#cause like. casino or something

[sunshineram]

also look at this pattern i finished recently :)

[dykedvonte]

Ok so we know you love Benny (rightfully so, I mean look at the man) but do you have any thoughts on the other Chairmen? Swank and Tommy specifically?

I have so many thoughts on the Vegas families but even more on the Chairmen just because of how unique their position is.

Like to start off, I have mentioned and still fully believe the Chairmen are the most paranoid and distrusting of all of the Vegas families. You can get sucked into many personal dramas and plights when it comes to the other Vegas Families; Quest-lines that get you super involved with their inner workings and pasts, ergo, quest-lines like Beyond the Beef and How Little We Know. Other than the very little side quest we get from Tommy, where you don’t even out in a good word for the Aces Theater for the talent recruits, your very boxed out with the Chairmen.

While the other families are more curious and intrigued by the NCR and Legion tensions rising, House being killed and other things, the Chairmen are always paranoid, concerned and negative. They mention wanting to leave like in the old days but can’t drop the act. They don’t mention anything that isn’t in a way that relates back to them and it tells how little they wish to or do interact with those outside the family. Swank mentions how he doesn’t trust the other families and the sentiments are shared with Tommy who discourages you from seeing the other sights. They are probably not purposely isolating themselves but they keep to their own. I only think this is extrapolated by House favoring Benny as a successor and possibly more restrictions on them. They were the first family and likely the prototype of whatever is detailed in their contracts. House was not as lenient as he is now, taking Swank referring to House’s rules into account.

Specifically about Tommy and Swank is interesting. Tommy feels like he’s older to me, not like more mature but he’s been around to see how far the Boot-Riders changed into the Chairmen. He’s not like an old guy either but older than Swank and Benny. I like to think he’s a middle ground to Swank and Benny, where Benny is the idealist, Swank is the nihilist and he’s there realist. You gotta real with people when you work in entertainment. He has a keen eye and can tell when things aren’t right but doesn’t jump out of his lane, not without provocation that is. In relation to Benny, I think Tommy’s like a snide older brother type guy. He rips on Benny cause the guy is so obsessed with not being seen as a tribal anymore but Tommy of all people can see when someone is playing too much into a bit. Benny keeps him close cause he keeps him real.

Swank is described in universe by House as being dependable but unimaginative. I don’t think that’s fully the case but he isn’t the person to push things in my eyes either. He has complaints but he does what he’s asked of and is loyal. More of a “Are you sure” Man than a “Yes” Man. I don’t think he sees the best in the people around him but prefers to see them as static. I take this with how hard it is to convince him that Benny is a traitor and how he seems shocked you are so ready to kill him. Things run a certain why and it’s why he likes that. It’s why he’s so good a managing The Tops. He wants things to run smooth and easy and everyone to be having a time. He’s the type to struggle with a shift in change at first but then forget why when the new song and dance start to come naturally. He plays the part just like Benny but also reminds him of what they came from. He’s his most trusted advisor and friend keeps him in focus.

This is all personal opinion and just a quick run down of it. But I hope I answered at least some of what you asked:p

[indiainswiftland]

I kinda think Grover believes Hermes took the bolt. Is just the things he says while talking about the robbery with Ares: "someone Hades could recruit, someone who could slip away without being notice, someone stealthy". Hermes is an underworld worker, even if he's not famously recognized for it. Hades could have easily ordered him to do it, he's kinda his boss if you will. He says that not many people could pull of a robbery on the king of the universe's most important weapon. You would think no one could do it except the God of Thieves, someone with a godly power of stealth who could quickly took it during the solstice without anyone noticing.

What gets me is that gods cannot steal others gods things so I'm not quite sure why is Grover so sure about who's the thief. Unless he believes is a demigod but still how is he so sure about their identity. Unless in the show it's considered taboo for gods to take other god's things rather than a physical impediment. In the sense of, they can steal their stuff if they want to is just terribly frowned upon.

Anyway if he believes is Hermes i think it's amazing foreshadowing for what's next to come. Especially if they meet him next episode and my theories end up being correct: hermes playing a circumstantial villain in this season

[punkshort]

Just Friends

Thank you @brittmb115 for this prompt!

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Accompanying your friend Javier to his holiday work party seemed simple enough until it gets a little too hard to just pretend to be dating.

Warnings: language, fake dating, one bed trope, sexual tension, jealousy, flirting, cigarette use, alcohol use, friends to lovers, reader has insecurities about her looks, fingering, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex

WC: 6.4K

dividers by @saradika-graphics

"Please, cariño, it's just one night. The party's at a casino about two hours outside the city. The DEA paid for hotel rooms 'cause they're worried about people drinking and driving. We'll be back by noon on Saturday, you'll still have your whole weekend to mope around over Travis," Javi begged as he followed you around your kitchen.

"Trent," you corrected with a glare over your shoulder. Javi just waved you off.

"Yeah, whatever. His name doesn't matter anymore, now does it?" he countered with an arched brow. You frowned and continued to put your dishes away.

Javier was right - Trent's name didn't matter anymore. Not after he dumped you out of the blue, two weeks before Christmas. He probably didn't want to buy you a gift, Javier had said when you called him up crying. It wasn't exactly the most comforting thing to hear, but at least he made you laugh.

"And why is it you don't want to attend this event by yourself? I thought you would have wanted to take some poor secretary back to your room for the evening," you said, flipping the dishwasher closed before playfully adding, "This better not be some sick move to try to get into my pants again." Javi pulled out his carton of cigarettes and began to anxiously tap it against his palm. When you whisked by, you smacked it out of his hand with a warning: do not smoke in my house.

"You've made it very clear I won't be touching your pants, hermosa," he chuckled, recalling a handful of failed attempts to get you into bed before giving up entirely. "But, uh, I've been taking one too many secretaries home lately," Javi admitted with a lopsided grin. "Got one real pissed at me for not calling her back. Had to make up a lie that I had gotten back together with an ex, so..."

Your jaw dropped and you stared daggers at him with your hands on your hips.

"So not only are you asking me to go with you to this party, but I'm supposed to pretend we're dating?" you clarified, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. When he nodded sheepishly, you tossed your hands in the hair and began to curse under your breath.

"Oh, come on! It won't be that bad! It's not like she's gonna say anything. It's just for looks. Hell, you never know. Maybe you'll meet someone at this thing. I could be doing you the favor of a lifetime," he said before hopping up to sit on your kitchen island. You smacked his knee when you walked past and he grinned.

"I have barstools, you know."

"Yeah, but I like it up here. Better view," he winked and jutted his chin towards your v-neck shirt.

"Gross," you scowled, making him laugh. He took a handful of nuts from the bowl on your counter and shook them in his hand like dice.

"So? What's it gonna be? You in?"

You watched him tip his head back, pouring some peanuts in his mouth, and you sighed. What the hell. You didn't have anything better to do.

"Fine."

Javier jumped off the counter excitedly. "Thank you! I owe you one!" he exclaimed before heading for your door. "I gotta run. I'll pick you up around noon on Friday. And, hey - bring a dress. The party is a little formal."

You rolled your eyes and groaned, then shooed him out your door. "Thanks. Now I have to figure out a damn outfit."

"You're the best!" he shouted happily from his car. You shut your door and turned around to sag against the wood, finally surrounded with silence. Something you thought you were craving until you had it, and then suddenly you realized you had never felt more alone in your life.

"Where the hell is this place?" you asked, staring out the passenger seat of Javier's jeep. It felt like the car kept climbing higher and higher, and the way your ears were popping, you were thinking your hunch was right.

"It's a hotel slash casino up in the hills," he said with a nod towards the open, winding road. "Supposed to have a hell of a view."

"Yeah, guess so," you muttered, then gasped when a clearing came into view and you saw just how high up you really were. "Oh, my god! Javi - look!"

"I'm driving, cariño," he reminded you with a smirk, but his eyes still flickered quickly over the ridge.

"Wow," you said breathlessly. The view was spectacular. Miles and miles of hills and trees surrounded a sprawling hotel/casino. If you were closer to the edge, you would be able to see a lazy river snaking around the bottom of the mountain.

"Alright. So what's the story?" you asked when you settled back in your seat. There was still a ways to go until you reached the casino, but you could see it from the road nestled into the landscape.

"What story?"

"Our story," you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You told a girl you got back together with an ex. So, why did we originally break up?"

"Oh," Javi said, scratching his chin. "I don't know. You really think it matters?"

"Maybe. Who knows? Probably a good idea we at least talk about it," you shrugged.

Javi thought about it for a minute before snapping his fingers. "You wanted marriage and I didn't."

You made a face and shook your head.

"That would imply we're on the path to getting engaged. You really think you can fake a whole marriage because you pissed off a girl at work?"

"Yeah, good point," he mumbled before falling quiet to think about it some more. After a few minutes, he came up with another idea. "How about you were gonna move away for a job and we didn't want to do long distance, but the job fell through and you stayed?"

You nodded slowly, rolling the idea around in your head.

"Yeah, that's good. That'll work. Then one day to explain why you're single again, you can say I got another job offer out of state or something."

"Exactly."

"Alright. Easy enough," you hummed, then turned to gaze out your window again. Javi watched you for a few minutes out of the corner of his eye, his jaw working back and forth while he tried to come up with the right words to express his gratitude.

"Hey, uh," he said, clearing his throat. You turned to look at him expectantly. "I just wanna thank you again. I know you're going through a tough time and all that-"

"Don't mention it," you said dismissively. "It's not a big deal. Plenty of guys out there, right?"

Javi gave you a tight smile. "Yeah. Sure."

One thing that you didn't have a chance to fully think through was the sleeping situation. As Javi checked you in and you heard the girl at the front desk confirm one king sized bed, you felt yourself stiffen. He signed and grabbed the keys, then shot you a warm smile before gesturing towards the elevators. From the looks of it, Javier didn't mind one bit. Then, of course, it was Javier...

"No funny business," you declared when you entered your room and Javier flopped down tiredly on the huge bed. "You stick to your side, I'll stick to mine."

"Whatever you say, cariño," he replied with his eyes closed. "I'll be reminding you of that later tonight when you're all over me after a few drinks."

"That was one time and I told you I was sorry!" you exclaimed, cheeks burning from the memory.

Your relationship in the past with Javier was... complicated. When you first met, it felt like you kept seeking each other out at all the worst times. Whenever you made a move, he was unavailable, and vice versa. Eventually, you had decided to just be friends and left it at that. And it worked well. You had an easy relationship where it felt effortless and natural to go to the other with some exciting news, and sought a shoulder to cry on if something bad happened. It just seemed to work better without the romantic element.

All of that aside, at the crux of the issue was you were a romantic, through and through. You liked being in long term relationships. You enjoyed the comfort and peace it brought. Javier, on the other hand, was the exact opposite. You couldn't even remember the last time he brought the same girl out for drinks more than once and you had a suspicion he had never been in love.

"I'm just messing with you. Can't help it, I like when you're all flustered," Javi said before sitting up with a groan. When he stretched, you found your eyes drifting down to where his shirt rode up, revealing a small sliver of bronzed skin. You swallowed and forced yourself to look away because no matter how many times you reminded yourself it would never work between you, it didn't stop you from being unbearably attracted to him.

It was the confidence that he exuded. That was what you had finally decided was the thing that kept you drawn to him in a decidedly less-than-friendly way. But of course, you were quick to remember you weren't the only one who was attracted to his charm. Half the women in the city noticed it, too. You had just gotten very good at hiding it.

"What time's the party start?" you asked, hauling your duffel bag onto the bed so you could begin to unpack your toiletries. The first thing you did was take out the dark red slinky dress you bought so you could steam out the wrinkles with the iron packed away in the coat closet. What you didn't notice was the way Javier's eyes greedily locked onto the fabric while you moved around the room.

"Uh..." he murmured, his pulse quickening when he saw the plunging neckline of your dress. "That new?"

You furrowed your brow and turned around. "Yeah. I didn't exactly have anything suitable so I went shopping. Why? You don't like it?"

"No, no... it's perfect," he assured you. Javier blinked a few times, snapping himself out of it, and looked at you. "Very... festive."

You grinned and hung up the dress on the back of the bathroom door. "Thanks. I thought so, too. So... the party? What time?"

"Oh, right. Cocktail hour starts at five, dinner's at seven then dancing or whatever til who knows when."

You glanced at your watch and made a face after you did a quick pass with the iron.

"I better get in the shower, then," you said, grabbing your things. Javier leaned back onto the headboard and flicked on the television with the ease of a man who didn't intend on putting in much work on his appearance for evening. However, once you finished your hair and makeup and stepped out of the bathroom in that damn dress, he suddenly felt like he should have tried a little harder.

"Maybe I should put something in my hair," he muttered, his fingers flicking through the dark locks as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. You appeared in the doorway of the bathroom looking way too fucking attractive to be his date, let alone masquerading as his girlfriend. Your brows pinched together as you looked at his hair and it took every last ounce of willpower not to let his eyes fall to your cleavage in that tight dress.

"I think your hair looks good," you said. When you reached up to fix a stray piece of his hair, he cleared his throat and twisted away.

"Alright, let's get this thing over with," he mumbled as he slid past you and headed towards the door.

"What's got you so grumpy?"

"Nothing. Just need a drink and a smoke."

"You're gonna abandon me with a bunch of DEA agents to go smoke for ten minutes?" you whined, following him out of your hotel room towards the elevators.

"You could always join me. You'd look like Bette Davis smoking a cigarette and wearing that dress," he replied when you both stepped inside the elevator. He tapped the lobby button and grinned down at you.

"You and Bette Davis," you laughed, rolling your eyes.

"What? She made smoking look so damn cool."

"Yeah, well, I think I'm going to pass," you told him. "I'll get a drink and mingle. Maybe find one of the girls you pissed off and have a cat fight."

Javi chuckled and shook his head. "That's a long list, baby. Shouldn't be too hard."

When the elevator doors slid open, you could hear the music thumping from the ballroom and laughter echoing off the walls.

"Sounds like they didn't waste any time," you said to Javier.

"Are you kidding? When the government gives you an open bar, you fucking milk it," he replied before taking one step towards the front doors. "You sure you're good for a few?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine," you said, waving him off. He nodded and pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Before he even made it to the door, he slipped one in between his lips.

The ballroom was pretty full already, Javi was right: when government employees have a chance to let loose, they jump at the opportunity. The entire room was decorated in Christmas lights, garland, and at least five different trees. The DJ was cycling through a mix of Christmas carols, pop music, and classic rock. Some people already shaking their hips on the dance floor with drinks in their hands. You spotted two different bars set up, so you made your way to the nearest one and ordered a white wine. As you waited, you bopped your head along to the beat of Last Christmas while mindlessly scrolling on your phone.

"Jack Daniels, neat," a man's deep voice said from beside you when the bartender placed your wine glass on a coaster. You thanked him and slid a few dollars across the bar before taking a sip.

"Excuse me... have we met?"

You turned to look at your neighbor and slowly shook your head. He was cute. Blonde hair parted to one side, mustache, lean but strong physique and sparkling blue eyes.

"No, we haven't," you said before offering your hand and name.

"Steve," he grinned, giving your hand a firm shake before accepting his drink with a nod and a couple bucks in the tip jar. "What department do you work in?"

"Oh, I don't work for the DEA, I'm here with someone," you said, leaning closer. You watched his face fall when you implied you weren't single and you pursed your lips. How the hell would Javi expect you to meet anyone when you had to pretend to be his girlfriend?

"I mean, just a friend. A good friend," you added, praying you didn't blow Javi's cover the first time you opened your mouth. "Uh, what do you do?"

"I'm an agent," he told you, chest puffing with pride. "Takin' down drug rings one scumbag at a time."

"Wow. That's so impressive," you gushed. You saw the way his cheeks flushed a bit and preened when he glanced down at your chest. "That must be so hard. What's your favorite part about the job?"

"Goin' to the Christmas party and meeting beautiful women like you," he shot back smoothly, making you giggle and toss your hair flirtatiously over your shoulder. Steve's gaze dragged up and down your dress appreciatively before adding, "I mean it. You look stunning. Should've known someone like you didn't work for the DEA."

"Oh, stop," you giggled, feeling your face warm from his compliment.

"Where are you sitting? Maybe I can convince you to dance after dinner? Now fair warning, I got two left feet, but I got a feeling no one's gonna be lookin' at me," Steve grinned, taking a step closer and grazing his thumb along your bare arm.

"Hmm, that sounds-"

"Murphy."

You both twisted around to find Javier storming across the room. And storming was really the only word for it. His fists were clenched and his jaw pulled tight like he was about to take a swing at Steve.

"Javi," you greeted him sweetly with a smile. At the same time, Steve said, "Peña."

"What's going on here?" he asked, sidling up so he could wedge himself between you and Steve.

"Nothing. Steve and I were just talking," you said innocently.

"Looked like more than that," Javier huffed. His tone and the serious look on his face made you falter. Did you do something wrong?

"Well-"

"I was just asking her for a dance after dinner. Relax, Jav," Steve joked with a playful punch to his shoulder. When Javi remained stoic and unmoving at your side, the smile slowly slipped from Steve's face.

"Oh, shit. Sorry. I thought you were just friends."

"We are," you said quickly, but Steve was already backing away.

"Enjoy your night! It was lovely to meet you," Steve said with a wink before disappearing into the crowd. You swiveled on your heel to glare at Javi.

"Why didn't you correct him?" you seethed.

