#do NOT put them in a room together something bad will happen

[leighsartworks216]

Scar Tissue

Sylus x gn!Reader

Eyyyyy @comatosebunny09 I finally finished it >:3

Based on this post

Title from "Scar Tissue" by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Warnings: cuddling, early relationship, intimacy, injury, guns, knives, semi-nudity

Word Count: 2,421

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AO3

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“Speak.”

The generic carpet muffles his footfalls as he crosses the room to the oversized floor to ceiling windows that peer out over Chansia City. You follow behind him until you get to the dresser, lined neatly with your clothes.

The hotel is very nice, especially high up here in the presidential suite. Though, you haven’t had much time to actually enjoy it. You got here yesterday, and it feels like all you’ve had time for is sleeping and getting dressed. It’s all been meetings, deals and exchanges otherwise. The only reason you’re back here at all is to change clothes to go to dinner with another client.

Sylus sighs, irritation painting his face with a scowl. You can just barely hear Luke’s voice on the other end. They’ve been holding down the N109 Zone in Sylus’s absence. “More petty land grabs?”

“Nah, from what we’ve heard it sounds like an affair came to light and now they’re duking it out to win their love.”

You snicker as you pull out a clean shirt. You turn and drop it on the bed, back to Sylus as you take off your shirt, bloody and torn from your earlier meeting. He turns to shoot you a half-amused half-annoyed glance over his shoulder. “Have Mephisto-”

But the words get stuck in his throat. Time seems to slow down as he stares at the bare expanse of your back. Your skin looks like a well-used cutting board. Scar after scar, criss-crossing over each other, fundamentally altering the appearance of your flesh for years to come.

He can pinpoint which were from missions he’d sent you on. Jobs that put you in the line of fire, where you had to fight your way out to survive, where someone got a surprise jump on you.

Others are completely foreign. Cuts and bullet wounds and burn marks, all unfamiliar to him. What secrets from your past do you keep locked away from him? How safe are you from the ones that hurt you? Would you ever tell him if something was wrong? If something cropped up from back then, from a time he’d never know enough of? Perhaps not.

Somehow, the former was worse. Knowing he was the one that sent you into trouble. Or those damn injuries you earned from taking a hit intended for him. Being the root cause for your pain aches more than never knowing the damage you incurred before.

You slip your shirt on, hiding the marks from view, and peek over your shoulder at him, confused by his silence. Time speeds back up.

He schools his features into something neutral, hiding the regret and hurt, and burying it deep down within him. He looks out the windows once more. Luke asks if he’s alright. Sylus ignores it, speaking as if nothing ever happened.

-

Dinner was dull, for the most part. The client didn’t seem to understand that you weren’t there for conversation, repeatedly prompting you to answer questions. You’d have signaled Sylus to put the man in his place, but it was all too amusing to see him flounder.

“What kind of gun do you use?” You’d slipped it from its holder mid sip of wine and dropped it onto the table with a heavy thud. That’d taken him by surprise. He recovered quickly enough, spewing off facts about the make and model that you already knew.

“Has it been modified?” You broke it down and separated the parts that had been replaced or enhanced. He’d curiously reached out to inspect them, but you put it back together before he could touch anything. He paused, but put on a slightly strained, polite smile as he awkwardly sat back in his chair.

“How good is your aim?” You shot the end of his cigarette when he went to tap the ashes into a dish, scaring him so bad he shook the entire table and had to rapidly keep his drink from tipping into his lap.

He seemed content to leave you be after that.

You fall back into the bed, arms spread out wide and still in your dinner attire. Sylus chuckles. “Have fun?” he teases. He sits down beside you, leaning on his arm with an amused grin.

You shoot an unimpressed glare his way. Fabric rustles as you slide your hand along the bed to hold his arm, caressing the tensed muscles of his forearm. “Don’t worry, you can make it up to me.”

His grin turns into a salacious smirk. You smack his bicep. “Not like that.”

“You don’t know what I was going to suggest.” Nonetheless, he kicks off his shoes by the side of the bed and lays down beside you. With one hand acting as a pillow, the other rests comfortably on your stomach. You wrap your arm around his neck to play with his hair. Content, you close your eyes.

The last vestiges of the sun filter through the window. Combined with the few lights in the room, you look… peaceful. It’s starting to become a common sight, and he takes great pleasure in being the one allowed to witness it. These times when you trust him enough to relax. When you stop listening out for the slightest hint of danger. When your body releases the tension constantly preparing your body for an attack. It’s a privilege. He hopes never to take it for granted.

Your fingers flit lazily through his hair. His body still tenses on the onset of your touch. His natural instinct yells for him to pull away, go on the defensive, protect himself. It’s always a battle to fight against them and allow himself to completely trust someone. As this - cuddling together, the small moments of physical intimacy and skinship - become the normal, the fight gets easier and easier.

He wonders if that same defensive instinct wars on in your head when he slips his hand under the hem of your shirt. The first brush of his fingers on your flesh, the flinch of muscle away from the contact, that eases back into his touch after a pause. If it does, you say nothing of it. Rather, when your stomach flinches away, you tug on his hair. An equal exchange. And perhaps a reminder of the lengths you have both gone to expose yourselves to each other.

Calloused fingertips dance across your belly, hidden by the fabric of your shirt. Soft ridges and toughened skin of layers of damage done across the years. His mind is shot back to the thoughts he had earlier. You can feel the shift in his touch. The way his fingers lift to barely ghost over your skin, as though you’re as thin and fragile as wet tissue paper. You open your eyes to watch him.

His face is stern. Like when discussing a difficult deal, his brow is furrowed and his eyes are dark. He slowly pushes up the shirt until it rests in a rumpled heap around the bottom of your ribcage. The shift in your breathing latches on at the edge of his senses. Just as with your back, scar after scar decorates your skin. But one stands out from the rest.

Along the line of your hip is a cut. It’s shallow. The skin it tore apart is irritated from lack of care and not having a moment to rest properly.

That’s his fault, too. Dragging you out to a dinner you didn’t really want to go to instead of giving you the opportunity to sleep and heal. Technically, you’re his bodyguard - his guard dog, always by his side, defending him from anyone who you deem a threat. Yet, he’s discomfited by just how quickly you step in to protect him. That’s what this scar is the result of.

The meeting this morning. A fight broke out. He was aiming a gun at the other group leader. One of their lackeys came up from the side with a knife. And you got hit. It had bled, but you’d brushed him off so easily when he mentioned it. You weren’t doubled over, nor were you in a rush to patch it up, so he trusted your judgement. Without a second thought.

Fortunately, your judgement is dependable. All it really needs is a bandage to keep the skin together and bacteria out while it heals, and yet he doesn’t get up. He doesn’t move. All he does is trace alongside it, feeling how it becomes intertwined with the scars before it.

“You need to take better care of yourself,” he says, but the tone of his voice is odd. Teasing, edged with something raw. Something more vulnerable. Something that you two have been dancing around for weeks. “Tell me the next time you’re hurt. I’ll patch you up.”

You brush the hair from his face. His red eyes shift first to the bunched up fabric of your shirt, then to yours. His eyes are soft. The deep maroon of before has melted into a bloody crimson.

“I can patch myself up.”

He scoffs with a smirk and the slight tilt of his head. “I wasn’t asking, sweetie.”

You quirk a brow up at him. “Does it bother you?”

“Yeah,” he agrees readily.

Your fingers falter. He brushes his thumb more firmly along the edge of the cut, still light enough that it doesn’t hurt, but with enough force that it no longer feels like he’s treating you like something fragile.

You frown at him, tapping three times at the base of his skull, a silent request for more information. He pushes himself up onto his elbow. It should be salacious, even intimidating, for him to hover over you like this. But it’s not.

His eyes follow his hand as he traces other marks on your belly. A bullet entrance wound here, a Wanderer’s blade there. The ones he caresses are newer. They haven’t yet faded into your skin. Of all of them, he’d only helped treat one or two. Some, he never even knew about, but he could trace back to when, what mission, they were received from.

“How many of these are from protecting me?” he asks lowly. “You do realize I can heal from all of these much faster than you can, don’t you, sweetie?”

You tilt your head. “It bothers you… that I do my job?”

He chuckles, but the mirth doesn’t reach his eyes. “You could stand to be a little less efficient at it.”

The world falls quiet. The sun disappears, leaving darkness in her wake. The orange glow of the hotel lamps forms mountains and valleys along your skin. You study him, searching for answers.

Over your lifetime struggling to survive, you’d gotten good at reading people, Sylus included. Of course, he had broken your assumptions and expectations. If he hadn’t, you’d never have let him get so close. Never have allowed him to touch you like this, see your skin like this.

Right now, you can’t understand him.

He hired you to be his bodyguard, to protect him. To be his own personal shield when shit hits the fan. But he doesn’t want you to? A lingering fear in your mind worries for the end of your partnership. Would he really touch you like this if he wanted to fire you? Besides, when you made the damn deal, he said only you would have the power to call it off. He wasn’t someone to go against his word.

You drop your hand from his hair. His eyes snap to you, a flicker of fear that is snuffed out when you touch his chest. He’s still wearing his nice dress shirt, jacket discarded elsewhere. You play with one of the buttons. “How many times have you stepped in to protect me?” you ask.

Countless times. More and more frequently.

“Do you let any of them scar?”

He slowly shakes his head. It’s always second nature for him to use his Evol to take care of any and all injuries. Anything that could scar is gone before he has a chance to think about it, so long as he’s in the right conditions to use it.

“Then you can’t understand.”

He hums. “Enlighten me.”

You grin. Gliding your hand from his chest, down his arm, you hold the back of his where it rests on your stomach. It doesn’t take much effort to guide him. He watches, feels the scars that scrape by, as you bring it back back down to your hip, until his palm rests over the cut. It will heal within a couple of weeks, probably less. Once it’s healed, it will scar over. Once it scars over, it will be nothing more than a lasting memory embedded in your skin.

“They’re badges,” you say quietly. When he looks back up at you, you’re watching his hand, trailing your fingertips over the veins that decorate them. “I earned them from protecting you.”

So why would I not want them?

It goes unsaid, but he catches it anyway in the gentle reverence of your carress, the quirk of your brow when you look at him wordlessly asking if he can understand now. It doesn’t need to be said.

He slips his hand out from under yours. The bed shifts with his weight as he turns and gets up. You feel the loss immediately. It’s easy to hide the disappointment, but it churns over in your gut, more distinctly than you’ve ever felt it before, as he disappears around the corner of the wall. Did he really hate them so much?

He returns a minute later when you’re considering fixing your shirt with a medkit in hand. He sits on his knees, sets the kit down beside your body, and opens it up to get what he needs. The disinfectant stings as he wipes it along the cut, but you hardly feel it when he just looks so beautiful. So focused on taking care of you.

“Tell me when you're hurt,” he reminds you. He unspools a length of gauze and wraps it around your midsection securely. He glances at you with a slight grin as he grabs a roll of bandages from the kit. “They won’t scar well if they get infected first.”

A week later, you’re the one patching him up. He sits calmly on the couch as you draw a needle through the skin of his bicep. It’s just a knife wound. Earned from stepping in to protect you.

He can’t wait to see the scar.

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip

[fizziepopangel]

How Hazbins Spend Thanksgiving

Unsurprisingly, no one in the hotel was going to celebrate thanksgiving because… well, they didn’t feel they had much to be thankful for given that they were in hell….. And then Charlie gave them the puppydog eyes and they all caved pretty quick.

In preparation for the day, Angel Dust would make Fat Nuggets and Keekee matching little turkey costumes.

Charlie would literally scream when she saw the adorable little creatures in the turkey get ups and there would be so many pictures and videos of them on both hers and Angel’s sinstagrams.

Of course Charlie would decorate. She’d stay up all night the night before to make cute little thanksgiving crafts to put everywhere.

Sir Pentious would absolutely help her make the thanksgiving crafts and out them up.... but his looked more like a preschool art project. Not being much of a crafter normally, he would still proudly display them.

Alastor would volunteer to make thanksgiving dinner, and he would recruit Niffty to help him.

Niffty would get distracted about 10 minutes in and end up doing something completely off task. Alastor wouldn’t mind since Vaggie would be in and out of the kitchen to monitor him since she didn’t really trust the cannibal in the kitchen, and she would lend a hand when he seemed to need it.

When Niffty disappeared, Lucifer would take the stool she had been standing on, pull it over to the other side of the counter and sit down. Much to the radio demon’s annoyance, the king would proceed to critique everything he did…. Every. Single. Thing.

Alastor is also the type to need to have the radio playing his favorite station in order to do anything in the kitchen.

Lucifer would bug him by changing the station or complaining about his taste in music.

Sir Pentious' egg bois would attempt to help all around the hotel, but they would be threatened to be scrambled multiple times.

Husk would try to hide out in his room, but Vaggie would be around to bang on his door and threaten to drag him out by his tail. Knowing she’d do it, Husk would begrudgingly come out, grumbling about how he “ain’t got nothin’ to be thankful for”.

Charlie would feel bad that Husk was dragged out of his room, so she would try to perk him up… It doesn't really work until Alastor suggests the bartender try to make a cocktail for each person there, “something original” he would say. Husk would actually have fun trying to make up a nice drink for everyone.

After what happened at the club, Niffty would only get mocktails.

And yes, Niffty would pout at that because she enjoyed the fuzzy happy feeling drinking gave her

Vaggie would set the table after Charlie insisted they all eat together like a family.

As they set the table, the king of Hell would proudly present the perfect holiday centerpiece: A duck statue. But not just any duck statue; a statue of a duck dressed like a turkey holding hands with another duck dressed as a pilgrim.

Everyone would take their seats, each with their own special cocktail (and mocktail), and a perfectly presented plate.

Angel would be sneaking Fat Nuggets and Keekee food under the table.... Unbeknownst to him, Charlie was also slipping food to the resident animal companions….. And so was Lucifer… And so was Pentious....

Fat Nuggets and Keekee could both be described as “fat and happy” by the end of dinner

Cherri would surprise everyone with her baking skills by making various pies from scratch.

Angel would make a lot of jokes about being stuffed.

While everyone is raving about the drinks and the food, all enjoying the little gathering more than anyone thought they would, Charlie would suggest that they all go around and say what they’re thankful for.

There would be a chorus of groans, but everyone would do it, finding that there was a lot more for them to be thankful for than they had originally thought.

And of course, Charlie wouldn't be Charlie if she didn't get emotional when her turn came around as she said she was thankful for everyone sitting around the table.

Angel would volunteer to help with clean up, only doing so to be beside Husk for some “casual flirting”.

Niffty would be the first to fall into a food coma and then fall asleep on the couch in the parlor. Lucifer would follow soon after, falling asleep in a chair despite having promised to help with the clean up.

Sir Pentious would pass out in a cuddle pile with his egg bois.

The second that everything was put away, Charlie would excitedly suggest putting up a christmas tree and setting up a secret santa thing.

One step ahead of her, Vaggie would point to the doorway they were standing in, pointing at the mistletoe she had hung in preparation for her girlfriend’s excitement.

[acute-crashout-jeyuso]

Power: a Bloodline x Rhea Ripley fanfic.

Chapter 6: Joshua pt. 2

December 7, 2024

Demi blinked groggily as sunlight filtered through the heavy hotel curtains, painting faint patterns across the room. Her body ached in ways she had grown accustomed to, but her mind felt heavier. She shifted slightly, trying not to disturb the warmth that cocooned her. Joshua’s arm was draped tightly around her, his body pressed protectively against hers.

She tilted her head to glance at him and froze. His usually confident face was softer now, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen before. Dried tear stains marred his cheeks, and his furrowed brow suggested a restless night. The sight of him like this sent a pang of guilt and something deeper through her chest.

“Josh?” she whispered softly, her voice barely audible.

He didn’t stir.

Demi studied his face. Gone was the pain she had seen during Joe’s reprimands, the frustration and fire that seemed to consume him . What remained was a brokenness she didn’t fully understand, and yet it mirrored something she often felt herself.

Unable to stop herself, she lightly touched his face, her fingers tracing the dried tear tracks. He stirred then, his eyes fluttering open, red-rimmed and clouded with exhaustion.

“Demi,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

She pulled her hand back quickly, unsure of what to say. “Are you… okay?”

Joshua stared at her, his jaw tightening as though he was holding something back. He exhaled sharply through his nose, his grip on her loosening just slightly. “Yeah,” he lied, his voice flat.

“You don’t look okay,” she said, her voice trembling.

He sat up abruptly, running a hand down his face. “Doesn’t matter.”

Demi pushed herself up despite the sharp protests of her body. “It matters to me,” she said, her voice firmer now.

Joshua’s shoulders sagged, and he turned to look at her, the weight of the past few days evident in his eyes. “I just—” He stopped, clenching his fists as though struggling to keep himself together. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what they put you through. What I let happen.”

Demi reached out, placing a tentative hand on his arm. “Josh… it’s not your fault. Plus Jonathan took care of me after..”

His laugh was bitter, sharp. “Isn’t it? I didn’t stop it. I didn’t stop any of it and Jonathan only did that so you wouldn’t freak out too much.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned to her then, his eyes searching hers for something—absolution, understanding, forgiveness. He did not acknowledge his last remark about his twin. “Forget it. You don’t understand, Demi. I wanted to. I wanted to stop it so bad, but I was too weak. Too scared of Joe. Of what he’d do to you if I pushed harder.”

Demi’s chest tightened, and she reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “You’re not weak,” she said firmly. “You’re the only one who’s ever tried to protect me. Don’t you see that?”

Joshua looked down at their intertwined hands, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against her knuckles.

“Demi,” he said quietly, his voice resolute. “I promise, Demi. I won’t let them hurt you again.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. “Josh… they didn’t hurt me. They made me better.”

He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against him. For the first time in what felt like forever, Demi allowed herself to relax into his embrace, feeling a flicker of love amidst the chaos that surrounded them. But then she spoiled it by asking..

“Are you falling in love with me?”

Joshua’s silence pressed heavy on the air. Demi stared at him, waiting for an answer, her heart pounding in her chest. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but unyielding.

“This isn’t about me, Demi. It’s about my role. About what I agreed to in this dynamic.”

His words felt like a punch to her gut. She blinked, her mind racing as frustration and disbelief bubbled up. “Your role?” she echoed, her tone sharp.

Joshua nodded, his gaze avoiding hers. “I’m here to take care of you, to meet your needs. That’s it. That’s my responsibility.”

It was like the more he kept talking about the dynamic, the more she started to see herself.. as a toy and not in a relationship with each man as they painted for her. She crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. “So that’s all I am to you? A responsibility?”

His jaw clenched, his voice faltering slightly. “It’s not like that, Demi. You know it’s not. This dynamic—it’s supposed to be about you, not me.”

She let out a bitter laugh, her hands balling into fists. “That’s bullshit, Josh. You’re hiding behind this whole ‘role’ thing so you don’t have to face what you’re feeling. You’re just as trapped in this as I am. Did you not say I would have a relationship with you?”

For a moment, his face softened, guilt flashing in his eyes. But he quickly masked it, shaking his head. “I did say but even if I do feel something, it doesn’t matter. What matters is you. What you need. That’s my focus, and that’s not going to change.”

Demi’s chest tightened, her emotions swirling—hurt, anger, sadness, all blending together into something almost unbearable. She felt like she was suffocating in his excuses. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re not helping me by pretending you’re some kind of saint. You’re just dragging me down with you.”

