hesitated, but the warmth of the bed and the prospect of snuggling beside Y/N was too tempting to resist. He climbed up into bed, pressing himself gently against her side. But just as he was settling in, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the cat’s eyes were still on him.

From between Y/N and Viktor, the cat's gaze bore into him, the faintest glint of mischief in its eyes. Jayce could feel its presence, the weight of its unblinking stare hovering over him like a challenge.

Y/N smiled softly, resting her head against Viktor’s chest. "You’re not alone, Jayce," she said, but her tone held a teasing edge as she looked over at the cat’s eyes watching from between them.

Jayce shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the cat’s silent judgment. "I swear, this is the last time I try to win this battle," he muttered, finally allowing himself to relax against Y/N.

Viktor chuckled, tightening his arm around Y/N. "I think that may be wise." He kissed the top of her head and smiled, knowing full well the cat had claimed its victory—for now.

The cat, nestled comfortably between Y/N and Viktor, let out a contented purr, as if it had declared its territorial rights and was now satisfied. Jayce, though defeated, could only roll his eyes at the absurdity of it all as the three of them finally settled in for the night. But no matter how comfortable he got, the feeling of the cat’s gaze never truly left him, its watchful eyes a constant reminder that the war was far from over.

VANDER

Y/N’s cat, an enormous, fluffy black-and-white feline with a perpetually unimpressed expression, had made himself at home at the Last Drop. Whether lounging atop the bar, curled up on a shelf of questionable cleanliness, or casually knocking over empty glasses with the flick of a paw, the cat ruled the pub like a grumpy monarch overseeing his dishevelled kingdom. And, much like any ruler, he had his list of favourites and those he deemed unworthy. Vander, unfortunately, fell into the latter category.

“Oh, come on,” Vander grumbled, watching as the cat hopped up onto the bar again, his sharp green eyes glaring at him with the kind of disdain that only a cat could muster. Vander gestured to the creature with exasperation. “What’s your problem, mate? I’ve been nothing but nice to you! I even feed you scraps!”

The cat, in response, blinked slowly, turned his back to Vander, and began grooming himself with deliberate indifference. The message was clear: Your efforts are pathetic, peasant.

Y/N, wiping down one of the tables nearby, chuckled as she caught the interaction. “I told you already, love. He’s not a fan of beer-soaked steak. Or you, apparently.” She shot Vander a cheeky grin before returning to her work.

Vander leaned against the bar with a heavy sigh, his broad arms crossed over his chest. “I think he’s got it out for me. He stares at me like he knows all my secrets. It’s unsettling.”

Y/N’s grin widened as she set her cleaning rag down. “Oh, he does. Cats are excellent judges of character. Aren’t you, darling?”

At the sound of Y/N’s voice, the cat’s ears perked up. He abandoned his grooming, leapt gracefully from the bar onto Y/N’s shoulder, and nuzzled against her cheek with a deep, rumbling purr. His tail swayed lazily, brushing against her neck.

“See?” Y/N said smugly, stroking the cat under his chin. “He loves me.”

“Of course, he loves you. Everyone loves you,” Vander muttered, his glower fixed on the cat. “But he’s downright cruel to me. How do you explain that?”

The cat chose that exact moment to leap from Y/N’s shoulder straight onto Vander’s broad chest, claws extending just enough to ensure a solid grip. Vander froze, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air as he stared down at the feline now clinging to him like some kind of fluffy barnacle.

“Uh… Y/N?” Vander said, his voice laced with equal parts confusion and panic.

Y/N covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh, he’s just making himself comfortable, love. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.”

“Not on purpose,” Vander muttered under his breath. The cat climbed up onto his shoulder with all the regal authority of a king ascending a throne, his tail flicking against Vander’s face as he settled into his new perch.

“You look good,” Y/N teased, biting her lip to keep from laughing outright. “Very dignified. Like a true king’s steward.”

“I hate this,” Vander muttered, standing stiff as a board, clearly terrified of offending his unwelcome passenger.

The cat, as if sensing Vander’s discomfort, gave a low, self-satisfied purr before leaping gracefully back onto the bar. Vander exhaled in relief, furiously brushing at his shirt to remove the tufts of black-and-white fur left behind.

The sound of giggling pulled their attention. Mylo, Powder, Vi, and Claggor were gathered at a nearby table, clearly enjoying the show. Powder’s face lit up as she clapped her hands together.

“He loves us!” she chirped, holding out her arms as the cat padded over. With the air of a benevolent ruler, the feline rubbed his head against Powder’s hand before flopping onto his back in her lap, purring so loudly it practically rattled the bottles behind the bar.

“Traitor,” Vander grumbled, watching as the cat basked in Powder’s affection, his paws kneading the air contentedly.

“He’s got taste,” Mylo said with a smirk. “Likes the kids. Doesn’t like grumpy old men.”

Vander raised an eyebrow, fixing Mylo with a pointed look. “Grumpy old men, eh? Maybe you’d like to clean up tonight, then?”

Mylo’s smirk vanished instantly. “I meant wise and distinguished men!” he said hurriedly, shooting an apologetic grin at Vander.

Y/N burst into laughter, shaking her head as she leaned against the bar. “Oh, leave them be, love. He’s just protecting his territory. That’s all.”

Vander’s brows furrowed. “His territory?”

The cat gave a low, self-satisfied mrrrow from Powder’s lap, his eyes half-lidded with smug contentment. It was as though he was saying, Yes, my territory.

“Yes, his territory,” Y/N said, planting a quick kiss on Vander’s cheek. “Face it, darling. You’re sharing this place with a cat who thinks he’s king.”

Vander groaned, resting his head in his hands. “One day, that cat’s going to knock a pint onto my head, and I’ll still be the villain in his eyes.”

“Probably,” Y/N said cheerfully, stroking the cat as she joined Powder and the others.

The cat flicked his tail again, looking far too pleased with himself, while the kids dissolved into laughter. In that moment, Vander could almost swear the cat was smirking at him.

=

Hours later, the Last Drop was finally closed for the night. Y/N ushered the kids upstairs to the living quarters, where they shared a cosy room packed with mismatched blankets, pillows, and the faint scent of childhood mischief. Vander followed behind, checking the locks on the doors and extinguishing the last of the pub’s lights.

Once upstairs, Vander paused at the doorway of the kids’ room. Powder was already curled up in bed, her arms wrapped around a patchwork stuffed toy. At her side, nestled against her with the same protective aura as an old guard dog, was the cat. His fluffy black-and-white form rose and fell with each slow, purring breath.

Vander’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Guess he’s not all bad,” he muttered under his breath, quietly closing the door behind him.

He made his way down the hall to his own room, where Y/N was already tucked into bed. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of a lantern, casting soft shadows on the walls. Vander sighed, ready to collapse into bed after the long day.

But as he stepped inside, he froze.

There, at the foot of the bed, sat the cat. His green eyes glinted in the low light, fixed on Vander with an unyielding glare. His tail flicked once, the motion slow and deliberate, as if to say, This is my space now.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Vander muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “What is it with you?”

Y/N stirred, opening one eye to look at him. “What’s wrong?” she murmured sleepily.

“The cat,” Vander said, gesturing towards the feline monarch sitting smugly on the bed. “He’s doing it again.”

Y/N sat up slightly, squinting at the cat. She let out a soft laugh. “He’s just keeping your spot warm, love. Isn’t that right?”

The cat gave a low, disdainful mrrow, his gaze never leaving Vander.

Vander sighed, muttering something unintelligible as he crossed the room. He gently picked up the cat, who protested with a half-hearted hiss, and set him on the nearby chair.

The cat leapt back onto the bed almost immediately, curling up at Y/N’s side this time, his eyes still trained on Vander as if daring him to try again.

“You win,” Vander grumbled, climbing into bed on the opposite side. “But one day, cat, one day I’ll have my revenge.”

The cat closed his eyes, purring triumphantly as Y/N giggled, pulling Vander close. “Face it, love. He’s got you wrapped around his paw.”

“Just don’t let him tell the kids,” Vander mumbled, already drifting off to sleep, the faint sound of purring filling the room.

SILCO

The Last Drop was unusually quiet tonight, save for the rhythmic sound of Y/N humming softly as she stitched up a tear in one of Silco’s finely tailored coats. A dim, flickering light from a nearby lamp cast long shadows across the room. Silco sat across from her in his usual chair, steepling his fingers, his brow furrowed in thought. It was the kind of look that sent shivers down the spines of his enemies, the look of a man plotting something undeniably dangerous.

But tonight, Silco had been thrown off his game.

Across the room, perched on the windowsill like some judgemental gargoyle, sat the true ruler of the space. A creature whose presence demanded reverence and fear in equal measure.

The cat.

He was a sleek, black devil with sharp golden eyes that seemed to burn like molten coins, his tail flicking lazily behind him. He sat tall and poised, as if daring anyone to challenge his authority.

And Silco, a man who could stare down the likes of Piltover's enforcers without breaking a sweat, was glaring at the cat like it was his mortal enemy.

“What?” Silco finally muttered, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence.

The cat didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He simply continued his unyielding stare.

“What’s going on now?” Y/N asked without looking up. She didn’t need to. This was far from the first time Silco and the cat had gone head-to-head.

“Your… creature,” Silco drawled, his voice dripping with venom, “has been staring at me for thirty minutes straight. I suspect it’s plotting my assassination.”

Y/N chuckled, pulling the thread taut. “He’s just trying to figure you out. Cats are perceptive like that.”

“Oh, he’s not trying to ‘figure me out.’” Silco leaned forward slightly, his single good eye narrowing into a deadly slit. “He’s judging me. Mocking me.”

The cat blinked once, slowly, as if to say, Yes. Yes, I am.

Y/N smirked, finally glancing up. “Why don’t you try being nice to him? Maybe then he’ll warm up to you.”

“I am nice,” Silco said sharply.

“You stabbed someone last week because they sneezed too close to you,” she pointed out casually, returning to her work.

“That was entirely different. They sneezed on me.” Silco sat back in his chair, his fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest.

The cat yawned widely, showing off his small, sharp teeth, before stretching languidly across the windowsill. His movements were deliberately slow, almost theatrical, like he was putting on a show.

Silco’s eye twitched. “Do not test me,” he warned in a low voice.

The cat let out a soft, almost dismissive meow.

“Oh, for the love of—” Silco stood abruptly, his patience fraying. “Listen here, you mangy little—”

The cat, undeterred by the rising tension, leapt gracefully from the windowsill onto Silco’s desk. His paws landed squarely on a stack of meticulously organised documents. The silence that followed was deafening.

The two locked eyes once more, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. Slowly, deliberately, the cat raised one paw and batted a pen onto the floor.

Y/N looked up just in time to catch the moment. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. “I think he likes you,” she teased, her voice full of amusement.

“Oh, he adores me,” Silco replied flatly, his good eye narrowing even further.

The cat began to knead his paws into the documents, his claws catching on the delicate paper. Then, with a dramatic flick of his tail, he knocked over an inkwell. The dark liquid spilled across the desk in a slow, spreading pool, ruining the papers beneath it.

Silco froze. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a moment, Y/N genuinely thought he might throw the cat out of the nearest window.

“Y/N,” he said slowly, his voice a dangerous whisper, “your demon has just destroyed hours of work.”

Y/N shrugged, fighting back a grin. “Maybe he’s trying to tell you to relax. You work too much.”

Silco pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about “accursed creatures” and “Zaun not being big enough for the both of us.”

The cat, clearly unbothered by the destruction he’d caused, circled a few times before plopping down onto the ruined papers. He curled into a tight ball and let out a loud, triumphant purr.

Silco glared at the smug little beast, his jaw clenched so tightly that Y/N could hear his teeth grinding.

“It’s sleeping. On my work,” Silco noted, his voice heavy with disbelief.

“It must trust you,” Y/N said sweetly, walking over to the desk. She scratched the cat behind the ears, earning another loud purr.

“Oh, it trusts me, does it?” Silco muttered bitterly, sitting back down with a sharp exhale. He leaned on the desk, his good eye never leaving the cat.

The cat opened one eye to look at him, stretched lazily, and let out a soft chirp, as if to say, No, you’re lucky I tolerate you.

Y/N finally broke into laughter, her shoulders shaking as she leaned against the desk for support. “You two are more alike than you realise,” she teased.

Silco turned his glare on her. “Do not compare me to that insolent furball.”

But deep down, Y/N knew the truth. Despite his protests, Silco secretly respected the cat’s audacity. And while neither of them would ever admit it, their nightly staring contests had become an unspoken tradition—a battle of wills between a crime lord and a feline who couldn’t care less.

As always, the cat remained undefeated.

=

Down in the dimly lit bar, the hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses filled the air. In their small, sectioned-off table tucked into the shadows of The Last Drop, Silco sat with his usual commanding presence. The cat sat perched beside him, lounging on the edge of the bench as though he owned the place.

Y/N had stepped away to speak to someone who had approached her at the bar, leaving the unlikely duo momentarily alone.

Silco swirled his glass of whisky absently, his sharp eye tracking her movement across the room. The cat, lounging in his usual air of superiority, watched her as well, his golden eyes narrowing like twin daggers.

At first, Silco ignored the cat’s line of sight, assuming it was just being its usual nosy self. But when he glanced back towards Y/N, he noticed the stranger leaning in a little too close. Silco’s fingers tightened around his glass.

The cat’s tail lashed.

The stranger laughed at something Y/N said, gesturing a little too animatedly. They leaned closer, their voice dropping as if to murmur something just for her ears.

Silco’s jaw clenched. His good eye narrowed. He shifted forward slightly in his seat, his whole body radiating displeasure.

The cat, mirroring him almost perfectly, sat upright, tail flicking furiously against the bench.

Silco’s glare shifted to the cat for a brief moment, as if questioning why it was suddenly invested in this situation. But then their gazes returned to the stranger in unison, a synchronised act of unrelenting disdain.

The cat let out a low, almost guttural growl—a sound Silco didn’t even know cats were capable of making.

“Hm,” Silco murmured, setting his glass down slowly. “You don’t like them either, do you?”

The cat, as if understanding him perfectly, flicked its ears back and let out an indignant chirp.

Silco’s lips twitched into something resembling a smirk. For the first time since the feline had infiltrated his life, he felt a spark of camaraderie. “At least you have some taste.”

They continued their silent scrutiny, their mutual disapproval practically radiating across the room. The stranger reached out and placed a hand on Y/N’s arm, their tone overly familiar.

Silco’s smirk vanished. His fingers tapped against the tabletop with deliberate menace. Beside him, the cat let out a sharp, accusatory meow, its tail slamming against the bench like a judge’s gavel.

Y/N, oblivious to the brewing storm, laughed at something the stranger said, but when she glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of Silco and the cat glaring daggers at the poor soul in front of her, she faltered.

“What in the world…” she muttered to herself, her brows knitting together in confusion.

The stranger, noticing her distraction, turned to follow her gaze. The moment they locked eyes with Silco’s icy glare and the cat’s piercing stare, their confidence visibly wavered.

Silco leaned back in his seat, his head tilting ever so slightly, his expression calm but deadly. The cat mirrored him perfectly, its golden eyes narrowing further as it let out a low, almost mocking meow.

The stranger cleared their throat awkwardly, stepping back slightly. “Uh… well, I’ll let you get back to your… uh, friends.” They gestured vaguely towards the table before hastily retreating into the crowd.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she made her way back to the table. “Alright, what was that about?”

Silco sipped his whisky, feigning innocence. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

The cat, equally smug, hopped down from the bench and onto Y/N’s lap as she sat down, purring loudly as if it had just saved her life.

Y/N looked between the two of them suspiciously. “You two were glaring at them, weren’t you?”

Silco didn’t respond, but the slight upturn of his lips betrayed him. The cat, on the other hand, let out a proud little chirp before curling up contentedly.

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “You’re both impossible.”

Silco glanced at the cat, who met his gaze briefly before settling back down with a haughty flick of its tail.

“Perhaps,” Silco murmured, raising his glass in a mock toast towards the cat, “but at least we understand each other now.”

The cat let out a single, approving meow, and for the first time, the two shared a moment of mutual respect. It seemed there was one thing they could agree on: no one got too close to Y/N without their say-so.

JINX/POWDER

Y/N sat at the table, casually sipping from her cup of tea, watching the chaotic scene unfold before her. Her cat, a small, fluffy creature with a deep-seated sense of superiority, sat like a statue in Jinx’s arms. His eyes were wide and filled with disdain, and his tail twitched with enough irritation to create a small breeze. He wasn’t a fan of cuddles, least of all forced ones.

Jinx, oblivious to the cat’s obvious displeasure, leaned in even closer, her wild hair tangling around the poor feline’s face. "Come on, kitty," she cooed, her voice unreasonably chipper for someone being so intensely rejected. "We’re gonna be best pals, just you wait!"

The cat blinked slowly, his gaze flat and unamused. If he could roll his eyes, he would have done so a dozen times by now. His tail flicked lazily, but there was an underlying venom in the slow motion. Y/N could almost hear his thoughts: Please. Someone help me.

"Jinx," Y/N said between sips, her lips curving into a smile she couldn’t hide. "I think he’s made it pretty clear that he’s not your biggest fan."

"Nah," Jinx shot back, completely unfazed by the cat's barely concealed hatred. She tightened her grip around his little body, causing the cat to go rigid. "He’s just playing hard to get! Deep down, he loves me. He just doesn’t know it yet."

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. "You really think so, huh? He's about as fond of you as a rat in a trap."

"Not true!" Jinx insisted, her eyes glinting mischievously. She proceeded to squish the cat’s face into her chest, practically suffocating him with affection. "He’s just shy. I’ll teach him the power of hugs!"

The cat, if anything, only seemed to shrink further into himself. His eyes widened, darting over to Y/N like a prisoner begging for mercy. His tiny paws swatted at the air weakly, trying to escape, but Jinx’s hold was unrelenting. He gave Y/N one final pleading glance before squirming again, this time attempting to contort his body like a professional escape artist. His dignity was slipping away, and he was too proud to let it show.

Y/N sighed dramatically, setting her cup down on the table with a soft clink. She folded her arms, her amused expression morphing into one of mock sternness. "Jinx, if you don’t let him go right now, he’s going to turn into a puff of fur and resentment. You’re not exactly 'winning him over' here."

Jinx raised her eyebrows at the challenge. "Nah, he’s just a tough nut to crack! I’m not giving up. We’re gonna be besties by the end of the day!" She pressed her cheek to the cat’s fur as though it would somehow convince him.

The cat’s eyes flicked to Y/N again, this time looking more like a tiny, furry hostage. It was the sort of expression that said, Please, for the love of all that’s good, save me. His tail, previously twitching in annoyance, now whipped around in short, rapid jerks as he tried to break free.

Y/N gave an exaggerated shrug, leaning back in her chair with a devilish grin. "Well, you’ve got about three seconds before he goes full tornado of fury on you."

True to her word, the cat’s tail fluffed up to twice its size, and with a sharp hiss, he made his move. It was like a blur of fur as he squirmed out of Jinx’s arms and darted down to the floor with an agility that belied his tiny frame.

Jinx made a noise of protest, but by the time she even realised what had happened, the cat was already bolting for cover under the couch. His little face peeked out just enough to confirm that he was now safe, looking up at Y/N with a mix of gratitude and exasperation. His tail twitched in what could only be described as a smug victory dance.

Y/N stifled a laugh, watching the cat's little face of triumph. "See? He’s just not a hugger."

Jinx huffed dramatically, crossing her arms. "Fine, maybe he’s not a hugger. But that’s just because he’s too cool for hugs. I’ll win him over with treats!" She stood up, a plan already forming in her head.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I wouldn’t be surprised if he just takes your treats and then runs off with them like some kind of criminal mastermind."

Jinx’s expression softened in determination. "You just wait. I’ve got this. One way or another, that cat is going to love me!" She gave a little nod to herself, as if it were a done deal.

Meanwhile, under the couch, the cat was staring at the two of them with an air of cautious relief. His body was still trembling slightly from his narrow escape, but now that he was out of Jinx’s clutches, he was beginning to feel slightly more like himself again. Still, he shot a final, pleading look at Y/N, his eyes silently begging for her intervention should things take another turn.

Y/N chuckled to herself, glancing back at the cat and then at Jinx. "You know, you’re going to end up making him suspicious of treats at this rate. He might start avoiding you altogether."

Jinx paused mid-step, looking back at Y/N with that same unshakable confidence. "No way. He can’t resist my charm!"

The cat, still in hiding, rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long day.

=

Days later, Y/N sat on the couch, half lost in thought, her eyes idly flicking between the small book she was reading and the scene unfolding before her. Jinx had been at it all afternoon, determined as ever to win over the cat. Y/N had watched in amusement as Jinx used treats, soft words, and, to her disbelief, a homemade sweater to try and coax the cat into liking her.

The sweater, a bizarre yet undeniably cute creation made from scrap fabric Jinx had scrounged from who-knows-where, was admittedly a masterpiece of chaos. It was stitched together with questionable craftsmanship—frayed edges here and there, mismatched patches of cloth sewn haphazardly—but there was no denying the effort that had gone into it. The cat, however, hadn’t quite shared that sentiment.

At first, when Jinx had carefully draped the tiny, too-tight sweater over him, the cat had immediately turned into a squirming ball of fury. He’d managed to escape twice before Jinx finally got him back into the thing, and with a triumphant squeal, she’d squeezed him into a cuddle.

Now, hours later, Jinx was curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, holding the cat in her arms like he was a delicate treasure. To anyone else, it might have seemed like the cat was still at odds with the whole situation, but there was something about the way he had settled into Jinx’s embrace—his tiny, furry head resting on her chest and his body finally still—that told Y/N a different story.

Jinx was practically beaming, her arms wrapped protectively around the little furball, her cheek pressed lightly against the cat’s head as if he were her most precious possession. His eyes were half-lidded, his tail still flicking occasionally, but he no longer looked entirely displeased. If anything, he looked... tolerant. Y/N chuckled softly to herself, shaking her head in amusement. Jinx had won, but not without a significant amount of persistence—and perhaps a bit of force.

The cat, now dressed in his peculiar little sweater, did look... somewhat comfy. Y/N smiled at the sight, the cat’s usual defiance somewhat softened, his tiny chest rising and falling in slow, rhythmic breaths as he dozed. He was still glaring at Jinx through half-closed eyes, but the death grip on his freedom had loosened, just enough to allow him to relax into the warmth of her embrace.

It was a rare moment of peace in a chaotic world, and as she watched Jinx gently stroke the cat’s head, her heart melted a little. There was something undeniably endearing about the way Jinx tried so hard, despite the cat’s stubbornness, to form a bond. Even if it looked like it was a battle of wills, there was tenderness there—something she hadn’t expected from someone like Jinx.

Y/N sat back further in her chair, feeling the warmth of the moment settle over her. The sight of Jinx, her face soft and full of pride, holding the cat so carefully—despite everything—was enough to make her smile.

"Well," Y/N said quietly, more to herself than anything, "I guess that sweater was the key after all."

Jinx, eyes glinting with quiet triumph, grinned and nodded, though she kept her voice low, not wanting to disturb the cat’s nap. "Told you. It’s all about the sweater. And the hugs. He’s totally warming up to me."

Y/N chuckled softly, watching the cat’s little face shift slightly, his fur rustling under the soft pressure of Jinx’s hand. He wasn’t entirely asleep yet, but he was no longer fighting, and for now, that was a small victory in Jinx’s eyes.

"I think he’s just starting to accept his fate," Y/N teased gently.