Javi just shrugged, his relaxed demeanor slipping back in place, and leaned up against the bar to flag down a bartender. "You can do better than Steve."

"Who are you to say?" you argued back after he ordered a whiskey. "We were clicking! And he's cute, why-"

"'Cause I don't want you fucking my partner, hermosa, that's why," Javi snapped. Your eyes widened and you clamped your mouth shut for a moment.

"He's your partner? Why didn't you ever introduce us before? He's-"

"C'mon, let's go find the appetizers or something," he said after snatching his glass from the bar top. It was very evident you wouldn't be getting any more information out of Javier so you decided to drop the subject. But as the happy hour inched along with your third drink in your hand and Javi's arm finding a permanent home around your waist as he introduced you to his coworkers, your mind kept drifting back to that hardened look he had given you and Steve. The butterflies in your stomach churned to life every time you thought about it, your memory twisting things so you could pretend he was jealous over you flirting with another man. It wasn't that hard to imagine, really. He could hardly keep himself from touching either your waist or lower back or grabbing your hand. It fed the little fantasy in your head, deluding yourself into thinking he was subtly trying to claim you in front of the whole party, warning others to stay away.

You had given up reminding yourself that the fake relationship schtick was just an act by the end of dinner. It was too nice to pretend otherwise.

Javi had been wrapped up in a long winded conversation with the man seated on the other side of him, but your heart was fluttering the whole time because from the moment he set his silverware down, his hand hadn't once left your leg.

With a dreamy smile plastered across your face, your eyes casually drifted around the room. People were already beginning to dance but many still remained at their dinner tables chatting. You had been quietly admiring the artwork on the walls and sipping from your glass when you felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. It was hard to explain, but you just felt like someone was staring at you. Doing your best to be subtle, you shifted in your seat and let your gaze wander around the room again until you found the source.

There was a table to your left, half of which was empty, but five young women remained staring in your direction. Some had drinks dangling from their fingers, one had a scowl and another was leaning in to whisper something in her ear.

There was no question one of the girls must have been one of Javi's scorned lovers. If not all of them. Your heart sunk a little when you saw how beautiful they were and you forced yourself to look away.

Javier was handsome, he had charm, and he was funny. A lethal combination that managed to get him in bed with some extremely drop dead gorgeous women. It was then you felt your insecurities flare up. How could anyone buy you were a couple when he was used to having girls like that on his arm?

With Javier still talking, you stood up from your chair, suddenly feeling flustered and overwhelmed.

He stopped speaking mid sentence to look up and ask, "Where are you going?"

"Uh," you glanced around and swallowed nervously. "I think I just need some fresh air. I'll be right back."

"I'll go with you," he said, immediately standing. "I'll catch up with you later, Jim," Javi added over his shoulder before hurrying to catch up with you. When his palm pressed against your back, your feet automatically slowed.

"What's going on? Drink too much?"

"No. Well, maybe. I don't know," you rambled, eyes scanning for the exit. "I just feel like I don't fit in here."

"What? Why?" he asked, grabbing your arm and spinning you around. His face was filled with concern as he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. "You're doing great, cariño. I thought you were having fun."

"I was. I am," you stammered, and then your gaze landed on the table of girls, most of which had moved on to something else.

Before you could tear your eyes away, Javier noticed where you were looking and sighed.

"Yeah, sorry. I told you, I pissed off a woman or two here."

"It's not that," you mumbled, now staring down at the floor.

"Then what is it?"

You felt your cheeks flush and you couldn't look him in the eye when you finally admitted, "They're really pretty, Javi."

He just scoffed and took your hand in his.

"You're prettier."

You laughed lightly and shook your head. "Yeah, right. It's a good thing there's an open bar. Otherwise, I'm not sure people would believe we're together when you're usually seen with girls like that."

"Hey," Javi said softly. He hooked a finger under your chin and tilted it up so you would look at him. "Don't say that. You look better than anyone else here. If you weren't already, I'd be trying to get you up to my room right now," he said with a smirk. You giggled a little and sighed.

"Sorry. I guess I just had a moment or something," you said, breathing deep. Javi looked around the room and noticed how the dance floor was beginning to fill up.

"Wanna dance?"

You smiled and pulled your lower lip between your teeth as you watched others having fun on the dance floor. Without waiting for your answer, Javi tugged your hand and tilted his head, urging you to follow him. "C'mon, don't leave me hanging."

You laughed and let him lead you to the dance floor, weaving through the throngs of people until he found a little wiggle room, but right when he turned back to look at you with a big, goofy smile, the fast tempo switched to a much slower ballad. Javi cocked an eyebrow at you and extended a hand, unphased.

With a smile of your own, you took his hand and let him pull you in close. His fingers laced together with yours while his other arm wrapped around your middle and your free hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Hey, you can dance," he teased when you fell into rhythm with him effortlessly.

"Of course I can dance," you said, rolling your eyes. Being that close to him, you could smell his aftershave, the whiskey on his breath, and a faint hint of cigarette smoke from earlier. The smell you had unknowingly grown to love. The smell that was, simply put, Javier.

You gazed up at him, smiling at the little pink tinting his cheeks and the glassy look in his eye. He looked so fucking adorable it almost pained you.

"Can I ask you something, Javi?" you asked quietly. His eyes softened at your tone and he nodded. "Why were you so mad earlier when I was talking to Steve? Really?"

The corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes flickered somewhere behind you as he considered his answer.

"I think you know why."

When he looked back down at you, the playfulness was gone. His eyes carried something else in them. Something he couldn't bring himself to say. Then your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat when you saw it. The look you had been aching to see from him for years. The same look you were giving him at the very same time.

And then it hit you. Yeah, you knew why.

It turned out Javier was much more popular at work than you ever expected. You had spent the rest of your dance trying to come up with the right thing to say, but you panicked and lost your chance when Javier's boss nudged his shoulder while dancing with his wife. The four of you fell into a conversation - the men about work, you and his boss's wife about Christmas bargains - in the middle of the dance floor. When you realized you were in the way, the conversation moved to the bar. After that, an investigator joined in the conversation with her girlfriend and before you knew it, it was nearly midnight and the moment you had with Javi on the dance floor was long forgotten.

Or so you thought.

It had been a long night. You were exhausted and your feet ached from the new shoes you picked out to match your dress. You had hoped to possibly find an opening and talk to Javi about what you thought he implied during your dance, but while you were waiting for him to wash up, you passed out cold.

One thing you knew for certain was you were on your side of the bed when you fell asleep. You knew that because your side faced the bathroom and you had rolled over to wait for Javi before you fell asleep. However, you couldn't explain why you woke up around three in the morning with your cheek resting on his shoulder and your arm wrapped around his waist.

Well, maybe you could explain it. It was probably your subconscious trying to seek him out after spending the evening being so close to him. No matter the reason, you knew you had to sneak back to your side of the bed before he woke up, so you slowly began to extract your arm.

"Where're you goin'?" Javi murmured sleepily. Your eyes widened and your heart began to race.

"Nowhere, just go back to sleep," you whispered, pulling your arm away. Just as you were about to roll over, Javi's hand shot out to grab your wrist. You froze, cheek still pressed against his shoulder, and slowly lifted your eyes up to meet his.

It was hard to see in the dark, but from what you could tell, he was wide awake. His dark brown eyes continued to study your face while you fumbled for words.

"Javi?" you said, voice sounding so small in the quiet room. His eyes flickered anxiously between yours for another moment before he came to his decision. In one quick movement, he had rolled you onto your back, his hips fitting perfectly between your legs as he caged you in.

"Javi," you said again, although this time sounding far more breathless and aroused than you intended.

He swallowed tightly, gaze flickering from your eyes to your lips before he whispered, "Do you feel it too, cariño?"

You shifted underneath him, eyelids fluttering when you felt his arousal pressing up against the inside of your thigh.

"Yes," you whispered back.

His mouth crashed against yours in an instant. It was rougher than you expected it to be but you didn't mind. You understood because you felt it, too. All that time wasted, dancing around something that was right in front of you the entire time. It was bound to drive anyone a little crazy, a little hungry.

Before you knew it, your fingers were in his hair, dragging down his shoulders, and then tugging at his shirt, and all the while his mouth remained cemented against yours. He had to pull away to yank his white tshirt over his head and you heard yourself make a pathetic little noise, like you couldn't possibly survive without his kiss, not even for one second.

"Take this off," he panted, lifting your oversized shirt halfway up your torso. You didn't need to be told twice. You flung it off and pulled Javier back down before he even had a chance to take a good look at your bare chest.

Everything was moving so fast but given the amount of time it took you to get there, it felt like a fucking eternity. He expertly tugged your shorts and underwear off while your tongues fought for dominance in each other's mouths. It wasn't even until you felt his fingers brush against your cunt that you realized you were entirely undressed.

"Oh, god... Javi!" you cried out brokenly when he slipped two fingers inside of you.

His mouth fell to your chin and he made a strangled sound, curling his fingers when he said, "Fuck, baby, when you say my name like that..."

His hand maintained a steady rhythm between your legs, reaching for that spot that made your back curl off the bed every time he thrusted inside. His other hand got lost in your hair, tipping your face so he could feverishly lock his lips with yours while dragging your first orgasm to the surface with a few circles over your sensitive clit.

"Javi! Wait... I'm gonna - I'm gonna come -" you gasped, unable to stop your hips from rolling up and meeting his hand.

"Go ahead, hermosa. I got you."

"No," you whimpered, muscles going tense. You were getting to the point of no return and you needed to stop him. "I wanna - I want you to fuck me, Javi. I - I wanna -"

Your head fell back into the pillow, unable to complete your sentence.

"I am. I'm gonna fuck you," he assured you, lips ghosting the shell of your ear and wrist snapping faster between your thighs. "I'll make you come on my cock, don't worry, baby. Just let go, c'mon, you can do that for me, right?"

"Oh, fuck," you gasped, eyes squeezed shut. "Fuck, fuck, fu- yes, Javi, yes! More... please-"

"Christ, cariño, you're gonna wake the whole fucking hotel," he chuckled, but you were too far gone to care. You tilted your chin to the ceiling, his name echoing off the walls as you came. It felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest, like your legs were so weak you may never walk again, yet somehow it wasn't enough. Not for either of you. In fact, it only seemed to make you each more desperate.

Your kisses on his skin became messy, both of you so eager to have the other that there was no room to worry about being too fast or abrasive. Your teeth clashed together when your arm curved around his neck, yanking him down to your level. Your shared hot breaths mingled with each pant and gasp. When you reached down to wrap your fingers around the heavy weight of his cock, he moaned into your open mouth and slid his fingers from your pussy so you could line him up with your entrance, neither of you in any mood to wait a second longer.

"Fu-uck," he groaned when he pushed inside of you, burying himself to the hilt in one go. You gasped and sharply bit down on his shoulder when tears sprung up and threatened to spill down your cheeks.

"You okay?" he panted, planting weak kisses against the side of your face. All you could do was nod. He filled you and stretched you so perfectly that it took your breath away and left you speechless. He nodded, too, lips parted as he puffed for air, then began to rock his hips. Slow at first, then steady and deep.

"Javi," you moaned in his ear, sending a shiver through his body. "Shit, just like that. Oh my god, Javi, just like that!"

Javier smirked into your shoulder, fucking you with deep, long strokes as you continued to fill the room with your cries and moans.

"Never thought you'd be so goddamn loud, baby," he teased, nipping playfully at your shoulder.

"Sorry," you whined into the air. Your jaw was clenched tight, fingers clawing uselessly at his broad shoulders while he continued to pump in and out a little bit harder, a little bit faster, setting loose one of the tears that welled up in your eyes.

"Don't be sorry, I fucking love it," he groaned. He lifted himself up so he could watch your face contort with each devastating thrust. "Fucking love how you say my name. Dreamed about it for so long, you have no idea-"

"Me, too," you moaned, a second tear trickling down your cheek. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him tightly as he began to fuck you faster. His eyes flickered down to your bare chest, breasts bouncing from the force of his thrusts. Craning his neck down, he latched onto one with a groan, teeth grazing enticingly over your nipple before sucking the other one into his mouth.

"God, you're so perfect," he mumbled into the space between your breasts. "So fucking perfect, hermosa. Drove me fucking crazy all night."

Your heart stuttered before grabbing the sides of his head and pulling him up for a deep kiss. Every time he slammed inside of you, it had you seeing stars. You felt completely at his mercy, unable to think about anything else except him, him, him.

"Tell me you want more," he demanded, pulling away from your kiss so he could look you in the eye. His eyes were blown wide with lust and a few dark hairs were beginning to stick to his forehead, the image so captivating that he had you nodding dumbly to his request.

"Yes, Javi, please," you moaned, "more, please, fuck me-"

"No, I mean-"

His hips slowed and he cupped your face, chest heaving and lips parted for air as he stared down at you imploringly. "I mean, tell me you want more than just tonight. Tell me there's something else here."

You blinked rapidly and nodded, stunned he would even have to ask when you had always been the one to prefer relationships. Hardly trusting yourself to speak, you whispered, "Yeah. I want more than just tonight. I want more than just this."

A smile stretched across his face right before he lunged down to capture your lips with his own. His hips resumed their pace, snapping steadily into you and pushing you higher and higher until you stiffened and cried out his name.

"Oh, fuck. Oh, shit," he muttered, hips stuttering against you, his name still tumbling from your mouth as the last of your orgasm rippled through your body. "Baby - look at me," he begged, and it wasn't until that moment you realized your eyelids had even shut.

Tiredly, you opened your eyes to gaze up at him. The way he was looking at you caused a lump to form in your throat and you had to suppress a shiver. It was too intense all of the sudden, the air thickening between you in a matter of seconds.

"Come for me, Javi," you murmured lowly. You brought a shaky hand up to card through his damp hair, watching as his eyebrows pinched and his chin dropped, pulling out of you quickly and sitting back on his heels to fist his cock. Your hand fell back to the cool sheets beside you, unable to look away. He was hunched above you, one fist pressed into the mattress and the other jerking himself off until he stilled with a deep groan, painting your stomach with his sticky release. You couldn't even let yourself blink, doing your best to commit every detail to memory until he collapsed next to you with a heavy sigh.

"Fucking Christ," he grumbled, forearm tossed over his eyes. You giggled, face warming when you heard how raspy you sounded. Javier removed his arm and turned his head to look at you with a lopsided grin.

"You're a screamer, hermosa."

"Javi!" you cried out softly, but your broken voice only further proved his argument. He chuckled and rolled onto his side to push some hair away from your eyes.

"I was expecting a phone call from the front desk ten minutes ago."

"Shut up, Javi!" you whined, covering your face with your palms.

"Don't be embarrassed, baby, I love it," he said while pulling your hands away. You bit your lip and peered up at him, searching his face for any sign of regret and finding none. Then his face softened and he swallowed nervously before adding, "I'm in love with you."

He said it so quietly, so sweetly, that it had you wondering if you were hearing things. But then you saw the anxious look in his eye and your pulse skyrocketed.

"Really?" you asked in disbelief. Slowly, he nodded.

"Yeah. I think I've been in love with you for a while," he admitted, tracing an invisible line down your cheek.

You laughed and two fresh tears fell when you said, "I love you, too."

His mouth crashed against yours in relief and you wrapped your arms around his neck, matching smiles pressing together in stunned happiness.

"I'm sorry I wasted so much time and didn't tell you sooner," he murmured while stroking your hair.

"It doesn't matter," you replied, "we have each other now."

Javi smiled and kissed the tip of your nose.

"So, now what?" he asked.

"Now? Now I would really like to take a shower," you said, then grinned when you added, "and maybe in the morning we can do this all over again."

He laughed and rolled to his side so you could get out of bed. When his eyes locked onto your ass as you made your way to the bathroom in the dark, he flung the covers off and leapt out of bed to follow you.

"I think we're gonna need a late check out."

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[kirozai]

—HSR YANDERES AS TROPES.

Forced Proximity? Soulmates..? Amenesia! Common tropes that always end up happy! Your favorite characters love you so so much! But.. is it in the way you want?...

content warnings: yandere, toxic love, unreliable narrator, descriptions of gore, unrealistic relationships, unwanted PDA, depressive elements, suggestive, gn!reader (maybe ideas for makeup but most of the part is gn) pairing(s): sunday x reader, blade x reader, aventurine x reader, jing yuan x reader word count: around 350-500 each, 2100+ words in all A/N: I got a tiny bit carried away

Aventurine - Amnesia

WHAT’S PLAYING: engravings - Ethan Bortnick

Your eyes are blinded by the casino lights. The sound of chips being thrown and cards being shuffled fills your ears. Things feel so familiar, but at the same time, completely foreign. You turn your eyes to your lover. At least you think he’s your lover.

Two weeks ago you woke up in the dead of night on a hospital bed feeling numb from your head to the tips of your toes. The hospital lights were blinding making you feel dreary. You slowly regained movement by wiggling your fingertips and finally being able to sit up on the comfortable bed. As you gazed around the room you felt shocked to see gold engravings on the trim of the walls. It’s obvious it was a hospital, but it felt too expensive.

And you? You felt out of place.

A nurse walked into your room with a pan of what seemed like a new IV bag and other things like syringes and such. She turned wide-eyed and gasped as she suddenly dropped the pan of expensive medical equipment. You couldn’t make out what she said as she mouthed something out loud. The drowsiness hit you and you passed out.

The next time you woke up to a man sitting beside your bed in the most luxurious clothes you ever laid eyes on. He looked worried, very worried. Realizing you woke up once again his Avgin eyes-

Wait Avgin?...