Joshua’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, she saw the vulnerability he was trying so hard to hide. But it wasn’t enough. Not this time.

She shook her head and slid out of the bed, her body aching with every movement. “Demi, wait—” Joshua started, his voice tinged with desperation.

“No,” she said sharply, grabbing her clothes. “I’m done with this conversation. I just can't believe it took me not having sex with you to see that this really is just one big fucking game.”

She dressed quickly, her movements sharp and purposeful. Joshua sat frozen, his hands gripping the edge of the bed as he watched her, helpless.

“Don’t go, Demi..” he said softly, his voice almost breaking.

Demi didn’t respond. She put on her shoes, her face set in stone, and walked toward the door.

As she opened it and stepped out into the suite’s living room, she froze for a moment. Joe, Jonathan, and Joseph were seated there, their eyes immediately locking onto her.

Joe’s sharp gaze scanned her, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. Jonathan straightened in his seat, concern etched into his features, while Joseph’s expression remained neutral but observant.

Jonathan was the first to speak. “Demi? Where are you going?”

"Fuck all four of you." Her eyes flicked over the three men briefly before she turned her gaze forward and kept walking, her footsteps purposeful and loud in the quiet room.

“Demi,” Jonathan called out again, his voice firmer this time.

Still, she ignored him. She reached the door to the suite, her hand hovering on the handle as she felt their eyes boring into her back. For a moment, she hesitated, anger and frustration colliding with the nagging thought that there was nowhere else to go.

But she shook it off. Without looking back, she opened the door and stepped out, letting it close behind her with a decisive click.

Inside the suite, the tension was horrible. Joshua buried his face in his hands, his shoulders trembling slightly. Jonathan stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

“What the fuck just happened?” Jonathan demanded, his voice low but sharp as he turned to Joshua.

Joe leaned back in his chair, a dark smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “What happened?” he repeated mockingly. “Reality happened.”

Jonathan shot him a glare. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Joe raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Of course. You don’t get results without a little chaos, Jon.”

Jonathan shook his head, pacing the room. “She’s not being punished anymore.”

"Yeah, Joe that is not fucking cool." Joseph added.

Joe’s expression hardened, his playful demeanor vanishing and shooting a glance at Joseph. “Well go fucking take care of it then."

—

Demi sat at the corner of the hotel buffet, her back turned slightly from the rest of the bustling room. The clink of plates, the chatter of early risers—none of it could touch her as she pushed her food around absentmindedly. A plate of waffles sat in front of her, untouched, as she sipped on her coffee, staring blankly ahead. The world outside her little corner seemed to spin with noise and movement, but inside, it was just her, feeling the coldness of the situation seep through.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, but she didn’t even bother to check. She had already become too accustomed to the endless stream of messages that offered little comfort. The vibration was a reminder of all the unanswered questions, the unsaid things, and the broken promises that seemed to haunt her every step.

“You know,” a voice broke through her thoughts. “I figured you for a bagel person instead of waffles.”

Demi looked up slowly, her eyes not meeting the gaze of the person standing in front of her. It was Joseph, standing there with a faint smile on his lips, but it didn’t reach her. She simply returned her focus to the plate in front of her, not acknowledging him. Her body felt heavy with exhaustion, and she didn’t have the energy to pretend things were okay.

Joseph, not deterred, sat down across from her, a small sigh escaping his lips. “What’s on your mind?”

Demi didn’t lift her head. She pushed a fork through the waffles, lost in thought, her mind a swirl of confusion and hurt. “Are you even going to listen?” Her words came out sharp, as though she were daring him to say no.

Joseph paused, clearly taken aback by her directness, but he shrugged it off, trying to mask the slight sting. “Of course I will,” he said softly. “I’m asking because I care, Demi. You can tell me whatever’s going on in that head of yours.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, her eyes scanning the room in silence, as if searching for the right words. Finally, she spoke, the truth tumbling out in a low voice. “I just don’t think anybody should get hurt in this dynamic.” She looked at her hands, her fingers trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of her mug. “And I don’t even know how this shit came to play… I thought my punishment was suppose to help me but now I don’t even think it did any good.”

Joseph was silent for a moment, letting her words sink in. He knew what she was talking about—the dynamic, the one that had shifted everything in her life. He was part of it, in a way that made him uncomfortable, but he also understood its intricacies more than she did.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know it’s been a lot for you. But if you want to understand, I can explain how it all started. How it came to this point.” His voice was steady, but there was an edge to it, something like a lingering guilt he hadn’t quite faced yet.

Demi raised her eyes to meet his, her curiosity piqued for the first time in what felt like days. She nodded slowly, as if willing herself to listen. “Go for it,” she said, her voice void of any real emotion.

Joseph leaned back slightly, folding his arms over his chest as he began. “You see, we were the only ones who knew about your relationship with Joe.” He paused, watching her for any reaction, but Demi just stared at him, waiting. “When he would talk about you—when he would mention your name—it was like he was talking about an angel. He held you in such high regard, Demi. He loved you, respected you… I could tell.”

Demi blinked slowly, processing his words. She didn’t know what she was supposed to feel, whether it was a comfort or a burden. Still, she couldn’t deny the truth in his words.

“That’s nice and all,” she finally said, her voice bitter. “But how does it go from that to me being shared?” The words tasted foreign in her mouth, each syllable more difficult to say than the last. “How does it go from him loving me to this—this… dynamic?”

Joseph’s gaze softened, his face filling with a sadness that seemed to haunt him. “It’s not what you think, Demi,” he said, his tone growing more serious. “It wasn’t about him wanting to hurt you. It was about control, about the power we all share. We were in a place where we knew we could trust each other with things no one else could understand. Joe… Joe thought it would be something that could bring us closer, something that would make us stronger.”

“Stronger?” Demi repeated, her voice flat. “Stronger? How does this make me stronger, Joseph? I’m just a piece in a game, aren’t I? You’re all treating me like some kind of… of property to be shared and in order to make me not see myself as property, you guys are all saying I could have relationships with you all. You want to talk about power? What about my power? What about my choice in all of this?”

Joseph’s face fell, the frustration and sadness melding into a painful mixture. “You have always had a choice, Demi. It’s not like that. None of this was meant to make you feel like you weren’t part of it, like you weren’t in control of your own choices. But—”

“But nothing,” Demi interrupted, her voice sharp now. “This isn’t about ‘us’ anymore, is it? It’s about control. Power. It’s about what Joe wanted, what you all wanted, and none of you thought about how I would feel when I experienced punishment for going on a dinner date?” Her chest tightened with the words she hadn’t let herself say until now. “I don’t know who I am anymore now. I don’t know what I’m supposed to want, what I’m supposed to feel now.”

Joseph didn’t have an answer to that. He just stared at her, the weight of his silence speaking volumes.

Demi pushed her plate away with a force that startled them both. “You know what? I’m fucking done. I can’t keep doing this. I don’t know how to fit into this… this thing you all have. And I don’t want to. I want out.”

Joseph didn’t respond immediately. He didn’t know how to fix this, or if it was fixable at all. But there was one thing he knew for sure: he couldn’t lose her—not like this.

“Demi,” he finally said, his voice quieter now, full of regret. “Please. Let me explain more. Let me—”

But Demi was already standing, turning away from the table, her decision made. She didn’t want explanations anymore. She didn’t want to hear about control, or power, or any of it.

“I don’t need any more explanations, Solo,” she said, her voice steady but cold. “Fuck you, Fuck Jimmy, Fuck Jey and most importantly... FUCK ROMAN FUCKING REIGNS.”

And with that, she walked away.

—

THREE MONTHS LATER

March 7th, 2025 4:32 PM

Demi’s fingers ran along the edge of her desk as the late afternoon light filtered through the blinds of her office. She was finishing up for the day, packing her purse with the usual haste of someone who had long ago grown accustomed to the routine. She had been here for hours, but now, the quiet hum of the office, the soft ticking of the clock on the wall, felt more like a distant memory than the reality she’d once thrived in.

There was a knock at the door, and without needing to look up, Demi knew who it was.

Bruce Prichard, her boss, entered with his usual smile, a sense of pride radiating from him. “I just want to say, Demi, you’ve done an amazing job with everything. Truly. I couldn’t be more proud of how you’ve handled this Elevated Bloodline storyline. Everyone’s buzzing about it. The record breaking viewers are there, and it’s all thanks to you.”

Demi smiled, but it was fleeting—just enough to acknowledge his words, not enough to hide the exhaustion in her eyes. “Thank you, Bruce,” she said, her voice polite, but distant. She stood up and grabbed her bag from the desk, ready to head out. “I’ll see you the following Monday.”

Bruce nodded. “Enjoy your extended vacation,” he said before heading out of the office, leaving Demi alone in the silence.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Demi took a moment to breathe, taking in the weight of her success. Everyone had noticed—her work was being praised, and the ratings were higher than they’d ever been. But it didn’t bring the peace she’d hoped for. She turned off the lights in her office, grabbed her things, and walked out, making her way to the garage.

The drive back to her home in Stamford was almost robotic now. The roads blurred as her Jeep hummed along, the familiar scenery slipping past her windows. The house she had chosen was in a quiet, forested area—a small two-bedroom retreat just far enough from the chaos of work to feel like a world apart. The drive took her thirty-eight minutes exactly, and she was used to the solitude. It was something she needed.

When she finally arrived, she let herself inside and set her bag down. The house was just as she liked it—cozy, comfortable, and far removed from the noise of the outside world. She tossed her keys on the counter and walked over to the couch, letting herself sink into the cushions.

The silence in the room was deafening, but it wasn’t the kind of silence that brought peace. It was the kind that reminded her of everything she’d been avoiding.

Her eyes fell to her ankle, where the anklet glinted softly in the dim light. The ‘J’ stood out, gleaming with diamonds—reminder of the world she had tried to leave behind. Despite everything, she hadn’t taken it off. She hadn’t even been able to bring herself to remove the necklace that Jonathan had given her, the one she had started wearing every day, even to bed.

She had tried to move on, to separate herself from that world, but the pieces were still there. She was still tethered to them.

Her thumb traced the small letter on the anklet, and for a moment, everything came flooding back. The choices she had made, the emotions she’d buried deep inside her. The pain she had tried to outrun. And no matter how much she pretended, no matter how much she distanced herself, the truth was clear: she couldn’t truly escape what they had created.

The past three months had been a blur of work, long nights, and distractions, but in the quiet moments—like now, sitting alone on her couch—there was no denying that she was haunted by the shadows of what had once been.

Her relationship with Joe, the dynamic she had never fully understood, the choices that had felt so final—yet still, the reminders were all around her, silent and unyielding.

Demi leaned back against the couch, her eyes closing as she tried to clear her mind. She had built an empire in the world of WWE, a world where she held creative power and influence. But when the lights dimmed and the audience was gone, she was left with the ache of everything she had lost, and the gnawing realization that she was still tied to it all.

The phone buzzed again, the familiar vibration breaking her thoughts. She didn’t even look at it this time. It wasn’t a message she was ready to read. Not yet.

With a heavy sigh, Demi stood up and walked to the window, looking out into the vast expanse of the forest that surrounded her. It was a peaceful sight, yet it only made the emptiness within her more apparent. There was no escape from the choices she had made, and the people who had once been so close to her now seemed like distant memories.

She let the silence fill her, her gaze fixed on the trees, as she wondered if she would ever find a way to truly leave it all behind.

— 7:56 PM

Demi stood frozen in her small kitchen, the soft glow of her overhead light casting shadows across the room as she took a slow sip of her wine. The smooth taste did little to erase the gnawing feeling inside her, the constant churn of confusion and regret that had been her constant companion for the past three months. She had cooked herself a simple dinner, chicken Alfredo, just something to fill the silence that always seemed so loud. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

As she twirled her fork, her phone buzzed, but she ignored it, too tired to entertain whatever message was waiting for her. But as she chewed the next bite, she heard a knock at the door. A soft, firm knock. It echoed through the quiet of her house like a sharp reminder of the outside world, a world she had worked so hard to shut out.

Demi’s heart skipped a beat, her eyes narrowing. She hadn’t been expecting anyone—especially not anyone who knew where she lived. To get to her home, you had to travel down a long, winding path, only accessible by gate code. There was no one who had that code.

Her pulse quickened. She set her fork down and grabbed a knife from the counter, holding it loosely at first but feeling its weight grow as the knock came again, more urgent this time. Her breath hitched in her chest.

She quietly moved toward the door, stepping carefully so her footsteps wouldn’t give her away. She peered through the peephole, her breath catching in her throat when she saw who was standing outside.

Joshua.

Her grip tightened on the knife, her mind racing. What the hell was he doing here? Her thoughts spun as she silently cursed herself. How did he even get here? How did he know where she was?

Slowly, she opened the door, her heart pounding in her chest. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice cold and steady despite the shock that surged through her.

Joshua didn’t respond immediately, just looked at her with an expression that mixed determination with something else—something she couldn’t quite place. “Can I come in?” His voice was soft, but it held the weight of expectation.

Demi stepped back, not allowing him to pass. She closed the door behind her, the cold barrier between them solidifying her resolve. She wasn’t going to let him in, not after everything. Not after the way things had fallen apart. The way Jonathan had punished her, the memories of that day flooding back to her, tainting the apartment she’d worked so hard to make her own. She couldn’t let them ruin it again.

She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at him, making sure her knife was still visible. “How did you even get here?” Her voice was harsh now, the fear and anger bubbling to the surface.

Joshua sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s gonna sound stalker-ish,” he began, his words slow, almost regretful, “but I followed you.”

Her grip on the knife tightened again, and her jaw clenched. “Why the fuck would you do something like that?” Her voice cracked with frustration and something darker, the hurt she hadn’t let herself feel until now pouring out in a rush.

Before Joshua could respond, a voice from behind him cut through the tension like a blade.

“We need you back with us.”

Demi’s eyes flicked past Joshua, her stomach turning as she saw the others standing there. Jonathan was leaning against her car, a smug expression on his face. Joe and Joseph stood next to him, their eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her stomach churn.

The four men—the ones who had consumed her life, torn her apart in ways she wasn’t ready to admit—were now here. In her sanctuary. In her home. The place she had built to escape them.

Her hands clenched at her sides, her grip still tight on the knife, her chest tightening with a mix of fear and fury. She wanted to scream. She wanted to shut them all out, to lock herself away forever. But she couldn’t. Not when Joe was already stepping forward, his presence imposing and unyielding.

He took the knife from her slowly, gently, his eyes never leaving hers as he set it down on the little porch table she had just outside the door.

“Demi,” Joe said softly, almost pleading. “Let us talk for just a moment.” His voice held a quiet command, but there was an undercurrent of something else—something that made her feel small and exposed.

Demi stood there, frozen for a moment. She felt the weight of the situation, the heaviness of the air pressing down on her chest. Why had they come? Why now?

She wanted to resist. She wanted to push them away, to tell them to leave her the hell alone. But the pull of their presence was too strong. The tug of the past, of everything she’d tried to outrun, was too much.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Demi stepped aside, her face unreadable. “Fine.”

The four men filed into her home, each of them taking a seat on her couch, while she sat across from them on the love seat, her body tense, her mind racing.

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence was suffocating, thick with unspoken words and emotions that hung in the air like a heavy fog. Demi’s eyes flicked between them, trying to gauge their intentions, but they were unreadable. All of them.

She didn’t know what they wanted, but she knew for once that she did have a choice in what she wanted.

Demi adjusted her position on the love seat, her legs crossed tightly, a wall of defiance radiating from her. The space between them felt more like an ocean, a gulf that had widened between them and her since everything changed, yet they still sat there, expecting her to understand—expecting her to fall back into their twisted world.

Joe’s smirk was almost smug as he leaned back on the couch, his eyes never leaving her. It was maddening. It felt as though every inch of him was trying to dominate the air around her, trying to break through her defenses.

“What’s with the smirk?” Demi snapped, her voice sharp, a challenge.

Joe’s eyes flickered to the anklet that glimmered around her ankle, and his smirk only grew. “You still have the anklet,” he said, his tone filled with an odd mix of amusement and something else—something darker.

Joe’s gaze dropped to her ankle instinctively. The diamond ‘J’ caught the light and glistened.

Her eyes snapped back to Joe. “You’re proud of that, aren’t you?” she shot back, voice laced with disgust.

Jonathan, sitting silently to the side, couldn’t hold back any longer. He leaned forward, his voice low but intense. “She still has my necklace too.”

Demi’s breath caught. Her hands trembled slightly, and she shoved the feelings down deep. Her lips pressed together tightly before she spat out, “You want it back? Fine.”

Without hesitation, she started to pull the necklace off, her fingers fumbling with the clasp, but before she could slip it completely over her head, Joe’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

“No, don’t.” His tone softened, almost pleading. “Demi, please, just listen to us.”

She froze, the necklace still halfway over her head. His voice, always so calm, always so commanding, made her pulse quicken in frustration.

Joe leaned forward, his eyes intent on hers. “We all want to be with you. The way you would submit… it’s something none of us have ever experienced before. It made us realize that we don’t want anyone else in your life. We want to be the only men you will ever need.”

Demi’s breath caught in her throat. She hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected him to speak so directly. It felt like a slap in the face, but it also stirred something deep within her. How had it all gotten so complicated? How had they turned everything so… twisted?

“Why?” she managed to ask, her voice shaky, as the weight of it all threatened to crush her. “Why the hell would you want that? Want me like that?”

Joe leaned back, his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place. “Because it’s what we want. Because it’s what you need. You know it too, Demi. You know that you’re different with us. It’s like nothing else.”

The words stung her. She had always prided herself on being her own person, on not needing anyone. But now, these men were challenging everything she knew, everything she had built within herself. It felt suffocating.

Demi stood abruptly, pacing across the small room, her mind racing. “I’m not your fucking property!” she shouted, her voice rising in anger and confusion. “I never signed up for this!”

Joe’s face hardened, his jaw tightening, but he remained calm, controlled. “Demi, we’re not asking for ownership. We’re asking for something deeper. We need you… and we know you need us too. Don’t lie to yourself.”

Demi stopped, the weight of his words bearing down on her. The truth was, she didn’t know what she needed anymore. Her feelings were tangled in a web she couldn’t escape from, each thread pulling her in different directions.

“You’re wrong,” she finally spat, her voice cold, shaking with emotion. “I don’t need you.”

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. But Joe wasn’t backing down. He turned to Joshua, his gaze firm and commanding.

“Enough is enough,” Joe said, his voice low but final. “Joshua, go on. Do what you need to do.”

Before Demi could react, Joshua stood. She opened her mouth to protest, to push him away, but it was too late. He was already in front of her, and before she could gather her thoughts, his lips crashed onto hers. The kiss was hungry, desperate. His hands cupped her face, pulling her closer, as if he were trying to devour her.

Demi’s body stiffened, her mind screaming for her to pull away. But as his lips pressed against hers, something inside her cracked. The emotions she had buried came flooding to the surface. The warmth of his touch, the taste of him—it was too much. And for a fleeting moment, she gave in.

Her hands, unbidden, found their way to his chest, and she leaned into the kiss, letting the feelings consume her, pushing all the chaos aside.

Then, just as quickly as it began, Joshua pulled away, his breath ragged. Demi’s eyes flickered open, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stared at him, her mind reeling. The world around her seemed to shift, the room spinning as conflicting emotions swirled inside her. She was more conflicted than ever. She sat back down, her thoughts.. swimming.