Jinx shot her a playful wink. "Yeah, well, he’ll thank me when he realises he has the best cuddle buddy in Zaun."

The cat, blissfully unaware of their banter, snuggled further into Jinx’s arms, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the scene. It wasn’t perfect, and it certainly wasn’t without its moments of conflict, but in this quiet, contented moment, Jinx had found a way to make the cat feel safe—at least for now.

With the soft hum of Jinx’s quiet satisfaction filling the air, Y/N settled back in her chair, content to just let the moment unfold. She knew that, at the end of the day, whether or not the cat truly warmed up to Jinx, it was clear that there was a bond forming—a connection, however unlikely—and that was enough to leave her heart a little fuller.

For now, she’d let them enjoy the peace. The chaos would always return, but this rare, calm moment between them was something to cherish.

[httpsdana]

Hey could you write something where reader have to meets pau cubarsi's friends since they are together but she's shy and she's anxious they'll find her not enough for him but it ends well

(I love your stories theyre so cool<3)

First Impressions~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

“Isn't it gonna be weird that I know basically everything about them and they have no idea who I am?” y/n asked, nervously tapping her fingers on Pau’s thigh.

Pau sighed while Irene chuckled from the driver's seat.

“They know who you are, bebé,” he said, grabbing her hand to stop her from fidgeting.

“They probably know the color of your socks too,” Irene said, making y/n look at Pau with wide eyes.

“What?” she asked, waiting for Pau to explain.

A red blush crept onto his cheeks as he rolled his eyes at his sister's words.

“Just shut up and drive, Irene,” he grumbled as his sister burst into laughter, while his girlfriend looked at him cluelessly.

“I need to get my license as soon as possible,” he mumbled more to himself, but y/n heard him, which made her chuckle.

Still, it didn't help ease the nerves she was feeling. Pau noticed she was quieter than usual and knew she was nervous about meeting his friends, though she wouldn't admit it.

“You okay, guapa ?” he asked, his eyes studying her features.

She only hummed in response, looking out of the window to avoid the topic. But as soon as she pulled her lips between her teeth, Pau knew something else was on her mind.

He gently grabbed her chin, turning her head to meet her gaze.

“What's wrong?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing her chin.

“It's just...” She sighed, trying to look anywhere but at him. “What if they think you deserve better?"

Pau raised his eyebrows, surprised by her confession.

“Better?” he repeated, his thumb moving to her cheekbone. She nodded slowly, meeting his pretty eyes again.

“There’s no better for me, cariño. You’re the best for me,” he said softly, his thumb continuing its gentle motion against her cheek.

“We're here!” Irene cheered, turning back to look at the couple.

“You okay?” she asked y/n when she noticed her pale face.

y/n gave her a small smile and nodded before Pau got out of the car, offering her his hand.

She took it immediately, not letting go when she stepped out of the car.

“I’ll call you when we’re done,” Pau told his sister, who shook her head in response.

“No way. I’m going to see my boyfriend and spending the night at his. Let one of your friends drop you two off or something,” she shrugged. Before Pau had the chance to reply, she had already driven off.

Pau turned to his girlfriend, who was holding his hand tightly.

“They’re gonna love you. I promise,” he whispered, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. She gave him her best smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Pau smiled softly, leaning down to kiss the corner of her mouth, careful not to smudge her lipstick.

“Come on, princesa.”

The two of them stepped into the fancy restaurant. While Pau asked about their table, y/n looked around nervously, only to meet the eyes of the one and only Lamine Yamal.

She tightened her grip on Pau’s arm, trying to hide behind him. His eyes followed her gaze, and he smiled when he spotted his friends.

He began walking toward their table, y/n trailing behind him, careful not to let go of his hand.

“Pau, hermano, we’ve been waiting for like half an hour now,” Lamine teased, standing to hug him.

Pau chuckled and turned to y/n.

“Sorry, someone took their sweet time getting ready today.”

y/n’s cheeks flushed at his words, still not saying a word.

“I’m Lamine,” he introduced himself, extending his hand.

“y/n,” she replied in a low voice, shaking his hand hesitantly.

Hector, who was still seated, chuckled softly.

Her stomach dropped at the sound, suddenly feeling self-conscious, thinking he might be laughing at her.

“Trust me, we know who you are. Hector,” he said politely, standing to shake her hand.

She exhaled softly, feeling slightly more at ease.

The couple sat down as the three boys dove into their own conversation. y/n enjoyed the quiet, but mostly, she loved seeing Pau so enthusiastic around his friends. His hand rested gently on her thigh, giving it occasional squeezes to check on her.

“So, y/n...” Lamine started, drawing her attention in surprise.

She hadn’t expected them to talk to her, assuming she was just Pau’s quiet plus-one.

“I actually have no idea how to start a conversation with you. Your boyfriend has told us almost everything about you,” he teased, making Pau roll his eyes. The blush creeping up Pau’s neck gave him away.

“Oh, he has?” she asked, her earlier worry melting into a smile as she glanced at her boyfriend.

“Yep,” Hector joined in. “So... have your parents finally agreed to get your little sister a dog?”

y/n couldn’t help but laugh, turning to Pau as he buried his face in his hands.

After that, her nerves eased more and more. Hector and Lamine were incredibly kind and included her in their conversation as much as possible. She no longer felt judged like she feared.

When dinner ended, Pau excused himself to use the bathroom, leaving y/n with Hector and Lamine.

“As much as Pau talks about you, I didn’t imagine you’d be this amazing,” Lamine said, making her smile.

“You deserve to be with Pau, really. I’ve never seen him smile as wide as when he’s talking about you. It’s almost sickening,” Hector added, making her laugh.

“You guys are sweet. I was so nervous to meet you,” she confessed, earning chuckles from the two boys.

“Do we really look that mean?” Lamine joked.

“You? Not much. Hector, definitely,” she teased, making them both laugh again.

Pau watched them from afar, relieved to see his girlfriend finally at ease.

“Ready to go?” he asked as he returned to the table.

The three nodded, but then Pau remembered they didn’t have a ride.

“You’re dropping us off,” he said, pointing at Hector.

“I hate having a car,” Hector muttered, making the others laugh.

As they made their way to his car, Pau held his girlfriend close, kissing the top of her head.

“I hope you enjoyed your night, bebé,” he murmured into her hair.

She looked up at him with a smile, pulling his face down for a quick kiss.

“I did,” she whispered.

Their moment was interrupted by Lamine’s teasing voice.

“Ay, save the kissing for when you’re in the car!”

Pau rolled his eyes playfully as y/n giggled beside him.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, kissing the side of her head.

“I love you more, cariño.”

my taglist: @barcapix @paucubarsisimp @spidybaby @mxryxmfooty @n0vazsq @joaosnovia @ilovebarcaaaa @f1lover55 @jajajhaahaha (lmk if you want to be added!!)

[kaneaken]

content notes; Natlan AQ spoilers, spoilers for Capitano's real name & backstory, grief, anger (reader), depictions of a nightmare, angst, gn!reader, can be seen as a continuation of my previous capitano drabble

author's note: Please, if you're going to read this, make sure you checked all the content notes! This one is pretty heavy, so please read with caution. I did my best to take from my own experiences as well as some research to make this accurate. I'd hate to write something that was insensitive to people who have gone through these experiences as well. Of course, grief is different for everyone, so I will most likely not be accurate to everyone's experience, but I did my best!

You hate the quiet. Despite its emptiness, you feel closed in. For a nation known for its heat, you feel undeniably cold as you sit, looking out at the blazing sun.

It mocks you. Its bright rays remind you of the life prior to all of this. Your beautiful home. Your love. Everything.

There's a knock. You don't flinch. It was common for the soldiers to check up on you constantly, especially after what happened. However, the soft tone that calls out to you is unexpected.

"Sorry to disturb you. Oh, it's Ororon, by the way. Do you remember me? I brought you some carrots last week. Were they good? They were from my garden, so I can guarantee that they were fresh."

You remembered him. The child from the Masters of the Night Wind. You grew to have quite the connection when he agreed to help the Fatui. The soldiers had told you about him coming by to drop off vegetables. He hadn't stayed long, especially since the soldiers had told him you weren't taking visitors.

You sigh. You wonder what he would say in a moment like this. You should get up. Get up. Get up. Get up already.

You get to your feet, dragging yourself to the door. You must look like a mess as you crack the door open. Ororon's facial expression shifts. Pity. It's always pity when it comes to you. Pity. Pity.

You force a pleasant expression, but you know it looks strange. Your eyes are puffy and red, which help distract from the lack of light in them. Your skin has lost its color. You look pathetic. Extremely so.

"I just wanted to check in again. They actually let me through today, so are you feeling a bit better? I brought some spinach. Granny says they're good for you. Oh, and she asked me to bring you one of her wind chimes for your nightmares."

He hands you a basket with said items. You stare. Your heart felt... warm for a second, but then, the thought that had been haunting you comes back. Were you allowed to accept this? Were you allowed to be happy again? No, not without him. It wasn't fair.

"Oh, one more thing. If you're up to it, the Archon is holding a ceremony tomorrow. It's to unveil the monument to the fallen heroes."

Heroes. Was he a hero? Perhaps to the Natlanese he was. To you, he was a fool. Tied to duty all his life. He left you because his duty to his people came before you.

"I could come by, and we could go together if that would help you feel comfortable. I'm sure Granny won't mind passing by. She hasn't seen you in a while."

Could you stand to see such a thing? A monument to fallen heroes. Could you stand to stare at their immortalization of his honor? Did you owe it to him to try to attend even if the idea causes your heart to twist?

Ultimately, you nod despite the jumbling thoughts in your mind. You needed to make the first step forward, but did you deserve to take that step without him?

It begins happy. You are staring at the cloudy sky with him by your side. You are smiling, and so is he. It almost seems unreal. You've dreamt of this before. It's a memory of when he proposed to you. It was a day you hadn't expected. He always found a way to surprise you, whether it be through gestures or gifts. That day had been no exception.

"You're stiff. Is something the matter?"

"Ah, I suppose I am nervous."

"Nervous? About what?"

"The future. Our future."

He turns to you. You see his smile soften before his face becomes a blur. Again. Just like every night since he left.

When would be the next time you'd see his face? The one hidden behind the mask? Did you even remember what he looked like? Is that why this kept happening? Were you forgetting?

"Did I frighten you?" You let out a breath you hadn't known you were holding as you stared at him. His robes changed. His face became obscured.

"It's me, my love. Do not cry. I am right here."

Liar. Liar. Liar.

There are tears in your eyes again. However, unlike your first nightmare, they don't startle you. You simply wipe your cheeks and sit up. You were sure you wouldn't get any more sleep, so you got ready for the day.

For the past week, you had been in bed, refusing to come out of the room. The soldiers didn't mind you. They brought you food and water and reminded you of your return trip home. You couldn't stand being in Natlan any longer. Not when they threw you glances of pity.

The first knock at your door is a soldier delivering your breakfast. They seemed startled to see you out of bed, almost dropping the tray in their hands.

"It's nice to see you again." Is all they say before they exit.

The second knock at your door is the duo of Ororon and Citlali. They also seemed startled with a hint of relief amongst it. Although, you notice the crease between Citlali's eyebrows as she stares at you. Regardless, she greets you with a smile.

"Thank you for agreeing to come along. I'm sure it isn't easy for you at the moment. If you need anything, we'd be happy to assist in any way," She reminds you to which you nod.

"Granny's right. We're happy to help," Ororon adds.

"Let's get going. I'm sure the ceremony will be starting soon."

You can feel their stares. No matter how much you look away, you feel their stares. Their pity. Stop. Stop it. Don't look. Please.

You are grateful for Ororon's tall stature. Once he notices your discomfort, he does his best to keep your figure hidden. Despite this, you continue to stare at the ground.

You don't lift your gaze as you hear Mauvika take her place in front of the monument. You didn't want to look at her. You didn't want to look at him. You didn't want to look. You were fearful of it coming down on you again. The fear. The dread. The knowledge that he was gone.

"I would also like to take the time to recognize a Fatui Harbinger who sacrificed his life for our cause."

You can't stand it. You feel your heart clench, and your eyes squeeze shut.

"You don't owe them anything! What have they done for you? They treat us as threats!"

"... he defeated his fated foe and protected me in the process."

"My duty is to my people as well as those who fight alongside me."

"But, on this occasion, we honor him as one of our own. In Natlan, all heroes are worthy are celebration."

"What about your duty to me?"

You feel a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look up for the first time since you arrived. Mauvika stands before you, her hand planted on your shoulder.

"I know there are no words that will erase your pain."

"I want to be the one to hold you and love you through it all."

"But I want you to know--"

"Will you marry me?"

"He was a hero."

Hero. Hero. He was a hero to them. What was he to you? A duty bound fool.

"The Captain saved us, all of us. He will always be remembered--"

A fool, but he was your love. He still is. He always will be. Thrain. Thrain, why did you leave me?

"Thrain," you mutter. Your voice cracks. You look into Mauvika's eyes. Her confident stare is a contrast to your shaky gaze. "His name is Thrain."

Thrain. Your strength gives out. You feel your legs buckle under you, and you fall to the ground in tears. You look pathetic. You're sure of it, but you couldn't take it anymore.

Not them pitying you. Not them treating him as a hero. Not them acknowledging his strength, not his life. Not them honoring his title, not his name.

"His name is Thrain," you repeat between tears, clutching your hands to your chest. Your ring reflects the bright sun, reminding you of his smile.

"Don't cry, my love. I only wish to make you happy. Will you grant me my wish?"

"I will."

"Even if death rips me from your arms, I shall stay by your side. You will never be alone again."

Liar.

[karespocketboyfriends]

𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚝𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚍

Chapter Five

A Love and Deepspace Fanfiction (Sylus x OC)

Warnings -> Mentions of human trafficking, violence, death, mentions of sex work

<- Chapter Four

An original fan-fiction for Love and Deepspace. I appreciate reblogs but reposting to Tumblr or any other site is not okay with me.

If I die tonight, at least I died eating something delicious.

All night I've avoided the white clothed table lined with appetizers in fear of the food being tampered with, but if I don't put something in my stomach, I'm going to be sick. I'm already teetering on the edge of nausea, have been ever since I laid eyes on him.

It's been an hour since he's arrived, and we've given each other a wide berth. There's only another half hour before the auction starts. Hopefully we can continue staying out of each other's way until then.

"What did you say this was?" I ask the woman tending the appetizer bar, plopping another bite-sized slice of happiness into my mouth.

The woman smiles and waves her hand over the plate in an elegant gesture. "Balsamic and goat cheese grilled plums. Delicious, no?"

"Very. Compliments to the chef."

Her smile grows. "He'll be happy to hear that. If you enjoy cheese, you should try this. It's chocolate covered cheese with black sea salt."

My jaw drops. "I had no idea you could cover cheese in chocolate. Pass it over."

I plop one of the small cubes into my mouth, and the moan that comes out of me makes an elderly woman a few feet away cut me a nasty look. I cover my mouth as I chew, the taste of cheese and chocolate and sea salt a blend more harmonious than an angel's song.

"That is the best thing I've ever tasted." I say. It's a shame I don't have my phone, otherwise I'd be snapping pictures to brag to my brothers about later.

The woman focuses her gaze elsewhere as someone approaches. "Good evening, Sir. Has something caught your eye?"

"Something has." The velvety baritone voice at my back has my spine straightening. The taste of heaven on my tongue is suddenly gone, the tingling sensation of sin taking its place.

'Time to move to the other side of the room.'

I slip away from the appetizer bar, only make it a couple of paces before a hand seizes my wrist in a firm yet gentle hold. I whip my head around, inhale sharply because of course he stopped me. "What do you want?"

"A dance."

He pulls me onto the dance floor before I can protest, swiftly positions us in the middle of the waltzing couples. I don't know what I hate more, the way he thinks he can drag me around or the way the tension in my muscles vanishes when he places a hand on my waist.

Sighing in defeat, I place my hand, the one that isn't caught in his grasp, on his broad shoulder. "A gentlemen asks before he acts. You should work on that if you ever plan to woo a lady one day."

He raises a brow. "You were so timid the last time we met. Where did that go?"

"I wasn't that timid." I huff, my feet moving through the steps of the waltz without much thought. This dance is as natural to me as breathing. "I sassed you a bit, or were you too busy being grumpy to notice?"

I really, really should not be mouthing off to this man, but it's just so easy. Yes, there's a part of me that fears him and what he's capable of-

The train that is my thoughts comes to a screeching halt. Do I really know what he's capable of? He used that odd power of his eye on me, but he let me go. When I was screaming for help in that alley, he was the first one to appear. He gave me his coat, gave his word that he'd try to identify that man.

He's intimidating and undeniably powerful, but he hasn't hurt me. I'm not stupid enough to think that just because he hasn't doesn't mean he won't, but the point still stands. He hasn't hurt me. Since when was I the type to fear something that hasn't proved to be an active threat? It's how I survive in the N109 Zone; just because I could get mugged walking down the street doesn't mean I will. If I let the fear of what could happen control me, I'd never leave the apartment.

Sylus tilts his head. It's such a subtle movement, I almost miss it. "You look like you just changed your mind about something."

I don't need to see my face to know my nose is scrunched. "What are you, a mind reader?"

His chuckle makes the base of my spine warm. "No. You're just very easy to read." Without warning, he pulls me closer until our chests are pressed together. Then, he brings his lips to my ear, the tickle of his breath making goosebumps rise on my arms. "If you value your freedom, leave this place."

It isn't until his tone turns cold do I realize how not-cold he can be. "What?"

Sylus pulls back a little and slightly turns his head, those gorgeous eyes of his staring into mine. "This auction isn't what you think it is."

The song comes to an end, the couples around us pausing their dance to raise a round of applause for the musicians. It's background noise to me, a high-pitched buzzing in my ears I don't have the mental room to focus on. Not with Sylus looking at me the way he is, so indifferent yet caring enough to warn me.

But he really has no reason to care for me, does he? Or maybe he does, considering it's the twins tying us together. He could be warning me for their sakes. It's the most likely answer.

I almost jump as Vincent appears at our side, one arm tucked behind his back while he offers me the other, palm towards the ceiling. His smile is warm, should be comforting, but it doesn't melt the frost Sylus' warning brought in. "Mind if I steal you for a dance?

Ever calm, cool, and collected, Sylus lifts my knuckles to his lips. The gesture makes my heart leap into my throat. "Consider what I said, Miss."

And then he's gone, the crowd parting for him and then swallowing the path he left behind.

I turn to Vincent and smile, the tension I finally shed returning to my shoulders. "One more dance sounds nice."

I end up entertaining him for two, and when an announcement is made that the auction will begin shortly, I excuse myself for a restroom break. Vincent informs me that the restrooms are an entire floor below the ballroom, and I assure him that I'll return in time.

That's not at all my intention as I approach the elevator and the attendant standing guard outside the doors. "Ground floor, please."

He nods and moves aside to let me in, pushing a button once I step inside. The doors close, and the elevator starts the long descent to the lobby.

Sighing heavily, I lean back and grasp onto the railing behind me with both hands. "Looks like I'm not getting paid."

The realization is a heavy blow to my gut, but I'm not reckless enough to throw my safety away for a paycheck. I'll find something else. I have to find something else, or my brothers and I will be on the streets by the end of the month. We may lose our power and water by the end of the week, unless Drew and Mateo manage to hold onto their paychecks long enough to cover the bills, but at least I got January's rent covered before Tomes closed.

The elevator reaches the ground floor, and I stand up straight, prepared to get off. Except it keeps going.

"What the fuck?" I whisper, shaking my head in disbelief as the elevator passes the three levels of underground parking and continues to descend. There are no floors listed past G3.

Terror swallows my insides and turns my mind hollow. I didn't realize it before, but there is no button panel on the inside. This elevator isn't designed for the person inside to control it. There isn't even a button to call for help.

And my phone is sitting with in my purse in coat claim.

When the doors finally open, what awaits me is a brightly lit hallway. Everything is red, from the walls to the carpeted floors, to the two men waiting for me. They're dressed in red leather suits and black masquerade-like masks that completely cover their noses and the entire upper halves of their faces. Even their short, black hair is identical.

Both men cross an arm over their waists and bow, but only one speaks. "This way, Miss."

Inhaling sharply, I grab onto the railing once more. "Send me up, please."

They stand up tall, and it's the other one who speaks this time, the one on the left. "Don't be alarmed, Miss. We've come to gather you for the auction."

"This auction isn't what you think it is."

My heart falls so far into the pit of my stomach, I fear it's gone forever. "I-I don't consent to this."

The man on the left chuckles and strides forward. "No one does."

He grabs my forearm in a bruising grip and drags me off the elevator. I scream and pull against him, but when his partner grabs my other arm, I know I'm screwed. Adrenaline rushes through veins, my instincts taking over to make up for my frozen thoughts. I stomp on one man's foot with the heel of my shoe, and with a grunt, he lets my arm go. I spin towards the other man, raise my fist to strike-

I cry out in pain as I'm suddenly yanked by the hair, a tight fist tangled in the roots at the back of my head.

Then all hell breaks loose.

A loud snap fills my ears, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. The hand that was in my hair disappears, and I whirl around to see what's going on. The man who had me is now hovering several inches above the ground, clawing at his throat as a twister of black and red mist squeeze him. The mist grows thicker and thicker, creating a curtain around the man's body before exploding. It leaves nothing behind.

I clasp a hand over my mouth and take a step back, then another. I keep going until my back hits the wall.

"Fuck!" The other man exclaims and makes a break for it. He only makes it half a step before the same mist wraps around him, dragging him to his knees and yanking his head back in a position that looks absolutely painful for his spine.

Slow, languid footsteps fill the hallway as a man leisurely approaches from the direction of the elevator. A man who left me on the dancefloor. A man who certainly was not riding down with me.

The man on the floor looks like he's about to piss himself. "L-Look, man, it's just a misunderstanding-"

"A misunderstanding?" Sylus asks, tilting his head. "Enlighten me. Am I misunderstanding the disappearance of several woman over the course of the night? Or did someone other than me give Vincent permission to engage in such a trade in my territory?"

I think I'm going to throw up.

The man's eyes grow so wide, he looks like one of those stress ball keychains where the little creature's eyes pop out. "You're-!"

"I am." I can only see the back of Sylus' head, but the sound of his tone gives away his smirk.

I sink to the floor, squeeze my eyes shut and cover my ears as the man starts to choke. I count to ten in my head, then backwards to one, before daring to look. The man's body has seemingly vanished, just like the first.

Sylus is still standing there, his back still to me. "You should go before things get even more ugly."

Letting out a shakey breath, I slowly rise on wobbly legs. Maybe I should take my heels off before I fall. "But, those other women-"

He turns towards me, eyes narrowed. He doesn't look mean, more like he's studying me. "You'd hang around a dangerous place because the well being of strangers worries you?" He breathes a quiet chuckle. "Never mind. I've seen this from you before."

"They've got to be scared out of their minds, and besides," I look him up and down. "You're more than a little intimidating."

Sylus raises a silver brow. "But not to you?"

I shrug one shoulder. "Not enough that I won't trust you."

A silent minute passes between us. I haven't the slightest clue as to what could be going through his mind, but there are several possibilities. He could be calculating how much of a liability I'd be, not that I can blame him for that. Drew and Mateo tried to teach me martial arts once, but they gave up and suggested I flee instead.

'If your attacker has balls, kick him there before you run.' Was Mateo's ever so helpful advice.