“Sweetheart! You’ve been out for months. How are you feeling? Is there any pain? How… Can…?” He spoke quickly but after the first couple of sentences, his words faded into mush.

He called you sweetheart though, you deduced he was someone close to you. Someone that must have cared for you. 

But then why do you feel-

Cutting your thoughts you paused. Thinking was causing you too much pain and headache at the moment. You tried to recall what happened. 

And at that moment you realize you couldn’t even recall who you were.

After some time of recovery, you were able to get a couple of things down. The handsome man’s name was Aventurine. He is your lover. (?) You two have been together for quite some time now. You were diagnosed with severe amnesia, but your lover was kind enough to explain everything to you. Although, he was still hesitant to explain what happened to you and the reason why you were in the hospital.

You tried to get something out of the many doctors and nurses, but they seemed… scared.

Aventurine never left your side when other people were around. It was either you and him or no one at all. Leaving you lost and not being able to truly be clear about your condition. Everything went through Aventurine. 

One day during your walk around the large hospital, Aventurine got a call. He looked at it and furrowed his eyebrows, smiled at you, said it was an urgent call, apologized, and left for a brief moment. 

You dragged your IV stand a couple of steps more and abruptly stopped in your tracks as you overheard a pair of nurses talk about… you?

“IPC… they… lies… Aventurine… hiding.” Those were the only few words you were able to make out.

It no longer mattered though because Aventurine’s bright smile found you again and you walked back to your room first. If only you could see the piercing glare that he sent to the nurses. He wouldn’t know what to do if you heard about the fates of them after spreading lies to your pretty head.

After the recovery, you settled in enough to “your life”. Now you sit next to your lover whose luck shines more vibrant than a newborn baby’s laughter. You feel content for the most part.

I wonder if you would still feel content if you were able to take a good look past Aventurine’s perfect poker face. While you sleep he watches you worriedly, wondering if you’ll remember one day. Remember that this perfect love story he crafted isn’t so perfect after all. He wonders how you would react if you were to find out again the atrocities he’s committed in the name of “love”. He holds his chips tightly, but luck has always been on his side.

So tonight like any other night, you’ll smile with no idea of what had occurred in the past. At the end of the day, occasionally it is better to live unaware.

•••

Jing Yuan - Grumpy x Sunshine

WHAT'S PLAYING: Carousel - Melanie Martinez

The Luofu General was known for his joyous laughter and the positivity that he spread throughout the entire planet. He joked and was an infectious smiler. You on the other hand were known as the Yin to his Yang. If Jing Yuan was the sun, you were his moon. It’s adorable on paper, isn’t it?

You do nothing less than agree with the fact that your husband Jing Yuan was very positive. The reason why differed from others though. 

You believed the reason he was so happy was because he sucked every smile, every laugh out of you. 

Your story was the average fairytale, opposite attracts and then they fall in love. The End.

Unfortunately for you, Jing Yuan was anything but ordinary, and maybe that played a part in your perfect tragedy. 

Jing Yuan loved you. You knew that for sure. He had always been a PDA person, always close to you and you would most likely be seen dead than without his arm around your waist. It wasn’t a big deal though. This is what lovers usually do right?

Until you tried to back away. Things got… messy. 

Arguments ensued and you realized that he never really treated you as an equal. He loved you, yes, but he viewed you as lesser and somehow put you on a pedestal at the same. exact. time.

“You don’t respect me.” You stated firmly.

“But I love you.” He replied as if nothing was wrong.

You never thought your husband to be a jealous person and truly he was not. The possessiveness is what got you through.

It began small from making excuses on why you shouldn’t go out,

“It’s my day off!” or “It might rain soon.” Both are lazy excuses you’ve heard again and again. Yet you still seemed to fall again and again for his sunshine charms and wits.

You were the perfect lover to Jing Yuan, loving, kind, and malleable to believe whatever he wanted you to believe.

At some point after the large argument you two shared, you didn’t remember the last time when you had left the estate. 

You felt stuck, stuck on a carousel that kept going around and around and stuck trying to read between the lines of Jing Yuan’s perfect facade. If you caught him at the wrong time you wouldn’t see him for days and when he would return he would haphazardly apologize with the stupidest excuses. 

You never raised your voice anymore after THAT argument though. You were too scared to. So even when he scratches his name into your skin, even if he hugs you so tightly to the point that you feel like your lungs are collapsing, you find excuses for him. For yourself. To make this entire relationship work

Because you love him.

And you don’t not what scares you more anymore. The slight warning in his tone and the ever-present toxicity seeping its way into your originally “perfect” marriage. 

Or.

The fact you’ll still stay even if it gets worse.

Why?

Because you love him.

•••

Blade - Forced Proximity.

WHAT’S PLAYING: This is Love - Air Traffic Controller

There’s blood on the walls, the floors, and even on the couch. Anything you’ve been able to find you’ve smashed onto the ground. Your hands are covered in blood. No worries to Blade though. He sits on the couch covered in the blood of a man. Your eyes flicker to the dead body right in front of you. The now dead man who tried to help you escape from this prison Blade oh so lovingly calls “your” home to no avail.

Blade’s red eyes stare into the distance of space. Perhaps he’s wondering what he should do next for your transgressions. Perhaps he is wondering what he can do to make you smile again. Or maybe, he doesn’t care. Maybe he finds happiness and contentedness in your suffering. After all, a being who is forever stricken by mara might find peace in others' pain. 

But.

Past this mara-stricken being is a man who does have some semblance of love for you. Blade knew your every like and dislike. He would trail kisses up your neck and on your lips. You’d joke together. You both were disgustingly domestic at times. At least that’s what appeared. Loving Blade wasn’t difficult when every moment you breathed you were near him. 

You wear outfits perfectly fitted to your style sponsored by your self-proclaimed lover himself. Anything you want you’ll get. Jewels, clothing, books, anything you could ever desire. It’s nothing but pocket money for the Stellaron Hunter. 

Your mascara has been smudged after all the tears. Your sniffles fill up the room, you look at your palms. Hands covered in scratches and blisters from broken glass and accidental burns. You don’t have to worry though, Blade will patch it all up for you. This situation will fade into the past just like all the others. Your head peaks again at the dismembered and maimed body on the floor. You stop breathing yet again. You shut your eyes and open them once again when you feel a warm breath on your neck. 

It’s Blade, you can tell that the mara had warned off him. He tightens his arms around your body and somehow pulls you closer than he ever did before in your “relationship”. You blink once again as a tear rolls down your cheek and pray to any Aeon out there for help. Despite this, you're well aware it’s no use. There’s no place in the universe where Blade won’t find you. So you close your eyes to hum a broken chord as you prepare for the cycle to begin again.

•••

Sunday - Soulmates

WHAT’S PLAYING: Butch 4 Butch - Rio Romeo

Fairytale love stories where the prince and the princess lived happily ever after were something that you grew up with on your home planet. As you grew up though, “soulmates” left your mind. Other things like making credits and exploring the galaxies were more on your agenda than finding “true love”.

True love was a fairytale. Something that didn’t exist and that’s what you stood by ever since.

Ever since your planet was destroyed by its inhabitants. If people couldn’t love the homes they lived in how could they ever love one another?

You enjoyed travel, you enjoyed learning about other planets, cultures, and people. You didn’t have time for the nonexistent love. Though you enjoyed hearing the stories of it. You’ve met others who found their “soulmates”, their one and only blessed by the Aeons themselves. 

On your travel across the world, you stumbled on Penacony, The Planet of Dreams and Entertainment. The perfect and endless days are what brought you in the most. You could be there for days on end but turn out to only spend a couple of hours outside in the “real world”.

Real world huh?

You think you miss the real world a little bit. 

“Are the pastries not to your liking love?” Sunday inquires.

“They’re… fine.” You reply.

Sunday smiles. You don’t know what it means though. He smiles at everything, he smiles at gatherings, at your laughter, and even at the tears you desperately try to hold in. He thinks of you as something to be protected, something that should be kept safe in a cage, away from the tainted lies of others.

Everything feels uncomfortable, from the moment you met Sunday you felt an odd gravitational pull towards him. It was truly as if he was your soulmate. 

Except,

Something begged you to run away, something deep in the back of your soul. It all went away when you laid eyes on him though. 

You wish you listened to your fight AND flight response.

Everything you wear is coordinated by the Head of the Oak Family. From the tiniest detail to your entire personality. Sunday is a firm believer that only the true you can come out behind closed doors, with locks only he has access to. His mansion was the perfect enrichment for a now flightless bird like you. 

Perhaps the fairytales were somewhat true. The prince and the princess always seemed to stay forever together.

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and the Supernatural

Basically some Marvel interactions with supernatural creatures. I think he would be really friendly with some and, you know, not as friendly to others.

Marvel: “Sorry, guys. I gotta head out early.”

Flash: “Dude, why? I wanna see a drunk Marvel!”

Aquaman: “Cap, what would it take for you to accept even one invitation for drink?”

Marvel: “Uh…”

Superman: “Cap, you know you can just tell us if you don’t want to go.”

Marvel: “Oh- uh- it’s not that. I already have plans, that’s why I can’t go. I have to see a friend of mine who’s visiting.”

Wonder Woman: “A friend?”

GL: “I thought we were your only friends.”

Marvel: “I have other friends.” *sounds slightly offended before brushing off the offense* “You guys might know her actually.”

Superman: “Is she a hero?”

Marvel: “Oh no. She’s Bigfoot.”

*loud silence*

GL: “What…?”

Marvel: “She’s Bigfoot, but she prefers when I call her Rhonda. She’s a very classy lady.” *nods head* “We get tea every time she’s in town.”

*another loud silence*

Aquaman: “Buddy…” *puts hand on Marvel’s shoulder* “If you really don’t want to hang out with us that badly, you can just tell us. You don’t have a make up an excuse like that.”

Marvel: *visibly tenses at being called a liar* “I’m not a liar guys.” *shrugs off hand and shoves own hand into pocket dimension and starts rummages, looking for something*

JL: *horrified for a solid three seconds when they see half of Marvel’s arm disappear*

Marvel: *pulls photo from pocket dimension* “Look!” *shows photo of him at a table that looks comically small compared to him, also holding a tea cup too small for an 8ft tall man. Also shows Bigfoot in a very elegant sundress also sitting at the table, also making it look comically small while also holding a teacup that also looks too small for it*

*loudest silence*

GL: “Why are you casually just friends with Bigfoot? How do you just fail to mention things like this??”

or

Batman: “Marvel, why did you put in a notice for leave?”

Marvel: “I thought I put sick leave?”

Batman: “No… You just sent in an email that said, “I’ll be gone for a week” and that’s it.”

Marvel: “Oh. My bad. Well, I’m gonna be gone for a week cause I’m going Wendigo hunting with a couple buddies of mine.”

Batman: “Wendigo. Like the evil, man eating spirit.” *raises brow as if it’s noticeable from under his cowl*

Marvel: “Yeah! It’s kinda like big game hunting, but for people with magic. Plus, they’re kinda starting to become a problem up North. Wanna come?”

Batman: “I don’t have magic.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “You’re Batman. You could probably figure out a way. But even then, we’d be happy to have you.”

Batman: “Hn.” (Translation: I’ll think about it.)

or

Flash: “Dude, you’re sulking. You never sulk! Something’s wrong.”

Marvel: “It’s not that big of a deal. I’m mad at Satan.”

Flash: “Me too, bro me too.” *pats shoulder* “What’d the devil do to you?”

Marvel: “He cheated at poker!”

Flash: “You gamble— I see. So you’re down on your luck at casinos.”

Marvel: “No, like literally! He hid a card up his furry sleeve!”

Flash: *blinks rapidly trying to process that whole statement* “Oh. Uh- you could always disinvite him.”

Marvel: “I guess. But he’s my friend.”

Flash: “Why can you confidently say you’re friends with the devil?”

Marvel: *ignores his question* “What if that hurts our friendship?”

Flash: “Maybe try talking to him about it…?”

Marvel: “That’s actually… a pretty good idea! Thanks, Flash!” *hops up and speeds off to where Flash can assume is literal hell*

[jebunkle]

is this the real life?...

806 wc, gn!reader, all of them are having a mental breakdown

i saw some awesome sahsrau (self-aware hsr au) from @aventurineswife and they seemed a bit tired of making it...so i thought i'd give it a shot :p maybe ooc on some parts, sorry

the astral express who, while visiting a planet, begin to sense something amiss. it feels as if something, someone, has eyes on them occasionally.

while you're just logging in to play the game and pulling for new characters, everyone starts to freak out. what is watching over them? it can't be the aeons, something much more divine. hell, maybe even the aeons sense something is different.

himeko brews coffee while chatting quietly with welt, "you've felt it too, yes?" she asked him nervously, as if someone would hear if they were too loud. she sips her drink while glancing around every moment or so, displaying her franticness.

the express notices her off putting attitude, but before they can dwell on it, they begin to feel the same as her. it's almost like an illness, if this plague's symptoms were paranoia and impending doom.

the stellaron hunters are hardly different. kafka's smooth demeanor falters as she gazes off into the deep null of space. "who are you, divine being?" she asks into the nothingness, her sultry voice filling the otherwise empty air. as blade is sat on a couch, arms crossed over his chest, his posture seemed to be more tense than usual. of course, he was always uptight, but his behavior was extra rigid as of lately. silver wolf on the other hand, can't help but chuckle at kafka's philosophical rants and blade's silent pondering. she can tell that they're all puppets on a larger stage, meaning close to nothing in the vast universe — both her universe and yours.

aventurine, ever relaxed, has been carrying himself with a bit more of a troubled expression. his typical flamboyance has faltered and few around him have noticed. as aventurine sits on a red leather chair in an empty casino, he does not feel alone; tossing a golden coin between his fingers, aventurine begins thinking aloud. "i see you've chosen to reveal yourself, huh?" the blonde's voice is low and almost soft, as if he's trying not to offend whoever he may be speaking to.

dr. ratio's hair is a slightly unkempt, his eyebrows are pinched together much more frequently, and his papers and studies are left askew on his desk. a few members of the intellegentsia guild slowly catch onto how he's acting, and it's truly unbecoming of the infamous strict professor. his employees can be seen wearing a concerned expression when glancing over at him, yet are too afraid to inquire on his troubled state. "i will uncover whoever is ensuing this chaos amongst us all." ratio promises himself.

the xianzhou luofu is eerily quiet. the arbiter general himself has gone silent as well, as if the ship has been submerged into an ocean of solitude. jing yuan sits in his chair with his fingers intertwined atop his lap. internally, he wonders about this rumored 'creator'; are they real? is it an aeon? what does this mean for him? his companions? is something terrible on the horizon? his endless inquiries are certainly unlike him, causing the master diviner fu xuan to worry about him.

she feels that the world has been tilted also, however she's more concerned about jing yuan's scrambled state. "please, go home and rest, general." she pleads annoyedly, "mm. give me a moment, diviner fu." jing yuan replies quietly, his words melancholic. "you know as much as i do that something has changed." he states to the shorter woman.

boothill's shoes tap eagerly against the pavement that lined the roof of the building, echoing an ambience of anticipation. "what in the world are you?" the man questions the air rhetorically. he cannot, for the life of him, figure out what's causing such a stir in the mood of everyone, himself included. the silver cowboy's hand is rested on his hip, the other lifted to his neck with a finger pressed to his chin. "i dunno, but yer rackin' all our brains here.." boothill remarks, hoping that whoever is watching over him will hear it.

the enigmatic memokeeper is seen with a more defined smirk recently. black swan has taken interest is this unknown deity that has spiked fear and franticness all over the universe. she rests her palm against her chin, staring up into the stars that decorate the black outside of the express's windows. "i hope you'd be willing to speak with me, demiurge." she exclaims in a calm yet excited tone.

the head of the oak family stands in his obnoxiously large office, hands pressed against the polished table as he stares down at it. there's a few scattered documents thrown astray, but they're not important right now. all sunday can think of is you. he knows you exist, he's sure of it, and he won't rest until the day comes that you visit him and grace the world with your presence.

im so happy the eagles won the super bowl and kendricks performance was goated

dividers by @/hyuneskkami

[bunny-jpeg]

shut up and put your money where your mouth is

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, rivals au, bickering/fighting, married in vegas, drinking, doggy style, rough sex, dirty talk, hangovers, 2.5k words

a/n: happy las vegas gp everyone!

wheel to wheel. toe to toe. cheek to cheek.

this was the dance you did with the three time world champion. the rivalry that put mclaren and red bull up against one another. and in the lead up to the las vegas grand prix, it was you and max's world and everyone else was just living in it.