Joshua’s expression was torn, conflicted himself. “Demi…” he whispered, his voice filled with regret.

She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t even know what she was feeling. She wanted to scream, to run, but she couldn’t move.

Joe broke the silence. “Come with us to Samoa tonight,” he said, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority. “If this week doesn’t change… if you still feel the same way, then we will be out of your life for good.”

Demi’s heart pounded in her chest. Samoa? What the hell was he talking about? She wanted to resist, wanted to refuse, but something about the way he said it—something about the finality in his voice—made her stop.

Her world felt like it was crashing down, and she knew she was standing at the edge of something far bigger than she could comprehend.

“Please, Demi,” Jonathan urged, his eyes softer now. “We’re asking you to take this step. To come with us. If it’s still wrong, if you still can’t do it, we’ll walk away. But we need to know, for all of us.”

The words lingered in the air, heavy, suffocating. And in that moment, Demi realized that whatever choice she made, nothing would ever be the same again.

Her hands trembled as she reached up to touch the necklace around her neck, her fingers tracing the cool metal, the symbol of everything that had been—and everything that might still be.

Jonathan leaned forward, his grin both playful and suggestive. “Demi,” he said, his voice teasing but laced with sincerity, “think of all the fun we could have. You practically gave us a week off—no stress, no matches, just… freedom. We’ve gotten raises, we’ve got time now to relax, and all we want is to spend that time with you.”

Her heart clenched at the casualness of his words. As if all the tension, all the chaos, could be swept away by simply “relaxing” together. She wanted to scoff, to dismiss his words outright, but she couldn’t deny the fluttering in her chest.

Joe, ever the steady presence, leaned forward from his place on the couch. His deep voice carried a calm authority that always managed to unnerve her. “Demi, we really wouldn’t be here if we didn’t all feel the same way. And let’s be honest—you would’ve never opened that door if you didn’t want to see us.”

Her lips parted to argue, but nothing came out. He was right, wasn’t he? No matter how much she wanted to deny it, some part of her had wanted to see them—wanted to confront them, hear what they had to say. Maybe she’d wanted closure. Or maybe… something else entirely.

Before she could form a response, Joshua stood and pulled something from his pocket, holding it out to her. It was a small boarding ticket. She took it with trembling fingers, her eyes scanning the details. A private flight to Samoa. Departing in four hours on a red-eye.

“Just think about it,” Joseph said as he stood. His voice was steady, gentle in a way that made it feel less like a demand and more like a suggestion.

Jon, Joshua and Joe stood, their imposing presence filling the small space of her living room. Joe lingered as the others moved toward the door, each offering her a small glance before stepping outside into the night.

Joe stayed behind, his broad shoulders casting a shadow against the dim light. He approached her, his movements slow, deliberate. Demi’s breath hitched as he knelt slightly, bringing his face level with hers.

“These three months…” he started, his voice low, raw with emotion, “I never stopped worrying about you. I never stopped loving you.”

His hand reached up to cup her face, his touch achingly familiar. His thumb brushed against her cheek, and she felt her resolve wavering. The intensity in his eyes held her captive, and she could see the depth of his feelings in the way he looked at her.

“You hurt me when you left, Demi,” he whispered, his words a quiet confession that cut through the tension. “But I’ll respect whatever choice you make. Just… think about it.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. His hand lingered on her cheek as if he didn’t want to let go. Then, with one last searching look, he made his way to the door.

The sound of it closing behind him was deafening in the silence that followed.

Demi sat there, her mind racing, the boarding pass still clutched tightly in her hand. The room felt suffocating now, the memories of their visit crowding in on her.

How could she even consider it? After everything they had put her through, after everything she had worked to rebuild in these last three months, how could she even entertain the idea of going back?

But then Joe’s words echoed in her mind, soft and full of pain. I never stopped loving you. You hurt me when you left.

Her fingers brushed against the necklace still around her neck, Jonathan’s token that she hadn’t been able to part with. Her eyes flickered down to the anklet, the ‘J’ catching the dim light and sparkling almost mockingly.

Demi sank back onto the loveseat, the boarding pass in her lap. The weight of her decision pressed down on her, and she knew that whatever choice she made tonight would change everything.

She glanced at the clock on the wall. Four hours. Four hours to decide whether to take the flight to Samoa or to close the door on the four men who had consumed her life for good.

—

Joe sat still, his eyes clouded with uncertainty as the departure time approached. Jonathan, Joseph, and Joshua had taken their seats. The silence that filled the cabin was thick with tension. Joe’s heart ached, a dull pain gnawing at him as he replayed the moments leading up to this flight.

“She didn’t come,” he muttered under his breath. He could still feel the sting of her decision to stay behind. She hadn’t been sure. Not yet. And despite all the ways he’d hoped for her to join them, he couldn’t force her.

Joseph, sitting across from him, leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. “We gotta move on now?” he asked softly, though there was no malice in his tone—just resignation.

Joe took a long breath, letting it out slowly, his eyes flicking over to the seat that would have been hers. “There won’t be another submissive like her.” The words were heavy, filled with truth. He would never find another who had given herself so completely, so freely, to them.

Joseph’s voice was tinged with sadness. “Sadly, there won’t.”

A long silence followed as each man processed the weight of their unspoken thoughts. They had always known she was different. But that didn’t make this easier.

Just then, a voice from the front of the plane broke their quiet conversation.

“Ms. Bennett, I can take your bag. Would you like any refreshments?”

"No thank you."

The four men snapped their heads toward the front entrance, their attention immediately focused on the figure that had just entered.

Demi stood there, dressed casually in sweatpants, a hoodie, and her Vans. She handed her bag to the flight attendant. Her look was relaxed but the tension in the air charged as she made her way to the seat. She didn’t acknowledge anyone, didn’t look anyone in the eye. She simply moved toward the empty chair by Joe, sitting down with an air of finality.

Joe’s heart skipped a beat as she settled into the seat, the space between them shrinking but still heavy with the distance of unspoken words.

Demi’s eyes met Joe’s for a split second before she looked away, settling into her seat. “I haven’t forgiven you guys,” she said, her voice low but steady, carrying the weight of everything they had put her through. “I’m just figuring out what I want.”

Her honesty was sharp, but it was also the truth. The words landed heavily, and Joe couldn’t find an argument against them. They all knew they had pushed her too far, that they had asked for too much, too soon. They had to wait—wait for her to decide what she truly wanted.

The others said nothing, each of them silently acknowledging the same thing. They had no choice but to wait, to respect her process.

The plane began to taxi down the runway, the quiet hum of the engines signaling their departure. Demi reclined her seat, leaning back against the headrest, her eyes gazing out the window as the ground fell away beneath them.

The flight was long—fourteen hours of being trapped together in a confined space. Time would stretch on, giving them all more time to think, to reflect. The silence in the cabin settled over them like a heavy blanket.

Joe’s fingers twitched in the stillness. Slowly, tentatively, he reached out and placed his hand on top of hers. The warmth of his hand sent a ripple of tension through the air, but Demi didn’t pull away. She didn’t react at all, her face still blank.

He smiled softly, his heart heavy with hope and uncertainty. But Demi, ever the enigma, said nothing. She didn’t look at him. She just continued staring out the window, her mind no doubt a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.

Joe knew the journey had just begun. This wasn’t about forcing anything—it wasn’t even about the past. This was about what they could be together, in the future.

Did she make the right choice?

Demi’s mind wandered as the plane ascended into the clouds, the city lights below fading into the distance. She didn’t know. She didn’t know anything anymore. What she did know was that she couldn’t deny the hold they had over her, the way they made her feel alive in a way no one else had.

But was that enough? Would it ever be enough?

As the plane leveled out, Demi let her eyes drift closed. She wasn’t sure if she had made the right choice, but at least for now, she was here. She couldn’t go back. And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel so alone.

—

Demi stirred at the soft nudge on her shoulder, her body still heavy with sleep. Slowly, she blinked her eyes open, her vision adjusting to the sunlight streaming through the small airplane window. Joe’s familiar face greeted her, his warm smile softening the grogginess that clung to her.

“Look,” he said gently, pointing out the window.

Demi turned her head, brushing her hair out of her face, and let out a small gasp. The sight outside was breathtaking. Samoa appeared like a tiny jewel in the vast expanse of ocean, surrounded by impossibly blue water that shimmered under the bright sunlight. The islands were lush and green, dotted with small buildings that looked like they belonged to a postcard.

“Wow,” she murmured, leaning closer to the glass. Her fingers pressed lightly against the window as if she could reach out and touch the scene before her. It was perfect—too perfect, almost as if she had stepped into a dream.

But then the realization hit her. She turned back to Joe, her eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. “Wait a second. You let me sleep for fourteen hours?”

Joe chuckled, the deep sound filling the quiet cabin. “Demi, we all slept. I just woke up about an hour ago.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, skeptical of his answer. “Fourteen hours is a long time to let someone sleep,” she grumbled, though there was no real anger in her voice.

Joe simply grinned, clearly amused by her reaction. He gestured toward the other men, and Demi’s gaze followed his hand. Joshua, Jonathan, and Joseph were all still out cold, their heads tilted at odd angles as they reclined in their seats. Each of them wore an eye mask, blocking out the morning sunlight streaming into the cabin.

Demi couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. It was rare to see them so unguarded, so completely at ease. “They look ridiculous,” she whispered, trying not to disturb the quiet atmosphere.

Joe leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. “You should’ve seen Jon drooling earlier. I almost took a picture.”

Demi stifled a laugh, shaking her head as she returned her attention to the view outside. The plane began to descend, and the closer they got to the island, the more vivid everything became. She could see the coral reefs beneath the water, the sandy beaches, and the swaying palm trees that lined the shoreline.

“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, her voice almost reverent.

Joe’s expression softened as he watched her take it all in. “It is,” he agreed. “It’s our.. real home.”

Demi glanced at him briefly, noting the way his face lit up as he spoke. There was a deep pride in his voice, a connection to this place that she could feel even in his simple words.

The plane finally touched down on the runway, the tires skimming the ground with a light bump. The jolt woke the others, and one by one, they removed their eye masks and stretched, grumbling about the sudden interruption to their sleep.

“Are we there?” Jonathan mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“We’re here,” Joe confirmed, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

As they disembarked from the plane, the humid, tropical air hit Demi like a wave, wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She followed the others down the steps and onto the tarmac, her sneakers crunching lightly against the ground.

Looking around, she saw the vibrant colors of the island come to life. The trees were greener than anything she had ever seen, the flowers bright and fragrant. The ocean sparkled in the distance, its waves lapping gently against the shore.

Joshua stretched his arms over his head, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Man, it feels good to be here..”

“No place like it,” Joseph added, slinging a bag over his shoulder as they began to make their way toward the awaiting car.

Demi lingered for a moment, taking it all in. She had come here searching for answers, uncertain about the decision she had made. But as she stood there, surrounded by the beauty of the island and the quiet presence of the men who had brought her here, she felt a small flicker of warmth.

Maybe, just maybe, she had made the right choice after all.

An awaiting driver in an SUV waited for the five of them as they approached it. The driver packed their bags in the back, and Demi climbed in, sitting in between Joshua and Jonathan. Joshua smiled at her, and Demi couldn’t help but let out a small smile. The SUV took off, weaving through the city streets of Pago Pago before eventually leaving the bustling town behind for more serene surroundings.

As the vehicle hugged the coastline, Demi stared out the window, watching the turquoise waters glisten under the sun. Palm trees swayed lazily in the breeze, and the distant sounds of waves crashing brought a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in months.

Eventually, the SUV turned onto a private drive, pulling up to a secluded beach house nestled between lush greenery and the shoreline. The house was stunning—an elegant yet understated combination of traditional Samoan craftsmanship and modern luxury. Its wooden facade and large windows blended seamlessly with the natural environment.

Demi couldn’t hide her surprise. “This is the beach house in the contract?” she asked, her tone skeptical but intrigued.

Joe stepped out of the SUV first, turning back to grin at her. “Oh yeah,” he said confidently, gesturing for her to follow.

The driver began unloading their bags as the group climbed out. Jonathan stretched and let out a satisfied sigh. “Man, it’s always better in person,” he said, looking up at the house.

Joseph added, “Everything just got renovated.. I can’t wait to see the new rooms..”

Joshua brushed past Demi with a small chuckle. “Looks like we’re all sharing this slice of paradise for the next few days...”

Demi folded her arms, glancing at each of them in turn. “And what exactly am I supposed to do here?”

Joe turned to her, his expression softening. “Relax. Just take it in. That’s all we want from you..”

Demi narrowed her eyes at him but said nothing as she followed the group inside.

The interior of the renovated beach house was just as breathtaking as the exterior. High vaulted ceilings, open spaces, and floor-to-ceiling windows offered an uninterrupted view of the ocean. The soft, neutral tones of the decor complemented the vibrant colors of the surrounding nature. Demi couldn’t deny how beautiful it was, but she kept her emotions in check, not wanting to let her guard down too soon.

Jonathan clapped his hands together, breaking the silence. “Alright, I’m calling dibs on the room with the balcony!”

Joseph smirked. “Not if I get there first.”

As the brothers bantered, Joe stepped closer to Demi, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “Your room has its own private deck. You’ll like it.”

Demi glanced at him, unsure of how to respond. Instead, she simply nodded and followed him down the hallway as he led her to her room.

When Joe opened the door, Demi stepped inside and took in the space. The room was spacious yet cozy, with a king-sized bed draped in crisp white linens. A sliding glass door led out to a small deck overlooking the ocean. The sound of the waves was louder here, more immediate, and it filled the space like a soothing melody.

Joe lingered in the doorway, watching her as she set her bag down by the bed. “If you need anything, just let me know,” he said softly.

Demi didn’t look at him, her focus on the view outside. “I’ll be fine,” she said curtly.

Joe hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright. We’ll be out on the main deck when you’re ready.”

He closed the door behind him, leaving Demi alone.

For a long moment, she stood still, staring out at the ocean. The calmness of the setting was at odds with the turmoil still churning inside her. She sighed deeply and sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing against the anklet around her ankle. It caught the sunlight streaming in through the window, the small “J” charm gleaming back at her.

“Why am I here?” she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

—

Demi sat on the bed, staring out at the expansive ocean view from the balcony, the setting sun casting golden hues across the water. She had been in the room for hours, torn between the pull to join the men on the main deck and the desire to stay hidden away from them. The silence was deafening, and the tension in her chest only grew stronger. She wanted to be free from the pressure, free from the weight of the choices she had made, but the men’s voices drifting through the door reminded her that she could never escape them completely.

The laughter outside felt distant, almost mocking, and yet she felt a strange longing. They were all still out there—Joe, Jonathan, Joseph, Joshua—acting as though nothing had changed. As though everything could return to the way it was before, but Demi knew better. Things had shifted. Her own feelings, too, had shifted. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to face them, or to face herself.

Finally, unable to bear the stillness any longer, she moved to close the curtains, blocking out the view of the setting sun. She sat back on the bed, the silence once again settling around her, but this time it felt different. It felt heavier, suffocating almost.

Just as she was about to settle into her thoughts again, there was a soft knock on the door. Her head snapped up in surprise. “Come in,” she said, her voice softer than she intended.

The door creaked open, and Joshua stepped inside. His presence filled the room, though he kept a distance, standing by the door for a moment as if unsure of what to say. The two of them hadn’t spoken since that fateful day three months ago when Demi had decided to leave, cutting ties with the men who once consumed her life.

Demi watched him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you want, Joshua?” she asked, her tone sharp but curious.

Joshua let out a small breath, pushing away from the door and moving closer but stopping short of sitting next to her. “I figured I should check on you,” he said quietly. “You’ve been holed up in here for hours. You okay?”

Demi’s arms instinctively crossed over her chest, a barrier of sorts, as she met his gaze. She wasn’t sure how to respond. She wasn’t sure she wanted to respond. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice lacking the conviction she wished she could project.

Joshua didn’t buy it. “You don’t seem fine,” he said, his voice softer now, almost tentative. He hesitated, glancing toward the door as though considering whether he should stay or leave. But he lingered, his eyes locked on hers, and that’s when Demi realized he wasn’t going anywhere until he got some kind of answer. He took a seat next to her.

“I just need some space,” Demi muttered, her gaze falling to the floor.

Joshua moved a little closer, his voice lowering. “We’re all here, Demi. We’re not going anywhere either.” He paused, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t, he sighed, shaking his head slightly. “We all care about you. You know that, right?”

Demi glanced up, her eyes flicking over him, but she didn’t respond. There was too much unsaid between them, too much history that they hadn’t resolved. The last thing she wanted was to dive into it now, not when her mind was already a mess of conflicting emotions.

Joshua tried again. “Just think about it. All we want is for you to be happy, Demi. No pressure.” His voice was steady, but there was a sadness behind it, something she hadn’t expected to see.

Joshua stayed seated on the bed, watching Demi with a mix of longing and uncertainty in his eyes. He’d been careful to give her space, but there was no denying the connection between them that hadn’t faded in the months apart. He took a deep breath before speaking again, his voice quieter this time.

“You know I still care about you very deeply, Demi,” he said, his eyes fixed on hers. There was a vulnerability in his tone that was hard to ignore.

Demi nodded slowly, her own emotions tangled up inside her. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to say anything, but the truth of his words resonated in her. She could feel his sincerity, the weight of everything they had shared before. It was more than just the bond they once had—it was the undeniable presence of something that couldn’t be easily dismissed.

Joshua reached out, gently placing his hand on hers. Demi didn’t pull away this time. She let the warmth of his touch linger, feeling something stir inside her that she had tried to bury. He looked down at their hands, as if gathering the courage to ask her something he’d been holding onto.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Demi’s breath hitched at his words. She hadn’t expected it, but at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. She nodded, a small but significant movement, and the moment seemed to freeze around them. Joshua leaned in, his lips brushing hers softly, tenderly, as if he was testing the waters again. The kiss was gentle, filled with hesitation, yet it spoke volumes of the connection between them.

When they finally pulled apart, Demi felt her heart race, her breath shallow. She sat back a little, her thoughts swirling in a haze. “I’ll get ready,” she said, her voice a little unsteady, as if the weight of the moment was sinking in.

Joshua smiled softly, sensing her need for space. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he said, standing up slowly. He lingered for a second, his eyes meeting hers one last time, before he turned and walked toward the door. “Take your time,” he added over his shoulder before closing the door gently behind him.

Demi sat on the bed, her mind racing. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, or what it meant for her. But one thing was clear—everything had changed.

and maybe.. just maybe.. Joshua was not so bad after all...

[kamukuraenjoyer]

that meme thats going around. yeah. the crossover of The Century for me

[pinkbeeps]

Listen don’t question it guys don’t question it just read it and enjoy. Also can you tell which panel it was that I learned how to crop things in MsPaint? Can you?

[justatypicalwizard]

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet, smut

It all started with a bet. It was this specific chaotic type of bet that you throw over your shoulder when agitated. The one that comes pistoling out of your lips as soon as it comes to your mind, or even earlier, a fog of war limits your common sense.

This was often the case with Katsuki Bakugo who was world widely known as the most annoying person on earth.

Okay, maybe he stood on this podium only in your world (others deemed Denki as the most insufferable) but it was enough to fire the never ending quarrels.

The two of you were similar in many senses, none of which would ever admit. Despite you being way less aggressive, you had your ways of getting under other peoples’ skin when displeased. You had this fighting spirit and competitive nature that could tune well with Katsuki’s. Unfortunately it most often sang off-key.