Anyway, Sylus is sure to send me-

"Alright." His acceptance catches me so off guard, I blink twice. "But stay behind me and do as I say."

It's either my nerves or just pure habit that sets my playful nature back in place. "Yes, Sir."

Seventeen women. That's how many Sylus and I rescued from the underground ring beneath that tower. Luckily, they were all alive. The number of bodies Sylus left in his wake... I'm trying to forget.

The black SUV comes to a stop right where the GPS instructs the driver to, the engine humming so quietly it's almost silent. The leather seats, warmed with the heater, are so heavenly I don't want to get out just yet. Getting out means racing through the cold in this dress to my apartment, then bundling myself in layers to keep the chill off my skin while I sleep.

"This is where you live?" Sylus asks, staring at the series of ugly brick apartment buildings.

I huff and reluctantly unbuckle the seatbelt. "It's what we can afford. Not all of us can live in luxury."

Movement outside the window catches my eye. Standing on the street corner a short distance away is two woman, dressed in black outfits that look both warm and sexy. They're talking to a man in a car so old, the red paint has faded significantly.

I recognize the women. They live a floor below us, and they've been working this corner of our street since we moved in. I remember being shocked at how young they were back then, not appearing to be that much older than me.

Will this be my future soon? Standing on a cold, dark corner, selling my body just to keep surviving? I hold nothing against sex workers, regardless if they're doing the work because they have to or want to, but it's not something I want for myself. Though, want isn't possible when survival is in question.

Inhaling sharply to keep from breaking down in the car, I turn towards the driver and flash a smile I hope doesn't reveal any cracks. "Thank you for the ride home. And for keeping me safe tonight."

His brows furrow, but I don't wait for a response. I'm not sure there's one he could give that would take any of this weight off my shoulders.

I reach for the small handle and pull it, freezing middle-of-the-night spilling in the second the door cracks open. That's as far as I get before Sylus' arm is crossing over my body, pulling the door shut again. I tense, push back against the seat as my head whips towards him. A small spike of fear rises, the ordeal I just went through earlier tonight still fresh.

Sylus pulls his arm back, giving me my space. "Work for me."

I blink at him. Twice. "What?"

His gaze meets mine, those crimson irises of his standing out in the moonlight shining in through the sunroof. "I could use a personal assistant around the base. The way you handled yourself tonight impressed me. You'd be a good fit."

I've got to be hearing things. "You're inviting me to work for you? For Onychinus?"

"Only if you want it."

It shows how desperate I am, the fact that I'm actually considering this. "And what would I be doing?"

"Bookkeeping, scheduling meetings, accompanying me when necessary. In short, desk work."

Hope rises within me too quickly. The last time I accepted an offer being handed out like this, I ended up... well, exactly what happened tonight. I blindly walked into something that almost got me sold. Or killed. "Why me?"

Sylus doesn't look away. His seriousness on the matter is strangely comforting. "Because Luke and Kieran said you're unlikely to stick a knife in my back, and I believe them." He shifts in his seat. "You don't have to decide right now-"

"I'll do it." The words come tumbling out of my mouth all on their own, and I don't even want to take them back. "Luke and Kieran trust you. That's enough for me to at least give it a try."

One corner of his mouth curls into a smirk that looks somewhat gentle. "Then it's yours. You start two nights from now. I'll send a driver to pick you up."

I tilt my head. "You need a personal assistant for overnights?"

Sylus chuckles, the deep sound warming my bones. "I'm not awake during the day. If you're going to take this job, you'll have to adjust your habits."

"Clearly." I wrap the black coat I got from Vincent tighter around myself. Speaking of, "What happened to Vincent?"

Maybe I'm seeing things, but I could swear his jaw looks tense. "He caught wind that I was coming."

So he fled. Wonderful.

I give my shoulders a little shake. "Well, that's a shame. I'm sure you'll catch him the next time he starts slithering around your territory, Sir."

The amusement in his eyes makes me crave more. "Sir'? I just hired you."

"And I may as well start practicing." I reach to open the door again, but pause and turn back to him. "Thank you. I'll see you two nights from now... Sylus."

The way his name rolls off my tongue makes the appendage tingle. I'm immediately addicted, and I slip out before I make a fool of myself.

The SUV stays parked until I enter my building, and a crow perched outside the kitchen window flies away the second I turn on the light.

Masterlist

Chapter Six ->

Tag List:

@xxfaithlynxx @angelafinstone

[abimee]

YOU GET IT

[paranoiddreams]

Husband?

✰ Modern!Sukuna x fem!reader

✰ Warnings!! - None!! Just fluff and some swearing hehe

✰ A/n!! - I’m trying to get into the groove of posting on here, I get insecure abt my writing, but reading my favorite blogs on here gives my peanut brain motivation.

“Oh yeah, that’s my husband!”

Sukuna could swear the world stopped spinning the moment he heard y/n’s voice a few feet away. He cocked his head towards the checkout line of the Barns & Noble she dragged him into, seeing his girlfriend of 5 months and half (who’s counting?) claim him by a title he wasn’t aware he’d upgraded to; last time he checked, he hasn’t popped the question yet, although the thought doesn’t disgust him as much as he thought it would in the past.

Sukuna puts the book he was looking at back onto its shelf before walking toward’s his now supposed wife just as the woman she was talking to turned the other way.

“What was that I heard?”

Y/n turns around swiftly, a sheepish smile appearing on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, feigning innocence, “you ready to go now?”

“No, no, no, what did I hear you call me?” Sukuna’s grin couldn’t be more prideful, his arms crossed over his puffed chest.

“She was asking about you,” y/n finally relents with a sigh. “I just…doubled down. So she’d know.”

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, continuing to stare at her with that shit eating grin. An embarrassed flush blooms on her cheeks under his calculating gaze, her eyes hesitant to meet his for more than a few seconds at a time.

“I know…it’s early. Sorry.” Her fingers play with the plastic bag holding the books she just bought with Sukuna’s card, nervousness prominent in her disposition.

“Nonsense,” Sukuna finally grunts out. “We act just as a married couple would. Why not address each other as such?” He smiles, playing with the idea in his mind.

Y/n’s eyes float up to his again, her face falling a bit. “Really?” She stammers out.

Sukuna doesn’t say anything—he only quirks his brow at her, as if to silently say, ‘don’t make me repeat myself’. So she doesn’t; she takes his hand in hers, and leads him out of the store, feeling as if she’s walking on air.

Maybe Sukuna feels the same as well…no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

[nereidprinc3ss]

belladonna

in which you have to get your tetanus shot, and spencer is there to hold your hand. and… tease you. just a little bit. (bandages universe)

fluff warnings/tags: needles/r has needle phobia, flirty!reader, idiots in love, teasing, not established relationship yet, anxiety, Spencer makes a joke abt his addiction, did I mention IDIOTS IN LOVE a/n: works as a standalone, as do all the bandages fics I believe. anyway hope u like! <3

“Spencer, I don’t think I can do this.”

He sets down his shoddy hospital coffee and grabs your knee to stop your leg from its rapid bouncing, exerting a gentle pressure when you don’t immediately comply.

“Yes, you can. Just breathe, okay? Try to relax. It’s much harder for your brain to remain in fight-or-flight if your body is relaxed.”

“No, it’s—I feel like I can’t breathe right now,” you say, chest constricted in a vice of panic. “I think my heart is beating too fast, I—”

Footsteps approach from the hallway and your head snaps up, cold dread filling every vein in your body—but they continue past your door.

“Oh my god, I’m losing it. I’m going to die here,” you rave, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. The gauze wrapped around your hand presses against your brow and beneath it a cut throbs dully—a cruel reminder of what it is that you’re doing here in the first place.

Spencer gives up on trying to make you stop bouncing your leg, and instead the hand travels to your jaw to find your pulse. His fingers feel cool against your warmed skin, accentuating the constant thrum of your heart. You watch his face anxiously as fifteen seconds go by. 

“Your pulse is pretty high,” he admits gravely, returning his hands to his pockets. Your brow knits at his sudden solemnity as you look up at him. “I’m not a medical doctor, but… we might have to take you to the hospital.”

Any trace of worry withers from your face. “Truly hilarious.”

The corner of his mouth turns up a little.

“See? You’re calm enough to make a sarcastic joke at my expense. If you were actually going to die I doubt you would be able to do that.”

“Wanna make a bet?” you snap.

“Definitely not,” he smiles, warm eyes alight and not at all fazed by your attitude. “You’re the last person I’d bet against.”

“Ha,” you say bitterly, eyes darting to the door again. “In that case I might just take my chances with tetanus.”

“I just watched you slice your hand open on a rusty fence, take down a man twice your size, and get ten stitches without flinching. Needles should be afraid of you.”

At least now your face is warming from the compliment and not the anxiety. 

“It’s... different. Like, stitches and shots. Shots really fucking freak me out. I don’t know if you could tell. I’m sure I seem really chill about it.”

He nods sagely. “Trypanophobia. It’s among the most common phobias in the world, next to Arachniphobia, Ophidiophobia, Acrophobia, Aerophobia. You have Astraphobia, too, don’t you? Fear of storms?”

“Spencer.”

“I also used to struggle with needles, actually.”

You look back at him, suddenly curious.

“Used to?”

“Yeah, but I pretty much got over it when I got all the vaccines for my clearance at the Academy. Becoming addicted to intravenous drugs helped, too, but I wouldn’t recommend it,” he muses, examining the art on the wall behind you and taking a sip of his coffee.

At that exact moment, the door opens and a very professional, very exhausted-looking nurse hurries in. You hardly even register her because you’re staring at Spencer, trying to figure out if you just heard him right. He’s looking right back at you over the rim of his cup, eyes dancing with what looks like suppressed mirth.

The nurse says something, and you bless her with an ‘uh-huh’, unable to take your eyes off of Spencer.

“I must be hallucinating,” you say.

“What? You’re the only one allowed to make off-color jokes at inappropriate times?”

“I didn’t even know you could make a regular joke, honestly.”

“You ready, dear?” says the nurse, swabbing your upper arm with an alcohol wipe.

“Ah! Spencer!” You yelp, thrusting out your hand for him to take. He quickly sets the cup  back down on the window sill and takes your outstretched hand, stepping closer.

“Relax,” he laughs upon seeing how your shoulders have risen to meet your ears. “Don’t look over there. Look at me.” Gently he brushes a loose strand of your hair behind your shoulder, redirecting your focus toward him. At this point you’ve gone catatonic anyway, so you don’t resist, although it doesn’t seem to matter much because you’re basically blacking out. “Literally relax your arm. I'm serious. It will hurt less.”

“Small pinch, darlin’,” the nurse says, and you clench your jaw so hard you’re afraid you might break a tooth, and maybe some tetanus-induced lockjaw wouldn’t actually be so bad, and she’s touching your arm now, and who made that extremely undignified squeaking noise, and— “And you’re done.”

You frown.

“I’m done?”

“You’re done,” the nurse repeats. Logically she has no reason to lie to you about this, but you look over to check anyway because there’s simply no way you’re done just like that. Sure enough, she’s smoothing a band-aid over your shoulder and pulling your sleeve back into place.

You look back at Spencer as if searching for a second opinion, utterly baffled. He carefully frees his poor hand of your bone crushing grip and grabs your discarded FBI jacket from the chair, handing it to you.

“That’s it?” you say, taking the jacket and absent-mindedly folding it on your lap.

“That’s it. You did it.”

“Really? That’s all? I feel like it can’t be that easy. I don’t even think I felt anything,” you ramble, rolling your shoulder around, and finding just a bit of soreness.

“You were so brave,” he nods, stepping closer to wipe something warm and wet away from under your eyes. “Americans can rest easy knowing they’ve got someone like you in the FBI.”

“Shut up. Am I crying?”

He laughs, and the twinkly sound fills you with even more joy than normal. Everything seems a little brighter, a little warmer—probably another adrenaline rush or a result of your brain releasing a trace amount of opioids in response to the pain.

“Just a little bit.”

“You two are FBI?” The nurse says, like she can’t quite believe it.

Before you can tell her that you don’t very much like her tone, Spencer nods.

“Behavioral analysis unit.”

“Oh! You guys catch all those serial killers?”

He nods politely, giving her a flat smile. “That’s the goal, yes.”

“Wow. There’s a meet-cute to tell your children.”

You snort and immediately clap your good hand to your mouth, looking up at Spencer to see how he’ll react. Of course he’s already red and stammering.

“Oh, no—I—maybe I misled you, we’re not, uh… we’re not together. Not like that. We are partners in the, in the sense of our job, not—we’re not romantically involved. Just—co-workers. Friends. We’re, I’d say we’re good friends. I mean, she’s great. She’s very nice, and, well—maybe nice isn’t exactly the right word, but she’s, you know—”

“Spencer,” you interrupt.

“You ready to go?” he says immediately, looking very grateful that someone finally cut him off. Works like a charm, every time. 

You stand, and to your surprise, wobble a bit on your feet. Spencer steadies you with a hand to your waist. “Woah,” you mutter, trying not to look too disoriented.

“You need to eat,” he says. “With how anxious you’ve been you probably completely burned through whatever calories were in your system. It’s a parasympathetic nervous system response to adrenaline.”

“I know what it is.” You grab his hand and turn to the nurse, who is looking at the two of you with a bemused, slightly clinical interest. “Um... thanks? Right?”

“Okay,” Spencer says. “We’re leaving now. Come on. Go.”

As he’s herding you out the door, you keep trying to look at him over your shoulder. “Is it weird that I kind of liked it? Does that, like… point to something?”

“Never repeat that,” Spencer says, shaking his head, but you can hear the strain of a hidden smile in his voice. 

You smile up at him as the two of you walk down the empty hallway, swinging his hand in yours.

“She thought we were together,” you say, and it’s almost a gloat, though Spencer can’t quite wrap his mind around what that might mean. Instead, he relishes the weight of your hand in his. He doesn’t exactly remember when that became commonplace, but he never takes it for granted. He can’t help the smirk across his face which always lets you know he’s going to say something snarky. 

“She just doesn’t understand that you need constant attention or you’ll die.”

Luckily, you’re used to each other. Quips are just one prevalent dialect in your vast love language. 

“Yup. I’m a delicate, rare flower.”

Spencer scoffs lightly.

“Yeah. Like deadly nightshade. Or water hemlock.”

“Those ones are pretty, right?”

He squeezes your hand. Imagines telling you that he’s in love with you and has been for a very long time. 

Instead, he thinks about dinner. 

“Gorgeous. Where do you want to eat, Belladonna?”

for more of these two, check out the bandages universe masterlist!

[eu-nicola]

Morocco part 1

summary: Rafe says goodbye to Sofia and leaves her in outer banks while he goes to Morocco, where you are also and the danger that happens there rekindles the spark both of you thought had lost

warnings: mention of death, weapons, cheating, pregnancy, etc. only things of s4

word counter: 9000

author's note: spoilers of s4, many things have been changed but there are still spoilers, english is not my first language, this is long so get ready to read

There was a warm breeze blowing in from the ocean, bringing with it the smell of salt and adventure. You stood on the shore, watching the waves crash against the sharp, black rocks of the Outer Banks coastline. The sunset dyed the sky deep oranges and reds, painting long, brooding shadows across the sand. In the distance, the lighthouse flickered with its intermittent light, marking time. Your thoughts were filled with questions now that you were going to Morocco, and Rafe’s silhouette approaching along the wooden walkway only intensified that unease. 

Rafe had that look in his eyes that you had always found difficult to read, a mix of defiance and nonchalance that gave him an almost untouchable air. He walked with a confident gait, hands in his pockets, white shirt fluttering lightly in the wind. When he was close enough, you stopped, feeling tension take hold of your muscles. He noticed your expression and, without a word, stood beside you, staring out at the ocean as if you shared a secret that only he understood.

“How are you?” you asked, breaking the silence with a voice that sounded shakier than you had planned. It wasn’t a casual question; you both knew he was carrying a heavier weight. His eyes narrowed just a little, and after a moment that seemed like an eternity, he let out a sigh.

“Sofia is going to stay here,” he said suddenly, as if he had been waiting for you to ask. His words fell like stones to the bottom of your stomach, sinking you into a feeling of emptiness. “I didn’t want to risk taking my future wife to Morocco.”

It took your mind a while to process what he had just said, as if your brain had hit an unexpected wall. Future wife? The icy surprise ran across your skin, leaving you feeling cold in the stifling summer heat. You forced yourself to keep your composure, to not let the confusion become visible, but it was too late: Rafe was already watching you with that look that knew too much.

“Are you engaged?” you finally asked, trying to make your voice sound natural, but feeling the lump in your throat tighten a little more with each word. He gave you a slight smile, which barely curved his lips, but was reflected more intensely in his eyes.

“Yes,” he answered, and the weight of that simple statement crushed your chest. You looked back at the horizon, looking for a respite in the immensity of the sea. The waves continued to break, indifferent to human emotions, while you struggled to maintain the balance between surprise and the pain that you did not dare to let out.

Rafe nodded, his smile wider and more sincere than yours. “Thank you,” he said in a tone that revealed a kind of relief, as if he had been waiting for your reaction with hidden caution. There was a moment of silence, awkward and dense, in which neither of you moved or looked away from the ocean. The waves continued their eternal back and forth, and for a moment you wondered what it would be like to be anywhere else in the world, a place where Rafe’s words couldn’t reach you and where the echo of “future wife” didn’t resonate in your mind like a persistent hammering. 

The breeze blew harder, carrying with it the echo of distant laughter and the voices of seagulls, and as Rafe looked back out to sea, you felt everything moving around you, except you. 

You fell silent, allowing the sound of the sea and the wind to carry away the unspoken words. You didn't want to talk about Rafe's engagement anymore, or about Sofia, or what it meant to you. You had learned to swallow your emotions, to let them burn inside you until they became something more bearable, like ashes after a fire. So you didn't say anything. You just nodded almost imperceptibly and took a step back, as if you were walking away from a conversation that had already ended. 

Rafe watched you with fleeting curiosity, but he didn't insist. He, too, knew when it was best to leave things as they were. Without another word, he turned around and walked back along the same wooden path he had come by, his footsteps echoing in the increasingly dark afternoon. You stayed a few seconds longer, trying to let the cold in your chest dissipate and your breathing return to a normal rhythm. 

When you finally turned around, your thoughts were already far away from there, beyond the ocean, in the dunes of Morocco, in the legends surrounding the Blue Crown. That relic had been the center of stories and rumors among treasure-hunting circles, a lost jewel whose importance went beyond wealth: it was said to have the power to change the fate of whoever possessed it. And now, it was sought not only by you and Rafe, but also by the Pogues, and others. 

You had no time to be distracted, and you couldn't let your emotions prevent you from acting with the coolness that the situation required. You returned to your home where on the worn wooden table, the map of Morocco was spread out, with handwritten notes and markings indicating the places you had investigated before. You sat down, letting the weight of determination replace the pang of jealousy and disappointment you still felt. 

You looked through your things: an old compass that had belonged to your grandfather, oil lanterns, a sharp knife, and a copy of a manuscript with cryptic clues about the location of the Blue Crown, clothes, and a lot of money. 

As night fell over the Outer Banks and the stars began to twinkle in the sky, you promised yourself that you would find the Crown, no matter how many obstacles stood in your way. You weren’t interested in having it, but in what it took to have it, the deals you could make, and how proud your father would be if you did. It would be your victory, your vindication with your father after he nearly “killed” you when he found out you weren’t with Rafe anymore and you ruined his perfect life by not marrying a Cameron. You pushed those memories from your mind, focusing your eyes on the map and letting the adrenaline and obsession with the search take over. 

Tomorrow, everything would change.

The Moroccan sun was merciless, a golden blaze that seemed hell-bent on burning your skin and sapping every ounce of energy you had. The air was dry, with a hint of sand that seeped into your mouth and stuck to your skin. You walked through a bustling market, where the aromas of spices, leather, and sweat mingled in a heady, chaotic mix. Vendors shouted in Arabic and French, selling everything from hand-woven rugs to intricately detailed gold jewelry. Despite the fascination you could feel for the place, the heat made every step a struggle. 

“Damn heat,” you mutter as you wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. Your clothes, light but already soaked, clung to your skin uncomfortably. You were tired, overwhelmed, and everything seemed even more complicated in the middle of that maze of narrow streets. 

Behind you, you hear a low, familiar laugh. “Are you really complaining about the heat?” Rafe’s voice comes with a hint of sarcasm you know well. He’d joined the expedition at the last minute. He wore dark sunglasses and a smile that made him seem completely unfazed, even under the relentless desert sun. 

“It’s not that different from home,” he adds, raising an eyebrow and giving you a look that mixes defiance and complicity. His words hit you with an unexpected truth, and although you hate to admit it, you agree with a slight nod. 

“You’re right,” you acknowledge, trying not to show the irritation you felt. Outer Banks might be stifling, humid, and wild, but this dry, scorching heat had its own way of imposing itself. Still, the comparison was still valid. 

Rafe stops next to a stall where an old man sells copper and silver amulets. He takes one between his fingers, examining it with that calm attention he used to display before making a major move. His presence is as familiar as it is exasperating, a constant that forced you to stay alert.

“Don’t forget what we’re here for,” he murmurs without looking at you, as he returns the amulet to the old man with a polite smile. His words bring you back to the present, to the mission.

You take a deep breath, letting the warm air fill your lungs and force you to focus. “I never forget,” you reply, and although your words sound firm, you both knew that heat, distractions, and personal tensions were silent enemies.

Rafe smirks, a gesture that could be either respect or mockery. Then, without further ado, he walks into the crowd, motioning for you to follow him.

Hours later, night fell over Morocco with the speed of a closing curtain, leaving the air still warm and charged with the promise of new intrigue. The market streets, which during the day were a hive of life, were transformed into a labyrinth of shadows and flashing lights, where low-voiced conversations and distant laughter mingled with the hum of oil lamps. You found yourself in one of these streets, walking briskly alongside Rafe, whose eyes seemed to scan every corner, alert for any sign of movement.

You knew the Pogues were in town. They’d been following the treasure trail for almost as long as you had, and though your paths had crossed in the past, you’d never considered joining them. Until now.

“Are you sure about this?” you asked Rafe, feeling the weight of doubt like a stone in your stomach. It was an idea that had seemed absurd to you when it first came up, but the more you thought about it, the more logical it made. Two opposing forces joining forces for a common goal. But with Rafe, you could never be completely sure of anything.

Rafe cast a glance over his shoulder, his lips twisting into a smile that was more of a warning than a friendly gesture. “Relax. It suits them as much as it suits us.” You stopped at the edge of a crossroads, the yellowish light of a streetlamp illuminating half of his face and leaving the other half plunged into darkness. “Don’t worry so much, if there’s one thing I know about them it’s that they can’t resist an opportunity,” she added, lowering her voice and moving closer. 

The meeting was scheduled in an old warehouse near the port, a place where stacked wooden boxes and hanging ropes created a scene that seemed straight out of a pirate tale. The place smelled of salt and damp wood, and the echoes of the waves crashing against the docks filled the space with a constant murmur. When you arrived, the Pogues were already there, standing in a tense semicircle, exchanging glances and whispers. John B, with his disheveled hair and alert expression, was the first to spot you. Beside him, Sarah tensed her jaw at the sight of Rafe, and you couldn’t blame her. The wounds between them ran deep, scars that would take a while to heal, if they ever did. 

“What are you doing here?” JJ’s voice was the first to break the silence. His eyes, normally full of spark and humor, were now hard as steel. Kie stood beside him, arms crossed and an expression that clearly said he didn’t trust what was happening.