"you should smile more." he said at the bar in one of the casinos on the strip. he pinched your cheek and you wanted to bite him.

you replied shortly, "i'll smile when you give me something to smile about. don't think i forgot the last race." you were barely edging max in points with the season wrapping up.

he just smiled, "i know you'll be smiling when i bring it all home in a few weeks. don't you worry." then pinched your cheek once more.

damn max verstappen.

the rivarly started years ago. max was the youngest rookie and you were a few months older than him. along with being the first female in far too long. the hype around your arrivals to the sport caused you two to step on each other's toes. both of you felt an overbearing responsibility to be the best. your father breathed down your neck on the track just as much as max's did down his.

and even after years in the game, you were both painfully in each other's orbit. so much so that your dear teammate oscar once said, "i'm pretty sure if you two weren't in formula one you'd be married by now!"

you replied with a laugh, "oh please, i'd never! not in a million years." but last vegas was the city of opportunity, and before an exciting weekend you went out for a few drinks with your rival. and as much as the city has opportunity, it was still sin city.

enough gin and tonics for max to feel a little more relaxed. and enough cranberry-vodkas to leave you feeling warm all over. what sent you over the edge with him was his flushed face and him undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. your eyes raked over his almost exposed collarbones and you shifted in your seat.

you swallowed and took another hearty drink, which only fueled a sexual fire in your belly. you felt something hot run through you at the sight of him. you looked away to try and not think too hard about it. you played with the gold chain around your neck.

max leaned forward and narrowed his eyes at your neck, "did i buy that for you?" he put his arms on the table and his expression was drunken as he said, "wearing what i bought you?" he laughed, "if i know you'd wear it. i would've bought you a ring."

you felt heat rise in your cheeks more, "i think people would get the wrong idea. we're supposed to hate each other. the headlines would be insane, max verstappen buys ring for his rival."

he chuckled, "well, you are my favourite." he swallowed and darted his gaze quickly, "my favourite rival." then took another hearty sip of his drink.

you licked your lips, "just a rival?" you asked softly. the liquor emboldened you and you let go of your necklace. in a moment of weakness you reached for his hand and asked, "not even friends?"

max swallowed, "not friends."

you felt ice wash through your core at his words. a tightness in your chest prevented any words from coming out.

max realized in his drunken haze that he only said half of the sentence. when you pulled your hand away, he was desperate to grab it back. shock crossed his expression, "no, no! not like that!" liquid courage made him say the words, "not a friend. a lover."

the words tumbled out of your mouth, "verstappen... i'm saying this on the most certain terms... take me. fuck me. do whatever you want to me." you swallowed.

-

you held the trophy over your head. you beamed with pride after your country's national anthem. you did it, you won the first race of many. as max then sprayed you with champagne, there was a single thing on his mind.

you'd be his one day.

-

you made it to the elevator with max in tow. you were headed to his room. you held his shoulders who he held you to kiss you deeply.

"as good at kissing as you are at racing." you giggled.

"oh, are you giving me a compliment? never heard that before." he smiled at you. he had you by the waist.

"don't get used to it. if you don't make me cum, then i'll never let you live it down." you held his face for a moment, "i will tell everyone that the great max verstappen can't make a woman cum."

he pressed you further against the wall of the elevator, "oh don't worry, i'll make you feel good."

the elevator dinged and you both stumbled out of it. max trapped you against the door while he loomed over you and tried to open it. it was hard to kiss your heated skin and open a door at the same time. on top of being drunk.

"focus on one thing." you groaned.

"if i do then i'll be fucking you in the hallway. and wouldn't that be the scandal of the season." his words struck something in you and when the door was opened, you were pushed inside.

when you caught your footing, you got your heels off. max wrapped his arms around your waist and picked you up. while you weren't stick thing (couldn't be in formula one, not with all that force), but max was simply stronger. he got you both over to the bedroom before he cornered you. you squirmed and he said, "stop moving or i'll drop you." and soon got you onto the king sized hotel bed.

he undid al the bottoms of the shirt and got his belt off as well, he stripped those from himself along with his slacks. in just an undershirt and his briefs in the end, he got onto the bed with you. the dress would've been torn off of you if you weren't fast enough. max groaned when he shoved his face between your soon bare breasts.

"just like i imagined." he groaned. his hands were at the waistband of your panties, "fuck. i need more." and while he got your panties off, you got your bra off.

"you really are excited." you shuddered as your hand up under his shirt. his shoulders were framed by the straps of the undershirt. he looked a little more domineering, which only raised the heat in your body.

"how could i not be? look at you!" he purred before he got the white undershirt off along with his dark briefs.

both of you were naked and tumbled fully onto the bed together. you kissed him once more until you ended up on your stomach with your face in the pillows. max admired your strong back. being a driver meant exhibiting a strength which you presented in spades. strong in so many ways, which was an aspect that pulled max in.

enamored was a term he could use. but that implied it was casual, but max's feelings were far from casual. you were next to the blood in his veins. the spark in his life, the heat in his soul.

he lined his cock up against your soaked cunt. he felt drawn to you, like a siren's call. he couldn't help it, he had been needing this for a long, long time. he sank into you and you felt the excitement of pleasure rush through you as you laid out in the bed.

"at least a decade in the making." he groaned, "ten years, ten years i've been wanting you." he felt a moan leave his lips. two drunks fucking in an expensive hotel room. two multi-million dollar drivers rutted together with a hot passion between you two.

"fuck, don't make me feel old." you buried your face further into the covers and arched your back further. pleasure bloomed through you. you could never truly hate max. it wasn't in you.

max leaned in to kiss you on the centre of your back as he moved against you. his hot breath against you warm back, he felt the thrill of pleasure as he worked you slick cunt. your pussy felt like a dream, while drunk, you still felt perfect. you let out a soft moan as he moved.

"fuck."

"please, max."

"i know."

you were near certain that this was what the entire grid was hoping for. you knew that people shipped you two together. you see the edits, the reddit threads, the fan art, the fan fiction. and you knew the paddock talked.

you gripped the soft pillow under your face and you whined a little bit. the wooden headboard rocked against the white wall of the bedroom. you hoped that checo's room wasn't on the other side. you'd never hear the end of it.

max wrapped his strong arms around your middle and continued to fuck you. he moved against you. his cock bullied against your g-spot and you were left breathless. you wanted him, you wanted him in ways you never thought you'd ever admit.

max lit a fire in you. to push yourself harder an further, you were only as strong as your ability to match max. and your rival made you the best. you clutched onto the pillow and felt a stagger in your heart. your mind was filled with pleasure, but also the liquor. in some way, vodka only made things feel more intense.

you felt it race through your body as the two of you fucked on the soft bed. the slogan from vegas was true, anyone could get lucky here. and you got rather lucky with max.

he held onto you tighter, his strong arm around your middle as he rutted against you. it was a protective feeling to you and you loved the feeling. you guessed that he was a protective force in your life, no one bothered you with max around.

you hissed into the pillow and you felt the surge of intense want. this was a feeling you wanted to feel again, again, and again. you held on tightly and the immense heat just dragged you into the depths of pleasure.

"please, max. i want you. fuck, i didn't know i could want a rival so badly. you're as much in my soul as the engine of my car. ever since we met, i knew you'd be a force in my life. i need you more than i need anyone else. fuck." you rambled, muffled by the covers, and max loved it.

you were always delicate with your words and to hear profanity leave your lips so freely made max run hotter. the way you spoke as you lost all rationality in your head.

he had an effect on you, even on the grid and you wanted to kill him. you never did, not when he looked at you with those beautiful blue eyes. he was your weakness, hence why you were rivals. the pleasure continued to mount, the feeling was electric. it made you hold on tightly, your back arched as he worked your body. you felt on cloud nine, not a care in the world. the want rolled through you and you moaned his name out loud once more.

"fuck, max!" you came around his cock with your nails dug into the pillow. he pressed himself up against your back and continued to fuck you with a feverish face.

the bed creaked under the both of you and the over stimulation made your head swim. you felt the heavy rush and he only kept moving against you. sweaty chest up against your sweaty back. thrusting against you, the pleasure built up in his brain.

the pleasure reached its peak and max slammed his cock as deep into you. he tried to get as deep as he could get and it made you climax once more. he rode out his orgasm, and soon he slowed to a stop. he felt racing in his chest. he wiped sweat from his forehead then kissed your back.

"max."

he pulled out and laid out next to you. he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to his chest. he peppered your face with sloppy kisses and you melted at his tender touch. even with his caring touch, his words caught you off guard, "fuck, let's get married."

and as you got lost in his eyes, you nodded, "sure."

-

the sun come morning burned and you turned over to look away from the window. you cracked open your eyes and the hangover weighed on you like a heavy blanket. you were met face to face with max, who was asleep beside you.

your eyes went wide and you pulled away from him. your chest tightened as you pulled the sheets closer to your chest. your heart leapt and you swallowed. when you looked down at your shaky hands, you saw a ring at your left hand. a shocked noise left your lips at the sight of it.

the ring was a gold band with a small diamond. you swallowed, there was no doubt what it was. you got very drunk and you got married. a nagging feeling of who you married was soon answered when you saw max shift and he had a matching gold band on his ring finger.

this was only confirmed when you opened instagram. and the post you were greeted with was of your hastily put together wedding. you looked happy as you kissed him. it felt like the rest of the platform was in a tizzy over this sudden wedding.

a sports reporting outlet had the caption, "mclaren's princess has tamed the bull!!" with a photo of you at the alter, your lips against max's. the next post read, "verstappen ties the knot with long time rival before the las vegas grand prix." you stomach sank and the reality was a cold splash of water.

post after post, reactions from what felt like everyone. you only came back to focus when you felt max's arm drape around your waist.

"max, we're in trouble..." you swallowed.

he slowly opened his eyes. he held onto you tightly for a moment before he kissed at your side. his expression was dreamy, still asleep as he let go of you. his expression changed suddenly when he noticed the ring on his finger. his eyes went wide before he took your hand and saw your ring.

"oh..."

"max, say something." you tried again, your voice tight. you felt the immense anxiety through you. what would the fia say? what would the press say? what would every other goddamn driver say?

it was bad enough people speculated for years about you two, but to have it come to reality was terrifying. but max didn't seem as scared as you.

he looked at you, only to shift closer. he kissed your side once more then said, "well, good morning then, mrs. verstappen." <3

[underthetree845]

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.” 

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s. 

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently.  You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?” 

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

[lilacgaby]

˗ˏˋmy last, my everything ୭ৎ ིྀ

pairing: exmafia!katsuki x reader

❥ read this first!

summary: katsuki had vowed to you to stop this, to make sure you two could live safely from now on. but when you get thrown into the fight again, is he able to save you?

tags: fem!reader, wife!reader, mafia mentions, violence, angst to comfort, cursing, blood, pet names, no quirk au!, threats, guns, mention of death, character death

(a/n: i went with the more interesting ending.. take that how you will)

wc: 4k

he wouldn't fail. it wasn't even an option. the sight of you bloodied on the floor ran through his mind, fueling the fire of his soul as he drove back

he had been forced back to HQ first, that idiot only working at irregular hours of the night.

it was three a.m. way past his bedtime, you'd know as he forced you to sleep alongside him at eight. sometimes the sun was even out when he'd go in for the ‘night.’

he breathed a sigh of half relief and half annoyance as he saw the annoyingly flashy red car in the parking lot of the ‘casino’. he walked in to be greeted by the group of them sitting at a poker table, deku at the head.

katsuki took a seat by the rear, eyes closed but ears open. they had started talking already, but minutes were millions with that idiot. so deku had to ask his questions quickly.

“we just wanted to ask if you'd sold any information on any of our former blood.” midoriya started, eyeing as hawks grew a smirk on his face, his expression one of mock thoughtfulness.

“well, i did. but on who and what will cost you extra, but you know that already.”

“we'll pay, just say it.”

hawks shrugged, examining his fingers as he suddenly spoke quickly and quietly. “let's just say a cloaked man bought the information out of me. wanted bakugo katsuki's addresses and affiliates, former jobs and things he'd been involved with. he offered a lot of money, so my hands were tied. you get it.” a smile broke out onto his face, “but a little birdie told me he trained under eraserhead, i'll give you that for free since i caused you some problems.”

“we already figured that out asshole.” katsuki grumbled. “thanks for your help hawks. ah.. he's just upset, and to be frank i am too.” midoriya said, his voice gaining unusual stoicism in the latter half of the sentence. “you caused issues for me, you know that right? and you can't even give me his identity… it's just an utter disgrace.”

hawks put his hands up in mock surrender, “hey, hey. i didn't say i didn't know who he was. but, fact is that it'd cause you a lot of money to buy his identity in full, you know i'd have to break my code for that.”

“you didn't mind when you sold out bakugo though, did you?” todoroki muttered, flipping a coin in his hand.

“heh, yeah.. i guess i do owe it to you all then. well it's settled,” hawks clapped his hands, “i'll just give you the gang they work under for free.” he slid an envelope over to midoriya. “thanks for the business, sorry for the trouble bakugo.” he rushed out as quickly as he came, the sound of the car speeding out the runway the only thing heard while midoriya tore through the envelope.

written in red ink, with a small smiley face on the very corner, was the name of the gang. “shiketsu?”

midoriya yelled shocked.

they had recently just called a ceasefire to the years of carnage spread between the gangs, the handshake all might did with shindo signified it.

“why would they attack bakugo? it just doesn't make sense.” iida pondered, “though, i guess he did rough a lot of them up back in the wars we had.”

“but there's no reason for them to hold it against them, we had an agreement. we all drank together and everything!” kirishima exclaimed, his hands gesturing around.

“we'll have to go over there ourselves.. likely someone has held something against kacchan for a while.” midoriya ordered. “get your things ready, i don't want any weapons noticeable. concealed and carried, burners too.”

“got it.” they all agreed in unison and got prepared. katsuki was hit with a wave of nostalgia at the notion, putting his favorite gun in his hilt. he always carried, even now, but it was different. this was different.

as he loaded into the car, fist bumping kirishima, he felt almost nervous. he hadn't done anything like this in a while, let alone go to a gang that clearly had something against him. against you.

the ride was quick, kirishima and kaminari blabbing on about how cool it was for him to be back, patting him on the back and smiling. assuring him that they'll find the guy who did this and punt him to the ground.

katsuki could only hope they were right.

they arrived outside the club, walking in immediately to the back. at the sight of deku they opened the doors, nodding at him slightly while letting the group in.

“kacchan, you come with me. everyone else,” he moved to face them, “stay here. on guard, and play nice.” katsuki followed behind him, moving to shindo’s head court. they had to go down an elevator, it was odd really. the last time he was here it was to beat the fuck out of him, and now it was to ask why the hell he picked a fight. with his wife.

it was now six in the damn morning, katsuki was as pissed as ever, midoriya telling him to cool down or he'd leave him behind.

he was a hypocrite though, as he walked in uninvited, a displeased air surrounding him. shindo, who usually invited him over randomly, always accommodating his presence as they were good friends, noticed this odd aura. “midoriya, what brings you here? seems you're not happy with me.”

midoriya took a breath and sighed. “i don't think you would betray me shindo, but facts are facts. one of my men– sorry former men,” he gestured over to katsuki, “had a loved one attacked.”

“that's horrible.” shindo commented, “you don't think i did that though.”

“not you specifically, but.. hawks himself said the one who did was associated with shiketsu.”

“hawks??” shindo almost jumped out of his seat. “well it wasn't me.. definitely not. couldn't have been any of my closest blood either, the only ones who it could've been..” he snapped his fingers like a realization dawned upon him.

“must've been this newbie seiji and his quadrant. he's a new guy, a sniper, he had a crazy good background. he worked fo–”

“eraserhead. right?” katsuki finally had spoken, stepping forward. “right. well, i caused you two a bit of problems huh? lll help you locate him. that's all though.” shindo stood up, handing them a tracking device.

“a tracker?” midoriya questioned, eyebrow raised. “all fresh blood are unknowingly tracked. it's just protocol here, you get it.” shindo shrugged sheepishly.

“right.. remind me to not get on your bad side.” deku joked, laughing about some nonsense joke. katsuki guessed he'd temporarily forgot about the situation, so he snatched the tracker out his hand. “hey!”

“this is…,” his heart dropped, hands sweaty and shaking slightly as he started to recognize. the street names, the buildings, his building.

“why is this fucker close to my house?!”

all of their eyes collectively shot up. you were home, did it already get out that you were alive?

heart pounding, katsuki went rogue. he blasted out of the room, ignoring midoriya’s calls behind him. shoving past his blood and the people in the club, only one thing on his mind: you.

kirishima chased after him as he'd ran into the parking lot of the club, hot wiring a sports car and speeding off.

he threw the burner over to kirishima. “call her, now.” kirishima barely caught the phone, the car drifting and slamming him to its sides so often he felt queasy. “chill out bro!” he dialed the number, but you weren't picking up. he had it on speaker, so the voicemail tone was heard.

“again.” katsuki ordered, his hands gripping the wheel. “call her again.”

“fuck– she's not answering man. we're almost there, she'll be fine.”

“you don't know that. that– that crazy bitch is there.” the tracker now found itself in kirishima’s other hand, the location reading inside his house. “youre not gonna want to hear this.”

“don't fucking tell me. we're here.” he barely pulled in to the driveway when he jumped out the car, braking it abruptly. “back me up.” was all he said as he continued moving forward, not looking back.

he walked up to the door, doing his best to stay quiet as he hopped your white fence and entered through the glass door. he saw you.. and.. surely enough a man he's never seen before.

you seemed off as he barged in, unmoving as he screamt, “[name]! move now!”.

at your silence and stillness, he walked closer to you. only to stop at the red dot aimed at your forehead.

“katsuki. don't move, please.” you were crying, tears streaming down your face as your hands shook. your knees looked like they were about to falter under your extreme fear, your eyes wide and horrified. “stay back.”

he stilled as well, noting the man who had just the rifle at point blank range. he smirked at katsuki, who had his fists balled in anger. kirishima hadn't revealed his presence, hidden behind the sliding door of your home.

“i don't like to leave my work unfinished, you know?” the man said, keeping his finger close to the trigger as he continued speaking. “i don't know how or why, but she managed to avoid my first shot. man my teacher would be pissed.”