It was hard to tell what he thought about you. On one hand you’d say he definitely disliked you, to some point maybe? If he did dislike you he wouldn’t keep you around the small circle of his friends. Katsuki proved that he could push away anyone he wished to, no matter the circumstances. That’s what happened with Deku.

So Katsuki Bakugo disliked the fact that he liked you. Or he liked to dislike you. Either way you fought, ebbed and always surged back. Oh, and bets?

I bet you won’t even make it halfway before the time is up. He throws when he passes you down the hallway, spotting you bending your back over a book, minutes before the exam.

I bet your lovely friend will come looking for you soon. You snicker leaving him in the kitchen of the house party you’re both at. He’s currently hiding from a bimbo who really tries to ask him out and doesn’t take no for an answer.

I bet your mum dropped you when you were little.

I bet Miruko will kick your ass over this.

I bet they’ll send this essay back. It’s shit.

I bet it’ll die in this sunlight.

“Huh.” He knit his brows together, throwing you a nasty look. “Old hag didn’t say anything. It looks like it needs light.”

You were currently in his dorm room, analysing a small plant his mother left him. It was tiny, in a small ceramic pot, with three juicy green leaves poking out of the fresh soil.

“Well, I bet it’ll die if you put it in this sun.” You threw, shrugging your shoulders.

“Okay. If I win you’ll shut the fuck up for a single day around me. No words, not even a squeak.”

With the eye of your imagination you could see Katsuki pestering you for a whole day while you’d be unable to fire back. Yet, you had nothing to worry about. The little dude on the windowsill will bear three of four days before wittering. It’s the type that needs more shade.

“Fine. And if I win you can eat my ass.”

He chuckled, throwing a not happening over his shoulder before ushering you to work you both had to do.

A week later you were back in his room. It was a pleasant place to work in - clean, quiet, and always stocked with tea and coffee. Unlike you, Katsuki had the luxury of a single room which always soured your mood when he rubbed it in your face.

You were resting in his desk chair, legs crossed and organising a bunch of sources you were about to use later in your dissertation. It was the least pleasant part of writing essays. Finding academic sources in the library or browsing for them on the internet was not half bad. One could get in the swing of it after some time. And it made you feel like a real student all book heavy bags in a spacious bibliotheca.

Organising them later though? A pain in the ass.

“-by the way.” You caught only the ending of his sentence.

“Huh?” Turning around you spotten Katsuki looking at something in the far end of his room.

There was a closet there, one that didn’t quite reach the ceiling but was massive in shape. Atop of it sat the little dude in his sweet ceramic pot. Unfortunately all that was left of his three juicy leaves was one stem fighting for its life.

You clapped your hands in satisfaction, cracking a victorious laugh.

“Told you.” Fake wiping a tear from your cheek, you turned back to the desk and searched for the box you were about to tick off the long list. “Give it some more water and time. It will be fine.”

“So.” You felt him standing behind you. His shadow disrupted your writing.

“So?” Once again you turned around in his chair, cocking your brow in question.

“You won.” He crossed his arms, tapping his foot on the soft carpet in irritation.

You nodded your head with a grin but still ruffled. “Yes, and?”

“And you told me I can eat your ass.”

“Oh yeah, stuff your stupid mouth full.” You laughed but he yanked you by the arm, standing you up.

He dropped to his knees, pushing your bottom into the rim of his desk. With a shit eating grin he slipped his fingers into the sides of your trousers, grazing the bare skin of your hips underneath them.

“What the fuck dude?” You cursed, grabbing his forehead like the one of a misbehaved dog, trying to pacify him.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” The grin never left his face as he waited for your words, digging his nails into your skin.

It would be a lie to say that you never ever thought of him that way. Of course he was pretty, with his naturally fair hair that gave him a punk kind of look. With his body carved out like a marble statue. With a grin that made people both want to slap him and fawn over him.

Yes, it did cross your mind that he would be a pleasant view in the bed. Who with a sound mind wouldn’t think of that. Maybe people who weren’t attracted to-

No, it was a normal thought to have, one that may occur when you’re alone under the shower or in bed. You just often appreciate the beauty of your friends. Mina’s also cute and Kirishima is bulked as hell. It was a rational train of thoughts.

So why wasn’t your rational mind telling your hand to push him away just now? Why were you looking at his face, so close to your clothed cunt and feeling excitement bubble in your veins.

Tell me to stop and I will.

And you never did. So he pushed you to sit on the desk, pulling both your trousers and pants down at the same time. You kicked the air a few times to get rid of them but they hung from one of your ankles. It didn’t matter because his face was at its place. God bless you showered before coming here because you could have second thoughts otherwise.

“Okay, whatever the fuck you want, psycho.” You breathed as he lapped at your clit, still looking up at you.

His fingers creeped towards the inner side of your tight and you slapped him over the head.

“Uh, uh. I told you you could eat me out, not finger me. Yesterday you didn’t seem like the one to take shortcuts.” You spat, drinking up his frustration and slight… shame? Like a kid who did something wrong and got caught red handed.

“Fine.” He muttered pushing his tongue inside you. “It won’t take long anyway.” The grin was back on his face.

It indeed didn’t take long as soon, your legs were shutting tightly around his face. You weren’t even looking down anymore, the sight was a turn on but you were already overdriven. Your competitive nature was in a bliss and your head played fucking Katsuki Bakugo, on his fucking knees, between my fucking legs over and over like a broken record. You didn’t want to spoil your fun by thinking he may be having a  merrier time than you.

Not now, not when you’re so close and his palms are grabbing your tights, fingers digging into your muscles so much it would hurt if not the tension. Edging your release, you grabbed his hair in a tight fist pushing him in more, crossing your legs like it would take an “open, sesame!” to undo them.

At last, with a final short breath you came chuckling and moaning. A Katsuki may have slipped past your lips but only once.

He tore your legs open, panting like he just finished a marathon. Looking down you covered your lips to hide the laugh. His face was wet, smeared all over with what was a mixture of you both. His cheeks were heavy with blood, an intense red cutting out on his pale face. Classically, his brows were knit together.

“Did you have to make such a mess?” The blonde stood up and went to his bathroom. You caught a glimpse of the bulge in his pants.

The sound of the faucet reached your ears.

“I’m not gonna say sorry. You asked for it.” And you were pretty good at it. No. Such praise would kill your ego.

The water stopped running and you heard him stomp back. You pulled your trousers on quickly, suddenly feeling awfully naked. What would happen now? Your casual friend just ate your pussy like it was his last meal before a death sentence, and you were supposed to go back to organising the sources.

You felt a hard push to the back of your head.

“Stop thinking about it and get back out.”

Eh?!

Time went on quickly and in a weird manner. A huge something was in the air but you couldn’t find a way to bring the topic up. Why did you eat my pussy out of the blue? Was it really just about the bet? Were you feeling horny and I just so happened to be there? Are we fwb now? Do you like me?

Scratch the last one. The man gave you a headache ever since his own head left your tights. Also, he was nowhere to be found. Katsuki didn’t respond to texts, he was absent from the gym during his usual hours, and his dorm room was closed. You couldn’t just go to Kirishima and say: hey, I’m trying to figure out why Katsuki gave me head, wanna help?

The moment you run into his fleeting ass, you're gonna squeeze out the answer.

An opportunity came soon when you spotted him sneaking into the laundry room. It was a cramped space with washing machines and dryers. Fortunately, you had little thieves around dorms so people usually left their washing while it was in progress. There was a big chance you’d be alone.

Running to the door you yanked them open and rushed inside. Indeed, it was only him crouched to the lowest washing machine, putting mostly black clothes inside.

“You’re here for round two?” He smirked and you gasped.

It took you by surprise, you expected yelling or awkwardness. Nevermind. You shook off your initial stumble.

“Can you explain what the fuck do you mean by all this?” You gestured in the air as if all this was a laundry basket and an empty bottle of washing liquid scattered on the floor.

Katsuki hummed, shrugging his shoulders. He dropped the halfway loaded laundry on the floor and crawled closer to you, gripping your hips in a familiar manner. This time, you were wearing a skirt. Your back hit the door.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.” It fell from his lips as if he was asking whether you want vanilla or chocolate ice-cream.

Your mind ran in circles like a hamster in its ball. Start a fuss and possibly fight with Katsuki or let him do his thing and cum? Uhh.

He took your panties off completely, throwing them into his washing machine but left your skirt. Halfway in, when your chest was heaving and hips pushed further and further away from the door you heard a sound on the other side.

The doorknob shook and there was a mumble on the outside. You dug your feet into the ground and Katsuki put one of his hands to shut it closed. Yet, he didn’t stop what he was doing. Both of your palms also pushed into the thin wood making you unable to quiet the panting and loud gulps. You bit your lip and it would break if something wasn’t stuffed inside your mouth.

Taking a sharp breath through your nose, you smelled him. He stuffed your mouth with one of the shirts from his laundry. You threw him a dirty look from above to which he only smirked, going back down.

“It’s locked.” The muffled voice on the other side said.

“Maybe maintenance.” A different one answered.

When they were gone, you could finally cum, biting hard into Katsuki’s shirt. You steadied yourself on a drier afterwards while he wiped his mouth with a spare T-shirt before throwing all the leftover laundry inside the washing machine and starting it.

“My pants.” You breathed out, you were still coming back to earth.

“Ops.” He threw and with a single long stride, escaped the murder scene.

Your walk of shame in the short skirt, without panties on was long.

The third time you could talk to him happened only a day later.

You were studying with Kirishima, or more like tutoring him for free, in the library. Kirishima also had a single room in the dorms but his was far more trashy and you didn’t crave to spend time in that man cave. Instead you booked a private study room. It had a small round table, a few chairs and switches to plug in electric devices.

Halfway through your study Kirishima stated he needed to go to the bathroom. You nodded and the man left. Only after a minute did you hear the door open once more.

“A line in the mens’? Unbelievable.” You chuckled but upon looking up, you were met with a nasty grin.

“Kirishima told me you guys were studying.” He cornered you. “You know the deal.”

Katsuki slipped behind your chair as you whipped your head around to stop him. He placed both of his hands on your shoulders, surprisingly gentle.

“Just tell me to stop.”

Oh fuck you you pretty bastard. Is what you thought.

“Oh fuck you.” Is what you said and you wanted to add something but he pushed your upper half into the table simultaneously yanking the chair from under your butt.

It took a lick for your knees to get kinda soft and your morale to stumble between being a decent person or getting this unbelievably lucky chance for a third time.

“Can we at least do it after I finish with Kiri? I can come to your room as quickly as I am able to.” You whispered.

“Or you can call the dumbass and buy me a few minutes.” Katsuki muttered between your folds.

You cursed under your breath and grabbed your phone. Pick up, pick up, pick up, goddamn. Kirishima could be back any second. Although nothing terrible would happen if he came in on you, it would be embarrassing like hell. Finally, you heard his voice on the other side of the line.

“I’m just coming back, literally wait a second-”

“No!” You shouted into the device. “I mean.”

Katsuki seemed to slow down between your tights. Good, the bastard is not stupid and he cut you some slack this time.

“I’m sorry but I just really need a coffee, I thought you’d still be somewhere around the entrance.” You pieced together a makeshift excuse.

“I can go back. ‘Ts the least I can do for your help.” Kirishima laughed so genuinely it made you feel slightly bad for playing him like this.

“Yeah, uh, it really is boring like hell.” You laughed. The whole phone call made you unable to focus on Katsuki who was behind you and you really wanted to go back to minding him. “If I can be honest it would be lovely if you could bring me coffee from that cafe down and opposite of the library. You know which. I slept really bad and need their double espresso.” Kiri, please just say yes!

“Of course, anything for you.”

That sweetheart. Kirishima was really the perfect man, contrary to Katsuki who just now, at the very end of your call, decided to be an absolute asshole.

You felt two of his fingers push past your entrance and force your walls open. A breath got caught in your throat.

“Okay thanks, bye!” You smashed the end call button. “What the fuck are you do-”

But he was turning you around, lapping his tongue over your clit, moving his fingers in and out of your cunt all of which with closed eyes and a blissful look on his face. You gave in, because it felt so good.

After a while you finished all over his face, for the third time this week.

“I told you not to finger me.” You complained, dressing yourself in fear of Kirishima being too neat in his mission to get you coffee.

“I know and I didn’t like it. So I had to distract you.” He smirked, resting his hip on the table.

At that moment, Kirishima came inside with two paper cups, steam escaping the small opening in the lids.

“Oh, hi dude! I didn’t think you’d come here. I’d buy you coffee too.” Kirishima chirped.

“Forget about it, I was supposed to do something anyway. Just came in to say hi.” The blonde flicked his hand in the air. “Oh, and if you want-” He turned to you. “You can come to my room later and finish what we were talking about.” With that he slipped past the door leaving you with a grimace and Kirishima with a dumbfounded expression.

“What were you guys talking about?” The redhead asked.

“Nothing important, just about transplanting a small plant his mum gave him. I’ll help him later, he has already managed to nearly kill it.”

[storm-driver]

ep 19 : million dollar ghost feels like it's supposed to be the season finale, what with vlad being the main villain and him going after the key for pariah's keep. but the production order says this one goes first, so i guess that's what we're rolling with!

the fucking alarm going off in the school to announce there's a ghost on campus and jazz shouting "DANNY HIDE" only for danny to go ?????whY?? had me REELING. like he doesn't even care and jazz is hyperventilating on HIS behalf.

the main plot of the episode is always fun when vlad is involved. pinning a bounty on danny's head to fuck with him and his family is absolutely villainous and cruel. especially cause vlad is just out for blood while danny is only reacting to being hunted down. poor kid knows there's a target on his back, and i feel like if this show was written a few years later, he would've said "dude go to therapy" as a comeback.

there was one scene that seriously caught my eye. vlad essentially electrocutes danny to a point of almost losing consciousness and turning back to being human. but either danny, barely hanging on to being awake, stopped the transformation part way and kept himself as phantom. or vlad SOMEHOW STOPPED IT??? i'm going with the latter bc im p sure danny had no conscious control over that. especially because he's so drained afterwards that he can't even fight back when he gets tossed into the pile of ghost hunters. but that just makes me question HOW vlad did that. like that is another person's autonomy!!!! you just STOPPED IT BECAUSE YOU CAN???? HOW

jack fenton continues to be such a fantastic character. he's so bull-headed about being an expert on ghosts, it's leading to him fucking shit up by accident. he means well, but at least he's able to acknowledge when he's screwed up. it makes the scene with danny tryna cheer him up by "surrendering" as the ghost boy hit just a little harder. his son's opinion of him matters so much to him, that even the ghost boy presenting himself as free prey didnt get him out of a bad mood until maddie literally put the prize in his hands. she's by far the better ghost hunter between them, but she cares more about her husband's pride that she literally gives the credit to him for capturing the ghost boy. it's so sweet to watch, even though you have to subconsciously accept that they just put their son in a fucking vacuum and they have no idea he's in that tiny ass box.

also another example of danny's anatomy just being fucked because of ghost powers, bc how the fuck did he fit in that box otherwise.

anyway, danny convincing jack to let him out of the vacuum thing because he throws himself under the bus and essentially bashes his human self for constantly forgetting to do chores, including replacing the ectro-filtrator on the ghost portal, was fucking funny. david kaufman seriously needs more props for the absolute blunt line deliveries he does, because i am WHEEZING.

the episode has fun antics, but despite the bounty on danny's head, it doesn't actually put much on the serialization? yeah, they've established that danny is elusive and a ghost that a LOT of people have eyes on. he even calls himself public ghost enemy number one. but not much sticks. especially bc jack sorta just forgets about this temporary alliance he has with phantom in future episodes and goes back to shooting on sight. besides getting definitive proof that phantom is well-meaning and doesn't wanna cause havoc. still, fun episode, danny getting compressed into a box is hilarious.

yknow what I'm cataloging my feelings as i rewatch every danny phantom episode, here we go

[minswriting]

West Coast - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

About: The team is in L.A, investigating a case where an unsub is killing couples involving an older man and a younger woman outside of clubs. You and Aaron end up undercover at a club, dancing together. What was an undercover investigation quickly becomes something of a different nature when a certain tension gets involved. And after the unsub gets caught and everything is settled, you get a visit from Aaron at your hotel room.

Warnings: NSFW Content, Minors Do Not Interact, regular criminal minds topics and violence, sexual tension, grinding, unprotected sex, p in v, lana del rey coded fr.

Word Count: 2,500 Words

Down on the West Coast they got a sayin'

"If you're not drinkin' then you're not playin'"

But you've got the music, you've got the music

In you, don't you?

Your hips moved graciously to the music as you danced sensually against Aaron. His hands gripped your hips, holding them close to you while his breath hit your neck. The moment was hot to say the least, literally and metaphorically. The club lights were blue and dimmed, the dance floor filled with fog and sweaty bodies. The club scene in Los Angeles was artistic, edgy. Perhaps you would’ve enjoyed it had the circumstances been different.

The BAU was in L.A, investigating a series of murders that involved couples outside of nightclubs. The couples were always with an older man and a younger woman. And after days of no luck in catching the guy, it had been agreed upon that Hotch and you go undercover. So here you were, grinding against your boss with your coworkers in the room, scattered around.

Down on the West coast, I get this feeling like

It all could happen, that's why I'm leaving

You for the moment, you for the moment

Boy Blue, yeah, you

As you swayed your hips to the music, your ass grazed Aaron’s crotch. You’d love to say it was accidental but you knew yourself. The heat of the moment was getting to you. You heard the shaky breath that escaped the lips that were right near your ear, his bulge pressing against you. The heat of the moment was getting to him too.

To say you had always had an attraction to your boss would be a bit of an understatement. Aaron was a constant presence in your fantasies ever since you had joined the team. With his authoritative presence and the way he took control, you often found yourself wondering if he were the same in the bedroom. And now that you’ve gotten yourself in this situation, those thoughts are skyrocketing.

“Keep dancing. There’s a man looking at the two of you on the other side of the room,” came Morgan’s voice in the ear piece that you were wearing. “Reid, are you able to get a clear view?”

“Affirmative,” said the genius over the ear piece.

Maybe you should be more concerned. You are in fact working. You’re supposed to be catching this unsub. But when Aaron grips you tighter and his lips are to the shell of your ear, your brain could hardly comprehend the rest of what’s going on around you. “Can you feel what you did to me?” He murmured into your ear, pressing himself closer to you. “Perhaps I should take you home later.”

It’s all just an act. You’re both professionals, putting on a facade to catch the bad guy. And yet it felt so real. With the obvious hard-on that Aaron was sporting, the obvious shakiness in his breath, the weakness you felt in your knees from his voice. It was all so much. And yet, it was all an act.

You're falling hard, I push away, I'm feeling hot to the touch

You say you miss me and I wanna say I miss you so much

But something keeps me really quiet, I'm alive, I'm a lush

Your love, your love, my love

I can see my baby swinging

His Parliament's on fire and his hands are up

On the balcony and I'm singing

Ooh baby, ooh baby, I'm in love

I can see my sweet boy swaying

He's crazy y cubano como yo, la-la

On the balcony and I'm saying

Move baby, move baby, I'm in love

I'm in love (I'm in love)

I'm in love (I'm in love)

That night, after the successful catching of the unsub, you had gotten back to your hotel room absolutely beat. Usually, after catching the bad guy, you guys are on the jet, going back to Virginia. But Aaron had requested that you all leave in the morning, exclaiming that you all deserved a night of genuine rest before traveling. So you had gotten back to your hotel room, took a shower, changed into pajamas, and were now sitting on the bed, reading when suddenly there was a knock at the door.