Rafe raised his hands, as if to show he had no ill intentions. “Relax. We’re not here to fight. We’re here to help.”

“Help?” John B repeated the word as if it were a joke, and a bitter laugh escaped his throat. “Why the hell should we trust you?”

“You shouldn’t,” you intervened, taking a step forward. All eyes fell on you, and you felt the weight of uncertainty in each gaze. “But if we want to find the Crown before others do, we have no choice. Rafe and I know things, we have clues that can lead us to it. And you also have information that we need.”

There was a moment of tense silence. Eyes met, searching for answers that neither was willing to give. Pope was the first to move, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes as if he were assessing the situation. “What kind of information?” he finally asked, his tone calculating and full of caution.

Rafe smiled, and you knew he’d been waiting for that question. “We know the last clue leads to a site in the Atlas Mountains. But it’s not a place you can get to with maps and courage alone. You need someone who knows the terrain, and we just happen to have people who do.”

Kie let out a sigh, lowering her arms and casting a quick glance at her friends. “It’s crazy,” she muttered, though there was a glint in her eyes that suggested the idea, as dangerous as it was, intrigued her.

John B gritted his teeth, his gaze shifting from you to Rafe, then to his friends. There was a decision to be made, and you both knew it. Finally, he nodded, though not willingly. “Okay, but if this is a trap…”

“It’s not,” you interrupted. And though your words were firm, you knew that everyone there had reasons to doubt. The alliance was not perfect, and past scars still hurt. But in the search, distrust would be a luxury they could not afford.

Rafe crossed his arms, pleased, and looked at John B with a flash of defiance. “Then we better get started. The mountains aren’t going to wait for us.”

The group exchanged glances, a tacit agreement that felt like a leap into the dark.

Dawn in Morocco came with unexpected warmth, as if the sun had risen early with the sole purpose of testing everyone’s patience. The souk, which had just awakened with the first light, was filled with life in a matter of minutes: merchants displayed their wares, children ran through the alleys, and the air was filled with the aroma of spices and freshly baked bread. The relative calm of the morning didn’t last long.

It had been barely two days since you formed that precarious alliance with the Pogues and, as you feared, things quickly went awry. You weren’t sure what exactly had caused the chaos – whether it was Rafe trying to “get information” the way he usually did, or whether it was an unfortunate run-in with another group of treasure hunters who had gotten wind of the treasure. The truth was that you now found yourself running at full speed between clay buildings and narrow alleys, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the walls as the screams and curses of your pursuers filled the air behind you. 

“Rafe! This is madness!” you shouted as you dodged a fruit stand that you nearly knocked over in your wake. Oranges rolled across the ground, and the merchant let out an enraged scream that was lost in the melee. Rafe, running beside you with a grin that bordered on reckless, barely turned to look at you. 

“Calm down, I’ve got it under control!” he replied in a tone that made you want to punch him in the midst of all the confusion. The shadow of a smile remained on his face, as if this was all just a game and not a race to keep his skin intact.

“You better fix it, Rafe!” you roared, feeling the burn in your legs and the metallic taste of effort in your mouth. “I wanted at least a couple of good days in Morocco!” You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a moment of true tranquility, and in that instant, the desire for everything to be different mixed with the adrenaline that drove you to keep running. 

Rafe let out a laugh, one you didn’t know whether to admire or detest. “Good days? That’s not part of the deal, friend.” His words seemed laden with irony, but also with a truth that stuck in you like a thorn. 

You turned a corner and felt the sunlight hit you directly in the face, blinding you for a crucial second. You staggered and almost fell when you tripped on a small step, but Rafe grabbed your arm and pushed you forward without stopping. The footsteps behind you were getting closer, and you could hear shouts in Arabic that, although you didn’t fully understand, made it clear that the intentions were anything but friendly.

“To the right!” Rafe shouted, letting go of you and pointing down a side street that seemed narrower than the one before. Without thinking, you turned, your heart pounding in your chest like a crazed drum. The alley narrowed even further, and the terracotta-colored walls seemed to close in around you. You could feel the adrenaline bubbling through your veins, sweat soaking through your shirt, and the sound of the chase ringing in your ears as a constant reminder of how close they were.

Suddenly, a thud to your left caught your attention: John B and JJ had emerged from a hidden passage, expressions mixing surprise and relief at seeing you. “What the hell did they do now?!” JJ shouted, a spark of reproach in his eyes.

“This isn’t the time for details,” you replied between gasps, and without stopping, you walked past them, followed by Rafe, who still had that impassive smile.

“We have to split up,” John B said, taking the lead and pointing with a sharp gesture. “We’ll meet at the meeting point! Go that way!” And before you could answer, he and JJ disappeared into another narrow passage, like moving shadows.

You and Rafe kept running, the chase now divided and the sound of footsteps diminishing. The alley opened up into a small square, where the midday shadows were deeper. There, you leaned against a wall, trying to catch your breath and process what had just happened.

Rafe glanced at you, his breathing ragged but a spark of excitement in his eyes. “You see,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow with a quick gesture, “this is what makes everything more interesting.”

You looked at him, feeling a mixture of exasperation and a strange camaraderie wash over you. Maybe he was crazy, or maybe you were crazy for keeping up with him.

After the chase, everything had calmed down, they continued doing their thing during the day and at night when they went to rest at a place where they were staying while you slept you were startled by a thud in the next room. You barely had time to stand up when the door was flung open and a tall man, with scars on his face and eyes as dark as night, pointed a gun at you. “Not a single move, girl,” he hissed in broken English, the threat in his voice as clear as the gun in his hand.

Rafe, who was in the other room, burst in without a second thought. The fight was quick, a clash of bodies and blows that echoed in the small room like war drums. With your heart racing, you searched for something, anything to defend yourself, and your fingers found an old metal lamp. You didn’t think about it. With all the strength you could muster, you threw it at the intruder’s head, the metallic sound echoing as it hit him and sent him reeling.

“Get out!” Rafe shouted, his voice a roar that snapped you out of your trance. You moved toward the door as he finished subduing the intruder. Outside, the streets were deserted, a blanket of silence that was almost as dangerous as the bustle of the crowd. You knew they couldn’t stay there. They had to move.

The next day, things only got worse. Despite having agreed on a meeting point with the Pogues, the pressure of being under constant surveillance and dodging suspicious glances became unbearable. Pope had managed to decipher an ancient map that seemed to lead to a cave in the Atlas Mountains, but they hadn’t counted on the other hunters who caught wind of the advance.

The chase began in the market, with the clatter of falling pots and screams from confused vendors who barely understood what was happening. You leapt up a stone staircase that led up to the rooftops, Rafe hot on your heels and JJ and Kie a few feet behind, bringing up the rear. From above, the flat roofs of the souk stretched out like a makeshift battlefield, dotted with hanging clothes and rusty antennas. The air was thick with heat and dust, making every breath a challenge. 

Gunshots rang out in the distance, the echo spreading through the streets like a wave. You threw yourself to the ground just in time to avoid a second shot, feeling adrenaline turn your fear into a searing drive. Rafe held out a hand and helped you up, the urgency in his eyes clearer than ever. “We have to get down from here now!” he shouted over the din, pointing to an old staircase that led to a narrow alley. 

They managed to climb down and into the tangle of streets, but the sense of impending danger never left. The group briefly took refuge in a cellar, where John B pulled out the map and spread it out on a splintered wooden table. “The cave is close, but we need to make a detour. We’re being followed closely,” he said, his gaze fixed on the markings that indicated a winding path into the mountains.

The tension in the air was palpable. No one fully trusted Rafe, and Kie kept giving you worried glances, as if trying to gauge how much more you could take. You were tired, exhausted, but at the moment the idea of ​​stopping seemed as far away as peace itself. 

That night, when the group decided to split up, you found yourself alone with Rafe in a dark passage, the echo of screams and gunshots still haunting you. The shadows on the stone walls seemed to lengthen and twist as if they were alive, too, watching you. You walked in silence, your breathing still ragged and your body on high alert. Rafe, ever alert, stopped suddenly and put a hand on your arm. The touch was cold, but it also had a hint of urgency that made you still. 

“Listen,” he whispered. You barely noticed the sound of footsteps coming toward you, slow and calculated. Before you could process it, someone grabbed you from behind and dragged you into the darkness of an alley. You kicked and punched, fighting with all your might as Rafe tried to reach you. 

You knew you had been missing for no more than a couple of hours, you had learned to count time without a watch and without getting lost and you knew that you had been exactly two hours with your head covered, except for your mouth. 

In an unexpected twist, it was John B who appeared out of nowhere, pulling your captor and slamming him against the wall with a force that seemed impossible for his build. Once free, you breathed heavily, feeling the world around you blur. You were tired, but John B’s gaze, full of concern and determination, reminded you that you were not alone. 

“We have to move. Now,” he said and you quickly followed. 

The streets began to calm down as John B led you through a maze of passages further and further away from the bustle of the souk.

Finally, John B stopped in front of an old wooden door, dark with age and dust. He knocked three times in a rhythmic manner, and the door creaked open. You entered behind him, feeling tiredness creeping through your body like an unbearable weight. The small room you entered was lit by an oil lamp in one corner, casting a dim light that made the shadows lengthen and distort.

There, sitting in a chair with an expression somewhere between worry and relief, was Rafe. When he saw you, his eyes lit up with a flash of excitement that he quickly tried to hide under a facade of serenity. You had no time for words; you threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly, feeling the warmth of his body and the accelerated beat of his heart under your arms. For a moment, nothing else mattered.

Rafe hugged you back, his grip firm, almost desperate. For an instant, he wasn’t the troubled, arrogant man you’d shared so many moments of uncertainty with, but someone who shared the weight of the same struggle, the same fear, and the same need to find respite amidst the chaos.

“I thought I’d have to kill someone to find you,” he murmured, his voice husky near your ear, heavy with a feeling he couldn’t or wouldn’t admit. You felt his hands tighten around you, as if he feared that if he loosened his grip, you might disappear into the dimness of the room.

“I almost did,” you admitted, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.

John B coughed softly, breaking the tension in the air and reminding you that you weren’t alone. You looked over at him, and behind him, JJ and Kie had gathered, each with expressions ranging from relief to distrust. Kie smiled briefly, but JJ kept his stance alert, always the first to suspect Rafe. 

“We need to decide our next move,” John B said, crossing his arms and glancing around at everyone in the room. “Those following us aren’t going to stop, and the cave in the mountains isn’t going to sit around waiting for us.”

Rafe let out a low, almost inaudible laugh and looked away, as if he was considering John B’s words. You felt the knot in your chest slowly unravel, replaced by the determination they all shared: to find what they were looking for. 

After the conversation, the small room fell into a heavy silence, interrupted only by tired sighs and the occasional creaking of chairs. The tired looks, the few words. The adrenaline of the day was finally beginning to fade, and exhaustion took its place with relentless force. John B and the others found corners in the room to rest, spreading threadbare blankets on the floor and chairs.

Rafe looked at you and nodded silently, both of you knowing you wouldn't stay there. Without exchanging another word, you walked out the back door, into the shadows of the streets of Marrakech. You walked in silence, unhurried but not stopping, following the paths you already knew by heart. The house you shared was a few streets away, a replica of the many modest buildings in the neighborhood, but set back enough to offer you a semblance of privacy and safety.

Upon arriving, Rafe opened the door and let you in first. The interior was dark and cool, a welcome welcome after the scorching heat of the day and the tension that seemed to have been tied to your back like a weight. You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to feel the ephemeral peace of the place, before letting out a deep sigh and moving towards the small room in the back, where a low, simple bed awaited you. 

Rafe stood in the doorway, watching you with a mix of tiredness and something else you couldn’t quite make out. “Do you want me to make you something to drink?” he asked, his voice soft and husky. 

You shook your head as you kicked off your shoes and dropped onto the bed. “No, I just… need to sleep. It’s been too much for today.” You laid down on your side, hugging one of the pillows and feeling your eyelids begin to droop. You didn’t expect Rafe to do the same, but suddenly you heard him move. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet, and the lamplight flickered for a moment before he blew out the last spark and everything went dark. 

You flinched slightly as you felt the weight of the bed dip beside you. You turned your head, and though you could barely see his features in the darkness, you could feel his proximity, the heat radiating from his body. “I’m not staying in that house with them,” he murmured, like an explanation, though you didn’t need one. You didn’t respond, just closed your eyes, too exhausted to think about what it meant.

The silence stretched between you, only broken by the slow, deep breaths that began to come together. Without realizing it, as tiredness dragged you to sleep, you turned a little, looking for a more comfortable position. Your hands brushed Rafe's arm, and he moved barely, as if responding to your touch was a reflex. Before you could think about what was happening, you felt his arm slide around your waist, pulling you towards him. It was a protective, warm gesture, and although at another time you would have said something, in that instant you only sighed, feeling your body relax completely. 

With his breath close to your ear and the safety of his arms around you, the tension that had accompanied you for days finally dissolved. 

The next morning the sun began to filter through the cracks in the window, filling the room with a soft light that contrasted with the darkness you had fallen into the night before. You woke up slowly, eyelids heavy, body still marked by the tiredness of the day before. Without moving, you felt the warmth of Rafe’s body beside you, his arm still around your waist, and for a moment you couldn’t help but smile quietly.

You tried to turn around to get out of his embrace without making a sound, hoping you wouldn’t wake him, but when you tried to move, something pulled at you. Rafe, still asleep, pulled you closer to him, a gesture so automatic that it made you sigh silently. Your body tensed at first, but then you realized it couldn’t be that bad, at least for a moment longer.

“Don’t go,” he murmured quietly, his tone rough with sleep. The softness of his words made your chest tighten unintentionally.

You stayed still for a second, staring at the ceiling, feeling the warmth of his embrace envelop you, as if the entire world had disappeared, leaving only that small corner of peace between the two of you. But reality, as always, quickly took over. You didn’t want to be that person, you didn’t want to confuse yourself or complicate things further. It was a hug, nothing more.

“Rafe...” you began quietly, almost afraid to interrupt the peace that had formed between you. “I’m not Sofia.”

The sound of his breathing changed, and then, with a calmness that surprised you, he replied, “I know,” as he held you even tighter against his chest. His words were soft, as if there was nothing to clarify, nothing to change. “I just… want to keep sleeping.”

Despite his relaxed tone, you couldn’t stay there all day. You already knew that time was pressing, and things were still moving outside of that little bubble of calm you’d shared with him. “There are things to do, Rafe,” you said, your tone firmer this time. “And we need to eat.”

A frustrated sigh escaped his lips at that moment, but eventually he relented. His body tensed a little as, with a grimace, he began to pull away from you, his arm finally releasing you, though his gaze was still a little clouded by sleep.

“It’s okay,” he said, sitting up with a hand on his head, as if trying to clear his head a little before getting up. “But only because you have to eat.”

The smile that escaped you upon hearing his tired, yet resigned tone was almost inevitable. You got up first, stretching and looking for clean clothes. As you watched him prepare his way to get up.

After a simple but necessary breakfast, with the morning warmth streaming in through the windows, the pace of the day continued. The conversations about the map and the cave in the mountains were quickly forgotten as each of you went about your own business. The chaos and paranoia of the day before had subsided, but danger was still present in every corner of Morocco, lurking in the darkness, waiting for the right moment to emerge.

Rafe, as always lately, had decided to act without thinking too much about it. There was something in his nature that pushed him to throw himself into risky situations without measuring the consequences. And, as always, it ended in trouble.

That trouble came in the form of an old acquaintance who appeared in the square, with clear intentions of collecting old debts. Rafe tried to negotiate, to talk to him in terms he clearly didn’t understand, while you watched from afar, feeling a growing unease in your stomach. There was something about the man’s posture, his cold gaze, that told you that they weren’t going to get out of this well.

The exchange of words escalated quickly, the tone of the conversation going from tense to aggressive in seconds. You knew it wasn’t going to end well, but what you didn’t expect was what happened next.

The man moved quickly, his hand searching for something in his jacket. You didn’t need to be told, it all happened in the blink of an eye. Rafe had backed away, but the man already had a gun in his hands, and his intention was clear. Rafe’s gaze hardened, and in that moment you understood that he couldn’t escape.

The man raised the gun towards him, and the world seemed to slow down for an instant. You knew there was no time to think about it. Fear transformed into action without your brain being able to fully process it. Without thinking, you pulled out the gun you had taken from the cellar the night before. In one swift movement, you aimed and fired. 

The sound of the gunshot rang through the air, the echo repeating in your ears as the man fell to the ground, with a grunt of pain, the gun slipping from his hand. Quickly, you turned to Rafe, who was only a few feet away from you, watching what had happened with a mix of surprise and gratitude, but also with the awareness of what had just happened. 

“Are you...?” you began, but the words got caught in your throat. Adrenaline was still flowing through your veins, making your hands shake slightly, but there was no time to reflect. 

Rafe, after a moment of silence, finally spoke. “Well done,” he said in a tone you couldn’t quite read. But there was something in his gaze, a deep gratitude, and also a concern that he didn’t want to admit.

“It’s nothing,” you lied, quickly putting the gun away, though your heart was still racing. “Be careful, I need you to be the Rafe who makes deals with the worst people possible and comes out on top.”

Rafe didn’t say anything. He looked at the fallen man, then turned to you, and without another word, he nodded. “Let’s move on.”

The two of you walked quickly, away from the scene, the shadows of the streets covering you. Rafe walked a few steps ahead of you.

Your breathing was still irregular, the adrenaline already starting to wear off. The question that had formed in your head escaped your mouth, more out of impulse than out of need to know the answer.

“Isn’t there a minute where we have peace? Where I don’t have to get your ass out of some trouble?” you blurted out, the irony in your voice evident. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or scream, but something about the situation made you blurt out that question as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Rafe, without turning around, let out a dry laugh, the one you already knew was the only way he had to deal with the situation, a defense against the chaos that surrounded him. “Like with Sheriff Peterkin,” he said, and although his words seemed light, there was something in his tone that he couldn’t hide: the heaviness of that memory.

The mention of the policewoman made you pause for a second. You knew exactly what he meant. That time, long before they got to this point, you remembered the local police who had almost caught Rafe and his family, so he took it upon himself only for reasons that were never fully understood, your father intervened, paying whatever it took to cover it all up. 

You knew that, in some way, your father’s hand was always present, ensuring that Rafe’s problems didn’t affect him, although it had left you with a bitter feeling in your stomach. Your father never talked about these situations, but it was clear that he had ways of cleaning up messes that others couldn’t. And in some way, he included you in his world, which you were used to and liked. 

“I know,” you answered with a wry smile. You couldn’t help but think of everything you had done to protect Rafe, everything you had put aside for him, for his sake. And what did you get in return? More trouble, more chaos. But at the same time, you couldn’t deny that something about that connection dragged you down, something you couldn’t control.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment, his eyes softened, as if you were reading his thoughts. “Thank you,” he said quietly, though it wasn’t the kind of thanks that made you feel completely at ease.

“Don’t be,” you replied quickly, feeling the moment become more tense than it already was. “I don’t need you to thank me, Rafe. This is what always happens. But I don’t want to be your fixer all the time.”

Silence fell between you again as you walked through the streets, the sun already warming the air uncomfortably. Your dress, though light at first, now felt sticky and dirty. Sweat ran down your back and the line of your neck, and the dust of the streets stuck to your skin only made things worse. You rubbed your forehead, desperate, and muttered more to yourself than to Rafe.

“This is unbearable. I’m sweaty, dirty, and… I need a bath urgently. This is torture.”

Rafe walked a few steps ahead, but his eyes shifted to you for a moment, as if he was trying to process what you had just said. He didn’t seem worried, but he did seem a little amused to see you in this state.

“I know, but it’s not the most important thing right now,” he said, in his usual, somewhat carefree tone. “We have to stay focused.”

You frowned as you brushed off your dress. “Yeah, sure, very focused… but I could be a lot more productive if I wasn’t so uncomfortable.” You looked around, realizing how ridiculous it sounded: here you were, running away from one problem after another, and all you could think about was a bathroom.

Rafe, noticing your tone, let out a low, amused laugh, as if the idea of ​​worrying about something so mundane in the midst of all the chaos was completely absurd. “It’s not my fault you’re not going to take a bath with me,” he said, as if to joke. 

You turned to him, one eyebrow raised, and prepared to respond, but before you could say anything, he gave you a small tap on the arm, almost playfully, while smirking. The way he did it seemed so natural, as if everything else around them disappeared for a second. 

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he added between laughs. “You can wait a little longer before you get in the water.” 

He looked at you with that lopsided smile that, despite everything, couldn’t take away the discomfort of being drenched in sweat and dirt. But you couldn’t help but laugh, despite how upset you were. 

“Easy for you to say, right?” You said, trying to make a face, but you couldn’t help but crack a slight smile. “When you’re not the one stuck in a sticky dress with your hair stuck to your face.”

Rafe, hearing your tone, simply shrugged, still smiling. “I promise that once we get somewhere safe, you can shower all you want. In the meantime, just hold on a little longer. It’s not all that bad, right?”

You stayed silent for a moment, looking at his relaxed face as you walked. You knew he was partly right. In the end, the sweat and heat were nothing compared to what you had already faced. But, despite everything, you couldn’t help but think about how much good a nice bath would do you.

“Okay, but don’t make me wait too long,” you said in a more relaxed tone, feeling your body ease up a bit as the tension was released with those words. “Because really, Rafe, I need something more than water to cool off.”

Rafe, looking at you with that look of his, just nodded, and with a mischievous smile on his face, he replied, “I promise, just hold on a little longer.”

You pushed yourself gently against his arm, and laughed.

Although the hours had felt endless, they ended up being productive for you and Rafe. The search for clues had paid off, although not in the way you had expected. They had managed to find some things and talk to some people who would help them, and they had also made some important progress in getting an address that seemed more promising than the previous ones. Despite the discomfort of the heat, the chases they had barely dodged, and the tensions between them, you felt that the hours had been worth it. 

The streets, which had previously seemed overwhelming and chaotic, now felt more familiar. They had managed to blend in a bit with the locals, and although curious eyes continued to follow them, they managed to move more confidently, at least until it got late. Finally, after a day of intense work and a couple of altercations, night fell over Morocco, and the cool breeze that was beginning to blow made you breathe a sigh of relief. 

As the shadows lengthened, the city seemed to calm down a bit, the streets less hectic, the heat of the day slowly easing. You were tired, the sweat stuck to your skin was no longer just uncomfortable, but had left you feeling heavy. All you wanted at that moment was a bath, but you knew things couldn't be that simple.

Rafe had disappeared for a moment, perhaps to talk to someone or continue digging into some clue that had surfaced, but you couldn't wait any longer. You quickly walked to the house you had rented, the temporary shelter where you could only think about taking off everything you had endured that day.

Entering the small dwelling, you closed the door behind you with a sigh of relief. You no longer had to be on alert all the time. There was no immediate danger in sight, and at last, you had some time to yourself.

You quickly headed to the bathroom, where a large, old tub was waiting for you, filled with water that still felt somewhat warm, as if someone had prepared everything in advance. You didn't hesitate for a second and, without thinking twice, you began to undress, removing clothes soaked in sweat and dust from the day. Each piece of clothing you dropped on the floor seemed to take a little more of the weight off your shoulders.

You sank into the tub with a sigh of relief, letting the warm water envelop your tired body. You lay back with your arms outstretched on the edge, closing your eyes and letting the warmth surround you, covering you completely. Each bubble that formed on the surface seemed to soothe you more, as if you were letting go of all the stress and tension you had built up.