“eraserhead?”

“yeah, eraser. he told me all about how you embarrassed my blood a couple years back. how you drove over half the members to the brink of death.”

“yeah, i did do that.” he felt weird talking about this in front of you, you never like it when he spoke about his job in front of you, and now was no different. other than the bullet in your direction. “there's a cease now. we're okay, the fucking shit is over.”

“who gives a fuck? not me. you– you expect me to believe they don't want you dead? that they don't hold some shit against you?”

“they don't. put down the gun– she's not even involved in this.” he slowly moved forward, his hand nearing his gun.

“stay back! or i'll shoot.” he hung his finger right over the trigger, “i'll blow her brains out. back the fuck up.”

katsuki stilled, “don't do this. why her? why not me if you're problem is with me?”

the man scoffed, purple hair covering his eye as he sneered. “because i know that wouldn't hurt you as much as this. as much as killing her in front of you. you're life must've always been disposable, all of us are. normal people don't join gangs.” he laughed, continuing on and on about something as katsuki tried to grab his gun without him noticing.

“who– who fucking tipped you off huh?” katsuki grumbled, attempting to take his attention off his wandering hands.

“well, it started with shinsou. i stole a couple of his bullets, real easy. that dumbass is trusting as long as you're associated with his teacher.” the guy laughed, “hawks though? i offered him a crazy number, asking for your addresses and shit. he gave in easily.”

he eyed the hand towards katsuki’s waist. “drop your gun, do you think i'm fucking stupid?”

katsuki tsked, “you sure do look it,” pulling out the silver ghost and putting it on the floor. it fell by his feet. “kick it away, ill ignore that remark since im feeling gracious.” he did so, making it ricochet off your foot.

filled with a newfound sense of confidence, the man chuckled, going closer to you. he brought his body closer, gun still pointed at you. he was rambling now, his words weren't anything katsuki was focused on. he was looking at his moments, waiting. waiting for a moment to strike, a moment of weakness, something.

and he saw it. his gun faltered, the weight of the large sniper not meant to be freely held in the air finally affecting him, as he had to switch hands to keep supporting it. he was quick to try and fix its position.

but katsuki was quicker, headbutting his stomach. a shot rang out, thankfully the gun had been pointed towards the ceiling, only hitting a random area in the roof. the two on the floor were fighting, fists full of rage as they pushed each other.

the sound of smashed bones and hits so strong katsuki knew they'd bring bruises to his knuckles the next day rang throughout the room, they were both in blinded rage.

after they had been knocked away from eachother, they eyed the gun next to them, chests heaving and body parts broken. they lurched towards the gun, the purple haired man closer to it.

he was going to grab it first, katsuki internally panicked, but the sight that came after only made him worry more.

the sight of you grabbing the gun out of his reach.

you had picked up the gun. you who could barely stomach stomping bugs or killing wasps. you who hated watching horror movies because doing that to people seemed so cruel. you, who had cried when he taught you how to shoot a gun, hoping that this situation would only pop up in his worst nightmares.

you who shakily held up the gun towards the man’s head, making him scoff. “put down the gun, princess. you won't do it.”

your chest was heaving, your knees felt like they were about to give out. your heart was racing, your fingers fumbling over the trigger. “b-back away.”

katsuki didn't know what to say, neither did kirishima who'd burst in from behind you. if he told you to put down the gun, you'd both be in danger. he could take it from you and kill all of you. fuck, why did this have to happen?

“put down the gun, little girl. you're not cut out for this life, so just hand it over. maybe you'll see your husband in purgatory, sure as hell not going to the same place though.” his hand was nearing the gun, his head was so close to the barrel. your hands shook, your eyes closed, eyebrows scrunched, a shaky exhale escaped your lips. katsuki recalled that look from ever shot he'd made you shoot at a range, the face you made when you finally grew enough courage.

“[name]!”

the man's eyes widened as you shot him, point blank rage. his blood splattered over your hello kitty pajamas, but you'd never forget the look on his face when you opened your eyes. the white of his eyes staring at you, the hole that pierced his head and ruined the white of your carpet, the hand that had tried to cover his wound in the millisecond that he had left of his life.

people, people you didn't recognize barged in to the front of your house. they didn't look horrified at the corpse at the floor, they looked more scared of you.

you'll never forget how they all treated you. approaching you like you were a nut case, coaxing you to throw the gun away from you like you didn't want to run away from this whole situation. baby-talking you like you were insane.

you'd never regretted marrying katsuki, but standing here. bloodied and a murderer. that was the first straw for you.

but like always, he'd save you from the mess. when the gun dropped to the floor, on top of the body with a sickening clank! he grabbed you, carrying you up to your shared room.

in your solitude you sobbed, wailing into his chest like you'd done just a day prior. the sun had just risen, illuminating your tears as you shook on your shared bed.

he held you close, reading your mind. “you're not a monster, or a murderer.”

“how can you say that though? i just killed him!” your eyes widened, heart beating like crazy. “it was self defense, he would've killed us all. you did good [name].” he held your face in his hands, letting you see him with his bruised and cut up face.

“you saved me. you saved yourself. you saved anyone that would've been targeted by that freak.”

you finally calmed down enough to go shower. the blood washing off your body didn't help to calm down the storm brewing in your head, the anxiety overcoming you, but he did. he always did.

as he helped rinse the blood of your face, your arms and where it'd been caught in your stomach, replacing it with suds of rosy soap that he'd bought because it ‘smelled’ like you, the voices in your head came to a slow stop.

he was the only one who understood, the only one who had gotten his hands bloodied the same way as you, even worse. as he held you that night, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, holding your body close to his as if you were to disappear, you felt normal again.

all traces of the body were gone the next morning, the dent in the ceiling the only remnants of the situation. as katsuki cooked breakfast for the two of you, you couldn't believe how regular it all felt.

how nothing seemed changed, how when kirishima and kaminari came over to cheer you up and check on the two of you they didn't seem phased. how you all sat around your dining room table as normal, katsuki drinking his black coffee while holding your hand under the table, all of you joking around as regular.

how when you went back to your bakery everything was fixed already, a little green sticky note standing out from the display case that was empty because of your absence.

‘sorry for the inconveniences mr and mrs. bakugo, take this as our apologies.’

-midoriya, shindo

there were two small doodles of them on the corner, making you laugh as you gawked at the renovation done to your lovely little shop.

you showed it to katsuki who only scoffed, a small smirk on his face as he looked over the fresh paint, tiles, and replaced tables. “damn nerds.”

you didn't feel so up to baking today, which katsuki understood perfectly. you left the store hand in hand, noticing how the glass of the entrance had been fixed too.

you'd walked to the ramen shop you'd had your first date at, taking the booth in the corner like always. katsuki held your hand, clinging to you more than usual.

he barely let you out of his sight, even offering to feed you, which made you laugh and smack his chopsticks away.

“hey, 'suki.” you asked, poking his side. “it's over right? you're coming home?”

he nodded, swallowing his food before answering. “asshole’s off the streets, that's all i wanted for you, and for us babe.”

“ew don't kiss me when you just ate!”

“do you not love me woman?! we almost fucking died!”

what you didn't know wouldn't hurt you, that's what katsuki thought as he reasoned his white lie.

he pondered how he'd make it up to you. technically he didn't do anything wrong in your eyes but he'd still feel internally guilty. he'd take you out to all your favorites, get you a new purse, do all the chores for a week. that sounded good to him as he made his way back to HQ, his hands in his pockets as midoriya eyed him with a knowing look.

you shouldn't and wouldn't want to know about his true final day right? how he'd ordered kirishima and kaminari do round up the rest of the quadrant. how he'd told them to leave them all for him in the basements of the HQ.

how he truly earned back his reputation of being explosive, leaving the three assholes who'd dared to conspire with a guy like that mangled and unrecognizable. if not for the names written in sharpie on their arms he wouldn't have remembered which one was which either.

he dropped the hammer from his hand, looking down at his work with a sense of satisfaction. he changed out of his clothes into the clean ones he came in with, throwing the bloodied ones into an incinerator.

he let iida and shoto handle the bodies, they were always good at leaving them left without a trace. fast too.

he thought about you the entire walk home. he felt giddy at the thought of seeing you again, excited to just exist in your presence. he stretched his body, working up the courage to see you as he opened the door.

“babe, you're home! where have you been?” you crashed into his chest, tightening your hold around him as you hugged him.

“out, finishing up loose ends y’know.”

as you looked up at him, trust and love in your eyes he knew.

he knew that he'd go back, leave, and kill all in a vicious cycle if it all meant coming back to you at the end.

because you were his everything, so he'd do anything for you.

tags: @miguellover6969 @lotusstarr @dragonscribble @theplacetoputfics @hannahk

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer meeting an artist reader

・❥ The King of Hell admires your paintings

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

x: reader is g/n :) no use of pronouns or y/n

warnings: some raunchy details of your painting & mild swearing

When you arrived in Hell, the first thing you did was scream.

Where were you? Why was it so hot? What happened to your bed?!

“You’re in Hell, kid.” A blue bat-faced man had broke the news, as you stood helpless and confused on the street.

Hell? Like, demons and dark satanic magic kind of Hell?

That couldn’t be right. Were you that bad of a person to deserve such a fate? Did the few times you passed the Salvation Army donation bucket without dropping a coin damn you to this place?

Your death was fuzzy, a trail of shattered memories that could only give you bits and pieces of your final days. Did you go quickly in your sleep? Maybe, you hit your head so hard it caused you some kind of post-death amnesia?

Whatever had happened, you were here now with no way out.

During your first few days scouring for answers, you began to notice that Hell had an eerie similarity to life above ground. There were clubs, casinos, concerts. Heck, even TV! Sure, the things broadcasted were dark and sometimes disgusting.. but at least you had something to watch.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad after all? At least, compared to being thrown into dark, fiery pits for all of eternity like some cruel game of sink or swim.

Minus the people, of course. Most of them were pretty bad. Your first day watching a man get shot in the chest and lines of cocaine across tables in a diner made you decide to stay away from the streets of the city.

Which meant you had to get busy making a life for yourself. It started with working odd jobs as a bartender or a bell-hopper. You’d scrap together enough money to head to the nearest art supply store, and fill your bag with paints and charcoal pencils.

“You an artist or something?” The clerk had asked you as she scanned your items, taking note of your vast amount of diverse tools you were slowly collecting every time you stopped by.

“I usually paint, but yes, I used to do all kinds of mediums professionally when I was.. alive,” You had whispered that last part out with a pang of sadness, the reality of your situation still a fresh wound in your mind.

You had found an ad for an art studio, ran by a demon named Alexandre. You had showed him a few of your pieces, some pretty landscapes, a rendition of the Starry Night Sky which you had replaced the backdrop to be Pentagram city instead of whatever little village it was originally, and a self portrait.

“You got talent, i’ll give you that,” He had hummed, as his eyes scanned your paintings with intrigue, “But the subject? Not really what we’re looking for.”

“What do you mean?” You had asked, confusion evident in your voice.

“We’re in Hell, demons ain’t into pretty ponies and happy, little trees. They want more— eh how do i put this — sinful behavior?”

“Like…?”

“Like tits or anything that can be turned into a kink. They like blood and guts, and dead people splayed around. Dead angels too. Stuff like that.”

Tits? Dead people? You didn’t have much practice with that! At least not enough to make a career out of it.

But you had agreed anyway, this was your only shot. You stayed up late into the night, sometimes even into the early mornings, perfecting your skill when it came to much more risqué visuals. You would buy stacks of pornograohic magazines, flipping through for poses to memorize.

Slowly, you began to master the craft, and your time at the studio increased as you finally settled into life in Hell.

All you had to do was churn out painting after pastel after acrylic in the little cramped room you now called home. Alexandre would then take your pieces and sell them to the highest bidder. You’d get a percentage of the commission, using the money for whatever necessary.

Seeing as you could be mugged at literally any point in time, or anywhere for that matter, you made sure to keep a large sum of cash locked away in a double-bolted safe.

“You know Ozzie’s, that club down in the Lust Ring?” Alexandre had approached you one day, excitement in his eyes.

You shook your head as you sat behind the easel, your brush an inch from the canvas.

“Run by Asmodeus, one of the literal seven deadly sins?”

You shook your head once more.

“Fuck, you still have a lot to learn. Well, he really likes your art. He wants to buy a bunch of paintings for his club, and he’ll drop a shit ton of cash too. Ya think you can handle it?”

Your eyes had widened when he told you the exact price this sin guy was willing to pay. You had jumped from your seat, shaking his hand in profuse thanks, before scurrying off to gather more supplies.

And for a time, that’s how it went. You’d sell your steamiest paintings to Asmodeus, and other private commissions you took one after the other.

Apparently, your painting hung up in Ozzie’s was getting a lot of attention. Especially from a certain spider demon named Angel Dust.

After hearing Charlie’s decision to look for another member of their staff— someone who’d be in charge of decorating the premise with promises of love and tranquility up in Heaven— Angel Dust had taken a few snaps of your work with his phone, before showing it to Vaggie and Charlie. He had complimented your work, claiming it was ‘the best’ oil paintings he’d ever seen.

Although, in his line of work, he probably hadn’t seen many to compare yours so.

“ls this what we want in our hotel?" Vaggie had asked, motioning to a woman on the canvas that was drenched in sweat and white fluid, her private parts exposed to the audience as she posed suggestively on a stripper pole.

To which Charlie has responded, "I think it's... unique! You can definitely see she knows how to, um, really bring the scene to life! l'm sure she'll be open to creating our vision!"

Your phone had rung one night, with a voice on the other end begging you to come to her hotel and at least hear her offer for a new job.

Which lead you to the Hazbin Hotel, a slightly run down building that obviously needed more work. Inside and out.

“Oh my gosh! Hi there! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! it’s such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Thanks.. but I don’t see many guests around.” You had told her, your eyes darting around the lobby as you absorbed your surroundings.

“Well, we’re still trying to get our name out there. We’re not just any hotel, we’re a hotel set on redeeming sinners!” She exclaimed with pride.

“Redeem?” You had asked her, an eyebrow raised in disbelief.

She shook her head vigorously, “This hotel.. it’s going to be amazing! We’re going to turn Sinners into well.. non-sinners! They’ll be rehabilitated, and have morals! And honor! Heaven won’t be able to do anything but welcome them as angels!”

This idea had sounded a little far-fetched when you first heard it.

“You’ll be in charge of making art that reflects such views! Something that will make Sinners go, ‘Wow! Now that’s where I want to go!’”

“What’s in it for me?” You had asked.

“Well you’ll have your own room, and your own little studio too! I’m sure it’s much bigger than the one you already have. Plus we have a bar, and good company!”

You turned your head to the small crowd of demons a few feet away. A pornstar, a gambler, a snake guy with weird little walking eggs, and a really creepy man in a red coat that shot you a wide smile with eyes that seemed to stare right through your soul.

This was good company?

You contemplated her words, thinking deeply. Did you really need to leave the studio you were already a part of? You already had a room and place to paint, anyway.

Charlie must have noticed your hesitation to accept before quickly adding,

“Anddd you can sell your pieces here too! Plus, you can keep a hundred percent of the earnings.”

You perked up at that, the money made from your art would be... all yours? And, you’d get a breather from the drawing people having sex? That didn’t sound so bad after all!

“Deal!” You had reached out a hand, shaking hers with delight.

It had taken you a day or two to map out the interior of the hotel and figure out what could go where. You began to slowly brainstorm, what could make a sinner stare at a canvas and want to redeem themselves?

During your time on earth, you studied many artists through history. Most notably however, were those from the Renaissance. You remembered walking through the Sistine Chapel when you were younger,

staring at awe of the paintings of winged angels and heavenly skies.

You perked at that thought. That was it! The inspiration for your paintings, an ethereal perspective on what one would find in heaven. The feelings of bliss and care-free joy.

You spent your first few days in an undisturbed area of the hotel, it was a large room on the farthest side of the lobby. It must’ve been a guest room at one point, but other than a bed and few cushions that the ‘Radio Demon’ had placed for you, it was empty.

It was quiet enough that you could sit there, undisturbed, as you drew upon your memories and vast knowledge of histories in art as you slowly began to bring your ideas to life. Slowly, the room also took form into being yours, personal knick-knacks and stacks upon stacks of blank canvases waiting to bring your visions to life.

At the end of every day, you'd come out with your hands covered in charcoal and paint, your hard work on full display.

You had even grown closer to the other residents in the hotel, beginning to see them as more than their initial appearance. Even Alastor, who still kind of gave you the creeps, you had regarded as someone you could speak to without hesitation.

You’d sit on the couches with Angel Dust, drowning in popcorn as you watched whatever was on TV for the night. Sometimes, you’d sit with Husk at the bar as you listened to his stories from his days at the casino and as an Overlord.

It was there, when Charlie had summoned the courage to call her father, Lucifer, the King of Hell, to come visit the hotel and decide on getting her that meeting with the higher powers in Heaven.

Upon hearing about Lucifer's impending visit, you felta mixture of nerves and excitement. You've heardstories about him-his charisma, his power--but you never expected to meet him, let alone showcase your art to him. Would he even like them? He's no doubt seen much more beautiful sights.

As preparations for Lucifer's visit got more chaotic by the minute, you found yourself back in your Atelier, quickly cleaning up your room and berating yourself for any little mistakes you found in your paintings. Each stroke of the brush carried with it a sense of urgency, a desire to impress not just your friends at the hotel, but also the King of Hell himself.