You frowned, checking the time. Who would be knocking at your hotel door at one in the morning? You got up from the bed, walking over to the door. You checked the peep hole, seeing Aaron standing out there still dressed in the outfit he wore at the club. You unlocked the hotel door, opening it. “Sir?” You said, looking confused at your boss. “Is everything alright?”

Aaron looked at you, eyeing you up and down for a moment as he took in your form. You were dressed in a tank top and shorts, revealing much more of your skin than he had seen before. You couldn’t help but feel a bit self conscious under his stare and yet you did nothing to move. Because you secretly loved it. After a moment of silence, Aaron cleared his throat, looking at your eyes. “I wanted to see how you’re holding up after tonight,” he said, his voice a bit rough.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you bit your lip. “I’m good,” you said softly. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m good too,” he replied, nodding his head.

It was silent between the two of you. The tension was obvious at that point. Or maybe you were just tense. Who really knew? Nothing was said or done as you both just looked at each other. Until a few moments later.

You don’t really know who made the first move. All you knew was that your lips crashed with Aaron’s and he pushed the both of you into the hotel room, closing the door behind himself without his lips leaving yours. Clothes flew across the room, soft noises escaped your mouth as Aaron kissed you harshly and passionately. It had most definitely been pent up.

Down on the West coast, they got their icons

Their silver starlets, their Queens of Saigons

And you've got the music

You've got the music in you, don't you?

Down on the West coast, they love their movies

Their golden gods and Rock 'n' Roll groupies

And you've got the music

You've got the music in you, don't you?

You push it hard, I pull away, I'm feeling hotter than fire

I guess that no one ever really made me feel that much higher

Te deseo, cariño, boy, it's you I desire

Your love, your love, my love

The back of your legs hit the mattress as Aaron gently pushed you towards it. The both of you were naked, kissing passionately. The tension from the whole night just building up inside the both of you. Aaron pulled away from the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. “If you want me to stop, now would be the time to let me know,” he whispered against your lips.

“Please don’t stop,” you whispered back, your hand trailing down his chest.

Aaron let out a shaky breath. “I want you so bad,” he said.

“Then have me.”

A statement that held so much power. It was all the consent that Aaron needed. “Sit down,” he commanded softly, gesturing to the edge of the bed. And of course you obeyed with no questions asked, taking a seat on the edge of the mattress.

It felt surreal to say the least. Your fantasies of your boss were becoming a reality. It had certainly been the energy from the club that really caused so much tension. Part of you was nervous about what would happen afterward. Sleeping with your boss is never a good idea. But whatever happened on the West Coast, stayed on the West Coast.

Aaron dropped to his knees in front of you, looking up at you with his beautiful brown eyes. He trailed his fingers from your ankle to your thighs, leaning down to press a small kiss on your right thigh before kissing the left thigh. He slowly pulled your legs apart, revealing your cunt to him. It was glistening, wet from nothing but just kissing him. And he adored it. “You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured.

“Only for you,” you murmured back.

“Yeah?” He asked, giving you a small smirk. “Good girl.” And without any hesitation, he dived in, licking a stripe from your clit to your hole and then back to your clit. You gasped and moaned, reaching to grip Aaron’s hair. When you say you had never gotten your pussy eaten this good, you truly mean it. Aaron was eating you out in ways you’d never felt before, diving into it as though he were a starving man who had just gotten food for the first time.

His nose was against your clit, rubbing it as he tongued your hole, lapping around your pussy. He let out his own soft noises, gripping your thighs so that you couldn’t move. And you? You most certainly were moaning like a whore.

I can see my baby swinging

His Parliament's on fire and his hands are up

On the balcony and I'm singing

Ooh baby, ooh baby, I'm in love

I can see my sweet boy swaying

He's crazy y cubano como yo, la-la

On the balcony and I'm saying

Move baby, move baby, I'm in love

Your first orgasm was absolutely gorgeous. Aaron had made you cum on his tongue in less than five minutes. You had clenched your thighs so hard around Aaron’s head that he thought for just a split second that he would pass out in between your thighs. And honestly, that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. You tasted heavenly, like nectar blessed by the Gods above.

“Aaron,” you moaned after your orgasm, desperately needing his cock inside of you. “Need you so bad,” you said, looking down at your handsome boss.

He looked up at you, face glistening with your juices as he slowly stood up. You couldn’t help but look at his cock, wanting it so badly. Aaron certainly wasn’t below average. His cock was about seven inches but my god was it girthy. It will stretch you out so nicely, in a way that you desperately craved. Your hole clenched at that very thought, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Aaron.

“You need my cock, pretty girl?” He asked softly, reaching down to grip his cock, pumping it slowly.

You nodded your head, giving a sultry pout as you looked up at Aaron. “Need your cock so bad, sir,” you exclaimed.

Aaron let out a soft moan at your words, especially to you saying ‘sir’. It sent a rush down to his cock. Your sultry and whiny voice, begging for him to take you. You calling him “sir” just was the cherry on top. You were perfect and he adored it. He adored you. “I’ll give you my cock, baby,” he exclaimed, moving so he could align himself to your pussy. He slowly eased himself inside of you, careful to not hurt you while also letting out a low moan.

You let out a loud moan, gripping the sheets below you as you clenched around his cock. The stretch certainly hurt though that was expected. You truthfully hadn’t had sex in quite awhile and Aaron was bigger than most people you’ve been with. Regardless, you were just glad to be filled. You craved it. As Aaron bottomed out, he stayed still for a few minutes, waiting for you to adjust to his size. You took a few minutes to get used to it, allowing your body time to relax. And soon, you were ready for him to move. “You can move,” you licked your lips, looking up at your boss.

Aaron took a moment to look at you, admiring your beauty. He couldn’t help it. You were just so beautiful. However, without any further hesitation, he began thrusting his hips slowly inside of you, making you both groan in pleasure. To say Aaron craved this was an understatement. He had wanted you since the day you had joined the team. It had taken everything in his power to make sure your relationship stayed strictly professional. And perhaps it will remain so when you guys get back to the East Coast. But tonight? Tonight was the night for indulging. Because the desire was simply just too much.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned underneath Aaron, closing your eyes in pleasure as his hips began moving faster. His cock thrusted in and out of you, stretching you so good and hitting that sweet spot inside of you. “Feels so good,” you whimpered in pleasure.

“God, you’re so tight,” Aaron let out a choked moan. Your pussy was clenching his cock, adding to his pleasure. “And so wet.” Your cunt was perfect, clenching him as though it were made for his cock and his cock only.

Aaron’s thrusts were hard and fast as he fucked you. The room was filled with the loud moans of the both of you while skin hit skin. The squelching of your pussy was echoing in the room. You could feel that heat building in your abdomen as Aaron’s cock hit your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh my god!” you moaned, throwing your head back.

Aaron could feel the pleasure building inside of him, ready to erupt inside of you at any given moment. “I’m so close, baby,” he groaned, looking down at you as he fucked you. Your tits were bouncing, your cheeks were flushed while your eyes were closed. You were moaning his name as a mantra just as he moaned yours. And soon, you were cumming around his cock with your back arching and your toes curling. Aaron followed suit, letting out a long “fuuuck,” as he came. His cum shot inside of you, rope after rope as he filled you.

When you both came down from your highs, Aaron pulled out of you slowly before collapsing onto the bed right next to you. You looked up at the ceiling, finally comprehending the fact that you fucked your boss and now the unknowns of what will happen afterwards were integrating your mind. But as Aaron took you into his arms, those thoughts slowly crawled away. It doesn’t need to be so complicated.

I can see my baby swinging

His Parliament's on fire and his hands are up

On the balcony and I'm singing

Ooh baby, ooh baby, I'm in love

I can see my sweet boy swaying

He's crazy y cubano como yo, la-la

On the balcony and I'm saying

Move baby, move baby, I'm in love

I'm in love

I'm in love

What happens in the West Coast stays in the West Coast.

[lupinqs]

paige x reader request!! okay so reader has never dated before (she’s always focused on school and boys around her never seem to “meet up” to her standards….right lol) when she gets to college she meets p and they become really close. they end up falling for each other but reader is conflicted bc she has thought she’s been straight but looking back all the signs were there. she’s never wanted to have sex before (men are scary) but she wants to with p, she trusts her. this could be p talking reader through this realization and/or smut (p being really sweet w her bc it’s her first time yk)!! thank you!!

FIRST TIME ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: your first time is with paige

☆ ━ word count: 5.3K

☆ ━ warnings: smut with plot (honestly just p eating r out)

☆ ━ links: my masterlist

☆ ━ author’s note: my gift to everyone after that hellish lottery… fuck dallas bro 😐😐 also this is not my best work this month has been fucking terrible so my bad

FOR YOU, it’s always been school. School, school, school. By seventh grade, you already knew you wanted to go into medicine. Your parents both work in the field—your mom at the hospital, your dad in his private practice. You grew up hearing their stories over dinner, listening to the ups and downs of their days, feeling that pull towards something important, something that could make a difference. The way they talked about their work, you couldn’t help but imagine yourself there, following in their footsteps.

So, you worked. Hard. From the moment you set your sights on medicine, there was no looking back. High school flew by in a steady cycle of textbooks, flashcards, volunteer shifts, and internships, each one a piece of the puzzle you were putting together. You spent weekends shadowing doctors, hours in study groups, a summer interning at the local hospital where you first learned what a real emergency room felt like. Even then, nothing could shake you from the goal you’d carved out for yourself. You’d known from the start where you wanted to end up: Yale. As a Connecticut native, it felt like a given. You saw yourself there so clearly that the idea of not getting in didn’t even occur to you.

Until it did. And when the rejection letter came, it was like the ground had fallen out beneath you. There was shock, disappointment, embarrassment. You’d done everything right—how had that not been enough? But still, UConn is a good college, and the goal is med school anyway. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter where you get your undergraduate degree, that you’ll just work even harder this time. When it comes to med school applications, there won’t be any mistakes, no missed chances. You won’t let it happen again—you will be going to Yale.

The thing is, school’s been your everything for so long that you don’t have much of a life outside of it. You had a first kiss once, an awkward moment with a boy who you never talked to again. But after that, there hasn’t been anything more. You’ve always been busy, and to be honest, there’s never been anyone who made you want to carve out time. Every relationship around you seemed like a distraction, a place for people to get hurt or get sidetracked, neither of which were part of your plan. Your friends like to tease you about it, saying your standards are too high, that no one will ever live up to the expectations you’ve set. And maybe that was true. Maybe that’s what it is. The boys just don’t meet your standards. You accept that, not caring to pay any mind to them (though they certainly paid mind to you), continuing to stay focused.

But at UConn, things start to feel different. College is strange that way—there’s structure, but there’s also space, a little more breathing room. It’s not like high school, where everyone knew what you were doing all the time, where your schedule was mapped out. Here, people let loose, go out, drink, stay up until all hours for no reason at all. You do it, too, and you realize it’s fun. But you never let it go further, never bother to get any sort of romance or even hook-ups involved in your life—because you’re still who you are. Your studies come first, always. You continuously remind yourself of that. Med school is the goal, and you work towards it every day.

Besides, you’re not even really interested in dating or anything of the sort.

That is, until you meet a certain blonde-haired basketball player.

It happens during the second semester of your freshman year, in a class you’re only taking for the credit. You barely even remember signing up for it—some easy elective with minimal workload to round out your schedule. You don’t care about the subject, don’t even plan on giving it much effort beyond the occasional assignment because you know it’ll be easy anyways. But then she walks in.

Paige Bueckers. You’ve heard the name before, of course. Everyone has. She’s the sophomore basketball phenom, the face of UConn athletics, practically a celebrity on campus. You’ve never paid her much attention—basketball isn’t really your thing—but the buzz around her is impossible to ignore. Still, when she strolls into the classroom, disheveled and running a little late, it takes you a moment to connect the dots. Her hair’s thrown into a low bun, messy strands framing her face. She’s in a gray UConn sweatsuit, the hem of her hoodie slightly frayed, her glasses sitting casually on the bridge of her nose. She scans the room, sees that the only open seat is next to you, and slides into it without hesitation.

“Hey,” she says, flashing you a quick smile before dropping her bag on the floor.

And that’s it. Nothing monumental. Just a simple greeting. But there’s something about her—her presence, the casual ease with which she takes up space—that immediately hooks your attention.

At first, you try to keep your head down. She’s just another classmate, someone you’ll probably never see again once the semester’s over. But Paige doesn’t make it easy to ignore her. She leans over to you during class, whispering comments about the lecture or the professor’s awkward hand gestures. She’s funny—unexpectedly so—and you catch yourself smiling at her jokes even when you try not to.

You notice other things, too. Like the sharp line of her jaw, the way her broad shoulders stretch the fabric of her sweatshirt, the subtle curve of muscle beneath her long sleeves. She’s not the type of traditional feminine pretty that you’d expect, not delicate or polished. No makeup, no carefully curated outfits. But there’s something about her—an almost sculptural beauty, like she’s been chiseled from marble by a particularly ambitious artist. It’s distracting. And you don’t get distracted easily.

When your friends convince you to go to your first basketball game of the season, you tell yourself it’s just for the experience. A chance to break out of your usual routine. But then you see her on the court. And suddenly, everything makes sense. Paige doesn’t just play basketball; she owns it. She’s gorgeous out there, all fire and intensity, her movements fluid and commanding. You find yourself watching her more than the game, mesmerized by the way she moves, just her presence in general.

After that, you start looking forward to class in a way you never have before. It’s not the subject, obviously. It’s Paige. The way she smiles at you when she walks in, the way she leans over to whisper something ridiculous during a particularly boring lecture. She’s the best part of your day, and you don’t even try to deny it.

When the two of you get paired up for a group project, it feels like fate. You go to her apartment to work on it, expecting the same easy banter from class, but it’s more than that. The two of you get off track almost immediately, laughing over something stupid, and before you know it, hours have passed and you’ve barely made any progress. You end up staying way later than planned, both of you scrambling to get back on task before you have to call it a night. By the time you leave, you’ve swapped numbers, and from then on, the texts come easily.

It starts with class updates, but soon it’s more. Late night conversations that have nothing to do with school, Facetimes, too. Hanging out becomes natural: grabbing frozen yogurt, wandering around campus, studying together even when you don’t need to. You talk and talk and talk, and somehow, it’s never boring. Paige has this way of making everything feel lighter, like the weight you usually carry around doesn’t exist when you’re with her.

One night, after one of your froyo runs, you’re sitting in her car. The frozen yogurt is long gone, but neither of you seems ready to say goodbye. The conversation slows, dipping into a comfortable silence. You glance at her, and she’s already looking at you. There’s a shift in the air, something unspoken passing between you. And then, suddenly, she’s kissing you.

You freeze. Not because you don’t want it, but because it’s so unexpected. Your brain can’t catch up with what’s happening, and for a moment, you’re completely still. Paige pulls back almost immediately, her face flushing as she stumbles through an apology. “I’m sorry—I thought—God, I must’ve read that wrong. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, shaking your head as you finally find your voice. “I didn’t mind.”

Her eyes search yours, uncertain, and then the silence settles again. Before you can second-guess yourself, you lean back in. This time, the kiss is slower, more deliberate. Her hand cups your jaw, warm and steady, while your fingers find their way to her arm, brushing over the solid muscle of her bicep. The center console is a nuisance, forcing you both into awkward angles, but you don’t care. It’s all soft lips and quiet breaths, a perfect mix of hunger and gentleness.

When she finally pulls away, she drives you back to your dorm, her voice soft as she says, “I had a good time tonight.”

You manage a quiet “Me too,” before slipping out of the car.

Back in your dorm, your roommate is asleep, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, your heart still racing. You just kissed Paige Bueckers. A girl. And you liked it. More than liked it—you want to do it again.

The realization hits you like a freight train. You’ve never thought about girls like that before, never let your mind wander there. You always assumed you were straight, just too busy or too picky to find the right guy. But now, as you think about Paige, about her hands on your face, her lips against yours, it all starts to make sense. You never wanted boys. Not really. That kiss in high school with that random guy had felt wrong, awkward. The idea of being with a man had never appealed to you—except for maybe Drew Starkey, but even that felt more like a joke than anything real.

But this? The thought of Paige, of her smile, her laugh, the way she made you feel like you were the only person in the room—that feels real. And it’s terrifying.

Because now you know two things for sure:

You’re gay.

And you really, really like Paige Bueckers.

And it turns out that she really likes you, too.

Because that first kiss turns into another kiss. And another. And now, every time you’re alone together, it happens like clockwork.

The two of you have started hanging out in your rooms more often, the need for privacy overtaking any desire to sit in common areas or go out. Paige’s teammates joke that the two of you have become “homebodies,” but they don’t know the half of it. They don’t know how, as soon as the door closes, her lips find yours, soft and insistent, her hands framing your face as if you’re the most delicate thing she’s ever touched.

You’re not dating—at least, not officially. You haven’t talked about it, haven’t dared to address what’s happening between you. It’s easier this way, or so you tell yourself. But a part of you wonders why Paige doesn’t bring it up. Why she hasn’t said anything about what this is or what it could be. And that bothers you, even if you try to push it to the back of your mind. Then again, you’ve never done relationships, so maybe this in between is for the better—at least, for now.

Tonight, her teammates have gone to Ted’s. Paige had asked if you wanted to go, but when you wrinkled your nose and said, “Not really,” she grinned and said, “Me neither.” So, here you are, alone in her dorm room, a movie playing on the small TV mounted to the wall. Neither of you are watching it.

You’re lying on her bed, her weight hovering above you, and there’s no space, no breath between the two of you. Her lips are on yours, insistent and hungry, her body pressing against yours as if she can’t get close enough. There’s an urgency in her kiss tonight, a need that you can feel deep in your chest. You kiss her back with equal fervor, your hands tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, trying to anchor yourself to her.

Her hands are on your hips, her fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp against her mouth. You feel her smile against your lips at the sound and it makes you smile, too.

And, for the first time, you find yourself wanting more. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, your nerves alight with a buzzing energy that you don’t fully understand but don’t want to lose. Paige seems to sense it too because her hands slide up your sides, her thumbs tracing slow, deliberate lines against your skin.

Her lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, down to your neck. The kisses are messy and open-mouthed, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. When her hands slip under your shirt, tracing over your stomach, you shiver.

“Can I take it off?” she asks, her voice soft but tinged with want.

You hesitate for a moment before nodding, lifting your arms to help her pull the shirt over your head. It’s gone in an instant, and you’re left in just your bra. The cool air against your skin makes you shiver again, but it’s nothing compared to the way Paige looks at you.

Her eyes roam over you, but not in a way that makes you feel objectified. It’s more like she’s in awe, like she can’t believe you’re here with her, like she can’t believe she gets to see you like this. It’s overwhelming.

You look away, suddenly self-conscious. It’s nerve-wracking, you’ve never done this before, and you know that Paige has. But Paige also knows that you haven’t, which you suppose makes things easier. You feel her fingers catch your chin, gently turning your head back to face her. Her touch is so tender it nearly makes you cry.

“If you wanna stop, tell me,” she says, her blue eyes locked onto yours, her voice steady and sincere.