The sound of the water gently moving around you was the only thing you could hear, and for a moment, you felt like everything else was left behind. You only thought about yourself, and the movement of the water.

The warmth of the water was beginning to relax you completely, and every part of your body that had been tense during the day was slowly letting go. You had your eyes closed, enjoying the moment, when you finally managed to disconnect from everything else, even Rafe's presence. At last, you felt like the world could wait a little.

The soak in the tub was beyond relaxing. Without thinking, you began to completely relax, the hot, bubbling water enveloping your body as tiredness slipped away from you.

You allowed yourself to stay there for a few more minutes, enjoying the peace that so rarely came to you.

When you finally got out of the tub, you felt like new. The water had done wonders on your tired body.

You decided to replace the water in the tub before Rafe arrived. The water you had used was warm, but it wasn't as hot anymore, so you decided to fill it up again for him. You did this more out of instinct than anything else, you wanted to offer him some peace of mind after everything you had been through that day. The sound of the water flowing in the tub was the only thing you could hear as you prepared to go get some clean clothes.

You didn't notice it at first, but when you returned to the living room, you heard the door open. Rafe walked in with his tired, somewhat heavy gait, but it wasn’t until you turned to look at him again that you noticed something odd about his posture. Something about the way he walked, slightly hunched over, made you frown.

Rafe was hurt.

The sweat on his face and the blood stains on his clothes didn’t go unnoticed. There was some wound, perhaps superficial, but enough to make you worry. You hurried to approach him, but he raised his hand, stopping you before you could say anything.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice tense but firm, as if he didn’t want you to treat him like he was a child. “Just a couple of scratches. A bath will do me good, and that’s it.” His tone was so direct that it left no room for further discussion, as if the idea of ​​being helped was something he preferred to avoid.

You stared at him for a moment, feeling a lump form in your throat. You wanted to help, to do something, but you knew Rafe wasn’t going to let you do it. You knew him too well to know that he wouldn’t accept help easily, especially when it came to something as “minor” as a wound.

“I’ve already filled the tub for you,” you finally said, trying to hide how much it worried you to see him in that state. Your voice sounded calmer than you felt, but there was still a note of concern that you couldn’t hide. “It’s ready. Just… be careful, okay?”

Rafe looked at you with a crooked smile, that smile of his that used to be so trusting, but now seemed somewhat forced. “Thank you,” he said quietly, giving you a slight nod in thanks. 

You stood there for a few moments, watching him head towards the tub, where he paused for a moment before beginning to strip off his blood and dirt stained clothes. 

The tension in the air between the two of you was palpable, but in the end, you knew you couldn’t just leave him like that. If he wasn’t going to accept it, you would take the lead. No matter what was between you, you couldn’t leave him hurt and alone. 

You approached the tub with a clear decision in your mind. Without thinking too much, you grabbed a clean rag and dipped it into the hot water. The sound of the water sliding down his skin, the warmth emitted by the steam, turned it all into a kind of calm that at first seemed disconcerting. Rafe stayed silent, watching you as you moved the cloth gently across his torso, careful not to touch his wounds, cleaning away the dirt that had accumulated on his body.

You didn’t think about his nakedness. You knew that, at this point, it was just a practical matter.

Rafe, despite the awkwardness of the situation, kept looking at you, and with a crooked smile, decided to break the silence. “Are you really doing this?” he said in a sarcastic tone, raising an eyebrow, as if he were in the middle of an awkward joke. “Aren’t you afraid of getting wet?”

You laughed despite yourself, almost unable to help it. The laughter came out of you spontaneously, lightening the heavy atmosphere that had formed a little. “If I get wet, I get wet. It’s not like I haven’t gotten wet before.” You replied, cleaning the part of his shoulder more carefully, always aware of the wounds.

Rafe’s sarcastic tone never faded, though at the moment it seemed more like a way to cope than anything else. He stared at you, but this time, something in his gaze changed. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said casually, as if it were just a comment. But there was something in his eyes that left you speechless. 

Your heart skipped a beat, and you immediately felt uncomfortable. For a second, you froze. “Please don’t say that,” you murmured, trying to look away to avoid him seeing it in your eyes. 

The atmosphere between the two of you grew tense, as if the words were floating in the air, weighing more than anything you could say. There were too many things left unsaid between you, too many intertwined feelings, and the complications of everything going on in your lives. But, in that instant, the comment seemed to change something.

Rafe didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gently took your hand, guiding it through the water as you ran it over his chest. The closeness of his body, the way he touched you, made your breathing quicken. Before you could react, he pulled you towards him, into the tub, unexpectedly. The warmth of the water surrounding both of you only intensified the feeling of closeness, of warmth. 

You stood there, not knowing what to do. Your whole body was telling you to get away, that it wasn't the time, that this shouldn't happen. But something in his gaze, something in the way he held you, made your own thoughts fade away. The doubts and voices in your head seemed to fade away when his lips met yours, in an intense but silent way, as if there was no turning back. 

Despite what your mind was telling you, what was warning you that this could be a mistake, you couldn't help it. The touch of his body, the unexpected connection, made you lose control for a moment. The pressure in your chest disappeared, and for an instant, there was only the sensation of his lips, of his closeness, of the passion you hadn't planned.

You knew that, after all this, nothing would ever be the same again. But in that moment, you surrendered to the sensation, to the connection you both shared, even though everything around you told you not to let yourself go.

You both stayed there for a long time, in silence, only the sound of the water and the ragged breaths filling the air around you. There was no rush, no urgency to move away. The warmth of the water and the closeness of your bodies enveloped you, and for a moment, you let yourself go, you let the chaos of the world be replaced by the calm that only he could offer you in that instant. The tension between you seemed to slowly fade away, as if time had stopped and everything else no longer mattered.

When you finally pulled away from him, a little dazed, it was Rafe who broke the silence with a soft, but determined voice. “Come on,” he said, taking your hand gently. 

You didn’t have time to say anything else before he led you out of the tub and into the bedroom, but you didn’t care. There was something comforting about the idea of ​​spending the night with him, of sharing a space, even if it was just for a few hours. You felt calmer than you had in days, something you didn’t even know you needed until that moment.

[evie-sturns]

geronimo - 𝙈𝙖𝙩𝙩 𝙎𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙤

summary: after matt suprises you and your daughter with an at-home petting zoo, your toddler has quite a hard time saying bye to geronimo the hedgehog.

contains: girl dad!matt, fluff, crying, tantrums, swearing.

-------------------------------------------------------------

"mama! look at germ-noni-mo!" layla squeals as she gently picks up the small hedgehog, a wide smile spread across her face.

she crouches down on the floor, clutching the hedgehog in her hands as matt sits on the couch.

"matt- you literally have to stop these suprises." i giggle, staring at the array of farm animals in my living room.

"god he does this all the time." nick laughs, crouching down beside a pig.

"look- laylas loving it though." matt smirks as layla trots over to the couch with geronimo clutched in her tiny hands.

"is she spiky?" i ask layla with an exaggerated gasp,

layla shakes her head, "no! he- he's just- i dont know" she smiles, bouncing up and down excitably.

"chris- that guinea pig is about to crawl up your shirt- be careful." matt giggles,

chris hands the guinea pig back to the keeper with a small laugh.

the petting zoo keeper starts to put the various farm animals back in the cage, securing them tightly and placing them in the line.

"layla, i think geronimo needs to go back to the petting zoo now!" i say softly, a large grin on my face as i try to sound as excited as i can, knowing that laylas already attatched to the hedgehog.

her face instantly drops, she holds the animal to her chest with a pout.

the zoo keeper stands beside layla, "im sorry sweetie! just gonna have to grab him from you." she says softly,

layla shakes her head with a whine, "but- no!"

"come on layla." i whisper, gently removing the hedgehog from her hands and handing it to the keeper.

i look over at nick, whos watching the whole situation unfold with a small grimace, chris stands beside him as layla continues to whine.

the zoo keeper genty puts geronimo back in his cage before packing up, ready to leave.

"but- mama- daddy no!" layla squeals, folding her arms as her eyes well up with tears.

"shhh, inside voice please sweetheart." matt instantly cuts her off, standing up off the couch and picking her up.

nick and chris help the zoo keeper load the cages out of the house into the van as matt and i try to cool down layla.

matt holds layla in his arms as he carefully walks down the hallway into matt and i’s bedroom.

i follow close behind, ready for the intense tantrum that’s on its way

matt sits down on the floor with layla, who’s absolutely fuming now.

i decide to let matt handle, so i start to clean up our room by wiping down the desk.

suddenly my ears are pierced with a blood curdling squeal.

“i want gern-oni-mo!!” layla screams, her little face fuming.

“layla no, we don’t use that voice inside, enough.” matt says sternly, grabbing her wrist as he holds her still.

“no! you stole him from me!” she yells, slapping her small hands at matt’s large wrist.

“enough, no hitting.” matt warns, his hands holding her sides.

she pouts as her bottom lips trembles, she folds her arms over her chest and plops down onto the floor in a fit.

“look at me layla.” matt speaks, his voice is firm but not raised.

“no!” she whines, balling up her fists at her sides.

i sit down on the desk chair, watching the whole situation unfold, letting matt handle this one.

matt reaches out to adjust her small pigtail, but he screams again.

“layla, enough.” matt raises his voice, standing up off the floor and looking down at layla.

layla goes quiet,

matt never yells at her. she’s basically his little princess, matt could never bring himself to be mad at his sweet girl.

her bottom lip trembles,

her eyes glaze over,

and she bursts into tears.

“oh sweetheart.” matt sighs, a hint of frustration still clear in his voice, but his tone is softer now.

he leans down and picks layla up, holding her in his tattooed arms.

he sits down on the bed with her, his large hands resting on her cheeks, gently wiping her tears.

“shh, shh.” matt whispers softly, peppering kisses to her damp nose.

“i understand you’re upset about the hedgehog, but what if i told you daddy had a suprise!” matt smiles encouragingly.

laylas ears perk up, she lets out a small hiccup as she nods.

“how about, on saturday, we take you to the petting zoo to visit geronimo!” matt grins,

instantly she cracks a small smile, she buries her face in matt’s shirt, trying to hide the fact she’s happy.

“yeah? you like that idea?” matt asks, gently pulling her away from his chest.

she nods frantically with a big smile plastered across her face

“you’ll get to give geronimo a big cuddle!” matt speaks, gently grabbing her chin and wiggling her face.

layla stands up on the mattress, bouncing up and down happily before jumping on top of matt.

“dada!” layla claps,

“do we- do we get to hold him aswell!” she giggles,

“yeah you do! of course!” matt grins,

layla squeals out of excitement,

“now can i have a hug?” matt asks gently, opening his arms.

layla fully body slams herself into matt, matt gently wraps his arms around her and presses a kiss to her forehead.

“i didn’t mean to make you upset earlier princess, but remember that using your inside voice is necessary.” matt whispers into her ear, keeping his arms wrapped around her.

she nods with a small pout,

matt puts his finger on her bottom lip, “what’s gotcha so pouty!” he smiles, gently pushing her small lips back.

she giggles,

“alright, now let’s get you some snacks.” matt speaks, standing up off the couch and picking up layla.

he carries her down the long hallway into the kitchen,

“are the carrots okay for your teeth? or would you like me to cut them up.” he asks layla, rummaging through the fridge,

“carrots ‘s okay!” she says, grabbing the whole carrot out of matt’s hand and gnawing on it.

matt carries layla down to the living room, plopping her down on the couch and putting on spongebob.

“you call me if you need anything okay? i’m just gonna be with mommy.” he tells layla,

she’s too absorbed in the tv to respond,

i hear matt’s gradual footsteps coming down the hallway until he reaches our room,

he walks in with a smug expression,

“did you see that? i’m a professional!” matt laughs, flopping down on the bed beside me,

“you are so adorable when you try to cheer her up.” i grin, resting my head on matt’s chest.

“but i do a pretty good job!” matt defends himself, wrapping his arms around me and pulling me ontop of him.

“mmmm.” i hum with a smile,

“you know i do!” he protests,

“okay maybe you do,” i crack with a smile,

matt nods with a smug smile, “what can i say.”

“such a good daddy.” i giggle, burying my face into matt’s shirt.

“oh my god- enough with that corny daddy shit.” matt groans, jabbing his fingers against my ribs.

“i saw the opportunity and took it.” i laugh,

i lay ontop of matt, propped up on my elbows so my face is inches from his.

i lean down and press my lips to his,

i can feel his smiles as he kisses me back, rolling us over so he’s ontop of me.

he peppers kisses all over my face,

“i got layla distracted with spongebob, we have some alone time.” matt whispers,

“so romantic.” i tease,

-

@sturnsdoll @obvisturns @stupid4sturniolo @meerkatzthings @witchofthehour @rosalierenee43 @gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl girl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @jamiesturniolo o @chrisstopherfilmed @ @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @certifiednatelover er @solarsturniolo lo @mattsenthusiast t @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @bitchydragonparadise @sturni0l0tripletzz @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @mattsonlybitch @justalittle47 @sunsetsturniolos

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[auroralwriting]

wait for your love

spencer reid x fem!liaison!reader

after joining the bau eight months ago, you and spencer quickly became close. too close, to be just friends, that is.

word count: 2k

warnings: comfort and fluff, no use of y/n, mutual pining, (un)reciprocated feelings, spencer's love-blind, he only likes your touch, vague hints at spencer's autism, playful flirting

Spencer Reid was all you'd ever wanted. He was a sweet, smart, charming, a gentleman. He understood your thoughts and feelings. He made time for you, and actually, the two of you spent a great deal of time together on a daily basis. It was rare you'd go more than two days without seeing the resident genius.

You were even the rare exception to his physical touch boundaries-- he couldn't keep his hands off of you. Holding your hand or interlocking your pinkies was a common form of touch you shared. Hugs, cuddling, and sharing beds wasn't uncommon, either. Usually on cases, you roomed together, even if you had separate rooms. You were Spencer Reid's solace, even more so-- simply his person.

The only issue? He was just your best friend.

For as close as the two of you were, no, you weren't dating. No, you had no clue how he felt about you. Sometimes it felt like he reciprocated your feelings, but then he'd go and call you something like his best friend. So, maybe he didn't reciprocate the feelings. But that was fine, you were still in his life and he was in yours. That was all that mattered, right?

You barreled into Spencer's hotel room the moment he opened the door from your rapid knocks.

Spencer watched as you flopped face-first on his bed with a chuckle, "Hello to you, too." He walked over to where you laid, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Can you guys please profile this douche any quicker?" You groaned into his pillow, the whine of your voice making Spencer smile. "I'm seriously done with the press on this one. I cannot take another call from stupid Heather Young."

"Who's Heather Young?" Spencer asked as you flipped yourself over quickly, sitting up to face him.

Begrudgingly, you pointed to the small TV that sat in front of his bed. "She's some nosey, obsessive, and pestering news reporter who wants the full coverage story on this case." You sighed. Heather Young truly was testing every limit you had. Her phone calls boarded on stalker, at least one an hour, if not more. You'd tried to block her number, but she found another phone to use. "She won't leave me alone. I swear, Spence, every hour this woman calls!"

Spencer knew all too well the struggles of being a liaison, and this was one of them. Dealing with obnoxious reporters and pestering questions would frustrate him to no end. That's why he admired you so much, for your tolerance and patience.

Your phone rang, and you groaned, turning back over and letting yourself fall face-first back into Spencer’s pillow. He chuckled, grabbing your phone and shutting it off so you wouldn’t receive any more calls for the night. “See? Problem solved,”

“Until six a.m when she calls me trying to get an inside scoop,” your muffled voice whined.

“You’re so grumpy,” Spencer chuckled, leaning on his arm beside you. “Come on, don’t let some stupid news reporter get you like this.”

Maybe if you'd looked closer, harder, you would've noticed the adoration in the genius's eyes. However, you just rolled your eyes and scoffed at his words. "M not grumpy,"

Spencer chuckled, poking your side teasingly. "You definitely are," He chuckled at the way you squeaked, shooting upward at the ticklish sensation.

"Spence!"

"If I were to look up the definition for grumpy, your name would be its definition." Spencer continued to softly poke at your ribs and sides, causing giggles to spew from your lips like an endless waterfall. It was music to Spencer's ears.

"Spencer!" You tried to whine, but it came out as laughter instead.

After a minute or so of his relentless attack, Spencer eased. "See? Not so grumpy anymore. I just know the grumpy cure."

"Tickling me is not a cure," You argued, crossing your arms as you sat criss-crossed in front of him. When Spencer went to reach forward, you sucked in a breath, "Okay, okay! Consider me cured!"

Spencer just chuckled at your words. "Admit it, you were grumpy. I could tell based on the way you threw yourself onto my bed." Spencer joked. He wasn't wrong. His hand, instead of poking, found its way to your side, but it gently caressed you in a sweet motion.

With another roll of your eyes, you smiled, letting Spencer know wordlessly he was right. His touch was soft and comforting. Spencer's touch, no matter how it's given, was the cure.

The moment was broken when your phone buzzed, a text from JJ lighting up your screen. For a moment, ignoring it was a highly considerable option, until you realized you were still on a case, and it could be important.

"Who's that?" Spencer asked, looking over your shoulder as you grabbed your phone from his bedside table.

"JJ," You simply stated.

Where are you? The text read.

With Spence, need anything?

Why can't you ever stay in your own rooms, SMH!! Wanted to see if you're ready to give the profile tomorrow?

You chuckled at her text, As ready as I'll ever be

KK, I won't bother you two lovebirds anymore! Enjoy Spencer time!!!

Spencer grinned at the texts. "You don't think she's going to read into that, do you?"

"She already does," You shrugged, setting your phone back down. "The whole team always asks, 'When are you and Spencer getting together?,' 'When are you finally gonna date?,' blah, blah, blah."

With an eyebrow now raised, Spencer felt himself become surprised at your response. While he speculated there was some sort of, well, suspicion about the two of you, he was never on the receiving end of any of it. Apparently, that's because you were. "How many people have asked about us? Just the team?"

"Just them," You paused, considering his question. "Wait, you don't know about this?"

Spencer became more confused at your tone, "No, I don't."

"They think we're madly in love or something," you chuckled, trying to hide your true feelings, "talking about our future little genius-liaison babies."

The genius's mind became scattered, flooded with images of the two of you that his mind created in a moments notice. Children, marriage, love. It felt so surreal picturing you, yet so right. "Did you ever deny it?"

"For the first few months," You confirmed with a solid nod. "I just don't really entertain it anymore. I don't see them stopping anytime soon."

Spencer nodded, clearing his throat. "You haven't let them think it's true though, right?"

"Why?" You asked, his words confusing you. "Is there some sort of problem being with me?"

You felt defensive at his words. Maybe this was his way of telling you the feelings aren't reciprocated. Maybe, all along, you were playing the fool. This stupid, silly little mistake of a crush was mere moments from destroying your closest friendship. You wished you could swallow this whole conversation down like bad medicine and pretend it never happened.

Spencer paused for a moment, your question making his heart drop. "Why would you ask me that?" He softly asked.

"Just--" You sighed, turning over to lay on your side that faced away from him. As much as this sucked, you couldn't see yourself leaving him, either. "forget about it, Spence."

You were upset now, that much was apparent. Spencer couldn't tell if it was about the team, or his response. He wasn't good at talking to girls, let alone about romance. Spencer softly laid on his side, wrapping his arm around your middle and trying to gently pull you into him.

"Spence, it's really fine, just--" You knew this play. You knew he was going to give you the softest affection to try and get you to open up.

"It's not fine, you're upset." Spencer observed, a gentle firmness behind his voice. He hated it when you closed in on yourself.

Adamant about not moving, Spencer realized his efforts were useless; you weren't going to budge. So, he scooted closer until front was pressed against your back, practically spooning you. When your body went rigid against his, Spencer felt disappointment seep into his heart. You always melted into him. Ever so softly, Spencer let his free hand come up and begin to massage your scalp, slowly playing with your hair ever so often.

Like memory, your body began to relax into his, just the way he wanted it to. Of course, it was against your better judgement, but soft moments with Spencer Reid was what you lived for.

Spencer smiled against your shoulder, his efforts weren't so fruitless after all. "You're so stubborn," Spencer mumbled into your shoulder.

"M not stubborn," you muttered in reply, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

"Yes, you are." Spencer said, giving you a small squeeze. It made you giggle in reply, making Spencer's heart thump loudly in his chest. Could you hear it, too? "You never answered me before,"

You hummed, "Hmm?"

Spencer said your name slowly, a growl of a warning. He needed to fix whatever happened. There was no way he was going to let you stay upset at him.

"I asked you that because.." you hesitated. "I don't know. would there be a problem being with me?"

At your soft words, Spencer realized what had happened. He'd been a fool and insulted you. How could he ever do such a thing? "Of course there wouldn't be a problem being with you," he breathed softly into your ear.

"Then.." you paused, "then why aren't we, I don't know, together?" You rolled over to face him. "I mean, we do this," Your hands waved in the air, motioning to your current position with the genius. "We're always together. We even sleep over! Even the team asks me why we aren't together and--"

Spencer felt shock flood his system at your confession. Did this mean what he thought it meant? Was he reading this right?

"Just, why? Is it me?"

Taking a deep breath, Spencer choked down his fears. "I've been.. scared."

"Scared?" Your desperation morphed into one of curiosity and confusion at his words.

"Scared," Spencer confirmed softly. "I didn't know how you felt. I didn't know if you even wanted this.. us,"

Humor slowly filled the situation. Maybe you'd both been fools, but not in the way you'd originally thought. "Do you really think I cuddle with all my best friends?"

Spencer raised a brow at your words. Yeah, he felt unbelievably stupid. How could he not have seen it before? "No, I suppose not." He meekly replied, a small smile growing on his lips. "Does that mean you-you really want to be my girlfriend?"

A chuckle escaped your lips, "Spencer Reid, you ought to know better than to assume. Don't you know what that makes you?"

He smiled in return, rephrasing his question. "You want to be my girlfriend."

"I do," you smiled.

"I want to be your boyfriend," Spencer replied with a now wide grin on his face.

You felt your heart skip a beat, "I want that, too."

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?" Spencer asked, the question feeling like one of a middle-school boy. Nothing else felt right to say, though. Nothing felt as sweet and innocent as this moment did.

A finger patted your chin as you faked deep thought. "I don't know, it's a lot to consider."

Spencer let out a small laugh, propping himself up. He moved over top of you, his weight now on his forearms as you stared up at him. "Oh, really now?"

"Yeah, being tied down is a lot, you know?"

He leaned down closer to you, so close you could feel the tip of his nose grazing your own. "Tied down," he chuckled with amusement.

"That begs your question; should I be your girlfriend?"

"I say yes," Spencer said, his lips mere centimeters from your own.

Staring down at his lips, you whisper, "I say yes, too."

Like a moment of explosion, your lips meshed perfectly with Spencer's. It felt like everything you'd dreamt of thus far. Poor Spencer, he was in absolute bliss. He felt like he'd been waiting this day his whole life and another. It was magic, heaven, and unbridled passion.

"Stay here tonight?" Spencer whispered as he pulled back, lips tingling with the feeling of you.

"Always," you smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.