The current piece you were working on was your most intense one yet. It depicted that of an almost nude man, flying high in the skies. His back was faced towards you, his face hidden from view. He was faced towards the sun, which bathed him in a warm glow. Arms outstretched, knees curled in, it seemed as if the angel was going to give the sun a large bear-hug.

It wasn’t until you heard loud commotion in the lobby did you realize Lucifer had arrived. Quickly dropping the brush you were holding, you sneaked down the stairs and quickly neared the archway of the lobby.

Peaking your head out, you canned the large room. Until your eyes locked in a pale figure. Lucifer.

He was beautiful, definitely held the looks of an angel that fell from heaven. His light blonde hair curled elegantly around his face. The candles from the chandelier above basked him in an ethereal glow, as though he could replace the sun itself. Just like the angel from your painting.

His eyes reminded you mostly of a snake. Calculating and cold, but holding so much wisdom and depth. There was a slight sadness there as well, as though itate at him slowly, consuming his soul. It was masked incredibly well though, and you only caught a glimpse before it disappeared.

His attitude toward his daughter made your heartmelt, it was obvious he cared about her in the way heacted and spoke to Charlie, even if his absence didn't speak so fondly of him.

As Lucifer and Alastor butted heads, you quickly scurried back to your room. You had hoped to finish your work-in-progress by the time he arrived, but the struggle to get those damn angel wings to be anatomically correct was a pain.

You hurriedly continued your work, trying to calm your nerves by busying yourself with the painting in front of you.

Charlie's voice broke you out of your concentration soon after, multiple footsteps closing in on where your room lay. You shot up from your seat, and stood up straight, ready to meet the man of the hour.

You couldn't help but feel a flutter of anticipation mixed with apprehension as they approached your make-shift gallery.

Charlie, Vaggie, and— wow, he looked so much better up close— Lucifer stepped through the doorway.

“Dad, this is the newest addition to our staff! They are in charge of helping to inspire our future guests through the power of art!" Charlie proclaimed with glee, pulling you by the arm towards her father.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty. I apologize for being so messy, I was just finishing up another painting." You had greeted him softly.

"Don't worry, you look great," He assured, a gleam in his eyes, "and the pleasure is all mine, anyone who is willing to help my little girl is someone worth meeting,"

You stood there for a moment. Unsure of where to go next, before you felt a slight nudge from Charlie that pulled you back to reality, "Why don't we take a look at your paintings? I promise you, Dad, they are amazing!" She squealed softly.

Beckoning Lucifer forward, you took him through each painting. You described your feelings for each piece, and what made you choose them for the hotel.

You rambled on and on, and Lucifer never said anything, he just listened as you spoke.

Which made you nervous, what was he thinking? Did he like them, or was he just waiting for you to stop talking so he could quickly escape to something of more interest to him? The thought made sweat dribble down your forehead.

To your surprise, Lucifer's reaction to your art was not what you expected. Instead of dismissing it as mere frivolity, he studied each piece with genuine interest, his expression thoughtful and contemplative.

He mostly stayed quiet, but once in awhile would throw in a joke here and there if he noticed anything of interest in the paintings.

His goofy nature that you caught onto watching him earlier was barely evident though, unlike when he was trying to impress his daughter.

After finishing the small tour, you turned to him in anticipation. Your hands nervously rubbing together, as you shot a glance to Charlie, and she gave you an uncertain look. You both held the same question in your gaze: What is he thinking?

"These paintings.." Lucifer began, his voice low and melodic, "Are different than most i've seen down here, not just some scandalous display, but with real meaning. They evoke emotions long buried, memories of a time before.. all this."

His words caught you off guard, and you found yourself nodding in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from his intense eyes.

The one he was staring at in particular was a recreation of The Garden of Eden by Jan Breghal, a painting that depicted the place where humanity was birthed, and where it fell.

“Does it look like.. how you remembered?" You had asked slowly, if anyone could validate the truth in your work, it would be him.

"Actually, this is much prettier. The real deal doesn't do your painting justice," He replied, "It was so boring, just green on green."

Also," He added, "An unfortunate lack of ducks. Humanity should be grateful that I got them out of that forest, so they could see something actually worthwhile.. and with ducks."

You giggled softly at his words, have you ever met someone that seemed to love ducks as much as him?

As Lucifer continued to explore the room, you couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered on certain paintings, his fingers tracing the delicate lines with reverence. It was as if he saw something in your art that no one else did, something profound and personal.

Perhaps your choice of baby-faced angels, and ethereal landscapes brought back memories of his time in Heaven. Hopefully, that wasn't a bad thing.

When Lucifer finally turned to you, his gaze softened, a hint of something unreadable lurking beneath the surface. "You have a rare gift," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "To create beauty in a place like this... it's truly remarkable."

He looked at you for a moment, before a smile crept onto his lips. He was Lucifer, he knew exactly what you meant. It's what drove him to manipulate Eve to eat from the Tree of Life in the first place.

Was he finally getting a glimpse of the good free will brought to humanity? Was there actually meaning in his past actions that sent him to the depths of Hell?

His gaze narrowed in on the canvas behind you, and he slipped past you. "What is this?" He asked with intrigue, pointing towards your unfinished painting.

“My final piece. I've been working on it for days, but I just can't get the wings right.. believe it or not, i've never actually seen angel wings in person." You said that last bit as a joke.

His smile sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. For the King of Hell, it was surprisingly warm, and kind.

Then an idea struck you, but you tried to desperately to push it down. Except it seemed like the only time you could ask someone with angel wings to let you use them as a reference. How many fallen angels were in Hell, anyway?

"I'm so sorry if this is out of line, but. could I, um, borrow you for a little bit? I've just been having trouble drawing the wings correctly and you, well, have them?”

His eyes widened, and his chest puffed slightly at your question. He shot you a toothy grin, “Paint me? Why didn't you mention that earlier?! I have the perfect figure for such a thing.”

Behind him, Charlie rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her lips. You smiled too, you should've known he'd have no problem with it, he was the embodiment of pride after all.

He plopped down on a stool before you, and removed his overcoat. Beneath what seemed to be a red and white gatsby vest that hugged his frame perfectly. Jeez, he was almost too good looking.

He stretched out his large wings, folding the otherfour behind him, only revealing the two much largerones. They were breathtaking, truly. They looked so fluffy too!

You guided him on the exact position you needed them to be in, before making your way to the canvas and getting to work.

Assuring the group you only needed to get a visual on the canvas, the actual work you would do on your own. Slowly, you traced the frame of his wings, etching out the soft lines of his feathers and the curvatures of its form.

You could only imagine how soft those feathers were and what it would be like to curl around them like a pillo-

You shook your head to rid those thoughts. Why were you thinking such things about Lucifer like that? It's not like he would even want to let you go anywhere near him or his wings.

Would he?

You continued your painting, trying not to meet his gaze as you would occasionally peak your head from behind the large canvas to get another good look at his wings.

There was a moment when you two did lock eyes, and he sent a half-lidded smirk in your direction. Thankfully the large object between you two helped hide your growing blush. He was obviously just trying to get you worked up, you assured yourself. Just like he did with Alastor. In a different way, of course.

"This reminds me of when Charlie was younger" Lucifer began, filling the silence, "We sat for a good few hours trying to get a family portrait painted and she would just not sit still!”

“Dad.. please, not right now." Charlie growled out in embarrassment, her cheeks flushed. Vaggie only smiled beside her, listening intently as Lucifer filled everyone in on her younger years.

“lt got to the point where I had to summon her favorite toy to get her to stop squirming, everything was smooth sailing after that.

"And what was her favorite toy?" You inquired softly behind the canvas

“A rubber duck! Like the ones you play with in the bath? She could not get enough of it whenever it squeaked. One time the squeaker broke, and I went to my workshop and crafted her a magical one that meowed instead! Haha!"

Okay, this family really has a thing for ducks!

“She hated it, but that only inspired me to keep making more. Sometimes, we'd sit together on the work bench, and I would just come up with ideas like confetti-spitting, or color changing ducks. She wasn't too good at speaking at that time, so every time she'd laugh that was my clue that she liked it!"

It was sweet, the way he rambled about his daughter. He never spoke of himself or his accomplishments, despite embodying the sin of pride. It was almost like his only pride was his best creation, Charlie.

He continued, the room full of jokes and laughter, even from Vaggie, regarding Charlie's life as a youngling. You listened intently to his stories, his voice dripping with amusement as he recounted story after story.

lt was so sappy and you loved it. Which made you grumble quietly to yourself, why did you have to have a thing for DILFS?! Concentrate on the painting!

After a moment, Lucifer's eyes turned back to the paintings around him, his gaze scanning each painting once more. "I've noticed that you seem to have a repetition in your work.. not that that's a bad thing!" He quickly corrected.

“But in all of your paintings featuring angels, there's always a swan swimming or resting nearby. Do they hold any significance, or are they just a passion for you?"

You looked up from the canvas, and also traced the angelic figures across the room. He was right, with the images of the divine beings also came the appearance of the large, white water fowl. Lying lazily beside the angels, or swimming across pools of water as the care-free beings danced and frolicked.

You contemplated for a moment, before speaking truthfully.

“I just think Swans are elegant and ethereal creatures. They embody the purest of souls, untouched by the taint of sin that consumes the world, just like how their feathers remain untouched from the waters they glide on"

Lucifer's eyes lit up slightly, drinking up your words.

“Plus," You continue, "they mate for life, and allow themselves to just.. decay once their significant other departs from the world. It's very romantic, and love is one of the purest emotions in the world."

Lucifer wasn't looking at you when your eyes met his again, his stare was far off. Past the room entirely, as your words echoed through him. There it was again, the glimpse of sadness that he tried to hide so painfully well.

“Does such love like that exist?," he murmured so softly you had to strain your ears.

There was a few moments of deathly silence before Charlie piped up, asking her father something about heaven. You tried to listen, but your mind was stuck on his words. Lucifer was in heaven once, and he still didn't fully believe in such things?

If there weren't others in the room, perhaps you would’ve asked him.

It took a few more minutes before you were able to wrap up fully, but you had no regrets of asking this man for help, the angel on the canvas actually looked like he had wings, not just stumps of white tuft.

You got up from your seat and walked towards him, noticing that Charlie and her girlfriend were not present anymore. It was just you and Lucifer in theroom now.

“Well, thank you, Your Majesty. You really helped me out here, and it'll go a long way to make the hotel look even better"

“Please, call me Lucifer. The formalities are only for subjects, not friends," he replied, "l did really enjoy getting to see your paintings, you are quite a phenomenal artist. I wasn't lying when I said your work was different from the rest. If only you were around for those family portraits."

You were so taken aback by his praise that you only shrugged it off, like it was no big deal. Even though, coming from the King of Hell, it was.

Glancing behind him, you saw Charlie and Vaggie whispering to each other in the hallway outside of the door. You assumed they probably wanted to finish up so they could get him to agree to the meeting with Heaven.

lgnoring his previous statement of formalities— he was the king, you thought, you weren't going to just pat him on the back and say 'see ya! —you lowered your head and bent down to curtsy, just like you were taught when you were younger, placing your hand slightly in front of you.

Usually, you'd use that hand to shake or grasp the other person's, but it felt wrong to treat this powerful angel like any other man.

Suddenly, you felt the soft touch of fingers gliding across your hand. In confusion, you looked up at those golden eyes and that charming smile. Trying to get a glimpse of what he was thinking.

His hand gripped yours gently, and with a bow of his own, lowered his lips, and pressed a soft kiss your knuckles.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you feared to blink, soaking in his beauty for as long as you could before he had the chance to pull away. You wanted to say something, but your tongue was refusing to work as your mouth opened and closed silently.

When he finally released your hand, he adjusted his hat and turned towards the door. Leaving you standing there, your face burning hot

He cleared his throat, and turned his head slightly, his eye catching yours. A playful smile dancing on his lips.

“l look forward to our next portrait together, hopefully where I am the motivation behind your strokes. Not just these dull wings."

And with his words hanging in the air, you were left alone, with the growing itch to press your face into a pillow and squeal.

——————

awww man, my first fic! I was trying to make this more dating-centric, but i couldn’t stop writing for their first meeting and it got too long haha! If y’all like this one enough, i’ll make a dating version!

let me know what you think 🙏 i reallyyyy appreciate all comments and criticisms!!

wonderful art i commissioned by DawnDrawnS on twitter! <3

[ebeever]

Diversion

[NSFW]

Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Explicit Sexual Content | Please, enjoy

The plan was simple. He had to get the baddie to follow him into a trapped room, without being noticed. You were to decoy to make sure eyes were everywhere but on the desguised hero.

"Fuck!"

Well, the plan was supposed to be simple.

"What the hell happened?" You demand after closing the door to one of the casino's rooms. "You were supposed to get him alone! Why the hell are they searching the building for rats?"

"He didn't want to leave!" He kicks something, you don't care what, and a crash echoes in the room.

"Bullshit," you try to get him to have a normal conversation and explain why the mission failed. "Get him in the room. That was it. He didn't know what was behind those doors, so why wouldn't he want to go?"

"Maybe," he pins you with a glare thrill-worthy. "He was too busy enjoying the fucking show!"

Your mouth drops. "You're blaming me for doing my job?" You throw your arms out, gesturing to the barely-there dress you were asigned to wear. "I was the decoy, of course he would be distracted. What man wouldn't drool over a girl stripping on a stage?"

It was the casino - a hoarding ground for organized crime groups. One in particular caused more trouble than the local authorities could handle, which is how we ended up trying to disable its leader. Distract the crowd. Lock up the boss. It was supposed to be that fucking simple.

"You weren't suppose to take off your fucking dress, y/n," his pacing becomes even more recklace, leaving little unbroken in the room. His voice is deep, rushed, and almost raspy.

"Distract. Those were my instructions. I was suppose to distract the crowd."

"Yeah, and not me!" He is right in front of you. Hot breaths are the only sound you allow. He steps even closer and lowers his head, and softens his voice to a whisper, "not me."

You shy away from his threatening, promising, stare and lock onto his mouth. "Bakugou, I-" he cuts you off with the most delicious evaperation of space.

"Don't do it again," he grumbles between kisses. "Don't ever do it again."

"It's," you moan when he deepens the kiss, "It's my job to," another moan.

"I don't give a fuck." Hands all over. Lips exploring far and wide. "Don't ever undress for another man again." He lifts you up, effortlessly, and animalistically.

"You can't-" your back hits a wall.

"I can't what?" A challenge. Your is mushy from the way he kisses your jaw... and neck... and collarbone... and everywhere just right. Hands everywhere. Lips exploring far and wide.

"Can't... tell me... hmm." You lift your head back. He moves his hips foreward. The flimsy dress you were forced in bundles at your hips and Bakugou, the controling bastard he is, locks your legs around him.

"Can't tell you what, y/n?" His lips find your mouth again, and almost distracts you from his hands. Panties? Gone. Emptiness? Gone.

No words leave your mouth. Loud sounds, yes, but no words to express the significant hold this man has on you. One finger, fuck it, two fingers deep and he has you riding his hand like a Porn star.

"Tell me... what to- to do..." you finally manage with much reliance on his shoulders, and arms, and legs, and fucking everything. You need this man like your pussy needs his cock.

"No?" He slips his hands out, the slick covering his fingers like second skin. You protest and then groan loudly. Fucker thrusts his fingers back in, from tip to stem. Over and over and over and fucking over again. "You sure about that, yeah?"

Again and again and again and again again again and over and faster and harder aahh! This man has you forgetting your morality as you stop breathing and chase that damned peak.

"I don't think you are..." he knows you're close. Fuck, he knows you too good. Too good... "If I tell you to come, will you listen?"

You shake your head. Up and down. Eyes shut and brows furrowed. You'll do just about anything for him.

"If I tell you to squirt all over my hand," he bucks his hand and your hips react. So do your sounds. So does your whole fucking body. "Will you listen to me then, y/n? Hmm?"

"Yes," you desperately say. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, please please please," you lose your voice.

"If I tell you to take my cock like the good girl you are, will you listen then, y/n? Will you listen to me then?" He's never been like this before. He's never had his fingers in you, fucking your brains out, while riding off the seduction of jealousy.

"Ye-" you gasp and scream and moan all in one. He rips his fingers from your sensitive core and stuffs his cock right to the end of your heat. He doesn't waste time, waiting for you to adjust.

Fuck it. He takes you raw.

From the tip right to the fucking base. In and out in and out in and fucking out. It's the only torture you wish will never end.

"You do as I tell you, y/n," he tries to sound collected and controlled while he's anything but. Rough dogging into your pussy has him spiraling out of control. Thinking of how other men, other fucking men, saw your shoulders, your legs, your lace.

It drove him beyond insasnity.

"Bakugou- Bakugou I'm-"

"Shatter for me, yeah?"

Oh, and you do. You see stars that align with stars. You hold your breath and shake when the orgasm quakes you in half. In three. In a million unsalvable pieces.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck," he groans and moans and eventually whimpers. GroWliNg your name unlike any man ever could, or should...

Overstimulation has never burned so deliciously. He rides it out until his whimpers are cut by his own lack of breath. One pound. Two pounds. Three beasty pounds. And a pussy-load full of cum.

You only fill your lungs when the walls stop shaking and the earth stops spinning.

He starts kissing you again. Over all the tingles and mingles and dying stars.

"If this is how all our fights are going to end," you grin with intent, "I might never listen to you again."