You shake your head, your heart pounding. “I don’t wanna stop,” you say quickly, and then, after a pause, you add, your face flushing slightly with embarrassment, “I’m just a little nervous.”

She smiles softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. Her hands move to your ribs, tracing slow, soothing lines along your skin. “It’s okay,” she murmurs. “You don’t gotta be. I’m right here.”

Her words settle something inside you, easing the tension in your chest. You nod, and she kisses you again, her lips slow and deliberate against yours. The urgency from earlier is still there, but now it’s tempered by something softer, something deeper. You want her closer, impossibly closer.

Her hands slide up your sides once more, stopping just below your chest, and the anticipation alone makes your breath catch. When her palms finally cup your breasts through your bra, her touch is firm yet reverent, and the sensation makes you gasp against her mouth. Your breathing deepens, your chest rising and falling under her hands.

It’s instinctual, the way your hands move to her waist, your fingers slipping underneath the hem of her long-sleeve shirt. Her skin is warm beneath your touch, and you can feel the subtle definition of her abs as your hands explore, your palms smoothing over her sides.

Paige groans softly into your mouth, her body pressing harder against yours as if she’s trying to fuse you together. Then she pulls away just enough to tug her long-sleeve shirt over her head in one fluid motion, tossing it carelessly across the room. The moment it’s gone, she’s back, her lips finding yours again, more insistent than ever.

She’s in just her sports bra now, and you can’t help but let your fingers trail along the edges of it, brushing against the smooth fabric and the warm skin beneath. Paige shivers under your touch, and the knowledge that you’re affecting her this much makes your heart race even faster.

Then you feel her hands move behind your back, her fingers toying with the clasp of your bra. She hesitates, her lips hovering over yours as if she’s waiting for your permission.

You pull back just slightly, your lips still brushing hers as you murmur, “Take it off.”

Her eyes flicker with something intense, something almost vulnerable, as she nods. She unclasps your bra with practiced ease, sliding the straps down your shoulders before pulling it away completely. For a moment, she doesn’t move, her gaze dropping to your bare chest. Her throat bobs as she swallows hard, and when she finally speaks, her voice is low and husky.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” she mutters, her eyes locking with yours for a heartbeat before her lips are on yours again, desperate and consuming.

Her hands return to your breasts, cupping and kneading them in a way that makes your head fall back against the pillows. A quiet whimper escapes your throat, and Paige groans in response, the sound vibrating against your lips.

Her mouth begins to wander, leaving your lips to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your jawline, then lower to your neck. She lingers there, her teeth grazing your skin before she soothes the slight sting with her tongue. Each kiss feels deliberate, like she’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you react to her touch.

She moves lower, her lips brushing along your collarbone, her breath warm and uneven against your skin. Her hands continue their slow, deliberate exploration of your chest, her thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that makes your breath hitch.

Her lips trace the edges of your breasts, teasing and deliberate, and it’s almost too much. Your fingers tighten their hold on her sides, your nails digging slightly into her skin as you try to ground yourself.

Paige’s lips move with an unrelenting intensity, open-mouthed kisses peppered across your chest as though she’s determined to worship every inch of you. When her mouth closes over one of your nipples, the heat and pressure of her tongue send a jolt through your body, and you swallow hard, trying to keep yourself steady. The sensation is new, overwhelming in the best way, and you feel a steady, growing thrum between your legs that you can’t ignore.

She doesn’t rush, her lips and tongue moving with precision, her hands anchoring you to the bed as if she doesn’t want you to float away. Her mouth trails from one breast to the other, lavishing attention in a way that makes your breath hitch and your fingers curl into the sheets.

“Paige,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, your chest rising and falling heavily as her lips continue their descent.

She hums softly against your skin, a sound that vibrates through you as her mouth moves lower. She lingers over your stomach, her lips and tongue leaving a warm, wet trail across your skin. When she sucks on a spot just below your navel, you know she’s leaving a mark, but you don’t care. The sensation is intoxicating, her gentle pressure grounding you as your thoughts scatter into nothing but her touch, her presence.

Then, her hands move to the waistband of your sweatpants, pausing just above your hips. Her fingers don’t tug or pull, just hover there, her thumbs brushing lightly against your skin. You glance down at her, heart pounding in your chest, only to find her already looking up at you.

Her eyes are soft, full of a question she hasn’t yet asked, though there’s no mistaking the want clouding her gaze. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet, careful, “Do you want me to?”

You swallow thickly, your throat dry. Do you want her to? God, yes. It’s not even a question. You don’t just want her—you think you might need her in this moment, need her to fix that ache that’s been building between your legs since she first kissed you tonight.

But it’s scary. Already, you’ve never been this exposed with anyone before, and this—this is something else entirely. A deeper kind of intimacy, one you thought you’d be ready for but now realize the weight of. Whenever you pictured what your first time might be like, you never really thought it would be too important, but now, here, with Paige above you, it feels monumental.

But who else would it be, if not her? Paige, who makes you feel safe, wanted, adored. You trust her in a way you’ve never trusted anyone. She’s kind, patient, and you like her so much it almost hurts. It only makes sense for it to be her. Even if it’s scary. Even if the thought creeps in—what if you’re not enough for her? What if you’re different from the others she’s been with, and she’s disappointed?

Your thoughts are interrupted as Paige reaches for your hand, her fingers threading through yours in a gentle, grounding gesture. Her eyes stay on yours, searching, concerned. She says your name, softly, once, then again. And then, “Baby…” Her voice cracks just slightly, and it tugs at something deep inside you. “Please don’t feel pressured. It’s okay. We don’t gotta do anything else.”

The way she says it, so sincere and unselfish, almost undoes you. You shake your head quickly, squeezing her hand in reassurance. “I don’t feel pressured,” you say, and though your voice wavers, it’s honest. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before you continue. “Just… just keep going, please.”

She hesitates, her eyes locked on yours for a long moment, as if she’s searching for any sign of hesitation, any flicker of doubt. When she seems to find nothing but your own need and trust, she nods, her expression softening into something almost reverent.

“Okay,” she murmurs, her lips pressing a kiss to your stomach, this one gentler than the ones before, less insistent but no less meaningful. She kisses you again, and again, her hands moving slowly as her fingers hook around the waistband of your sweatpants.

She pulls them down your legs with care, her eyes flicking back to yours to make sure it’s still okay. You nod, your heart racing but your body completely at ease with her. And as Paige tosses the sweatpants aside, her hands return to your hips, her lips never far from your skin, and you feel nothing but trust, nothing but her.

She places feather-light kisses along your inner thighs, moving slowly, her lips brushing over the sensitive skin in a way that makes your breath hitch. Her hands rest on your hips, thumbs tracing lazy circles that feel both soothing and electrifying. When her lips press against the edge of your underwear, your heart races so fast it’s all you can hear.

And then, without breaking her rhythm, she tilts her head slightly and presses a soft, lingering kiss right over your clothed clit. The sensation is light, almost teasing, but it sends a shiver coursing through you. You take a shaky breath through your nose, swallowing hard, because she’s barely touched you, and already your body feels like it’s on fire.

When her fingers slide to the waistband of your underwear, she pauses, her eyes flicking up to meet yours. The unspoken question is there again, and this time, you don’t even need to think about it. “Mm-hmm,” you hum softly, nodding as your chest rises and falls a little faster.

Paige nods back, her expression soft but full of intent, and she hooks her fingers around the elastic, sliding your underwear down slowly, carefully, as if she’s unwrapping something fragile. The cool air against your skin makes you shiver, and when her gaze lowers, taking you in fully for the first time, you feel your face heat up, a mixture of anticipation and self-consciousness twisting in your chest.

Instinctively, your legs start to close, but Paige catches them gently, her hands warm and steady as she presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t hide,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing. When you don’t immediately relax, she looks up at you, sincerity written all over her face. “You’re so pretty, baby,” she says, her words soft but firm, like a promise.

Her reassurance eases some of the tension, and when she presses another kiss to your thigh—this one closer to where you want her—you let your legs fall open again, trusting her. Paige doesn’t rush. She kisses along your thigh again, then again, each one inching closer to where your body feels like it’s burning.

And then she’s there, her breath warm against your clit as she places the softest kiss there. The contact has you gasping quietly, your hips shifting involuntarily. She pauses, letting her lips linger, as if testing your response. When you let out a quiet, broken sound, she pulls back just slightly, her eyes lifting to yours as if checking one last time.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” she whispers, her hands smoothing up and down your thighs. You nod quickly, a whispered, “Okay,” tumbling out, though it feels like an understatement.

And then, without wasting any more time, Paige’s tongue slides along your core. That alone is enough to make your whole body flex, your stomach shuddering. Before you even get to process that foreign feeling of her tongue running up your slit, Paige presses her mouth against your clit completely, rolling her tongue right to the collection of nerves.

Her tongue alternates between soft, sweeping strokes and precise flicks that have you gasping for breath. It’s almost too much, and yet, not enough all at once. You bite your lip, trying to stay quiet, but a moan finally escapes when her tongue moves a certain way, hitting a spot that has your whole body tightening. The sound you make is desperate, unrestrained, and your face flushes in embarrassment. But Paige doesn’t seem to mind—if anything, she doubles down, a soft moan escaping her lips, vibrating against you that sends a fresh wave of pleasure rolling through your body.

Jesus Christ, she’s good at this. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it makes you wonder how many people she’s been with, how much practice she’s had to make you feel like this. But then her tongue slips inside you, making you forget any and all of your thoughts, before it slides back out and smoothes back along your clit.

“Mmm, P,” you manage to gasp, your voice shaky and uneven. She glances up at you, her gaze meeting yours, and the sight of her—eyes dark with want, lips glistening—sends heat flooding through you. When she holds your gaze and tilts her head just slightly, her tongue hitting that same perfect spot again, your head falls back against the pillow, a breathless cry slipping out.

“Right there?” she murmurs, her voice low and muffled against you. The vibrations of her words are enough to make you tremble, and all you can do is nod, your fingers tightening in her hair as you whisper a choked, “Yeah—yes, shit.”

Paige doesn’t let up for a second, her lips and tongue working in seamless harmony to drive you closer and closer to the edge. It’s overwhelming, how good she is at this. Every flick of her tongue, every deliberate motion feels impossibly intentional, like she knows exactly what to do to unravel you piece by piece. Your thighs tense around her, hands tangling into her blonde hair as you press her closer, hips shifting instinctively to meet her movements.

Her hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you steady as she focuses all of her attention on you. You can feel the intensity in every motion she makes—each swirl of her tongue, every press of her lips against you is filled with purpose. She’s completely locked in, as if nothing else in the world exists but you. The tension in your stomach coils tighter and tighter, your breaths coming in short, shallow gasps.

The noises slipping from your lips are no longer something you can control. You’ve never felt anything like this before, never imagined something could feel this good. Your hips move against her instinctively, searching for more, for everything she can give you. And Paige? Paige meets you exactly where you are, matching your every movement with a rhythm that drives you absolutely wild. As your legs begin to shake, she seems to sense your need for something more, and she slides her hands beneath your thighs, lifting your legs and placing them over her shoulders to get ever closer to your wet, dripping cunt.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your voice trembling as the pressure builds higher and higher. You’re teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body alight with sensation. Paige doesn’t stop, her brows furrowing slightly in concentration as her her mouth becomes more precise and focused, tongue swiping so quickly against your wetness that you can tell she’s determined to push you over. “Paige, I think I’m gonna—”

You feel her nod against you, her tongue chasing the movement, and, between her kitten-licks and sucks, she gasps, breathless herself, “I know, I know. I gotchu, ma.”

And when she dives back in, taking your clit into her mouth and sucking it, her teeth scraping against you, her head shaking with the effort, that seems to do it. Your body tenses, toes curling as you gasp her name again, louder this time. The dam finally breaks, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you so intensely that it leaves you trembling. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your hand grips Paige’s hair tightly, holding her to you as your orgasm overtakes you, your pussy dripping.

Fuck.

Paige doesn’t pull away, her hands steady on your thighs as she guides you through it, her tongue slowing its movements but not stopping, easing you gently down from your peak. Your body shudders with aftershocks, and you’re left breathless, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

When Paige finally pulls back, her lips are swollen and glistening, a soft, almost smug smile on her face. She crawls up your body, pressing a kiss to your hip, then your stomach, before finally reaching your lips again. Her kiss is soft, tender, a stark contrast to the intensity of what just happened.

“Hey,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice gentle as she brushes a strand of hair from your face. “You good?”

You nod, still catching your breath, and manage to whisper, “That was… fuck, P.”

Paige grins, her fingers lightly tracing circles along your side. “Did so good for me,” she murmurs, her voice warm and affectionate. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

Her words make your heart flutter, and you bury your face in her neck, a shy smile spreading across your lips. Paige wraps her arms around you, pulling you close as you both settle into the bed. The steady rhythm of her breathing against you is soothing, grounding you after all of… that.

“I’m really glad it was you,” you murmur softly, your fingers idly tracing patterns on her shoulder.

Paige presses a kiss to the top of your head, her voice low and full of sincerity as she replies, “Me too.”

[gtgbabie0]

-Benjicot Blackwood x smallfolk!reader

{The Realm seems to have spiralled into disarray, Benjicot makes promises of protecting you}

Short and sweet because I can’t help myself, Enjoy my lovelies 💕

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The days seem much longer since the crowning of Aegon Targaryen, the Realm quickly swearing their fealty to whatever side could offer up the best deal or come across as the most threatening. Men were quick to take up swords, training all through the day and deep into the night.

Benjicot was not exempt from this, immediately following suit. Although it came naturally to him, a sword in his hand gave him a boost of confidence like you’ve never seen before and suddenly he was ready to take off into battle with an eagerness that would put anyone on edge.

It took up most of his time, unfortunately. The growing space between the pair of you was noticeable, you wouldn’t hold it against him, you couldn’t. Especially not when he visits you at the end of every day with a boyish grin and messy hair.

“Missed you today.” He breaks the silence, standing awkwardly at the doorway, watching you potter around the small kitchen.

Several moments pass and you still don’t even give him a glance, focused rather stubbornly on the task of scrubbing down the already pristine countertops. He makes a popping noise with his lips repeatedly, trying to gauge a reaction or at the very least your gaze.

With a groan he steps over to the dress you have been working tirelessly on, you have a talent for weaving threads and fabrics with your very hands, crafting the most beautiful dresses for the pretty ladies of the Vale for a rather pretty sum.

“Do not touch that with your filthy hands unless you wish to spend coin on new lace.” You tell him, turning around to meet his grin.

You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop your lips from curling into a traitorous smile, the sight of him all dirtied and bloodied looked so out of place in the backdrop of pastel colours and the softest fabrics.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, allowing you to tug him over to the wash basin with a chuckle that passes through his chapped lips.

His expression softens as he watches the way your gentle hands begin to wash the mud and blood from his own, so much more delicate than his, not sullied by violence and battle, no, they only knew needlework and he vows to keep it that way.

“I said I missed you today.” He repeats his earlier statement, tilting his head slightly towards yours to meet your eyes.

“I suppose I should be grateful then, Lord Blackwood.” The words leave a bad taste in your mouth, despite the fact that there was no malice behind them, but still, that doesn't stop the regret that immediately swells up inside your chest at the deflated look he gives you.

“I sense I’ve done something wrong, have I?…” he treads carefully, his eyes searching your expression as your hands carefully work to free them of muck.

You shake your head, drying off his hands as you stare down at them with a troubled look. “No… forgive me I have been rather on edge as of late.”

He hums in understanding at your words, glancing around the room, trying to think about the right thing to say, before finally looking back down at you. In truth, he has never been good at this, words, but for you, he’ll try.

“You got me and I’m better than anyone in battle, you’ve seen it yourself, I’ll protect you.” He states with so much confidence in his tone you can’t help but chuckle, it was true he became a wildly different person on the battlefield, a man possessed by the thrill.

You avert your eyes to the sword that stands, leaning up against the wall with your brows pinched together in worry. Benjicot’s hands immediately cup either side of your face with care, the feeling of his calloused hands keeps your mind from drifting off to every worst possible scenario.

“Hey, look at me.” He whispers, tipping your head up ever so gently. “If anything happens you’ll have refuge at Raventree.” He promises, his tone carrying a seriousness that he does not always have.

“You sound so sure they’ll just take me in…” You whisper, unsure if you’d be welcomed at all.

“I will demand it, and so will my Aunt, she loves you especially after you made her that riding jacket.” His words warm your heart, a soft smile gracing your lips at the memory of Alysanne, the gratefulness of her tone and the excitement in her eyes.

A warm smile spreads across your lips, his rough hands still cradling your face as if you were the most precious thing across Westeros, the pads of his thumbs caressing the space under your eye.

“Now, no more worrying, hmm?” He announces, pressing a kiss against your forehead with a smirk as you agree with a small whispered ‘Alright’

The pair of you soon find comfort in the warmth of your bed, listening to him ramble on vividly about his day, his hands moving all over the place to get his point across and for the time being everything seems to be peaceful.

[sunrisesfromthewest]

First Encounter

|Summary: Your first encounter with Armando; based off of that one scene from bad boys ride or die. | Warnings: Getting shot at/slight suggestive language/Curse words/Slight Movie Spoilers | Trope: One sided interest or Enemies to Lovers| Notes: Hopefully you guys enjoy it's my first-time writing a x reader. | (Y/N/N=Your Nickname)

Here's all the parts I have so far: 1 2 3 4 5 6

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After seeing the news about your dad, Uncle Mike, and some guy, you decided to leave work early. Confused on why there all the sudden wanted fugitives,you quickly drive over to Dorns place knowing that he’ll have answers.

Parking your car, you grab your purse and make your way towards his lake house. Since you hang out with him and Kelly 24/7 outside of work, you just walk in without knocking.    Which was a mistake on your end because not even a second later you’re being shot at, and you could hear a few people yell in shock.  Dropping to the floor you curse and yell "It's me stop fucking shooting it’s me Y/N!”  Looking up you see Kelly pointing the gun at the place you were just standing at with a shock expression.  “Girl what the hell you got going on” you said, scared to stand up.  Lowering her gun she said “OMG, Y/N, I’m so so—” Before she could finish you hear “Oh lord, you shooting at my baby!", recognizing the voice you look around to spot your father Marcus, running towards you with a worried look.

As he’s checking over you, you hear him sigh with relief after seeing you were fine. " Dad? what the fuck is going on!", standing up you dust off your nurse uniform, with a confused expression. 

Looking around the room you noticed shocked expressions from Dorn and Kelly who had put her gun down. Spotting Uncle Mike and the man that was with him on the news your eyes squint even more, Tryna put two to two together.    “Y/N/N, aren’t you supposed to be at work, "Marcus says confused on why his daughter was there.  Still shaking up from being shot at you say, “I was at work but when I was making my rounds with my patients, I seen you guys on the news ......but shit! I should be asking the questions! why are you, Uncle Mike and this dude, wanted fugitives …. matter of fact," turning towards the man, "Who are you?”.    Seeing the man smirk he says," Someone you can get well acquainted with.”  Just as you’re about to say something smart, your dad cuts in dramatically "Aye hell nah man! No hitting on my daughter, Mike get your son!” 