[haveihitanerve]

Times the Robin’s visited the Watchtower during a meeting and how it ends-

Dick: sitting on Bruce’s shoulders as he gave a presentation, slouched down on his head like a sack of flour. The League is trying very very hard to look at the presentation and not the presenter but Diana snaps a shameless picture of them (that bruce promptly has her send him and prints it out and frames it)

Jason: sits next to Wonder Woman with stars in his eyes the whole time, and Diana being the she is is constantly chatting with him, to the point where Batman has to call them out and tell them to please shut up- but he cant stop the smile at Jason's awed face, and it ends with Batman and Robin leaving, Robin holding Batmans hand and almost jumping up and down in excitement as he retells everything they talked about and did and all of it, and Batman is smiling softly down at him

Tim: spends most of his time working on something else nearby, papers spread across his section of the table, most in different languages they find when Barry tries to peek at them, a computer propped up on his knee. Ends with Batman crouching next to him and saying something quietly, before scooping the boy into his arms and holding him with one while he quickly cleans the table and sticks everything into the bag he came with and slinging it over one shoulder. Robin is passed out by that point and Batman presses a kiss to the side of his head, nods to the league, and continues lecturing as though nothing has changed. 

Stephanie: arrives unannounced and without any preparation on Batmans part because no one was aware he had a new female robin. Batman doesn't even bat an eye at her though and she twirls over to him to press a kiss against his cheek before shes sitting in his chair, making a few funny quips and adding insightful comments the whole time he speaks. Ends with bruce returning to his chair as Clark begins explaining something hes noticed, but most of the league is watching Robin and Batman to see what'll happen- bruce ends up just lifting her(with a quiet squeal of delight from steph) and sitting down, plopping her back into his lap when hes situated. She remains quiet during everyone else's speeches, occasionally murmuring something to batman that makes his lips twitch and her grin in triumph as she leans her head against his chest. 

Damian: arrives with a sword that Batman swiftly takes from him and sheathes across his own back- which not only was a feature the league was unaware his suit had, and looks cool as hell. Robin sits on the armrest of Batmans chair for most of the meeting, but when Bruce returns to his seat he tugs his son into his lap as well, and since hes smaller than steph, forces the little boy to curl up on his lap a little- because its late and damian doesn't really care about paying attention he just didn't want to go to bed without his dad home- so bruce holds him and the boy tuckers out quickly, curled into his dads arms.  

Part 2

[mattybsgroupie]

fitting | chris sturniolo

— CONTENTS: handjob (m receiving); mommy kink; milf!reader; virgin!chris; sub!chris

— NOTES: hi my loves! sorry i’ve been a little m.i.a, some stuff happening at home and not really in my best mood BUT i’m here! you give me strenght to keep going and doing what i love. did you guys miss him as much as i did :( chris my beloved!!! inspired by this blurb, thought i’d show how shy chris was before their first time! — btw this fic is part of the milf!au but you can it on its own! — not proofread, i apologize for any mistakes. enjoy ♡

walking around the mall after a busy morning at work, you spotted a familiar figure across the alley. it was quite impossible not to recognize chris — his long hair falling over his big eyes, wearing his shabby jeans and his old converse as he typed frantically on his phone, oblivious to his surroundings.

you approached him slowly, standing in front of chris and expecting that he’d notice you soon. when he raised his head, a smile spread from ear to ear, his blue orbs sparkling. it had been over two weeks since you last saw each other due to stacy staying at her father's place, therefore, chris had no excuses to visit you.

“chris? what are you doing here?” you asked in your usual sweet tone. he scratched the back of his head, as if he was a bit embarrassed about the situation he found himself in. “huh... actually, i was supposed to meet stacy” chris admitted, tucking his cell phone back into his pocket and standing up beside you.

“but she won’t make it” he said. a puzzled frown appeared on your face. it’s true that you couldn’t always keep track of your daughter’s schedule when she wasn't at home, but she wasn’t the type to miss dates or hangouts. 

“cheer practice” he explained. you nodded, realizing that the game season was about to start. it felt so wonderful to see chris again. “well, would you like a ride home? i just have to look for something real quick and then i’m all done”

“sure, c-can i keep you company?” he asked, eager for a positive answer. “absolutely, sweetheart”

you led the way to the store you were going to visit. a lingerie shop. chris gulped when he saw the bright sign, the pink lights contrasting with the black interior and then sighed. he knew you missed him just as much.

“that’s not fair, mama” he mumbled after a while. chris had been following you like a puppy, interlocking his index with two of your fingers, as if he could lose his way at any second. 

“making me so needy” he complained again. you stopped by a red, lace lingerie set and happily brought it to your chest, turning to chris. “what do you think of this one, chris? pretty, right?”

“mhm— really pretty” chris shook his head as he sunk his teeth on his bottom lip. he looked away from you and the way the bra rested perfectly against your chest. “what’s up, baby? are you having a little trouble down there?”

“mama… don’t do this to me” chris whispered. his hands started to get sweaty and he could feel the blood rushing to his cock. he was about to get hard in public just because he thought of you in lingerie, which was ridiculous, since he had seem you naked previosusly.

“i’m not doing anything, sweetie. i’m shopping and you’re keeping me company, isn’t that right? is it my fault that you can’t hold yourself back and got all worked up just because i got some lingerie?” your warm tone sent a shiver down his spine, his chest immediatly inflating with air. “‘m s-sorry i just keep thinking… of you wearing it” chris tried to explain himself as you chuckled, enjoying his embarassement.

“yeah? you wanna see me wearing a nice set for you? which one do you like better?” you asked, handing him three pairs of bras and panties in different colors.

“the red one” chris spoke, still not daring to look at you in the ways. you walked in slow, seductive steps towards him, the sound of your heels taking over the empty store.

“c’mere,  i’ll try it on for you” you continued, undoing the first button of your silk shirt. chris got a peek of your bra, it was the leopard print that drove him insane and made him kiss you for the first time, months ago. “but first we gotta fix this, hm?” you cooed, placing your palm against his boner and applying some pressure to it.

once again, you led the way towards the fitting rooms. chris followed you obediently, holding a bunch of hangers. you gaze scanned the store and with a naughty grin, you opened one of the curtains and quickly went inside, pulling chris by his wrist.

he didn’t even had time to hang your underwear. you pushed him against the mirror, smashing your lips together in a desperate, hungry kiss. a loud groan left his throat as you moved to his neck, gently sucking on his skin. “mommy i missed you so much” chris rolled his eyes, his hands going to your hair.

“i missed you too, my good little boy” you whispered, palming his cock over his jeans. chris squirmed against you, a moan slipping from his lips. you opened a satisfied smile as you pulled away, sitting on the stool next to the mirror.

chris whined in protest, already missing how you hand and your lips felt on him. “got all hard for mama? you poor little thing” he pouted, nodding “c’mon, touch yourself for me” you instructed him.

his eyes widened in surprise — you had never asked him that. he didn’t know how to do jerk himself properly. chris was a virgin and the first time he was actually able to reach an orgasm was with your help. how was he supposed to do it on his own, and in public?

“mhm, unless you wanna go out with that pathetic boner” you teased, crossing your legs. the red heel started to slip from your foot as you finished unbuttoning your shirt, fully displaying your bra. chris whined again, silently pleading.

“mama… i n-need your help” chris spoke under his breath. “can’t cum without you”

“you’ll have to learn how to take care of yourself, chris” you said, pulling chris by his belt. you helped him to undress, freeing his shaft, almost slapping against his own tummy. you wrapped your knuckles around his length, stroking it in slow motions. “do you expect mama to be there every time you get hard? what are you gonna do when i’m not around, hm?”

“nhng— can’t— can’t be without mama” chris whimpered, more to himself than to you. he twitched inside your fist, placing both hands on the mirror to hold his weight, knowing his knees would ultimately give up.

you moved your thumb to his tip, pre-cum leaking from his slit as you circled it. his hips bucked forward as he leaned his head down, trying to hold himself. chris didn’t want to cum too soon, it was humiliating. he wanted to last long for you, he wanted to get used to the feeling your fingers around him, to the sound of your voice whispering praises and calling him a good boy, but no matter how hard chris tried, he pathetically failed.

“cum! mama, cum!” chris whimpered. you tightened your grip around his cock, pumping it faster. “please!”

“cum for me baby” you allowed him. you knew chris would need a long time to get used to your touch. in fact, it was adorable that he couldn’t even last five minutes.

chris threw his head back, moaning as he came on your hand, thick spurt messing your fingers and his jacket. you didn’t move your hand, continuing to gently stroke his wet, sticky cock.

that’s until your phone rang. you reached for your bag, quickly picking it up and seeing the name on the screen. “i think stacy is back home” you told chris, whose dick immediately became soft at the mention of your daughter’s name. “would you like to join us for dinner?”

— TAGLIST ♡⊹𑄽୧ @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555 @sturnslutz @cvnntagious @alesturniolos @emely9274

chris masterlist | milf au masterlist

[jarofstyles]

Appetency 2

Welcome to the other half of Appetency 🫶 I left it off wholesome, so I’ll give you the smut you deserve now lol. Thank you for such a good reception to it, I had no idea you guys would like them this much!

Part One

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings

WC- 8.9k

Warnings- smut, penetration and oral (both receiving) unprotected sex, soft Dom H, cum play, cockwarming, etc etc etc

Harry was warm.

After he had eaten and changed, he lounged back on her couch, making himself back at home at her place. He’d seemed to have no problem doing that. It had done something to her to see her make the furniture look smaller, but she recollected herself. When he patted his lap, however, she shocked him by crawling onto his thighs and sitting across them.

Back again, she was wrapped up in his arms as one of his hands dragged up and down her bare waist while the other sat leisurely on her hip.

He slid his hands down to her thighs, his palms warm against her bare skin. He loved having her like this, perched on his lap like a precious toy he could play with whenever he wanted. She hadn’t seemed to mind the manhandling as he shifted their positions, a giggled squeal all the protest she let out.

He pulled her closer, his body pressed up against hers. His hands continued to roam over her bare waist and brushed over the waistband of those stupid pants that had been working him up the whole night. Of course he’d been behaving the best he could, but the promise of kissing had held him to it. "You're feeling pretty naughty tonight, aren't you?"

“No.” She grinned, face completely opposing what her words said. “I just… I dunno.” She looked down to his chest. “You work out a lot, huh?”

Harry's smile widened as he felt her gaze shift to his chest. He was feeling rather smug, having her sitting in his lap like this after where they’d started. His hands slid further up her thighs, his fingertips tracing small circles against her warm fabric. "Yeah, I work out a lot. Do you like it?" he asked, trying to keep from feeling smug.

“Yeah. You’re just… I don’t know how to describe it. I feel safe with you like this. And I like when you hold me.”

Harry's smile softened at her words, the playfulness melding into true fondness. Of course he loved that she felt safe in his arms, and he loved that she even admitted it. It was a vulnerability in its own way, one that she hadn’t given him much of prior. He wrapped his arms further around her waist, shifting so that she was even tighter against his strong chest. "I like holding you, too." He murmured, his voice soft and low but audible over the TV.

It was hard to muster up the nerve to ask outright, but the ball was in her court. He had given her control in that regard and he wasn’t going to do anything without her saying so, but she could feel him looking at her lips. He’d been staring most of the night. “I think…” She’d been thinking all night, really. For days. But he didn’t know that part. “I think we should kiss. I think you’ve been really nice to me tonight and you deserve a reward for it.”

Harry's heart rate quickened at her words. He had been holding himself back for days, respecting the desire to go as slow as she needed to go. But now, hearing her actually say that she wanted him to kiss her was like a dream. Hands cupped her face, gently tilting it up to look at him. His eyes were darkened with a mixture of desire and affection as he looked down at her pretty face. "I think you're right." He murmured, his voice husky as he took the time to observe her the way he wanted.

Harry's thumb brushed across her lower lip, his touch gentle and yet solid. He had been craving the feeling of her lips against his, and now that it was about to happen, he could barely contain himself. The man had been so good, and now he was getting exactly what he needed. Good things came to people who wait, he was finding out.

It was slow as he leaned in, closing the distance between them. His lips found hers in a soft, slow kiss. It was gentle, tentative at first, as if he were afraid of going too fast and scaring her off. But as she responded, he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into her sweet mouth to taste her the way he’d been desperate for.

Her response was all the encouragement Harry needed to let go of his restraint.

His tongue explored her, tangling with hers in a passionate kiss. He wanted more, needed more, and the feel of her perfect body pressed against his was driving him wild. It was something he’d been essentially edged on after the memory of how perfect it had been the first time, and it brought him right back. He shifted, pulling her up so that she was straddling him so he could have better access to those lips he’d been daydreaming about.

“Is this okay?” He paused to ask her, panting against her lips. “You’re alright?”

“Mhm.” She nodded with her eyes still closed, her nose brushing against his. “I’m so good. Keep kissing me.” The manhandling had made her want to scream in the best way. He’d handled her like a doll, and she loved every single second. For someone who was so loving of control in her life, it felt incredible to let him take the lead. Let him physically move her where he wanted, kiss her how he craved.

Sure, she knew they should probably be slower. Warm up, show more restraint, but she didn’t want to. She wanted him to kiss her like he wanted to. While he had been edged- so had she.

With confirmation, he captured her lips in another deep kiss, his tongue sliding against hers as he devoured her. It was clear that he wanted her. He wanted her so badly it was almost painful.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly on accident. She went to apologize, but there was quickly shown there to be no need. The response had been him letting out a low groan against her mouth, a surprise reaction. He’d liked his hair played with, but she’d not expected the hair pulling thing with him.

Harry was lost in the feel of her lips against his, that softness of her body pressed flush against his chest. But as soon as she pulled on his hair, the sensation sent a bolt of pleasure through his body. He let out a low groan, his hands flexing on her. He hadn't expected to love the feeling of fingers tangled in his hair so much, but there was something about it that had him feeling desperate for another taste.

"Do that again." he growled, the words low and needy. “Tug.”

Y/N needed no second command, repeating the action and feeling her tummy heat up as she watched his head fall back, face paint with pleasure as she tightened her grip. It was hot, so hot that she knew that she wanted to keep seeing him like this. “Yeah?” She whispered, letting her other hand run her nails over his scalp. “You like that?”

Another low moan fell from Harry's lips as she repeated the action, his head falling back against the couch and his eyes fluttering shut. He loved the way she was teasing him, the momentary spark of pain her fingers tugging in his hair sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. "God, yes." he hissed, his voice dark and rough. "Keep doin’ that."

Harry's body shuddered as she continued to tease, his hands gripping her hips as he pulled her against him. The sensation of her touch was driving him wild, and he let out another low moan. His body was taut with tension, and he was clearly struggling to keep himself contained. “Fuck, baby.”

Y/N knew she was the one who said they had to behave, but that was before this. Before she was reminded how good he could kiss, how good his hands felt on her body, how gorgeous he was when she made him feel good.

Why had she wanted slow again?

Her poor core ached and she could feel him thickening underneath her, so she decided to give them both a little relief. Rolling her hips, she rubbed herself against the hardness that had grown obvious underneath her, lips pressing over his jaw as she continued tugging his hair.

Harry's eyes darkened as she rolled her hips against him. He couldn't help but push back against her, trying to get more friction. The man let out a low moan as she continued to rub herself against him, the lips on the sensitive spot on his neck, the feeling driving him wild. "God, you're driving me insane." he growled, his voice thick with desire. He tilted his head back, giving her better access to his throat. "Don't stop."

Letting out another low groan in his throat as she continued to roll her hips against him, he watched as she rubbed herself against his thickening length. “Fuck, that feels so good.” He urged, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he lifted his hips up to meet her own.

Harry was beautiful like this. Head tilted back against the couch, hands on her hips as he guided her against his thickening cock, the rocking nudging her clit each time through her thin leggings.

“Harry…” she whispered. “I know I said we should go slow… but this feels so good.” Her forehead pressed against his as she breathed him in, feeling his cock twitch under her.

The man groaned in agreement, his hips grinding up to meet hers as she rolled them against him.” I know what you mean…” he panted, his breathing heavy as he felt her clit through the thin fabric of her leggings. "I jus’ don't want to rush this..."

“Me either, but…” Pressing herself down harder, she let out a weak gasp, feeling all of her mental walls start to crumble. Part of her briefly wondered if she’d regret going past this, but she knew she wouldn’t. Harry had been proving himself time and time again as the days had gone on, never once complaining seriously about the speed she had asked to go… and their sex prior had been so good it was coming back in waves every time she thought about it. “God, I missed you touching me like this.”

He moaned at the feeling of her grinding down against him harder, the feeling almost too much to handle. "You were the one who wanted to take things slow... but fuck, you're making it so hard." he groaned, thrusting up against her as she mentioned missing his touch.

"Fuck, you're so hot..." he laughed under his breath as he continued to rock his hips up against hers, the friction from the movement starting to become unbearable. It felt too good, and he knew if he didn’t stop he could easily orgasm just like this.

It was when her hands tugged at his hair again, he finally lost the battle. Self control slipping, a loud groan escaped his lips as he thrust up against her, the movement causing their clothing to bunch up between them a little. "Fuck, baby… Please, like that. Kiss me" He cursed out, lips connecting with hers again.

Y/N let out a weak moan, let him move her on top of him. Their clothing was evil, she thinks. Evil and downright rude for keeping her from feeling him completely. The notion of slow, the mere thought of getting off of his lap had her whimpering into his mouth, grinding back against him the best she could. “You’re in control. It’s your turn.” she whispered. “I trust you.”

The words "I trust you" sent a surge of power through Harry. He felt like he had conquered something he’d been yearning after for ages, and finally getting the permission to show her just how much he wanted her. Gently pushing her back, he broke the kiss to look at her. His eyes were filled with adoration as he spoke. "Good girl... Y’can always trust me."

With a gentle smile, Harry carefully moved, lifting Y/N with him in his arms, laughing at the squeak of surprise as he shifted her on his lap, smoothing out her hair as he looked at her. "How far do you want this to go?” His cock was throbbing with need, but he wanted a limit before he indulged.

“All the way. Everything.” Y/N knew what she said, she knew she had been the one to pause all physical things between them but just a singular taste had reminded her of the immense chemistry between them. It was no wonder they had such an intense relationship before- even if it was negative. Passion had always been there- it just needed to be channeled a different way. “You can touch me however you want. I need it.” Her hand reached for his wrist. “Need you.”

Harry's heart skipped a beat at her words. He was drowning in desire for her- it would be a pleasant death. Slowly he let his his hand wrap around her wrist and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles softly before speaking "Okay, Angel... I'll give you everything you need."

With a hand curled around her waist, he whispered in her ear, "This gonna be a fuckin' experience." He took her mouth in a deep kiss, tongue sliding against hers.

With her hand in his, he helped her move from her position to sit higher on top of him, groaning at the view he had been blessed with. Her little crop top exposing her tummy, leggings clinging to her legs, he couldn’t get enough. His hand settled on her waist as a slow smirk stretched across his lips. Looking her over, he let out a sigh, nose brushing against hers as he got closer. "Fuck, you're gorgeous, baby. M’gonna have so much fun with you ..."

Harry’s hands slipped further up her top, letting their breathing mingle as he approached her ribs- only to find the lack of bra. He’d been unsure if it was just a thin one, having seen her nipples hardened against the cotton, but it was abundantly clear that she had forgone the undergarment entirely.

Letting out a ragged breath, he couldn't help himself as he explored the lack of bra with his own hands. "Fuck, baby... no bra today?" His fingers grazed against the nipples, eliciting a soft gasp from her. He wanted more.

“No.” She whispered, breathing quickening as he brushed his thumbs rubbed back and forth over the hardened buds. It was surprising considering she wasn’t usually very sensitive with them, but something about the way he was touching them… maybe just him in general. it had her feeling hot, itching to get it off. “Take it off. please.”

Harry could feel her body temperature rising, heating up as he played with the nipples. It was unreal, finally getting to touch her again. The way she pleaded for it had his dick twitching in his pants, anticipation running through him. He took a deep breath, the words “please” leaving her lips had him inching his fingers up her sides before he hooked them in the soft blue fabric. Carefully, he trailed them up, past her ribs and up and over her tits before tugging onto the fabric and pulling it over her head, exposing her chest for his eager, hungry eyes.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of her bare tits, the soft, smooth skin and the hardened nipples standing out. They were beautiful. There was no hesitation as he cupped them into his hands, letting out a shaky sigh at the feel of them. It was even better than his memory of them. He loved how they fit perfectly in his palms and how they bounced when he moved them…. They were exactly what he wanted.

“Do you like them?” Y/N could tell he did just by how he was staring, almost like he was in pain- But she wanted to hear it from him. His hands cupping them, warm and large, she ached for more. For his mouth, for him to play with her nipples, something. Anything. “Don’t know if you remembered them from last time…”

Harry's hands gently squeezed around her tits, his thumbs rubbing over the nipples in a slow, maddening circle. "I remember every fucking detail, baby," He whispered, his voice husky with desire. "These perfect tits, how they fit in my hands, how they look when you move f’me..."

Without warning, he lowered his head and suckled her right nipple into his mouth, the sensation enough to make her cry out, before letting go with a soft ‘pop’. "You taste so damn good, everywhere." His voice vibrated against her skin, barely pulling back.. Harry's mouth wrapped around her nipple again, his tongue swirling around it in circles before he suckled harder, his cheeks hollowing out as he pulled on the sensitive bud. He released it with a satisfied hum and moved to her other nipple, giving it the same treatment, his fingers tweaking and rolling the other one.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N dragged out the curse, fingers returning to his hair as she sat up in his lap to give him better access to her. It hadn’t felt this good before, a new sensation to her as she pulled him in slightly into her plush chest. “That feels so fucking good.”

Harry groaned at the feeling of her soft tits pressed against his face, her fingers threading through his hair and pulling him closer. "Glad you like it," he said, before returning his attention to her nipple, sucking on it with more fervor this time.

Harry's hands were in constant motion, squeezing and massaging her breasts and teasing her nipples between his fingers. He was worshiping them, showing her just how much he loved them and how much he had missed them.

The man was honestly in heaven as he worshiped her tits, his tongue tracing the outline of her breast and his fingers tweaking and pinching her nipples. He couldn't get enough of them and he could spend hours just loving on them, but he knew they had other things to do. He would very much ensure he had hours dedicated just to her breasts later on down the line.

“Shit, baby.” Harry whispered against her skin, kissing up her clavicle. “You are perfect… but I know you need some more from me. Don’t you?” Fingers slipped down between them, cupping her poor, hot cunt through her leggings. “Oh.. my poor baby. S’aching, isn’t it?” Harry's cock throbbed as he kissed his way up her neck, his fingers teasing her through her leggings. He knew she needed some release and he was going to be the one to give it to her. "Do you want me to take these off, princess?"

“Yeah.” She mewled, rocking her hips against his hand. it was firm and his grip was solid, oddly arousing for her as he shifted his other hand from her breast to the waistband of her leggings. Taking the hint when he patted her hip, she stood in front of him to let him take them off. “Do it.”

Harry grinned at her eagerness and wasted no time sliding her leggings down her legs, revealing her bare, soaking wet pussy. "Fuck, Me," he growled, taking in the sight of her. “Jesus… did you just say ‘fuck it’ to all your underwear?” The minx wasn’t wearing panties, either. “Planned on doing this to me? Makin’ me lose my damn head and wanted me t’get my hands on this perfect cunt?”

Chuckling at her coy little smile in response, he got his answer. Of fucking course, she did. "I personally didn't plan on this happening, but I'm not complaining." He leaned in and kissed her tummy, his hands roaming her body. He broke the string of kiss and whispered against her silky skin. "You're perfect. Don’t think I can say it enough."