He looks at me, examines me, and then tears your dress right off.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" He shows you his own grin as he picks up even more and carries you to the bed.

When you fall down you watch him undress and gawk at the Greek model that he is.

"It's a diversion."

© ebeever

My Hero Academia

Atlas

[connabeth]

the lotus casino scenes were so severely lacking in shenanigans but the car part was so fun like what do you mean percy’s so obsessed with annabeth’s approval and validation that when he finally does something marginally decently after causing complete and utter terror he looks at her and meets her gaze to be like “see? are you proud of me?” and gets distracted and immediately totals her side of the car

[demonlorddiva]

Sugar Daddy Things Mammon Does For You

HELLO after doing Lucifers I got more ideas for different characters let me know if you want me to do someone else! I made this as yall are already dating but trying to still give ‘some’ tsundere vibes cause I love that about him

Lucifers sugar daddy post

Some people would be shocked at how much mammon spoils you

Mainly from him complaining about how broke he is

But mind you it’s CANON from messages and in game that whenever he gets his hands on some cash he’s immediately taking you out

He knows you well, he already had a stunning outfit bought and ready for you to wear. Shoes, accessories and some very expensive jewelry pieces are all there as well.

Definitely gets his car detailed, washed and waxed beforehand. He wants you riding in style

The most romantic dates with the nicest bottle of wine (he doesn’t care what it is as long as it’s expensive)

Oh you need more water? He’s calling a waiter over immediately. How’s the food? Not the greatest thing you’ve ever eaten? He’s sending it back.

Okay maybeee he’s going a bit overboard, but who cares? He’s got the cash to tip out the wait staff so you get the upmost care

He likes to take his time after dinner walking around, he wants to show the world the absolutely stunning human he has on his arm. HIS date. HIS human

What other way to end the evening then at the casino? What? No it’s not a bad idea! Come onnnn he can double his money and then he can spoil you even more!

Well, you follow him. He looks like he’s having fun and who knows? He might make something

He orders you a fancy cocktail and has you sit in his lap. You blush but he says he needs his “good luck charm” (he’s totally blushin too)

And the games actually go well! He’s definitely skilled and his luck is pretty good

Give him some puppy eyes before he gets out of hand so he can cash out while he’s on top

But mammon is not only extravagant in the way he spends, but also the way he treats you.

Do not try to get out of the car before he opens the door and helps you out himself. Never mind car doors any door really

You noticed it throughout the entire evening. He treated you like his own personal treasure. The way you walked with him he had his hand on your waist, almost protectively

It only took one glance from the avatar of greed for people to know not too look at you for too long, because your HIS

Wow this got pretty long! Let me know your thoughts on this one! Wrote this out in one night so pardon the errors.

What’s your favorite toppings for pizza? I like mushrooms and bell peppers!

[mariswxt]

‘34 château margaux

SUMMARY: Spencer never knew to feel about you. Actually, he did. You were a career criminal, but also a liaison for the FBI, which prevented your arrest. You’re cunning, manipulative, persuasive and oh, so seductive. Spencer was warned against you, and he knew it. But even a genius profiler with an eidetic memory couldn’t resist you. Even a genius profiler with an eidetic memory can’t help but lose control around a woman like you.

TW: mentions of smoking, wine, seduction, badass reader, s7 Dr Spencer Reid, mentions of organised crime, mobs and mafia, Spencer’s weak for reader the poor baby, Hotch slander, smut

STW: Spence doesn’t stop the reader from kissing him, marking, oral (f. receiving), brief handjob, praise kink if you squint, dirty talk but Spencer style, degradation I think, wine play (I think), temperature play as subtext, ass slapping, profiling during sex, threat of exhibitionism, light choking, switch!Spencer, switch!reader, pussydrunk!Spencer, slight overstimulation, fingering

SONG INSPO: Greedy by Ariana Grande, Acapulco by Jason Derulo, I Did Something Bad by Taylor Swift and Make you Mine by Madison Beer

Femme fatales had a specific profile.

The "femme fatale" is typically depicted as a highly attractive and enigmatic woman in her late twenties to early forties, often characterized by a seductive allure that masks her manipulative and dangerous nature. Her primary weapon is her ability to ensnare men through charm, beauty, and sexual allure, ultimately leading them to their downfall.

While her motivations vary, she is often driven by power, revenge, or hidden trauma. Early literary examples include the biblical figure of Delilah, who betrays Samson, and Salome, who demands the head of John the Baptist. In classical mythology, Circe and the Sirens use their allure to seduce and destroy men.

The femme fatale's archetype is also evident in later works like Shakespeare's Lady Macbeth, who manipulates her husband to commit regicide. This profile of a femme fatale highlights her as a complex figure whose allure conceals a more sinister intent.

That was your profile.

Hotch had warned Spencer not to get too close to you, because you knew how to use your everything, and you had a sweet spot for the latter. Not because Spencer really was a likeable son of a bitch, but because you found him more fun than the other agents.

You were a pretty face, sure, but you were also a genius. A Dr Spencer Reid level genius, but you were the side of the spectrum that dissolved into a life of high crime and corruption.

Instead of becoming a federal agent - or law enforcement - you were the trusted advisor to a lot of the mafia and mob population, and even that was enough to put you away on charges of incitement/inchoate crime. But you were useful, extremely useful, so you also then became the liaison for the FBI whenever the mafia or mob circles became involved in an investigation.

This time, you were, as the unsub of a case in Las Vegas, Nevada seemed to be purchasing drugs like M99, ketamine and small doses of chloroform, mixed with LSD. It was a powerful mix and the dose was enough to cause immediate system failure and then death. The drugs were being purchased from casinos which were rumoured to be the cover of Vegas’ mob circles.

Your hotel room was the kind of thing Spencer only hoped to see in movies, with warm lighting, patterned red wallpaper, mahogany flooring with underfloor heating, glass and gold tables, mahogany dressers and a huge king-size four poster with curtains the same colour as the walls. There was a liquor cabinet as well as a fancy looking cooler, and it was nothing like Spencer had been used to seeing as he grew up in this very city.

It didn’t feel like his territory anymore. He wasn’t as comfortable as he usually was around these parts. He took the couple steps in, having closed the door behind him, now standing awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Maybe you weren’t in. Phew.

“Dr Reid.” Came the voice that made Spencer feel like he was on fire, a perfectly manicured hand brushing over his shoulder as you walked up from behind him, having come from the bathroom that was no doubt as fancy as the bedroom itself. After all, this was the penthouse.

You lived it big as a career criminal.

You stepped out from behind him, lips that he’d unintentionally imagined on his body stretched into a smirk as you picked up a quarter-full wine glass from the table and took a sip. You were killing him, wearing a black silk robe with just the right hint of lace, which stopped at your mid thigh and had a neckline that had his eyes dropping briefly before he schooled them and gave himself a very firm lecture inside his head.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Again, that voice, the cadence of it, Spencer couldn’t understand how something as simple as a damn voice could have him so unbelievably weak for you.

Spencer raised his hand in greeting with his bravest attempt at a smile, like he usually did.

“It’s a case.” He dug in his messenger bag, handing you some photos of some bodies. “Someone’s targeting bank workers around Vegas. It’s a ‘drug smoothie’ of M99, ketamine and small doses of chloroform, mixed with LSD. Morgan dubbed it that. Actually, smoothies are meant to boost the health of the drinker and contain nutrients from a liquid base such as yogurt or milk puréed with fruit, vegetables or items in a mixer, so I don’t see how this particular drug mix is a smoothie— a milkshake perhaps, as it hasn’t got as much nutritional value beside providing substantial energy through the intake of sugar and carbohydrates.”

He paused, seeing the soft, amused smile on your face, the light of the room casting a perfect shadow on the curve of your cheek. It felt like you were ethereal. “Did I say too much?” Spencer said meekly, rubbing his jaw.

“Not at all, Dr Reid, I completely agree. You can tell your friend Morgan to change it and you have my wholehearted support.” You gave him a nod, your head tilted and eyes looking big with the way you were looking at him. “You have no clue just how much your knowledge turns a girl on, baby, no clue at all.”

Spencer cleared his throat, realising that he was veering off topic and also almost salivating at the sound of you calling him baby. Having to lecture his eyes once again for looking at your legs that seemed to go on for days and seemed to also be calling for him to grab, knead and grip. “We need to stay on topic. Hotch needs the information about the case, and you need to give it.”

Spencer couldn’t help but always let his mind drop into the gutter at the sight of you. It was a Pavlovian response at this point— pure, unbridled instinct.

He couldn’t help but notice that with the way the robe draped on your body, you had nothing on underneath. That kind of assumed information had Spencer reeling.

You waved a perfectly manicured hand with scarlet nails, dismissing the idea of maintaining professionalism. “Hotch needs this, Hotch needs that. No offence to him, but he’s got a lock on you, Dr Reid. Enjoy for a night, let your hair down.”

“Well, t-the phrase ‘let your hair down’ originally was meant literally back in 1850, which was its first recorded usage but it has its roots in the 17th century. It was taken literally because women wore their hair pinned up in public, but the meaning of the phrase was to ‘get familiar’.”

Oh.

“Sorry, I can’t.” Spencer added hurriedly, searching for a notebook and pen in his bag. Licking his lips subtly at the sight of your v-neck and the way your hair framed your face. The curve of that pretty neck he wanted to kiss and lavish so it made those pretty lips fall open—

Jesus, keep it together.

“Anyway, do you want some wine?” You asked, tapping the bottle. “‘34 Château Margaux. This hotel really does have good taste.”

“I don’t drink on the job.” Spencer answered coolly. “And definitely not with criminals.” He would had Hotch not warned him— bad Spencer.”

You pouted, feigning upset. “That just breaks my heart. Putting my job against me? I’m only the advisor to some very powerful forty-and-above men who want some sexual gratification and overall ego boosts and also carry some lovely baggage with mommy issues written all over it. They want a pretty face to spill their secrets to, I give them that and get some cash in return.”

You saw the look on his face. “I’m not apologising for being a career woman.”

“Yet you liaise with the FBI about all that these forty-or-older sexually frustrated men tell you.” He countered quickly, firmly looking you in the eye. Not down at your lips, not at your tits, nor your thighs.

Spencer shook his head in exasperation, even though a shiver ran down his spine at how you advanced towards him, undoing his tie with a practiced hand. “What- ma’am, you can’t do that—”

“Ma’am?” You laughed, getting the maroon tie off and dropping it to the floor, unbuttoning his collar deftly. “Jesus, sweetie, that makes me feel old. Call me by my name, don’t be shy.”

Your name slipped off his tongue in barely a whisper, and became his only known prayer when he felt the warmth of your hands through his shirt, sliding up and up until the searing heat ran over his neck, resting in his hair and trailing down his arm, your nose brushing his before slotting in place.

Oh, God, he thought as you took his hand in your own soft one and guided it to press against your thigh, the fingertips of his index, middle and ring finger feeling silk while his palm, thumb and fifth finger felt smooth, creamy skin.

Oh, fuck, he thought as your lips got close enough to his to be a teasing venture into the cracks in his walls and defences that he’d flimsily put up against you.

“I’ll give you the information you need.” You said softly, in a way that had Spencer’s breath hitching. He should have looked away. He should’ve removed his hand from your thigh, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He was stuck like that, entranced by you. “You just need to let loose for me. For one night, I’m all yours. Drop that professionalism, Dr Reid. Let yourself go.”

“You’re a career criminal.” Spencer murmured, his hand beginning to rub your thigh, gripping slightly at the end of the downward stroke. Bad hand.

“Semantics.” You smirked, biting your lip— oh, hell, that did nothing for his self control. It made him want to kiss those lips until they bruised or swelled, until they numbed. His hand on your thigh made his tongue long to devour your pussy. The way you were looking him made him feel like he was merely a puppet on strings. “Come on, Dr Reid. Don’t deny yourself a good time, hm?”

Spencer would’ve answered, but then your lips pressed against his, and suddenly, he had clarity. That this was wrong, so very wrong. But it felt so damn good. His hand now kneading your thigh was wrong but felt electric.

He pulled back, but his mouth didn’t need to do the chasing that they ached to do. You did it for him, silencing any bubbling protest. You kissed him for the sake of coaxing him to give in, to just kiss and touch until his lips and conscience went deliciously numb.

“We can’t-” He felt your lips against his, a hum replacing his words, unknowingly stepping back towards the bed. Or maybe he knew. “We - mm - Hotch will - mhm—”

“Baby, what Aaron Hotchner doesn’t know what hurt him.” You murmured, pushing him back onto the bed. Spencer fell back without a protest, taking you in, especially as you straddled his lean form that had scooted up the bed, set his messenger bag aside and began popping the buttons of his shirt while grazing his lips with your own, teasing him, taunting him and daring him to let go as you rolled your hips slow and steady against his.

A grinding motion that drove him insane and made him moan and gasp. The fabric of his trousers really did nothing to alleviate the friction and pressure.

Spencer’s hands shot to your hips, unknowingly helping you and guiding your movements under the guise of getting you off him. “Ma’am, I mean—” He whimpered your name instead of saying it like a normal guy would, “please, d-don’t—”

Saying don’t stop was the intention, but he held himself back with the rapidly fraying thread of control. His eyes screwed shut then opened wide with a gasp, wanting to lose himself in you.

He wondered if this was his state with every woman or just you.

Definitely you was the answer when you took your mostly empty glass of wine, pouring the remaining contents over his chest. Your cold hand cupped the side of his neck, a shiver flitting over his warm skin as you then bent forward, lapping up the liquid from his chest. Sucking, drinking the earthy-noted wine with a suspiciously high efficiency. A moan that even surprised him left his mouth when you ground down against him again, your tongue on his skin, and he never hated his trousers more than right this moment as the fabric strained against his clothed need.

He loathed them when you reached for the sash of your robe, untying the waves of tantalising silk fell off your shoulders and over the side of the bed, revealing nothing underneath.

His mouth went dry.

He swallowed.

He snapped.

Within a second, you were flipped over, Spencer’s lips crashing down on yours as he kicked his shoes off, toed his socks off as he kissed you like he was going feral, hand tangling in your hair as he practically rutted against you, hard and fast and oh, so relieving.

He was gripping your face, free hand pushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue and making the blazing journey down your neck, which you bared to him gladly.

“Is this what you wanted?” Spencer panted, sucking at your pulse. “You wanted me to lose control, baby? Yeah, you got it. You. Got. It.” He punctuated the last three with nips to your collarbone and followed up with presses of his mouth on the swell of your tits.

You couldn’t even think, just letting out moans and sighs and needy whimpers of his name and unintelligible sounds, which did good to satisfy his frustration. Spencer’s mouth enveloped your nipple, sucking while tweaking the other between his fingers to have you arching into him and a smirk forming around his temporary fixation.

He switched his attention, pushing you down by your waist with his free hand to keep you from arching up. “Sit pretty and take it.”

Oh, those words sent a hot shiver up your spine. And then back down again, straight to your already soaking pussy.

He let your tit go with a small gasp, his eyes zeroing in on the prize and prompting him to start kissing down your stomach and nipping at your thighs.

If you chose to wear that robe for another person in the near future, they’d see his marks on your thighs. His. That was a thought that had a warmth swelling in his chest and cock.

He pushed your legs apart, holding them apart with his elbows and biting his lip at the feel of your hand in his hair. Testing the waters, his middle finger pushed with no resistance into your throbbing pussy, which had you gasping and moaning his name, while Spencer groaned yours upon feeling how you squeezed merely one finger.

Spencer had long fingers. Imagine what that meant for all you ladies out there.

He would’ve began pumping it, but he withdrew it and began licking it clean, tasting you on his tongue and almost whining at how good it was. Ignoring your whimper at the loss of contact, he maintained very intense eyes contact with you as he licked one long stripe up your cunt.

That didn’t last very long. The moment he got one proper hit of you, his eyes rolled back, then closed, mouth fell open, and he properly got to work, drinking you up like you did that wine on his body.

You’d honestly never been with a man as dedicated to eating pussy than Dr Spencer Fucking Reid.

“I’ve profiled you, y’know.” He murmured, still lapping at you and acting as if you weren’t writhing, moaning and arching your back - a complete mess - while he was having a fucking casual conversation with you and being the little shit that caused it.

He paused to suck at your clit as if it was all casual and part of a daily routine, little hums and encouragements between words where he’d absolutely devour you and make it look like him playing poker. Easy. “You’re promiscuous - mmh - like Lady Macbeth, except without the - mhm - implied infanticide and insanity.”

Spencer used his elbows locking your thighs in place to spread you open and get a new angle, and god damn it worked, because while you were crying out his name to Jesus and the holy mother Virgin Mary he was acting like this was another day at the office. “You use your body to get what you want - that’s it, be loud, baby - and on all counts it works. You also know how to play into people’s - fuck - psyche. It’s what makes you a textbook femme fatale.”

His middle finger slid in again, along with his index - both ridiculously long - and he crooked them just right, reaching places you didn’t even know existed and hitting the bullseye that was your g-spot all while tracing his name on your clit. Again, acting like you weren’t a complete and utter mess by now, but you were too far gone to care.

“You have an ability to see someone’s emotional desires— now, for example.” Spencer glances up at you, his free hand massaging your thigh and his fingers working you, pumping in and out and making sure his thumb got your clit while he talked. “It makes you highly manipulative, a-and your confident demeanour makes it - so tight, pretty girl - easy for people to trust and confide in you, hence why you’re the advisor to a lot of the mafia bosses on the FBI’s most - mmh - wanted list.”