Shocked you run your eyes over the Latino man which you can now see have some of Mike's features, “Uncle Mike since when you have a son, and why the hell is he dressed up like a redneck.”  Running your eyes frantically over their forms you back up while pointing your hands at them and say, “matter of fact why are you all dress up like that.”  Feeling your dad pull you aside to calm you down, he explains everything that happened these past few days.    After getting the run down on what was going on, you rub at your eyes with a stressed sigh." So that’s Armando," you said shaking your head "I would’ve pulled my gun out as well if I’ve seen him, dad didn’t he almost kill you and Uncle Mike!", you said feeling frustrated about the situation.  “Y/n,I know this is awkward, but he has evidence to prove that Captain Conrad is innocent.”  Sighing again “Okay, fine but if he tries some shit just know Imma make him taste the rainbow.”  Hearing laughter you look back to see the Latino leaning against the kitchen counter looking at you with a smirk on his face.  Seeing your father look at you with a don’t do it expression made you huff and ignore Armando’s laughter.    Before you could move to grab your purse off the floor your dad stops you again and whispered, "How long Kelly and Dorn been messing around, "letting out a short laugh you say, “For a minute now”  Seeing your father smirk, and send a look to Mike, you knew they were up to no good but chose to ignore it.

Walking to the door to grab your purse and its spilled contents you feel eyes on you, gazing up you see Armando watching you with an unreadable expression. Rolling your eyes you pick up the rest of your stuff, but as you reach for your lip gloss, a hand grabs it.    Looking up your face to face with the Latino himself, annoyed you extend your hand out, while raising an eyebrow.  Watching his amused expression, you sigh and roll your eyes. 

“Boy if you don’t give me my stuff,Imma punch you in the throat." Hearing him chuckle made you more agitated, but you kept your cool. As he holds out the gloss to you with a smirk you huff and reach out to snatch it, only for him to pull it back in a teasing manner.

Looking at him as if he’s grown two heads, you’re about to cuss him out when he says”Demasiado bonita para una boca como esa”.  Furrowing your eyebrows you say “What?”    Armando’s smirk widens as he says, “I said to pretty for a mouth like that.”  Scoffing you snatch your lip gloss out his hands, putting it in your purse as you stand up and say, “First of all, my mouth is only like this because you almost killed my dad not too long ago, and secondly I can say whatever the fuck I want cause last I checked imma grown women.”  Watching his eyes glance down at your body, you hear a low whistle, "You sure are, but if you ever wanna fix that mouth of yours, "he pauses allowing his pretty brown eyes to trail back up to yours,”aquí estaré mami” (I’ll be here mommy) 

Shocked slightly at his boldness, you say “Boy if you don’t get out of m---,” but before you could finish, he was called over by Mike. At first Armando ignores him and continues to admire you until your dad says, “Boy get your ass over here," which made you break eye contact with him and look away.  

Glancing back up you couldn't help but admire his physique as well but as he reaches the others by the computer set up. He glances back to see you staring which resulted in him sending you a wink. Rolling your eyes you turn away with a smirk," You your daddy son for sure," you say to yourself with a smile.

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Notes: Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :) and pls go see the movie it's so good

[froggiewrites]

Jealousy, Jealousy

Pairing: Sanji x Reader

SFW

Summary: You spend the night crying into your drinks about how much you want Sanji, and how much it hurts he's in love with someone else. Sanji spends the night crying about much the same. Your friends get sick of it, and decide to help the idiots realize what everyone else already knows. Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Misunderstandings, Sanji and Reader both being idiots Word Count: 4.1k

You are going to get drunk tonight. Plastered, even.

Another day, another victory, another adventure spent staring longingly at Sanji when you were sure he wasn’t looking. You could usually handle the embarrassment of acting like a lovesick puppy for a man you knew didn’t feel the same, but something about today really set you off. Maybe it was the way he so sweetly called Nami’s name when you all reunited, or the way he so carefully prepared Robin her favorite drinks, or some other transgression you can’t quite remember. You don’t know exactly what it was, but you know you’re irritated and hurt and a little heartbroken, and there’s about a half a dozen drinks with your name on them behind the bar.

The tavern is lively and loud, and the rest of the crew is clearly having a good time. Your eyes briefly linger on Sanji at the bar, but you try to force your eyes away. No point in lingering here, yearning for something you can’t have. You instead make your way to the back of the room, wedging yourself between Zoro and Robin, who seem to be drinking in silence together.

You had intended on sharing in the peaceful silence, broken only by some quiet comments and gentle chuckles, but three drinks in you can see them side-eyeing you, brows furrowed.

“What?” Your voice comes out harsher than you meant it to, but you’re a bit too drunk to care.

“Just surprised you’re drinking so much, is all. You normally pace yourself more than this.” Robin’s voice is quiet and controlled, as though she’s just making a passive observation, but you know your friends and you know she is deeply worried about you.

“I had a bad day.”

“Really? You seemed fine earlier.” Zoro sounds genuinely surprised. Robin shoots him a look you can’t read, and he quickly shuts his mouth.

“Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?” Her voice is kind, so kind, but it makes you clench your jaw anyway.

“No.”

Silence.

“Maybe.”

Zoro mutters, “Oh, god damnit,” before taking another stiff pull of his drink.

“What happened, exactly? You both seemed perfectly friendly this morning.”

“I don’t…know. Everything was fine until it wasn’t, and now I’m all twisted into knots and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well maybe you can start by telling us how you feel, and we can try to help you unravel all of this.”

“We?”

You both ignore Zoro’s confusion and indignation. “Maybe…if you think it will help.” You close your eyes, grounding yourself, and focusing wholly inward. “I just think I’m…tired of wanting things I can’t have. It’s really hard to be on a ship full of people living their dreams, fighting for everything they desire, and I’m here, feeling like I have to constantly hold so tight I feel like my fingers will break or else it’ll all slip through my fingers.”

“And do you feel like you’re holding onto Sanji?”

“Not just him, I guess. To everything. To all of you. But I’m trying to let myself believe that all of this is what I want, and that it’s going to be forever, and then I see him smile at someone else and the illusion just…shatters. I’m not happy. And I know damn well it won’t last forever. I feel like I’m stuck waiting for an inevitable ending that I’ll never be satisfied with. Right now, I’m in limbo, and I can keep pretending that it doesn’t hurt, but every time I think about how hopeless I feel with him it kind of reminds me of how hopeless it all is.”

You put your head in your hands for a moment, taking a deep breath. “And it’s not only about him, right? It’s just kind of a general dissatisfaction with where I am compared to you guys. But I would be lying if I said it wasn’t more about Sanji than it isn’t. He’s both, like, a symbol of it and the source of it. He’s the thing I want most, and he’s the thing I know I’m never going to have.”

“Why do you think you’ll never have him?”

“Because he’s in love with Nami.” You say it like it’s obvious.

Zoro is glaring at his drink, still wondering how he got roped into this conversation and praying you stop, while Robin gives you a gentle look resembling sympathy. There's something behind her eyes though, something you can't read, that makes you feel a bit uneasy.

"It's one thing, to have your love unrequited. For the man you're in love with to be hopelessly smitten with someone else. But god, it's another for him to be right."

"Right?" Robin's voice doesn't betray anything as she keeps her tone to a careful academic neutrality.

"It's just...she is that wonderful. I can't be upset about it because I can't blame either of them. She's beautiful and kind and capable and he's...well. He's everything. It just makes sense. It's somehow harder not to be bitter because I really don't have anything to be bitter about, if that makes sense."

"It would make sense if anything you said was true." Zoro's voice is gruff,  and you look to him in surprise, only to find his expression mirroring your own, as though he can't believe he opened his mouth. "He sucks, and she's great and all but she's no angel. And they aren't in love anyway so I don't understand what the problem even is." You think he's trying to help. Sweet, if ineffective.

"He's in love with her. He has been since the day they met. You know that, you were there."

"That isn't love. He's just a horny idiot."

"He's not an idiot." You hate how defensive your tone gets, how pathetic it makes you feel. You hate even more that Zoro and Robin both look at you with undisguised pity.

"I think what Zoro is trying to say is that you seem to think his feelings for Nami go a lot deeper than they do. They're just friends. He just speaks to all women like that."

"Not me."

You all hate the silence that follows.

"He hits on you too." Zoro's voice is a little weaker than before, knowing his argument isn't exactly rock solid. He's kind to you, complimentary, but he's never rushed into battle alone to save you. He's never ridden in on a blazing white steed for you, not like he has Robin or Nami. And sure, you've never been kidnapped like them, but it's hard not to feel the difference when Mr Prince himself has never played his part with you. He's kind to you, so very kind, but he's kind to everyone. That's just who he is.

“You know it isn’t the same, Zoro. It’s always Nami first. It always has been. He talks to me the same way he would any woman. Less than that, even.” You start tearing up despite yourself, and you hope your friends will blame your fragility on your drink and not your tender heart. “He just…he doesn’t look at me like that. He doesn’t fall at my feet, and it’s not like I want him to but…” You break into a quiet sob, and Robin’s hand comes to your shoulder, rubbing calming circles there.

Zoro leans in a bit, clearly a little uncomfortable but worried and kind nonetheless. “That stupid cook cares about you a lot more than any stranger on the street, and I think you know that. He’s just an idiot.” You look up at him, confused, and Zoro tries not to let out an annoyed sigh at your obliviousness. It isn’t entirely your fault. Who could blame you for thinking what you did? It’s not like Sanji helped with that. He didn’t give you the dramatic love confessions he did Nami or Robin. Nami had asked him once why he sang your praises differently than he did theirs, and he had insisted that he would give you only the grandest speeches, once he had prepared words worthy of you. The rest of the crew quickly figured out what he really meant: he was too nervous to say such a thing when he really meant it.  He would instead tuck his love into the food and drinks he served you, into the jacket he placed over your shoulders when you were cold, into the gentle smiles he gave you when you weren’t looking. Everyone had agreed not to push him before he was ready, to let you both find your way to each other naturally, but it was becoming apparent this was the wrong move.

You keep crying into your glass, and Zoro sighs. You’re both ridiculous. What a pair.

Across the bar, Usopp lets out his fiftieth sigh of the night. He has no idea how he got roped into this. Sanji is somewhere between sorrow and rage, buried in a pile of empty glasses that reek of beer. He's been going on for at least fifteen minutes now, and if Usopp had even slightly less of a conscience he'd leave him here to wallow, considering his problem is entirely self-inflicted. But unfortunately, Usopp is a great friend, so instead he bravely sits on this barstool, a listening ear to make sure Sanji's drowning his troubles doesn't end in Sanji himself drowning after he stumbles his way home alone.

"It's not right." Sanji's voice is shaky with emotion, even with his words slurred.

Usopp sighs, pretending he hasn't heard this exact line of conversation three times tonight. "What's not right, buddy?"

"He doesn't...he doesn't deserve her. He isn't good enough for her. That stupid swordsman...what does she see in him?" He takes another swig of his drink, letting out a deep sigh and dropping his shoulders. "He's just...he's not even nice to her. Not like he should be."

"He's being nice to her right now." Usopp motions over to where you're having your own pity party, one Zoro seems to have become an unwilling guest of. Robin is patting your shoulder in sympathy, while Zoro leans closer to say something to you, care and concern obvious on his face to those who knew him.

"But he should worship her. Everyone should. She's...she's..." Sanji drunkenly trails off.

"An angel?"

"A goddess." Despite the glaze over his eyes, his conviction shines though, granting him a focus he hasn't had all night as he gazes at her. "Someone to be cherished, protected, adored. He doesn't adore her. He should be on his knees right now begging for her attention, and he's just...talking to her. Like he would anybody."

"Probably because they're friends."

"But look at her. She clearly wants more than that. She should get whatever she wants. On a silver platter." Sanji really emphasizes that last part, lips pouting and brow tightening. Usopp looks over again to see you about to cry into your drink, leaning further into Robin. You aren't even looking at Zoro right now, but Sanji is still burning with envy. Usopp would love to set him straight, tell him that anyone with eyes could see who's attention you really wanted, but he knows you'd kill him, and he quite likes being alive. Sanji's so filled with malice and self loathing right now that he probably wouldn't even believe him, anyway. For a man so delusional about love, he somehow can’t see it when it’s right in front of him.

“I think you’re a little lost here, Sanji. She’s not in love with Zoro. She’s just drunk and sad. Reminds me of someone else I know.” He keeps that last part under his breath, and Sanji is drunk enough not to have heard it. Instead he frowns, taking another swig of his drink before trying to stand and falling directly into the counter. Your head pops up across the room, eyes wide and concerned, ready to leap to Sanji’s rescue. It’s amazing how blind that man must be to not see how obsessed with him you are. Usopp waves you off before hooking his hands under Sanji’s armpits and hauling him up. “Time to go, loverboy. You’ve had enough.”

“But she needs me!” Sanji struggles, but he’s so drunk he can’t properly utilize his strength. Lucky, or he’d already be halfway across the room to make an ass of himself. Usopp notices a small trickle of blood on his forehead from where he made contact with the bar.

“She’s fine, I promise. But you need to take a trip to see Chopper.”

“I need to help her! I can’t leave a lady in distress!”

“The lady will be in a lot more distress if she sees you’re hurt, Sanji! So get moving!” Usopp starts dragging him unceremoniously from the tavern, praying Franky will still be awake when he gets back to the ship to help him maneuver Sanji into his cot. Sanji passes out about halfway back to the Sunny, mercifully. Usopp hopes Robin and Zoro are having a better time with their other drunken crewmate.

You wake up with a pounding headache and the worst case of dry-mouth you’ve ever experienced. Your eyes just barely crack open, letting in a blinding ray of light, and you let out a small groan of pain. There’s a large glass of water by your bedside and some pills, as well as a small note from Chopper telling you to meet him in the infirmary once you feel up to walking. You chug the water and take your medicine gladly, touched by the sweet gesture. Your crew takes such good care of you.

It takes a while for the medicine to kick in enough for the light to stop hurting, but eventually you’re able to stand. You can’t remember the latter half of last night, your last memory being Sanji slamming his head into the counter while Robin and Zoro held you back from running to him. Zoro had supplied you with another drink then, and Robin had asked you more probing questions, but you could not for the life of you remember any other specifics. You make your way to Chopper’s infirmary so lost in thought you didn’t notice the mischievous looks in the eyes of your crewmates, the way their gazes subtly followed you as you walked.

“Chopper?” Your voice is still a little hoarse from having cried your heart out last night. You slip through the door, expecting to find your dear doctor ready to fuss over you and scold you for overdoing it last night. Instead you find Sanji face first in a bed, a small bandage wrapped around his head. Before you can ask if he’s alright, or if he knows where Chopper is, you hear it.

Click.

Your eyes widen. Your hand reaches for the doorknob, ready to turn it, and you find it doesn’t budge.

“What the fuck?”

Sanji groans again, slowly and carefully sitting up, before looking over at you. “What are you doing here, darling?” He looks at your hand, up at your expression, then back down to the doorknob. “Why…why is the doorknob backwards?”

Instead of the lock being where it should be, you find the keyhole on the inside of the door. There’s slight scratches around the nails holding it and place, and you realize someone has turned it around. There’s a quiet murmur of voices on the other side of the door, which turns to a yelp when you punch the wood. “What the hell is this?”

“We’re helping!” Nami’s voice rings out confidently from the other side, and you hear a few noises of agreement.

“With what, exactly?” You have a horrible sinking feeling you know exactly what they’re going to say, but you try to push it out of your mind, channeling the relentless optimism of your captain.

“We’re tired of you two being idiots!” Zoro’s voice is annoyed and unfriendly, but after a moment it slightly softens. “Just…talk to each other. Like people. For once in your lives.”

You don’t know why, but something about that makes Sanji’s brow twitch in annoyance. “Let us out, mosshead! I knew you were awful but I can’t believe you’d trap a lady!”

“It wasn’t my goddamn idea! Blame Nami!”

Sanji pauses in his yelling at that, but shockingly enough, he still seems upset instead of instantly kowtowing. He frowns, forehead wrinkling, but doesn’t say anything else.

“We aren’t letting you out until you’ve talked. We’re gonna go so you have privacy, but if you break out we’re putting you right back in, so don’t even think about just kicking down the door!” Nami’s voice is firm and commanding, and you find your shoulders slumping, knowing there’s no real point in fighting her. You’re both hungover, exhausted, and not in any state to continue the conflict. You sigh, making your way to a cot next to Sanji’s. You throw yourself down, the slight bounce you make on landing making you far more nauseous than it had any right to.

“Do you know what they want us to talk about?” Sanji sounds almost nervous, which surprises you. Does he know?

“I…have an idea. Do you?”

“I might.”

You both shift awkwardly in the silence that follows. You fidget with your hands, curling in tighter, anxiety eating at you. This is it. This is the rejection you’ve been waiting for. The final blow to shatter your fragile hopes, to crush your remaining optimism and the wonderful future you’ve allowed yourself to keep dreaming of.

“What do you see in him?” Sanji’s voice is quiet and seeping with vulnerability. His eyes are closed, as though he’s scared to even look at you and get your answer.

“What do I see in who?”

“In that stupid swordsman. Why do you care about him?”

“What?” You blink owlishly.

He finally looks up at you. He blinks back. “What do you mean, what?”

“Why are you talking to me like I’m dating Zoro?”

“Are you…not? Trying to do that?”

“No! God no! I’m–” You barely hold yourself back from saying trying to date you. “I’m not into Zoro like that. Did you think I was?”

“I–um. No?” His dour look turns sheepish, a small bit of red painting his cheeks. Adorable.

“God, Sanji. Zoro is not my type.” You both sit for a moment, before you realize something. “Were you upset because you thought I was into him?”

“He isn’t good enough for you.” He says it so matter-of-fact, like it’s an obvious truth. “No one is, but especially not him. You deserve the best, and nothing less.”

Your heart flutters a little, that little thing with feathers worming its way back into you, but you suddenly see Nami’s face in your mind and you crush it. To dream and watch it die is far worse than never dreaming at all. “That’s sweet, Sanji. But you shouldn’t say things like that. You might give someone the wrong idea.”

His head cocks to the side. “What do you mean, wrong idea? You do deserve the best. No one in the world deserves it more than you.”

“What about Nami?”

“What about Nami?”

“Does she not deserve the best? More than I do? More than anyone? Your sweet Nami-swan?” You fail to keep the bitterness out of your tone in that. Not bitterness towards her, of course, or even towards Sanji, really, just a sour taste in your mouth you can’t quite shake.

His brow furrows, lips downturned. “Well she deserves the best too, of course, but why would she deserve it more? Why wouldn’t you deserve everything you want?”

You let out a frustrated growl. “That’s what I want to know! Why not me?” You slam your hand over your mouth. God, he knows, and now he’s going to reject you, so sweetly and kindly, like he does everything, and it’s going to shatter you into a million pieces. You squeeze your eyes shut like blocking out the sight of him will undo what you’ve just done.

You don’t hear him reject you. You don’t even hear him move. You only feel warm hands on your cheeks, and you open your eyes to see Sanji right in front of you, nose to nose, and you can see reflected in his eyes something you might dare to call hope.

“Do you want it to be you?” You hear a longing in his words, see it in his eyes. You have never known Sanji as a man to want, to desire more than what he’s freely given, but in this moment it truly almost seems like he wants you.

You slowly take your hand off of your mouth. Your voice is meek, mouselike, but you force it out anyway. “Would that be okay? If I did?”

“Oh angel, it would be more than okay.” He slides impossibly closer, thighs on either side of yours, torsos pressed together, surrounding you wholly. “It is you. It has always been you. It will always be you. Is that okay?”