He took her in his arms again, his hard cock pressing against her bare wetness. Carefully, he lifted her off the ground and adjusted her to lay on the sofa, spreading her thighs out for him to get a good look at the glistening cunt he was about to get his hands on again.. His mouth nearly watered as he took her in, the slick little slit and groomed thatch of hair on her mouth. “Mm… I like this.” He ran his fingers over it.

“Harry.” Y/N whimpered, desperation coating the word. Making him wait hadn’t just effected him- no. She had edged herself, too. She was just as desperate for him to touch her, devour her with his mouth like he did so liberally with his eyes. “Please…”

“So polite.” He crooned, nose running over her mound. “Since y’have manners… let me take a taste of this.” With a low, hum of appreciation Harry’s head dipped fully between her thighs. He let out hot breaths against her folds before using his thumbs to spread her open. His tongue flicked out and lapped at her clit, making Y/N’s hips buck off the sofa with the sudden pleasure. Harry laughed against her wet heat but didn’t stop- He had only just gotten started. He lavished her cunt, worshiping every inch as if it was a religious experience.

Harry’s tongue flicked out, tracing her clit with a gentle touch before he sucked it into his mouth. Y/N couldn't help the way she moaned as his suction intensified, making her slowly grind her hips up against his face. She was making a mess of him, but he didn’t seem to mind at all. Even more so, he hummed happily against her clit, the sound of soft sucking filling the room. He was being gentle with it, but there was no doubt of who was running this show.

Harry spread her thighs even wider, baring the sweetest part of Y/N to his hungry mouth and roaming eyes as he began to properly eat her out. His tongue lapped at the plump glands of her labia, lathering the delicate skin with heavy strokes. His eyes were almost glazed over with his own pleasure, as if eating her out was a euphoria in itself. When he switched to sucking at her clit again, it was with even more vigor, and his tongue sucked and darted messily against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

Y/N's back arched off the sofa, her fingers tangled in Harry's hair as she held him against her throbbing cunt. She was making the whiniest, most desperate sounds as she rode his face, her juices dripping down his chin and neck as he sucked and licked at her clit with reckless abandon.

Her eyes rolled back in pleasure, her head thrown back as she moaned so loud she would be embarrassed if she was in her right mind and not in the depths of being licked out better than she had ever experienced. Her entire body trembled with need, hips bucking wildly as Harry continued his onslaught of wet and sloppy kisses all over her clit. The man looked up at her, his face drenched in her with pure lust in his eyes, his chin all wet and shiny and dripping. “You’re so beautiful.” he mumbled, swiping his tongue across his lips to taste her.

She couldn’t help it. Y/N reached for his face, pulling him up to kiss him. She didn’t care about the mess, tasting herself on him, anything- she just needed the intimacy.

Harry happily obliged her, kissing her back with messy passion, sliding his tongue into her mouth to mingle their tastes. His wet cunt-soaked fingers trailed down her body and slipped between her thighs, slipping one inside of her entrance. Gently, he thrust his finger inside her, loving the way she moaned against his lips, still fucking her needy pussy with slow, steady strokes as he kissed her.

Harry pulled back slightly, plunged another finger into her wet, molten heat, and watched with rapt attention as she cried out, bucking her hips hungrily. Every single moment of this was a fantasy come to life. He hooked his finger upwards, finding her spot, swollen and tender with need for attention. “There you go, sweetheart. Work that pussy on my fingers.”

Y/N laughed in disbelief. Why had she waited for this? Her own fingers had absolutely nothing on him. His were thicker, longer, reaching where she couldn’t. In any other scenario, she’d be embarrassed by the squelching, how wet he was getting her, but from the pride on his face she really couldn’t.

Harry smirked as she writhed, hips moving into his hand as she whined against his mouth.. He knew he was good, but he didn’t realize how much different this would feel with someone he actually liked- someone he cared about. He loved how she moaned, gasping, how her cheeks got deliciously hot. When he took his hand away, he was surprised as she released a disappointed whine.

“No…” She pleaded. “I was so close.”

Harry shook his head, pulling away from the kiss. He was still fully clothed, and he didn’t like it. “No, no, baby- I want you to be close when you cum for me.” He murmured against her lips before sitting back further and stripping down completely. Dragging his shirt over his head, he smirked as she looked over his tattooed torso. “Waited for this, m’not gonna have you cumming unless its around my cock.”

Her mouth dropped open slightly, as she watched him strip. He was so much more than she imagined in all the right ways. The way his muscles rippled, the way his tattoos peeked out with intricate pictures and patterns, swirling and dancing across every part of him. Of course she had seen him before, she knew he was attractive, but with all her walls down and her attraction for him now in the open, she was seeing him for the first time unfiltered.

Their last hookup had been quick, mostly clothing on, so this was new. She’d seen his arms, she had glimpses of his tattoos from those slutty shirts he wore barely buttoned, but seeing it in all its glory was incredible. The tattoos that decorated his hips, leading towards his groomed pubic hair and base of his cock as he slowly pulled the shorts down- god, he was gorgeous.

He didn’t miss her observations at all.

Harry smirked, knowing exactly where her eyes had landed. “See somethin’ you like, baby?” He questioned, letting his shorts fall to the floor completely, leaving him fully nude in front of her. His cock was already straining towards her. It cock was long and thick, with a girth that made it look almost intimidating. None of her toys were as big as him, that was for sure. She could recall how stretched she had felt last time, but seeing it in the light had her mouth watering. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to take it, but she was going to try.

She could see every vein in his shaft, pulsating from the tip to the base. The head was slightly flushed, a bead of precum already forming at the tip. Never had she considered a dick pretty before, but there was a first time for everything. Her eyes traveled upwards along every crevice of his toned core as she drank him in. Harry truly was gorgeous. “Love when you look at me like that, sweet girl.” Holding it in his hand, he gave the base a squeeze while his other hand stroked over the top of her head, smoothing out her hair. “Why don’t you give it a kiss, hm? You’ve been thinking about it. haven’t you?”

Harry let out a hum at her small ‘yes’ taking it as his sign to move forward. He took a small step closer to her, tapping the tip against her lips, smearing a little of his precum onto them. He chuckled, moving his hand to the back of her head and gripping her hair to tilt her head back.

Her breath stuttered, her lips parting slightly as she felt the precum smearing over her lips. Rubbing her thighs together to try and soothe the ache between them, she felt herself get hotter as he moved the tip of his cock over her lips. Ever so gently, her lips puckered and pressed to the tip. A soft kiss to his aching length, followed by another, and another, slowly trailing down as her eyes stayed on his face.

Harry's head rolled back momentarily at the gentle touch, his grip on her hair tightening slightly as he watched her kiss the tip of his cock like it was the most precious thing in the world. He let out a shaky breath, his other hand coming up to gently stroke her cheek as she kissed down his length.

“Like this?” she murmured against him, leading her kisses down to the base of his prick. “Is this what you like, H?”

"Fuck, yes," Harry groaned, his voice strained. "Just like that, princess. Keep kissing it like that. So sweet t’me." He looked down at her, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and adoration as she peppered kisses along his shaft. He couldn't believe how fucking good she was being. It was rewarding to have gone from her sneering and snapping at him to finally having the sweet girl he knew laid underneath that thick skin come to the surface for him. To have her trust this way, to have her eager to please him… it was a gift in and of itself.

Gently guiding her head back up to the tip, his precum starting to leak out and drip onto her lips. "Open your mouth, my good girl." He gently pushed the tip past her lips, the precum smearing her her lips again to make the prettiest picture imaginable. As he pushed further, he made sure to go slow, giving her time to adjust to the size. He watched in awe as her lips stretched around his girth, his heart racing with anticipation.

She didn’t stop him, hands settling on the back of his thighs as she urged him to continue. He continued to push his cock deeper into her mouth, the tip of it hitting the back of her throat. His grip on her hair tightened slightly as he took control of the pace. He could feel her gagging a little, but she didn't try to pull away. “S’that okay, baby?” He checked on her, slowly inching himself back. “Gotta tap my thigh if y’need me to stop, okay? Don't want to hurt you, yeah?”

“Mhm.” She nodded her head, catching her breath. Giving head usually wasn’t one of her favorite things but this… giving Harry head? It was actually nice. The weight of him on her tongue and his affection as he guided himself in, she felt appreciated. Yeah, it was a struggle- her jaw was going to ache- but it was going to be a reminder to her of how good she had made him feel.

He smiled at her reaction, his thumb brushing against her cheek one more time as he pushed back in slightly. “Good.” He praised, watching as she swallowed him down again. The way she gave into him was satisfying on a whole other level. “I know it’s big, but you’re doing perfect.”

Her hot mouth was a perfect fit for his thick cock. He was kicking himself for not getting his shit together earlier. He could have had her for much longer. Granted, all it took was one hook up for him to get his ass in gear. She was powerful that way.

She sucked on him eagerly, her lips wrapping around his girth and her tongue swirling around the head as she got into it on the pull back. It was something else, feeling her true desire for him put into physical action. The sound of her sucking and slurping filled the room, making Harry's eyes roll back in his head.

She felt so incredibly wet, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was staining the sofa. Harry's cock was making her drool in the best way. While she had her fears about being able to take it, his thick cock was a welcomed challenge, touching new spots in her throat. Enjoying giving head was still a new sensation, but seeing him throw his head back and hiss between his teeth as she let herself gag around him was even more arousing than she could have ever anticipated.

His reactions were everything she could have asked for and more. The way his eyes would roll back in his head, the way his breath would hitch in his throat, the way he would grunt and curse under his breath. It was all so fucking hot. She loved seeing him lose control like this, loved knowing that she was the one causing it. “Shit.” He grunted, watching her take him down the best she could. “Baby… it’s time to pull off. I need t’be inside of you.”

With a groan, he reached down to push her off, his cock soon popping out with a lewd trail of saliva and precum connecting from him to her lips. Her tongue stayed out, laying flat as he looked down at her with furrowed brows, lightly tapping the slick tip against the pink. “You are so fucking filthy, baby. Never expected this out of you.”

“I have a lot more where that came from.” Her grin was sly, spit dribbled down her chin as he pulled his cock away from her face. Her poor cunt was dripping, aching, desperate. The man had already edged her, and she needed him inside of her in a primal way. “Where do you want me?”

He chuckled darkly, his eyes raking over her soaked face and hair before landing on her needy cunt. “Laid back on the fucking couch, legs spread wide. I want to see that pretty little pussy of yours while I stretch you open.” His thumb brushed some of the spit from her chin, helping her up as she shakily laid herself down onto the cushions.

Panting heavily, he settled between her wide spread thighs, one hand supporting his weight while the other gripped his cock. He gave it a few strokes, eyes never leaving her cunt as he spat into his palm then coated himself in it.

His cock was a beautiful sight, thick and long with a prominent vein running along the underside as it laid against her swollen cunt. He gave it a few more pumps, smacking the fat head against her clit with a lewd smack. "Fuck, look at that, baby. My cock, against your little pussy. S’right where it should be, isn’t it?”

“Mhm.” Her eyes hooded, she looked like the picture of eroticism that he’d not anticipated. It blew his expectations out of the watch, seeing how beautiful she looked splayed out underneath him.

“I’m sorry for making you wait.”

He snorted, giving his cock another few pumps before guiding the tip against her soaked entrance. "Shut up, baby. You don’t have t’be sorry. I know what this means to you… and I hope you know it means the same to me.” His soft voice took on an edge, though, as his smirk turned mischievous. “I’d have waited as long as it took, But M’sure we’re gonna make up for lost time. aren’t we?”

“Yeah…” She nodded, feeling his body as he leaned over her. She felt safe, even with his taunt. Honestly? The safest she had ever felt during something like this. More eager than overthinking, that’s how she knew this was perfect- That she was making the right decision.

Grinning, he gave her a little squeeze before giving it to her. Harry slowly pushed his cock forward, inch by inch, until it was seated completely inside her. He hissed out a breath, pausing so he could gather his bearings before he started moving, the both of them perfectly still as he rested his forehead against hers.

Harry took his time with as he gave her a kiss, savoring it. It was slow and laced with the passion he’d been keeping under wraps, his lips pressed against hers gently but firmly, opening up to her tentatively before delving in completely. He could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly as she panted, feeling the same desperate need he did. Once he broke the kiss, he brushed her sweaty hair away from her face, beaming down at her and humming in pleasure to get her taste on his lips. "My god, you're perfect.” he praised, his voice husky and soft, full of awe.

"It was worth the wait.” He whispered, his eyes shining as he gazed at her. He leaned in to press another tender kiss to her lips before pulling back slightly to look at her again. “You're so fucking beautiful when you're waiting for me, good girl."

“Harry…” She pleaded, nails lightly digging into his shoulder as he ground himself into her, not yet thrusting. “I’m so full.” His cock filled her up to the brim in the best way possible.

Harry's breath caught as her nails lightly dug into his shoulder, making his cock twitch inside of her. He pressed a kiss to her neck and sighed in contentment. "I know, sweet girl," he murmured against her skin. “Do y’need some more?”

“Please. I can take it, I promise.” It was a need, now. Her cunt clenched around him, not fully adjusted but she didn’t care in the slightest. All she wanted was to feel him thrusting inside of her. Giving her what they both had been craving, the thing she had been holding them back from. All gloves were off now, and she wanted to feel every bit of it.

Harry groaned at her pleading, his hips moving of their own accord as he slowly began to thrust into her, each movement calculated as he started to claim her cunt as his own. He set a slow, steady pace, giving her what she needed as he looked down at her with hungry eyes. "I've been waiting for this for so fucking long, Y/N," Harry told her softly, his breath hot against her skin. His eyes searched hers, affection and pure desire shining in his gaze as he gave her exactly what she needed: him. “Longer than you even know. That one time?” He shook his head. “Just that taste was enough t’make me want to change my whole life. Wanted t’have all of you, all the time.”

He continued to thrust into her, each movement sending waves of pleasure through both of them. "Every day since then, I've thought about you, dreamed about you," he confessed, his voice trembling with emotion. "Wanted to be inside you so badly, to feel your tight little cunt squeezing my cock. Get as close as I could possibly be."

As he spoke, he picked up his pace slightly, his thrusts becoming a bit more urgent. "I've wanted to fuck you in every room of this house, in every bar, at every party- fuck, even the in the store, I wanted you. You don’t even know… Baby, look what you’re doing to me.” He growled, his hips moving deep and thorough against hers now.

Y/N looked up at him with hazy, lust-filled eyes, her mouth parted slightly as she panted for air. Her nails dug into his back as he continued to thrust into her, her body completely at his mercy as he took what he wanted from her.

As he fucked her, Harry's body was a beautiful mess of muscles and tattoos. His dark curly hair stuck to his sweaty forehead in messy strands as he rutted into her, hips moving with an enthusiasm that showed on his face. Harry's eyes were bright with pleasure - the same pleasure he was taking from Y/N. He could be so obnoxious and pushed the buttons outside the bedroom, but as he fucked her he was raw and unfiltered, all hard lines and moans and whispers of dirty words.

He whispered filthy praises into her ear as he fucked her, his hot breath making her shiver. "You're so fucking good for me. So fucking perfect. My sweet girl taking my big cock so well. You were made for me, weren't you?" His nose brushed her damp skin tenderly. As his words got sweeter, Harry's hand slid up her neck to gently wrap around it, never squeezing- just lightly putting pressure on her. It was a reminder of who owned her in this moment - and the words that followed only reinforced that fact. "Good girl for me. So fucking perfect."

Y/N's reaction was one of pure bliss. Her eyes rolled back in her head as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear and gently wrapped his hand around her throat. She felt so delicate and safe in his arms, completely at his mercy as he fucked her and praised her. being fucked by him was the best she had ever had. His cock was thick and heavy, stretching her cunt to its limits as he fucked her. The head of his dick pressed against her most sensitive spot with every thrust, making her see stars. She could feel every ridge and vein as he moved in and out of her, the culmination of it all driving her mad.

She needed more. Falling into the primal headspace, the pleasure overwhelming her, she pleaded for more. “H-Harder.” she said breathlessly. “Give it to me, H.”

Harry's grip on her throat tightened slightly, his other hand reaching down to grip her hip and pull her onto his cock harder. He slammed into her, his balls slapping against her ass with loud smacks. "Fuck, you want it harder? You want my cock wrecking this perfect cunt?" His grin was slightly feral, something she had experienced during their hookup. This was the familiar part, his roughness. “Want me t’own it, baby?”

“Yes.” It came out as a squeak, hand holding his wrist as it held her firmly. “It’s yours. M’all yours.”

Who was he to say no when she asked so nicely?

Harry's thrusts became harder at her plea, his hips pounding into hers as he watched her tits bounce with every slam. He could see her hands gripping the couch, her head thrown back in pleasure. This was all he could have asked for. "Say it again..." He growled, his own body losing control.

“I wanna be yours. I wanna-“ Her eyes watered as she felt her orgasm cresting, building as he tightened his fingers at the spots on her throat to give her that head rush. Doing his best to give her what she wanted.

His fingers tightened at her throat, cutting off some oxygen as he felt her cunt clenching around him, a sign she was close to cumming. He kept his pace, the slick sloppy sound of her cunt getting fucked fueling him on. "Cum for me, baby." he crooned. “Give it t’me, my girl. show me.”

Her orgasm was a slow burn that started at her toes, creeping up her body until it took hold of her senses. Her hands gripped the couch so tightly her knuckles turned white. She tightened around his cock, her walls milking him as her pleasure washed over her. It started hot, making her legs quiver uncontrollably. She could feel herself tightening around his cock, her walls contracting and releasing around him repeatedly as he kept thrusting into her in a hard rhythm.

As she rode out her orgasm, Harry praised her nonstop, his words a steady stream of affectionate praises. It’s what she deserved, only the best. "Fuck, you're so fucking tight when you cum. Look at you, trembling for me, my good girl. You're so perfect, baby. So fucking perfect." His lips connected to hers, the thick, deep thrusts continuing. “Do you think you can give me another one? Hm?”

Y/N's reaction was one of complete surrender. She was giving herself over to him, finally giving in to her innermost desires. The ones she had been holding off for far too long as he proved he truly wanted her. She couldn't speak, could only manage to nod her head frantically as Harry asked if she could give him another one.

As she came down from her intense orgasm, Harry took a second to appreciate the beautiful sight before him. Her cunt was a perfect mix of them, soaking wet and clenching his cock tightly in a few different places as aftershocks of pleasure ran through her body. Her folds were puffy and shiny wet, swollen from the rough use and deep fucking he had given her. A mixture of their juices covered the length of his shaft as he continued to look down at their connection.

Harry could feel his own orgasm building, his balls tightening and his cock pulsing with each thrust. But he knew he couldn't let himself cum yet, not until he had her reaching another orgasm first. He needed to make sure she was completely spent before he allowed himself the release he so desperately craved.

His thumb found her swollen clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles as he continued to pound into her. The little nub was throbbing under his touch, desperate for attention. He rubbed roughly, applying just the right amount of pressure to make her see stars. “C’mon, my baby. Give it t’me. Was mean and took one away before, I know… let me give you another one before I cum.”

“Harry, Harry-“ she didn’t get a break. from her orgasm he was hell bent on getting her there a second time. The thrusts were hard and his thumb rubbing at her clit, her sensitive cunt couldn’t take much more. “M’gonna… again.” she babbled. “S’almost there. it’s, I love it. Love it, Harry.” She rambled, pleasure overwhelming her.

“That’s it, princess. Let it happen. I wanna feel you come apart on my cock again.” Harry cooed, his own orgasm right behind hers. He rubbed her clit mercilessly, his thumb moving in lightning fast circles as he fucked deep. Give it t’me again, you can do it.”

Y/N’s whole body tensed again, shaking and trembling as a second, even more intense orgasm hit her. Truly, she wasn’t sure her first had ever stopped. She cried out, her back arching off the bed, her nails digging into Harry’s back.

Harry's orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, his balls drawing up tight as he pulled out of her and painted her swollen cunt in hot ropes of pearly cum. He shot ribbon after ribbon all over her pussy, coating her lips, her clit, and the sensitive folds inside. It dripped down her thighs, pooling on the fabric beneath her. They’d need to get that professionally cleaned, but it didn’t matter. Harry pumped his hips forward into his hand, ensuring every last drop of his load covered her. “Fuck… shit, baby.” he keened, milking every drop out of his cock as his mouth stayed slack, breathing fast. Her body laid limp, gaze lulled at she looked up at him, taking every bit he fave her. Her eyes were glazed over, her breath coming in soft pants as she looked down at the mess Harry had made of her. She could feel the warm, sticky cum coating her folds, dripping down her, making a mess that she hadn’t fully anticipated. It was so much, more than she had ever seen before. She should’ve known- everything with him was.

As soon as he finished, Harry immediately moved to gather her into his arms, holding her close and whispering praise and affection into her hair. "You are incredible. So fucking good. Look at what a mess I made of you." he cooed, brushing the sweaty hair from her forehead. it didn’t matter that they were sticky with sweat, he was going to tend to her.

Maybe it was a bit much, but she whined slightly. The empty feeling… it wasn’t what she wanted. “Back inside. please.” She peeped. Harry lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist as he settled back, snug inside her. He took a sharp breath as his softening prick giving a weak twitch while the warmth enveloped him. "You are so fucking good to me, so beautiful. I want to worship you, make you feel so good.. You have no idea." He murmured, kissing her gently.

With her sitting on his lap, Harry's arms wrapped around her, holding her close to him, his hands gently caressing her back and hips. He was so tender with her, almost reverent in the way he touched her, as if she were something precious that could break at any moment.

Gentle words were whispered to her, letting their heart rates calm. It didn’t matter that they were a mess, that they needed to clean up, that they were sweaty and sticky. Y/N felt the most satiated she had ever experienced, safe and warm in his arms as he rubbed her back and caressed her cheek, like he couldn’t get enough of her. Couldn’t get close enough.

"You are so perfect, you know that? So fucking beautiful," He whispered, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek and down her jaw. The skin was hot to the touch from how flushed her face was from the sex, but it was another reminder that it was real- this had actually happened. He couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the way she looked at him, like he was everything to her in this moment. Especially after how far they’d shifted from their original dynamic.

There was one other question, though, that he needed to know the answer to. He hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest as he contemplated the question. He wanted to be her boyfriend so badly, to have her by his side. She said she didn’t want hookups and he’d been working to gain her trust, to show her he wanted more. Hopefully he had proven it enough for her to give it a shot. "Baby... Can I be your boyfriend? Like, officially?" He swallowed, approaching the subject with a gentle caution. It wasn’t like he didn’t know why she had made them wait for this- reflecting back, he had been a prick and didn’t give her any reason to believe he was being serious. But since he’d committed to proving how much he actually wanted her, he could only hope she would understand just how serious he was. “I know m’still proving myself to you, and I understand… but if I can’t call you mine for another day, I think M’gonna lose it.”

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as he asked. She looked at him, really looked at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, hearing the vulnerability in his voice. She felt the warmth spread through her chest, a feeling of safety and happiness that she had never experienced before. Even though she had been so hesitant about it before, she could feel his change. Had seen it first hand by how he had treated her, how he’d committed to doing everything she’d asked while still showing his personality to her. There had been no sign he had tried to deceive her since asking for this chance, and she couldn’t deny him. She knew he was being genuine and he had done everything he could to give her peace of mind. It was clear that she’d misjudged him in the past, because he was one of the best people she’d grown to know.

“I think we can make that happen.”

The moment she said yes, Harry felt like he was floating on cloud nine. Wrapping his arms around her tightly, he held her close as he buried his face in her hair. "Really?" he whispered as he pulled back to look at her. "Really, really?" He couldn't stop the goofy grin that spread across his face as she confirmed it, nodding her head. He laughed in pure joy, giving her a playful nudge. "Good girl, you said yeah."