Upon feeling and seeing how close you were, even if you didn’t know it yourself, Spencer smirked up at your face, looking like the prettiest picture with your eyes rolled back, mouth open, hand holding the sheets and your cheeks as pigmented as they could go. “But you’re easy to read when you’re in a vulnerable position. So why don’t you be a good girl, and come for me?”

You came apart easily at his cue, your high crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, feeling him lap at your pussy to clean you up— or so you thought. He actually didn’t stop, murmuring something about “one more” as his brow furrowed in concentration, really zeroing in on his target.

Not stopping, not letting up.

You were pretty sure you saw God and his army of angels frowning upon the sinful deed you two were partaking in, and how you were partaking of each other, while Spencer continued to steal your thoughts with that damn talented tongue and fingers.

He moaned at the taste of you, feeling drunk on everything you were giving him. Your sounds, the feel of you, the taste of you— you consumed all his senses.

You were a forbidden fruit. He was eating it. Except he was taking more than just one bite of the apple.

When you came again after a few more practiced licks, you felt a lot more sensitive then usual, but the satisfied look on Spencer’s face told you he’d made you come twice instead of once.

Testament to his skill, you guessed.

Spencer wiped all the residue of you off his chin with his thumb, licking his lips and quickly sucking the slick off by popping the thumb into his mouth. He made it look like his everyday Tuesday.

Then he undid his belt buckle and dropped it aside, his trousers and boxers going with as he pressed kiss after kiss to your body on the slow journey up. Spencer groaned as your hand wrapped around his cock, your thumb teasing the head before your hand began to move up and down… until he stopped you.

“Not right now, baby.” He chuckled. “Another time. Statistically, I’m fifty percent more likely to come if you do that.”

“That’s the idea.” You winked, but removed your hand off his dick anyway.

“I’m sure it is.” Spencer smiled, then looked around. “Do you have condoms? J-Just cause using protection during sex, particularly condoms, is crucial for several reasons, both from a-a health and social standpoint. First, condoms are one of the most effective methods for preventing the transmission of sexually transmitted infections, i-including HIV. These infections can have long-term health consequences, some of which are irreversible or even life-threatening. By using a condom, you're significantly reducing the risk of both contracting and spreading these infections to your partner. Second, condoms are a reliable method of birth control when used correctly. They prevent sperm from reaching the egg, thereby reducing the likelihood of unintended pregnancies.”

Then you pulled out the top drawer of the bedside table, which was full of condoms of all sizes. Which had him both slightly jealous and sheepish. “Oh, uh, thanks.” Spencer grabbed one, tearing the foil off with his teeth and expertly sliding the rubber on and entering you so fast your moan came in delayed timing.

“Fuck.” You gasped, especially as you adjusted to him and even better when he started moving back and forth at a steady rhythm, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in, feeling your pussy practically mould to him in a way that had his eyes rolling back and hips snapping forward harder.

It made your nails claw at his back, which made him bite his lip and release it, claiming your lips in a hungry kiss. ‘34 Château Margaux. It had an earthy taste to it.

Your perfume was intoxicating, and he smelt of new books and a cologne that drove you mad. You also got notes of butter popcorn from his time watching Russian movies and his lips distinctly tasted of you and you only.

It felt like your claim on him.

Next thing you knew, he’d pulled out, flipped you onto your stomach and thrust into you again, his mouth latching to your shoulder and leaving marks as he took your neck by his hand, not squeezing hard, but just enough to let you know he was there.

“So tight. How’re you gonna look - shit - all those mafia bosses in the eye, huh?” He panted, punctuating his words with a snap of his hip while you were reduced to cries of his name. “When you can’t walk because of an FBI agent?”

“Spencer, fuck!” Was the only admittedly pathetic thing that came from your mouth, along with a whimper when his hand came down on the side of your ass, soothed by a rub.

“That’s right, baby, call out for me.” He murmured, sucking a mark under your ear. “Make sure everyone in this hotel can hear.”

You found yourself coming at the words, gripping the pillows with your eyes rolling back, Spencer’s own copying as he felt your cunt clamp down on him like a vice. His hand on your throat squeezed a little tighter - but he was aware that it wasn’t enough pressure to cut off an airway - with his head dropping to your shoulder, pressing kisses to the heated flesh as he followed with a few clumsy, shallow thrusts later.

Oh, he knew what he did was wrong. He just couldn’t help himself when presented with you.

Spencer pulled out of you, both of you practically spent of all your energy. You rolled onto your back, wiping away a forming tear due to your sensitive pussy being wrecked by Dr Spencer Reid, but it was worth everything.

“I forgot one thing.” He murmured, moving so he could pull you into his chest and kiss your hair. Remarkable how this man can go from a hot dominant to a hot nerd. “From your profile, I mean.”

“Yeah, Dr Reid?” You smiled, kissing him softly yet intensely, drawing a hum of contentment from his lips.

“You, ma’am,” Spencer cheekily emphasised between kisses, “are very sexually proficient.”

That got a laugh from you, breaking away to playfully swat his chest, which got a noise of surprise from him and a small "son of a bitch!". “Is that your way of telling me this was mind blowing sex?”

“That isn’t how you tell someone that?”

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[rxzennia]

don't you worry child

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 so like i lied and now here’s something not on my wip list. remember the theme park scene with three aventurines? this is loosely based on that. young kakavasha calls you mister like twice but that’s cause you’re looming tall. i wish i could yap about more exploring the map, but it’s already way too long :( would’ve speedran this fic but i was trying to beat divergent v (spoiler alert, i’m still trying)

“for in every adult there dwells the child that was, and in every child there lies the adult that will be.” 

when aventurine showed you the dream bubble made of his memories, he wasn’t expecting to bare his inner child to you. he thought it’d be some of his earlier days at the ipc, some of his conquests and schemes, or maybe some of his glorious wins at the casino, not what he has buried for so long – and definitely not something he’s tried so hard to deny for so long. sure, he will tell you eventually, but not now. not yet, not when he’s barely ready. 

and yet here you are, face to face with a child whose height barely reaches your hips. alone. aventurine said he’d be here with you, but where the hell is he?

you agreed to give your boyfriend’s(?) dream bubble a try, but where are you?

no one’s confessed but there are already rumors in the office so like tentatively dating, you suppose

and who is this small human in front of you?

you adjust your scarf, pulling it a little higher as you stare at the boy

he stares back at you

you try to not glare at him, but for all you know, you might still be glaring anyway

a few minutes pass, and the child blinks at you

he lifts one hand up, look at his feet then back at you, then he tiptoes

"you’re so tall, mister!" 

you look around for anyone else. there’s no one else.

"me?" you point at yourself

you’re not good with kids, you don’t know if you should bother engaging him, but hey, he’s just a kid

no reason to ignore him or tell him to leave you alone

if anything, him being all the way out here in the unregulated areas of the theme park means you should do something about it

maybe you should bring him back to the main area?

"yes, you, mister!" the child nods enthusiastically. "woah, you’re so big! can you come down a little?"

first off, that’s what she said. second, and more importantly, how is he not remotely intimidated by your presence? you’re a pretty towering figure even by your own standards, and you don’t exactly have a friendly face, so the fact that a kid of all people started talking to you…

but the more you look at him, the more you feel a sense of deja vu. his face reminds you of someone you know, but his demeanor is, like, the furthest thing away from that person.

you can’t really say no to him, so you crouch down slowly

you don’t know how to interact with him, but you can at least satisfy his curiosity

"like this?" you’re now a head and a half taller than him. somehow, he takes this as a sign to approach

"child, has no one taught you to not talk to strangers?" 

he gasps, like he suddenly remembered everything his parents warned him to not do, and he lowers his head like he’s just done something bad

"b-but you don’t seem like a bad person!" he bursts out, clumsily fiddling with his fingers. "you, you don’t give me the same feeling bad people do…"

"you should still be careful." you sigh as you adjust your scarf so it’s not touching the ground. "well, that aside. i’m down here now. can i help you?"

you watch as they kid slowly walk up to you, the curiosity shining in his eyes

you didn’t deny his claims! that means you’re a good person!

you’re mildly fascinated by the delicate little human

"i’m looking for someone," he says, finally looking up at you again, "t-then i have to go home… but i’m a little lost…"

is this what the world has come to? a kid asking you for help? in a dream bubble of all things?

though you did agree to experiencing the whole thing, so you should probably play along

"alright." you nod. "how should i call you?"

the child brightens up when you agree to help, and he almost reaches for your hands before he remembered personal space

"umm," he starts, keeping his hands awkwardly half-raised, "my name is kakavasha. mister, what about you?"

"kakavasha, hm?" you say, and you offer him one hand. you briefly wonder if it’s okay to tell dream kakavasha your name – this doesn’t seem like a typical dream bubble and all – but worst comes to worst, you’ll just force your way out.

so you tell the child your name, and you feel an overwhelming sense of adoration when he gingerly tries to repeat the syllables that you’ve just said.

dragon hoarding treasure moment intensifies

this kid is going to grow up into the man you know today? absolutely crazy

you’re kind of spacing out as you try to reconcile the kid in front of you with your boss

and while you’re doing that, you vaguely hear him repeating your name over and over again

"yes, that’s close enough." you finally interrupt his attempts to perfect his pronunciation. "where to, kakavasha?"

you stand up, and holy shit you’re so much taller than him

you briefly wonder if you can even hear him from all the way up there…

you can. you hear him crisp and clear. 

maybe a little too clear

he’s loud.

"can i lead the way?" he asks, as if you’d say no to him (???)

he grabs onto your hand without any reservations and he starts to drag you off

what do you do??? no human interaction has prepared you for children??? because no kid wanted to approach you like ever???

you’re taken so much by surprise that you kind of just… froze up

cue him trying to tug you somewhere but failing miserably

he tries with both hands, but you still wouldn’t budge

super confused

he tries harder

still nothing??? just how big is this big person???

"oh, sorry." you snap back to your senses, and you let him pull you to wherever he wants

after a few turns, pinball machines, and an entire maze later, you find yourself at the central stage, where aventurine did his grandest closing act. you can still see the slash of nihility, but it doesn’t seem that anyone else can see it. perhaps a distortion in the dream bubble itself?

kakavasha takes you straight to the center, right at where the slashed monitor sits.

this whole thing hasn’t sat well with you since you touched that bloody dream bubble

where the fuck is aventurine?

who is kakavasha trying to find?

why would they be here?

unless…

you come to a stop when kakavasha stops to look around. 

"oh, mister’s not here anymore." he whispers, lowering his eyes and fiddling with his fingers, "of course he wouldn’t be waiting…"

you slowly walk up by his side. "who exactly are we looking for? i don’t think you’ve ever told me."

"oh!" kakavasha gasps, "oh." he sputters a little, and he points to the stage. "i ran into a really cool mister earlier, and apparently he’s an actor!" 

now you know who he’s talking about

is this dr edward’s experimental model or something? it’s rare to see memoria taking such form

not that you understand memoria

did aventurine give you this dream bubble knowing this will happen?

so when he said he’d be around, did he mean…?

did he literally regress for this???? what is this, the most fantasy novel to have ever fantasized?

or is he watching you like some guy watching a playthrough of a rpg?

or is this entire thing a bug? because you thought you still have a few years to go before aventurine would even think of letting you so far into his mind

you sigh, it’s all far too complicated for you to think about

you’ll focus on the kid for now

"i see," you reply. you didn’t want to give such a dry response, but what are you even supposed to say? 

"but he seemed a little sad…" kakavasha mumbles, "i was hoping to catch him after his show…"

you’re slightly tempted to say "well you just missed him", but your brain is telling you to not do it

fine, you’ll hold your tongue :(

you watch as the child run around

you give him a few ten minutes before you crouch and open one arm for him

"come on," you sigh, "we’ll be here all day."

kakavasha looks at you, at your unreadable eyes, then your arm, then he tentatively slots himself into your side.

"woah, you’re so tall!" he exclaims when you slowly stand up with him on your shoulder. "i’m so high up! hehe!"

"i know, you’ve said that already," you deadpan

for how unfriendly you are, you sure aren’t hiding your worries well

your other arm has been hovering in front of the boy since the moment you stood up

and you’ve been careful with keeping your arm steady while you walk

"you see him?" 

"no…" comes kakavasha’s downtrodden reply. "i don’t have much time left, papa and mama will be worried if i don’t go home soon…"

you play along, wandering around for kakavasha to look for his adult self. "that’s a shame."

he turns to stare at you

you sound like you don’t give too much of a shit

but he can see that you’re a gentle person at heart

why else would you follow him around, hold his hand, and now lift him up so he can get a better view?

and you’ve also made sure that no monsters could get him

he makes a sad noise when you end up right in front of the monitor

you wonder if he could also see the slash of nihility, or if he intuitively sensed something

he taps your shoulder, a series of quick, feather-light pokes

"down?" you ask, but you’re already lowering kakavasha back onto the ground.

he approaches the broken monitor. "mister��� did his show go well?" he grasps your hand tightly. "it was a great success, wasn’t it?"

you feel for the child, you really do. but this is a dream, an illusion where your actions won’t make any actual difference. you want to wrap him up and coddle him, but in the end, that will change nothing. 

"that it was." you nod, and you envelop his way smaller hands in your own. "the greatest success anyone’s ever seen."

somehow, your heart hurts when he breaks into a smile

"i’m glad." he says, like a weight’s been lifted off his chest

he probably already knows what happened

he knows himself best, after all

it’s not like you expect the child in front of you to be able to see through aventurine’s act

but they’re one in the same

that reckless abandon and affinity to games of chance didn’t come out of nowhere

you’re fairly certain he has his own guesses as to what happened to that "mister"

"do you know where the really cool mister is now?" kakavasha asks, looking at you with the most innocent gaze you’ve ever seen. "is he doing well?"

you can’t help but hear the subtext in his words, and you let out a soft snort. 

it’s such a "him" thing to do.

"i don’t know," you answer honestly, for you really don’t know. "but what i am certain of… is that he is not doing too badly."

you take note of the portal that slowly appeared in the middle of the stage. a picture frame, a crack, and hands prying that crack right open. 

you look into the distance, past the slash, past penacony, into the stars

"he’s alive," you say, "he’s living. will live."

you snap yourself out of your trance and look at the child next to you

"i’ll look after him, don’t worry."

you hope those words could be some sort of reassurance to him

"promise?" he offers you a pinky. "pinky promise?"

that’s cute

a quick image of others seeing you making a pinky promise flashes before your eyes

but what’s more important than the present?

"pinky promise." you hook your pinky with his. "i’ll make sure the really cool mister lives well."

kakavasha finally notices the portal, and he realizes it’s time to go home. he’s stayed out for too long, and now his family wants him home.

wherever home is to him, anyway

how do you even go home through a portal in a dream bubble

ever considered that maybe it’s better if you didn’t question everything

you let him drag you towards the portal

he doesn’t want to say goodbye to you quite yet

he’s pretty interested in this tall, scary person who isn’t actually scary at all

and he really wants to become friends with you (more like spend more time with you)

but he really needs to go, before his parents start to worry

you understand, of course you do, with how he’s fidgeting and glancing between you and the portal

and the face of a kid who’s just been told their playtime is over

so you nudge him a little, hoping that it’ll prompt him to go

are you surprised when it doesn’t work? not really? me neither

he refuses to let go of your hand

like legit just does not, even if both he and you know he has to

what can you do in such a scenario???

nothing’s prepared you for a silent tantrum

can you even call it a tantrum??? 

quick, come up with something!

alas, it doesn’t feel right to simply wave and part ways

"young kakavasha." you kneel down and unwrap your scarf from your neck. "take this with you," you say as you wrap the fabric around him, paying the strange feeling of exposing your scales no mind. you open your mouth to elaborate, but your words die in your throat. 

kakavasha looks at you; he doesn't need to crane his neck for once, and he flinches from the foreign feeling of your fingers ghosting ever so slightly against his face. for how much you’ve taken care of him while he wandered around the theme park, you’re still only a really kind stranger. nowhere close enough to be giving each other gifts.

"it gets cold at night," you say, finally cracking a tiny smile for the child before you, your hand landing on top of his head gently. "you’ll at least be warmer this way."

you watch kakavasha’s bewildered expression as he touches his new scarf, feeling the smooth fabric and how oddly chunky it feels looped around him. it isn’t a bad feeling, not at all. it’s more like a big hug, the sort that scares away the monster under the bed and wards off nightmares.

"thank you…" he mumbles, still dazed and taken by the new addition to his limited wardrobe. he lifts his face to look at you, taking note of your iridescent scales and your soft gaze. he beams, a grin so bright that it ignites even your inhuman heart. "i’ll treasure this! it feels so nice… thank you so much!"

"mm. go on, now." you nod, and you nudge him towards the portal. "don’t keep your family waiting."

kakavasha blinks at you. "you’re not coming?" he asks, tilting his head to the side innocently. 

"unfortunately." you beckon him forward and give him a small kiss on the top of his head before you stand up fully. "if fate shall have it, though… i suppose we will meet again."

"sis has always said that i’m blessed with fortune!" kakavasha almost jumps to grab onto you, but he just misses your shoulders by a hair. "see you next time!"

he spends a good minute waving at you before he turns around to leave. somehow… you feel an overwhelming sense of sadness. an inexplicable wave of melancholy washes over you like frigid waves on a windy day, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

you watch the child until he disappears into the frame, and you don’t look away for another minute.

"see you, kakavasha."