“Oh, shut up.” She groaned, giving his shoulder a push. “I can take it back.” She wouldn’t, though. Y/N was far too happy In the moment. Maybe it was the orgasm, the endorphins, the high of being asked to be a girlfriend, but this could be the start of something new coming to fruition. Something she’d pushed away and he’d diligently worked for.

Harry's eyes widened as he fell back into the couch. "No way you're taking it back!" He scoffed grabbing her hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing the back of each one of her fingers softly before letting go. “Worked too hard for you, miss. You’re mine now. No take backs.”

[on-the-clear-blue]

Dead Man's Diner pt 4

"THOSE FUCKING BITCHES SAM!" Danny shouted as he stormed into his apartment, slinging his backpack off by the door as he toes his shoes off.

Rounding the corner of the hallway, Danny was met with Tucker, shirtless with only a pair of plaid boxers on, staring at him with sleep glazed eyes, he had a box of cereal in one hand, and a bottle of oat milk in the other, raising the bottle in a salute, Tucker stuffed a handful of cereal into his mouth before taking a swig of the milk, holding up a hand to stop Danny from speaking as he chewed, only letting his hand fall before he spoke.

"What?"

"The Bats are fucking assholes!"

Tucker looked back at the bottle of oat milk, sighed and placed it back in the refrigerator, chucking the box of cereal on the counter, Tucker grabbed Danny by the shoulders.

"Of course they are Jerks Danny..." his grip tightened as he started to shake the Halfa, "I have ten deadlines and 5 missed calls, I really want to geek out right now about you meeting the local heroes but I really don't have the time, so yes, jerks, tell me about it later okay?"

Danny phased through the tough grip on his shoulders, letting out a giggle as he watched Tucker fumble as he no longer had someone to help steady himself, "I did yell specifically for Sam, Tuck so you can't get mad at me! Go huant the Wanyetech building, I know for sure those dudes are way more dead inside than I am!"

Getting a groan from his friend at his dead pun, Danny continued into the apartment, snatching Tuckers cereal box off the counter as he went to sit in the living room.

Spotting Sam typing something on a lap top, her big over the ear headphones blaring as he flops down next to her, which thankfully was enough for her to notice him.

Offering g the box of cereal to her, she sent him a tired smile as she slipped the head phones off and took some of the fruit flavored rings, "Hey there Deadstuff...how was work?"

Danny sent her a grin, "Well, Clocky decided to throw me a bone and I think I got this? He is a little bitch boy that sends me all over the place but this time it was a dined, Lunch Lady taught me how to cook." Pasuing to stuff a new handful of tasty fruity goodness, Danny spoke around the cereal in his mouth "Cookin' ish so much more cool when da food isn't trying to kill you"

Slapping Danny's arm as she rolled her "Don't eat with your mind full and tell me what got you so riled up" Sliding her laptop of her self she tucked her knees up before stretching them out over Danny, who was already going off on his story.

"Wait wait! You had Nightwing in you're restaurant and you didn't get me an autograph?" Same shot Danny a scowl, who at least had the decency to look sorry

"I was going to but they fucking dined and dashed Sam! Even when I was actively Phantom, I never, ever just left a bill!"

---

Dick knew that perhaps eating the food was a slightly bad idea, given the look B gave them when him and Tim pulled into the Cave.

He was standing there, arms crossed, thankfully cowl down, what made the sight infinitely less intimidating was Damian doing the same next to him, his head tilted to look down at them and perhaps standing on his tittpy toes a little bit.

Dick wanted to coo at the father son bonding, but remembered he had to act at least a little chastised at the moment "Yes I am sorry B, It was my decision to head in, there was no outward danger so we just took a chance."

Wincing at the gruff grunt he got from that Dick powered on, "I will write a more detailed report, but personally if anything wrong it's likely that the kid working there is Meta? I dont-"

"He can't be meta! He is very clearly a ghost Dick!" Tim interrupted already flipping through some notes he had made on the way back home, "its the only explanation...or he is a 5th dimensional Imp with a passion for cooking but I really hope not those guys suck to deal with..."

Dick nodded at that, but had to say some thing foe his own superfan imp "Nightmite is a chill dude helps sometimes with cases back in Bludhaven!"

Giving a sigh, Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose, "No mites, no metas, no ghost, go to Medbay I am running blood tests on what sweet hell you have ingested."

---

Bruce ran the test again, sure that it was wrong, praying that it was wrong.

TEST COMPLETE

TRACE LAZARUS WATERS DETECTED

Underneath was lists of chemical make ups of the samples Tim took and his sons blood, there were varying levels through out the food samples, some lighter but others were heavy on it.

What was stumping him was...it was nearly perfectly pure, the pits naturally over time get polluted, with the dirt and sediment that falls in, and with the various amounts of bodily parts and fluids that are dipped in it.

But the trace amounts Bruce was finding were a better quality than Ra's own personal pool, not the one he dips in to regain his youth that the LOA make a ritual out of, no the privet one in the Alps that was clear as glacial water.

It didn't make any sense to Bruce, who would be spreading Lazarus water around? Ra's would not simply share his secret pure stash...

Lost in thought, Bruce sat back glaring at the test results.

---

"And after I thought I was giving great service, they fucking left, no bill, no tip! I didn't even get to see Nightwings ass as he left! People say it's a godly experience! I was robbed!" Letting out a huff Danny shot Sam an incredulous look at her sudden burst of laughter. "Sa~am, this isn't funny! Never meet your heroes! I am taking this to Twitter! They shall know my fury!" His words only served to make Sam laugh even harder.

Stifling a grin Danny took out hos phone, a old busted thing that was more ducktape and prayers than actual technology, but dear go's did it still work.

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@.realwing @not-that-red-robin.real yall are toxic twinks came in to my workplace and fucking dined and dashed 0/10 Nightwing has a flat ass.]

Hitting send, Danny put his phone down, choosing to let the nights happenings go past his mind and just hang out with Sam before showering and finally going to bed.

---

Tim was hunched over his lap top, going frame by frame of his body cam footage, he *needed* to figure this out, it was like an itch in his brain that he would go through bone to get through.

His work payed off as he clicked forward another time, his feed went static before it showed a blurry blue blob in place of the diner! Proof! It was there!

Jumping at the sudden bang of his bedroom door being thrown open, Tim whirled to around to see Dicks distressed face, standing up, Tim prepared for the worst, something happened. Bruce was dead agian it had to be-

"TIMMY I AM A TWINK AM I??" Was Dicks wail as he flopped down on Tim's bed.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, Tim looked longingly at his laptop before closing it, "Dick, what the fuck."

Rolling around on the bed, Dick finally looked up at Tim "Littlewing sent me a tweet and...ugh just look!" Thrusting out his phone as he spoke

Pasuing at the mention of Jason, Tim  looked down at the screen and froze

"Holy shit...we forgot to pay didn't we...fuck Jason is never going to let us live that down."

Tim still remembered the first time he witnessed one of Jason's famous "make Bruce spend more money" rants about tipping.

It was glorious.

Tim now realized he would be one of two that was likely going to have to face it next.

"UGH?? You focus on the money and not the other parts? Tim I was called a toxic twink with no ass! This is a declaration of war! I have never been so offended!" Dick sat up, eyes narrowd while Tim opened up the tweet on his own phone.

"The comments agree Dick, I am sorry, you now have a flat ass congrats and welcome to the club" Tim said dryly, trying to go to the posters page, since it was clearly Danny who posted it.

Only the app crashed when he tried to. And again when he tried to a second time, and his web browser crashed when he tried opening it there

Tim was baffled on what was happening while Dick lemented on his bed before deciding to hack it later.

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween super sorry about that send me venmo and I'll pay with tip]

<@i-haunt-spirit-holloween

[@not-that-red-robin.real Fuck that face me like a coward bitch bet you wont]

<@not-that-red-robin.real

[@i-haunt-spirit-holloween...bet]

---

Somewhere in a safe house in Crime Ally, Jason let out a little giggled as he scrolled through the comments on the funniest post he had found in a while, Jason was surely going to have to speak to Timberly and Dickiebird about paying their bills but right now?

He was kicking his feet watching Dick have a public meltdown as Nightwing.

Finally, he wouldn't be the only one who had to retake the Bat Media course.

How was he supposed to know doing peace signs next to a person he just shot wasn't allowed?

[reikoknshii]

Perhaps...a Date?

Francis Mosses - Milkman

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊

Its been weeks you've been working for the D.D.D. , you stayed in your work station and do the usual works.

However, those days passed, you got yourself a motivation whenever he check in. Who? The famous milkman of town, Francis Mosses.

What makes him special? Was it his tired eyes? His soft and deep voice whenever he greeted you for checking in? You have no idea..

All you know you were smitten for the exhausted milk delivery man, and you can tell if he is the real one or not. Though there are times you almost let in the doppelganger because on how they almost perfect their form of Francis, either way you never let it in or else you'll be in trouble for cause of death of the apartment residents.

This day he's one of the listed entry resident, perhaps you can have a longer conversation with him?

You inhaled and exhaled as you open the metal window to start your work.

Angus...

Izaack...

Elenois and her Twin Selene..

Where is Francis?

You grew impatient after checking in four people and making sure they're not a doppelganger. Atlas Francis arrived, Tired as usual as he shows his entry request.

Odd...

' Perhaps he's a doppelganger? '

You tapped on the window trying get his attention , when he noticed you questioned where is his Id.

"My Id? My apologies, i forgot to show my Id" He said softly and audible for us to hear from the other glass side of the window.

' looks like everything is in check..wait hold on a minute '

You decide to double check his appearance and his ID, soon enough checking his files and you found the false thing about him.

"I don't remember Francis having a Mole"

"FUCK!" Cursed the doppelganger as he grew angry. This isn't the first time they would be angry, they almost got it perfect but fail because of a small detail.

"I didn't take that into account.

You're not easy to fool.

That makes me want to devour you even more." You shivered as they banged on the protected glass window , you immediately closed the metal cover.

"Can I visit you at night while you sleep? " the doppelganger said from the other side as they continue to hit on the metal cover.

"Yeah no thanks pal, I'd let francis in but not you" you jokingly said and dialed the D.D.D. services.

"Oh? Looks like the stationed guard is hoping for a mutual feeling, ill get you next time.." You immediately regret saying that, especially to a doppelganger, Knowing full well they would use the information they know against you.

You heard the D.D.D. services arrived and waited for it to finish. Soon the cleaning services opened the metal door telling you the 'operation cleaning is done and you may resume your work.'

You felt like a stupid hopeless romantic, now the doppelganger knew you're into Francis and would take that into their account to try getting in.

Soon enough, the real Francis arrived.

He showed both of his ID and Entry request.

ID and expiration date? Good.

Entry Request? Seem Accurate enough.

Appearance? perfect.

Your hands shakes as you checked the list as Francis waited for you to speak.

"Is it all good?" He asked with his usual tired voice as you nodded your head and waited for you to open the door.

"I-" you stammer wanting to say something as Francis stared at you.

"Yes?."

"...i-i well..." You started as you scratch the back of your head. "P-perhaps a date ? Only if you're available" you asked as Francis tired eyes widen abit from your offer.

"..That wouldn't be bad, tomorrow sounds good?" He asked with a slight smile , making your face go red from the overwhelming joy and excitement.

"Y-yes! Please!" You blurt out and realized you look so eager in front of him.

"Alright, mind opening the door for me now?" Francis asked as he carried his ID and work bag , You covered your face embarrassed on how you react to his answer and opened the metal door for him.

"See you Y/n "

[seresinhangmanjake]

His

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: You used to be a Lady, a daughter of a Great House until Feyd took you. Since then, your sole purpose has been to warm his bed, but when Rabban asks about having you for himself, Feyd makes a choice that changes your future.

Words: 2600

Notes: Possessiveness. Grumpy Feyd. I know it's similar to another one of my fics, but I realized that after the fact, so...

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

You didn’t sleep. Not a wink. You laid in his bed all night, waiting for the man who never came, and your heart didn’t cease its ferocious beats for a second. Where is he? Why isn’t he here? Is he ok? What happened? The sun rises without answers to those questions. 

You shoot up in bed when the door eases open. Expecting to find him, you’re disappointed to see instead his harpies enter one after the other. They don’t look at you. One goes about riffling through your dresses in the closet, one heads into the bathroom and you suddenly hear a rush of water filling the tub, and the last of them goes to the vanity Feyd brought in for you, lining up makeup and hair pins that she intends to use on you. 

The air about them is poised—an echo of who they used to be before they were turned into pets—as, for the moment, their vile, more carnivorous side lies dormant. 

Feyd only allows them to near you a couple hours after they’ve been fed; the peak time between their hunger sated and their bellies rumbling. At any other time, your uniquely foreign scent wafts to their nostrils and they are incapable of holding themselves back. More than a handful of instances—when they’ve managed to manipulate the guards to open their cages with their seductive smiles—they’ve gone on the hunt for you; one time in particular, sneaking into the bedroom in the middle of the night and yanking you from Feyd’s arms with the intention of sinking their teeth into your flesh. Feyd had been so furious he’d cut a finger from each of their hands. 

Still, they don’t scare you. You see in them women not entirely unlike yourself: owned, and therefore, changed. Soft are the women who have had the luxury of marriage and child-rearing in the comforts of wealth and beautiful homes—and good for them; how lovely to be soft—but it is the women who have not a choice in their existence that develop a steel shell. And you and the harpies have steel shells. In that way, they are your kin, and you try to subtly express that when you can, even though their allegiance to Feyd can make that quite difficult.

“Where is he?” you ask. 

They ignore you, continuing with their tasks, and you huff. Yes, sometimes they refuse to speak with you, and always it seems when you need their words most. In the past, you’ve been tempted to dangle your arm in front of their sharpened fangs in the hope that the offering will encourage their cooperation, but you’ve yet to find the bravery for that. Plus, Feyd would lose his mind. Well, he would lose the rest of it. 

“You’ve spoken to me before,” you continue. “Why not now?”

One of them stops and faces you. She glances at her sister who shakes her head. 

“Tell me,” you plead. 

“We are not permitted to speak with you on the matter,” the other says to your frustration. That is not good enough. Regardless of how he sees you and how you feel, he is the one thing keeping you alive on this lifeless planet and you refuse to go about your days worrying over his safety and what his disappearance means for your fate.

You throw the sheets off your legs and stand. 

“I don’t care,” you spit as your silky nightgown falls at your ankles, but then you reconsider your tone. The harpies do not do well with aggression. Being so animalistic, their instincts are easily drawn out, and they tend to attack when attacked, which is not a fight you would win. 

You take a calming breath, placing a hand over your heart. “We are the same. He owns us, he clothes us, he feeds us,” you remind them. “On this planet, I am as much your sister as you are each other’s. We all care about him in a way and if I knew what happened to him, I would have the decency to tell you.”

The harpy who drew your bath returns to the bedroom. Having overheard your words, she crosses her arms and says, “With respect, my Lady, we are not your sisters,” she says. “We have never had him the way you have, and he does not feel for us the way he does you.” 

Your clenched jaw loosens, lips parting. If you had assumed anything about the relationship between Feyd-Rautha and his harpies, it was that they had once been where you are; that when you came along, they lost their rank and became something alike the handmaids from your home world. You’d assumed that when they warmed his bed, their handmaids were the women who entertained him before them, and so on like a disgusting, perverted pattern. But if that is not the case, then your sense of identity is even more confused. Not to mention, nary a soul has referred to you as ‘Lady’ since you were taken from your family. So why show that respect now when Feyd practically stripped you of the title months ago? 

You look to the only one of the three who seems unsure of the situation. She’s biting her lip, worrying the fabric of your unworn gown between her fingers. 

“What about you?” you ask her and her head lifts to meet your eyes. She’s the smallest of them—pixie-esque, like you read in fairytale stories as a child—and despite the core of their primal nature, the gentlest. “You want to tell me.”

The harpy by your vanity hisses, but the gentle one does not shy away at the warning. “She has been kind to us,” she tells her sister in the most self-assured tone you’ve ever heard leave her mouth. 

The sister snaps back. “He instructed us to do one thing: get her ready for the day and act like nothing is wrong. It was not to tell her what happened.”

You lightly gasp. “So something has happened,” you state, feeling your heartbeat quicken. Your chest begins to rise and fall to match the rapid rate. “Is he ok?”

There are a few seconds of silent pause before Pixie stands a little straighter, setting her shoulders in a strong line. “Our Lord na-Baron was answering for the death of his brother.”

Your head jerks back. “Rabban?” you question, your brow pinching. “Rabban is dead?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“And Feyd is the one who killed him?” That doesn’t make any sense. While Feyd has complained enough for you to know Rabban is a bumbling idiot, he eventually found a way for his brother to serve a purpose. Why would he kill a man when he is no longer the nuisance he once was, you wonder, so you ask, “Why?”

“The Lord Rabban…made suggestions,” Pixie tells you. One of the harpies groans as the other shakes her head.

“What suggestions?”

She bites down and swallows hard, then she says, “He suggested that the na-Baron share you for his own pleasure.”

Instantly, you’re hit with a wave of nausea. Share? Share you? The concept of a foreign woman hopping between men of status is not unusual, but at this point, you assumed if Feyd were going to participate in something like that, he would have sent you off already. Not doing so didn’t even surprise you. He’s too possessive. 

“You said he was answering for Rabban’s death,” you say, but answering for that surely wouldn’t have taken so many hours, not when the Baron saw Rabban as a waste of space. “So where is he now?”

—

He doesn’t notice when you step into the training room and you’re thankful for that. You came on a mission to extract more answers out of him, but you don’t mind having a second to admire him sparing against his trainer. 

He’s sweaty. You like him sweaty—sweaty and bare-chested and perfectly, effortlessly mesmerizing as aggressive grunts leave his lips. You silently watch their violent dance, your form mouse-like by the door until his trainer looks up and halts to stare at you. Feyd whips around to follow his line of sight, then he sighs and turns back to the smaller man. He mutters something as he grabs the rag at his belt and runs it down his face. 

The trainer leaves and Feyd places his knife back on the table among many others. “I told them to keep you away today,” he says dully, monotone, not meeting your eyes as he runs his finger over the blade and fiddles with the hilt. “Incompetent brats.” 

“You didn’t come to bed.”

“I was busy,” he responds without letting a beat pass. He continues to avoid your stare and mess with the knives as if he’s never wielded them before.

You slowly step down the stairs into the pit of the room. “Busy killing your brother?” you ask. The muscles in his back twitch and flex under pale skin as he grips the hilt harder. 

“That is none of your concern.” The distance between you lessens until you’re a foot from his back, but he doesn’t turn around. 

“Even though you killed him because of me?” you ask. His neck ticks and his head tilts and shifts to adjust to the tension. When he still doesn’t respond, you try another angle. “Why are your harpies referring to me as their ‘Lady’?”

That seems to do it. Feyd faces you, crosses his arms, and leans his lower back against the table. “You think spending one night without me gives you permission to be nosy?”

You don’t give in to his method of shutting you up by aiming to make you feel silly and guilty. Instead, your eyes narrow and you mirror the crossing of arms. “Why am I a Lady again?”   

“You just are.”  

“Are you sending me home?”

His eyes flash. Blue irises darken a shade. “Don’t be stupid.”

“So I’m a Lady on Giedi Prime?” you ask, dropping your chin to emphasize how ridiculous that sounds. 

The edge of Feyd’s jaw sharpens as he clenches his back teeth. “Stop asking questions.”

“Then answer one,” you say. 

It’s a shot taken by an untrained hand, as he doesn’t enjoy demands, especially not from you, but you figure you have nothing to lose in the attempt, so you don’t cower under his menacing glare. You wait. And much to your surprise, he surrenders. 

He blinks, and when his eyes open, they have softened ever so slightly. Then he says, “You’re marrying me,” and everything from your lungs to your limbs freezes in shock. 

“W–What?” you stutter. That makes less sense than Rabban’s sudden death. 

Feyd groans and stands straight, his arms falling at his sides. “See what being nosy gets you?” he snaps. “I wasn’t going to tell you immediately, and you had to go and ruin it.”

He grabs a fresh knife and stomps his way over to a dummy, ready to attack something other than you for the insecurity that he can’t completely contain. You’ve never witnessed him insecure, but you know the feeling when you see it—the defense mechanism, the distancing himself, the grumbly attitude. 

“I’m not sure I understand,” you press as he slashes and stabs at the soulless victim. “I’m marrying you because you killed your brother for wanting to fuck me?”

With a grunt, the dummy’s head severs from its torso and flies off in your direction. It rolls and rolls and stops just before hitting your feet. The dead eyes stare up at you in silent amusement. Now you’ve done it, they mock.

“I don’t ever want to hear those words come out of your mouth again, do you understand me?” Feyd growls.

Your eyes shoot to his. “The marrying you part or The your brother fucking me part?”

He tosses the knife aside. It clatters against the ground as he closes in on you. His hand wraps around your neck. “Don't test me,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “I will sew your damn lips shut if I have to.”

An empty threat if you’ve ever heard one. He would never harm you, but even if he were going to try, his fingers would need to be squeezing much tighter.

You roll your eyes. “Well then how am I going to suck your cock?”

Something about the tease stuns him. His tense features immediately settle and his whole body eases with his exhale. Glancing at your lips, he licks his own, and you think he might decide to kiss you—after all, it’s been a good twenty-four hours since the last one—but he doesn’t.

You snort. “Didn’t think that one through, did you.”

Long fingers unwrap from around your neck. “You’re not funny,” he mumbles with an odd sense of shame.

“If you don’t find me entertaining, can you maybe take the time to explain all of this better?”   

Feyd considers keeping his mouth shut. You know him well enough to know that. However, it’s ridiculous to contemplate since he’s already spilled the bigger news. Nothing could be more shocking than you, after the bed-warming position you’ve held for months, becoming his wife. 

“My uncle was going to take you away from me for killing Rabban,” he finally says. “So I told him I've had plans to marry you for the alliance and that's why I refused to share you. Rabban wouldn’t take no for an answer, so he had to die.”

Raising a brow, you say, “The Baron accepted that explanation? My House may be one of the Greats, but we do not offer much for Giedi Prime.”

Feyd shrugs. “My uncle enjoys anything that causes upset. Marrying me means we will always own something very valuable to your family.”

It would likely offend another, but you don’t mind being owned. While the Baron may believe the Harkonnens as a whole will own you, you belong to Feyd and Feyd alone. He’ll never allow anyone to hurt you and now he’ll never have to fight or argue with anyone to stake his claim, which works for you just fine, to say the very least. 

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

Your head tilts as you smile. “Caring enough to protect me.”

“Don't flatter yourself,” he says. “I didn't do it for you, I did it for my own benefit.”

Your sweet smile morphs into a smirk. “The benefit being that you get to keep me all to yourself…for the rest of your life.”

With a scoff, Feyd rolls his eyes and crosses his arms again. “Whatever.”

“Feyd…” you sigh, leaning into him.

“What?” he returns in his snarky tone as if he doesn’t want you near, but he doesn’t step out of the bubble of your space.

“I'm happy.”

A pink tinge sneaks onto his pale skin, and he quickly looks away. And before he has a chance to come up with some witty remark to smack you with, you grab his face and press your lips to his. 

You hold on to him until he starts to kiss you back, and then he's reaching for you, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around you, and you know you won't be going anywhere for a good long while.