You want to answer him in words, something articulate that would move his heart, but instead you let out a soft squeak of surprise before grabbing his cheeks and pulling his lips to yours. They’re chapped, the dehydration from the hangover still plaguing him. He has morning breath. His movements are uncoordinated, unsteady. His goatee scratches your chin. When he opens his mouth, welcoming you further, he tastes like cigarettes and a hint of shitty beer. 

It’s the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You end up on your back, Sanji’s weight holding you down, comforting and all-consuming. His hands rest on your hips as yours tangle in his hair. You only pull back when the demand for air is too much, and even then you consider ignoring the scream of your lungs. You both pull back, chests heaving, and Sanji buries his face in your neck.

“I never thought I’d actually get to do this.” He buries his nose further into your neck, his arms sliding underneath you to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Neither did I. I kept telling myself to stop dreaming about things I couldn’t have.”

“You’ve had me from the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“You’ve had me for just as long.”

“Then why didn’t you say anything?”

You take a strained breath. “I was…I don’t deserve you. And I thought you knew that. And that you were in love with Nami. That didn’t help.”

He pulls back to look you in the eyes, his gaze boring into you. “You thought you didn’t deserve me?” He sounds absolutely baffled at the idea.

“You’re kind, talented, strong, handsome…you’re everything, Sanji. You deserve everything you want. And I didn’t think you wanted me.”

He blinks at you for a moment, before a small chuckle forces its way out of him. “That’s…that’s so ridiculous I genuinely don’t even know where to start.”

He kisses your forehead. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, and everything I’m ever going to want.”

He kisses your cheeks. “I have wanted you from the moment we met, and I will want you until the day I die.”

He kisses the tip of your nose. “I have never met anyone more deserving of the world than you. And I’m not going to let anyone say otherwise. Even you. So there.”

You lean up to kiss his forehead in turn. “Well there’s nothing in this world I want more than you. Can I really have you?”

He takes one of your hands and places it over his rapidly beating heart. “You feel that? It’s all yours.” He lifts your other hand and kisses it in a deeply princely gesture that fits him perfectly.

Before you can reciprocate, the door slams open, and you hear Zoro’s disgruntled voice call out. “They’re making out! Can we be done with this now?”

Sanji whips around with even more vitriol than he usually reserves for the swordsman. “Piss off, mosshead. Can’t you see we’re busy?” The quick movement makes him sway slightly, and you’re forced to remember how horribly you’re both doing physically. If he picks a fight with Zoro right now he might end up puking all over his shoes.

“Ignore him, Sanji. We need to get some rest anyway.” You pull his face into your chest, which he gladly collapses fully into. When you run your fingers through his hair, he’s practically purring.

“Anything you say, my love.” His content smile grows wider when he hears your heart quicken at the words. Neither of you say anything else as your friends crowd the room, with their finallys and about times. Nothing in the world matters more than this right now: the feeling of each other’s warmth, the softness of each other’s skin, and the feeling of relief in both of your chests that your hopes were finally allowed to thrive.

[henrycangelbaby]

Thinking about John Price and his cute little assistant (reader) who ends up pregnant. 

A/N: Guys i was inspired while scrolling on the john price x reader tag, this legit came to me as a vision and now i have to write it (I plan on expanding on this idea so just stay with me!!!!)

Imagine being John Price's cute little assistant, just the sweetest little thing that John is kinda obsessed with. Like don't get me wrong she is amazing at her job, smart, put together and well organized and John does feel that her addition has been a positive one, taking some pressure off his shoulders and making sure his team is always prepared for whatever they are doing. She is very good at what she does, but that doesn’t stop John from admiring her. He knows he shouldn't be bit, he can't help it, she's young and sweet and a little bit innocent and he just wants to protect and love her all the time. 

In the beginning she was shy, only addressing him as sir and knocking on his door hesitantly whenever she needed to speak to him but gradually their boundaries became less and less. More often than not she works out of his office, whether he’s there or not, he insists on buying her an early lunch when she lets slip that she didn't have breakfast that morning. He has even picked her up from a night out once or twice, a little bit tipsy and calling the most trusted person she can think of that just happened to be her boss. He takes care of her as well, helping her get her makeup and clothes off before tucking her into her bed with a bottle of water and pain killers for the morning. He doesn't mention it when he sees her next, knowing how embarrassed she will be when he tells her the loneliness her tipsy self admitted. 

When she starts to get sick John is having absolutely none of it, driving her home and ordering her to take some time off (he even visits later that night to bring her some soup for her stomach). He doesn't expect her to look so sad when she comes back supposedly better from her “flu”, he doesn't expect to see her eyes shine with tears when he asks “what's wrong babygirl?”.  He sits them down on the couch in his office together, putting an arm over her and pulling her close for comfort. He certainly does not expect her to look up at him with those shiny wet eyes and admit she did something bad before crying that she's pregnant. It’s news to John who never even considered that his girl would be dating (let alone sleeping with) people. When he vocalizes this and she admits that her baby daddy isn't a very good guy, it's over for John. 

Suddenly he's all over her, promising to be there for her, that she can come to him whenever she needs. And he actually means it. Suddenly she’s staying in the spare bedroom in his house, not only does it have more room but John can keep an eye on her. She entirely moves into his office working on his desk with him, he gets her a comfy chair so she can be supported in the later months. He gets up to hold her hair back when she has morning sickness and ensures she gets enough nutritious food each day. When she starts showing, oh my god John doesn't know what to do with himself. That little bump peaking out of her tight skirts makes him foam at the mouth. Of course he prioritizes her comfort, insisting she change shoes and stop wearing those uncomfortable looking heels, but he keeps her in her formal work attire for just a little longer, just so he can see her cute tummy poking out of it. 

Speaking of her bump. He simply can't resist putting his hand on it. He feels so protective over it, best believe he goes feral if anyone tries to touch it. Hell all but breaks loose when his precious baby looks up at him with teary eyes telling him how uncomfortable she was when some rando put their hand on her stomach, (someone definitely lost their job that day). He eventually has her sitting in his lap, cooing over her and reassuring her that they won't get in trouble, that really he is the big boss anyways. He just loves having her there, perched on top of him he rests his head on her shoulder both arms coming around to cradle her now bigger bump. 

John mandates maternity leave when she starts getting big, maybe around seven months when she spends a lot of her time complaining about back aches and swollen ankles, of course he does what he can to help her but it gets to the point where he knows that she should be resting. He has to basically forcibly put her on leave, reassuring her panics about money by promising to take care of her. And oh boy does he. He gives her foot massages and holds her belly, when she starts outgrowing her clothes best believe he would hand over any of his so she can fit in them more comfortably. He's just all over her, unable to stomach the fact that soon she will have a real live baby. That baby is about to become the most protected baby in the entire world.

That's all I have for now because I fear if I begin rambling about the rest of the 141 neither of us might make it out alive. (just know this baby is going to be so damn spoiled it’s crazy). 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Nickname Runs in the Family || CL16

Summary: When you end up crying on your father’s shoulder over a boy, Kimi enlists the help of Charles to teach him a lesson. Charles Leclerc x Raikkonen!Reader Warnings: nsfw, fighting, mentions of sex, WC: 2.9k

To the outside world Kimi was known as ‘The Iceman’, garnered for his cold personality in the media and how he never let anything bother him, at home however he was just called isä or dad. You really could have done with more of The Iceman persona because when it came to his family your father was anything but cool and collected.

“Tell me what happened,” Kimi demanded, your tears only streaming faster down your cheeks.

“Nothing happened, dad.”

“Something happened, tytär, don’t lie to me.”

It was stupid to go there after what happened. You should have just returned to your student accommodation at the college but you needed the comfort of home and someone you trusted. Now all of Monaco was going to hear just how hotheaded The Iceman got while your step-mother tried to put your baby half-sister back to sleep.

“Nothing happened!” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands as embarrassment flamed across your cheeks. “I said no, okay. I said no and he called me a frigid bitch before dumping me and leaving me at the party.”

You expected to hear something break, or at least his heavy stomps storming towards the front door. You didn’t expect your dad to throw his head back and laugh, a deep belly laugh that echoed around the quiet living room. 

“Ah, that’s my girl,” he laughed as he bundled you into a hug. “I like that, Frigid Bitch. It’s good.”

You snorted a laugh despite the hurt and wiped your tears on his shoulder. “I thought you would be angry.”

“Oh, I am,” he admitted somberly. He placed a kiss on your head before standing up and pulling his phone out of his pocket. You didn’t see who he was calling so late at night but groaned when it was answered. “Hello, Charles. You know everyone in Monaco, where does Devereux Laurent live?”

“Isä! No!”

Your father ignored you as he grabbed his car keys and his jacket, his phone shoved between his shoulder and his ear. “I’m not going to kill the little bastard, fuck, Charles, I just want to have a chat.”

The door slammed shut behind him and you collapsed back onto the sofa with a groan about keeping your mouth shut next time. You were still ruminating over your life choices when the doorbell rang an hour later. 

“Charles?” You frowned at the man panting in your doorway like he sprinted across the city before your eyes widened at the split lip he sported. “What are you doing here? What happened?”

“Kimi.”

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah.”

You grabbed your purse that had been discarded on the kitchen table when you arrived. “Where is he?” 

“The police station.”

“Shit, he didn’t do that to you, did he?”

Charles reeled back, clearly offended. “No, you’re asshole boyfriend hit me.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you clarified as you dragged him inside and grabbed a tea towel to wrap a bag of peas from the freezer. Charles flinched as you gently pressed the ice pack to his lips and you sighed. “I’m sorry my dad got you involved in this.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, taking the pack from your hand to place it on his swollen knuckles that you hadn’t noticed. “I got myself involved when I heard what Dev did. Are you okay?”

“I didn’t get punched in the face,” you said as you playfully rolled your eyes, however you soon sobered. “It's nothing a few drinks and a bad romcom can’t fix, after I’ve bailed dad out first. It’s not like we were together long enough to get heartbroken. Do you want me to drop you off on the way?”

“I’ll drive.” He snatched a set of keys from the hook by the door, but you caught his wrist and took them back.

“That’s Minttu’s minivan.” You hung the keys back on the hook and grabbed a set for your dad’s Rolls Royce Wraith instead. The empty hook beside it was where the keys to his Ferrari Pista usually hung. “She wouldn’t be happy if you crashed her car again.”

“I didn’t crash her car,” he argued as he pocketed the keys and opened the door. “You were driving!”

“I had a shit instructor. You were too busy checking yourself out in the mirror to teach me.”

His finger jabbed the call button for the elevator as he scoffed. “You only know that because you were too busy checking me out to watch the road.”

The elevator arrived but you held a hand out to block him as you stepped into the small space. “Sorry, your inflated ego is too big to fit in here.” 

“That wasn’t a denial.”

You ignored him and jutted your head to the fireproof door. “Try the stairs.”

“But we’re on the top floor.”

You smirked as the doors started to close but he darted inside before they sealed shut.

“You’re still not denying it.”

“So you really went swinging for my honour?” you deflected as he hit the button for the garage level, exposing his swollen fist again.

“You sound surprised.” He leaned back against the wall and looked at his hand, massaging the tender bruises. “When I saw he was still at the party…”

You frowned, first at the fact that Dev went back after leaving you there, asshole, then at the fact Charles knew where he was. Charles was definitely not at the party, if he was then you would have heard the women going feral for him. “How did you know he was there? You don’t follow him on Instagram.”

“Not on my main account,” he said with a shrug. Anyone that Charles followed on social media made sure to announce the news like it was an instant ticket to ViP treatment, and Dev would have been no different. It was also the exact reason you went by Y/L/N, your mother’s surname, instead of Raikkonen. You didn’t want to be used by people for the name you carried. 

“You hate him, why would you follow him?”

“It doesn’t matter why.”

“It does to me.” 

Unfortunately the doors opened and he pushed off from the wall to stride past without an answer. A flash of lights responded to the click of the button on the keys and Charles slowed his steps for you as he led the way to the sedan parked in a secluded corner, the space beside it empty of your fathers red Pista. Charles stopped at your door and opened it for you, his eyes scanning the open space that was empty and quiet save for the whine of the elevator leaving the level. 

“For you,” he admitted as you slipped into the leather seat. “I followed him to keep an eye on you.”

The door closed and you watched him walk around the car, dropping into the driver’s seat before pushing it back to suit his longer legs. He then silently adjusted the mirrors and turned down the heavy rock music that blasted when the engine started. You didn’t know what to say, all you had were more questions that could only lead to more confusion.

“You deserve better,” Charles said, breaking the awkward silence as he pulled out into the street. 

“He was just drunk.” 

“That’s not an excuse. You deserve someone who will wait until you are ready to have sex, not try it on drunk and at a party.” His words were seething by the time he finished and his knuckles turned white from the tight grasp he had on the steering wheel.

“Uh, Charles, I was joking about my honour…I’m not a virgin.”

“Wait, what?” The car slammed to a halt and he earned a toot from the Lamborghini behind before it drove around when Charles didn’t move. “Since when?” he asked as he turned in his seat to face you.

“I didn’t realise it was such a big deal. Was I meant to stand at the corner and hold a sign that said ‘deflowered’ in Times New Roman or Comic Sans?”

He didn’t even blink at your icy tone and heavy sarcasm. “But Dev said he dumped you because you didn’t want to have sex. He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”

“Oh my god, no! I can’t believe we are having this conversation, Charles.” You figured it couldn't get any more awkward as you looked out the window into the sleeping city. “Sex wasn’t the problem, he was upset because I didn’t want to have sex with him.”

“Oh…oh.” He cleared his throat and put the car back into drive before continuing his way to the police station. “So, uh, is there anyone you do want to, um, have sex with at the moment?” 

“Why? Are you offering?” It was meant to sound teasing but there was too much curiosity in it.

His face flushed pink and his lips parted two twice before his voice worked. “I don’t do casual.”

It wasn’t a no, and that somehow made things both better and worse as a new possibility began to worm its way into your mind. You didn’t like the hope that fluttered in your stomach. Charles was a friend. Charles was someone your father trusted after Seb vouched for him. Charles was off limits. 

By the time you had filtered through the thoughts he had induced, Charles was pulling into the police station and you hoped your dad was fairing well behind bars. It turned out you had no reason to worry as you walked inside and heard his voice from behind the glass wall. 

Kimi was being well taken care of by the officers. He had a coffee in one hand, a pastry in the other and was answering questions that had nothing to do with Dev. You cringed as he recounted why he missed meeting Pelé years ago, but Charles chuckled along with the policemen as you knocked on the door.

The Monégasques fawned over their hometown hero while you watched Kimi pull himself to his feet, cracking his back that had stiffen while he was sat down. 

“I thought you would be in maximum security by now,” you said as he pulled you into a hug. “What did you do?”

He patted your cheek and smiled mischievously. “I like Charles even more now.”

He gave you nothing else but that was expected. Whatever happened was obviously not on the record and you wanted to keep it that way, especially since he didn’t have a single scratch on him - like he hadn’t been in a fight at all. You were quietly contemplating that knowledge when you climbed into the backseat of the Wraith and your father readjusted everything on the driver's side back to how he had it.

“You took the fall for Charles, didn’t you?”

They both swivelled back to look at you. Charles’ eyes widened, while your father’s narrowed. 

“Fucking hell, I’m not going to tell anyone,” you growled as you threw your arms up in exasperation. “I just want to know what actually happened tonight.”

Charles waited to see if your dad wasn’t going to explain as the car pulled out of the station car park. After a moment of hesitation he took a breath and started to rattle off the truth.

“I called Kimi when I realised Dev was still at the party. It was only a block away so I thought I would meet him there to point him out.”

“I was just about at the address he gave me when he called. I got there as fast as I could but Charles was already inside,” Kimi said with a proud chortle. “Got a few good hits on the little bastard too.”

“Iså,” you warned as he enjoyed the violence just a bit too much and Charles looked sheepishly down at his hands. “Why did you fight?”

“You know why. I couldn’t stand by and let him talk about you that way.”

“Good man,” Kimi said with a stern nod. 

“And you, what did you do, dad?”

“What I had to do,” he said with a shrug. “I’m retired, Charles has a career.”

You stretched the seatbelt and leaned forward to hug your dad and kiss his cheek before doing the same to Charles. “Thank you.” Your eyes lingered on Charles as his eyes said everything he couldn’t with your father in the car. 

“He’s not pressing charges but there may be some questions if anyone caught the fight on camera. You might want to give your PR team a heads up.”

It took a moment to realise where you were and why the car had stopped outside the venue where the party was still in full swing. Drunken revellers could be heard behind the velvet curtain hanging over the door and your father handed his keys over to Charles with a shake. “Make sure she gets home safe. I’ll pick it up in the morning, no scratches.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles promised with a nod before getting out.

“You’re trusting him with your Pista?”

“I trust him with you, the car I can replace.”

You surprised him with another hug as your door opened, your voice thick with emotion as you said, “thank you.”

“Do you want to come home?” he asked quietly. “I can make up the sofa bed.”

“No, it’s fine. I don’t think I’ll want to get out of my bed tomorrow.”

“Fair enough. Love you.”

“Love you too.” You stepped out and Charles closed the door, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to your father’s favourite car. “He doesn’t even let me drive this, you know.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t support Ferrari,” Charles teased as you buckled yourself in.

“I support it now.”

“What changed your mind?”

You dared to look at him and met his green eyes. “You.”

—

“Awww, she called her little puppy,” Dev taunted as he spotted Charles walking towards him.

Charles chuckled, but it held no humour and his smile was dark. You had never seen that look in his eye and your thighs clenched in response. “At least she will still call me. You just lost the best thing you never deserved.”

“Well you can have the frigid bitch, good luck getting her to put out though. Fucking cocktease.” The snort Dev made was cut off by the fist that crashed into his nose and then the both of them were going to the floor, grappling and twisting until Kimi darted into the fray and grabbed Charles.

“Go, she’s at home,” Kimi ordered as he pushed Charles back the way he came. “I’ve got it from here, kid.”

The video looped back to the start and you watched it twice more before determining you were fucked. It hit you like a train, the pressure slamming into your chest as you realised you were in love with Charles. No one had ever stood up for you like that, or taken a punch for you or risked their career. But he had.

You stayed cocooned in your blankets for most of the morning, watching the video footage from the night before and it became your new favourite binge worthy entertainment. It would probably be classed as insanity if anyone knew you had become addicted to it, but it was only the fact someone knocked at your door that you placed your phone down.

“Charles? I’m getting a little déjà-vu here,” you commented as you opened the door and found him sweating.

“Will you go on a date with me?” he blurted out. “Please.”

Your brows shot up at the outburst and you checked the student halls were empty before pulling him into your room. “Uh, you do realise who my father is, right?”

“I do, thank you for your concern,” he chuckled. “I was actually just with him. I wanted his permission to ask you on a date.”

“Well that explains why it looks like you’ve been running for your life.” You looked at your door expecting to see it kicked in. “Was he chasing you?”

“What? No, I wasn’t running. Fuck,” he groaned as he ran his hands over his jeans to dry his clammy palms. “I was just nervous about asking you out. You still haven’t answered my question.”

“I will.”

“Answer the question or go out with me?”

“I will go out with you,” you clarified with a laugh.

Relieved, he took a seat at the edge of your bed and sighed happily. “I have been waiting years to ask.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded before flopping himself down comfortably and you dropped down beside him. “Your dad scared me,” he admitted as he took your hand in his.

“But not anymore.”

Charles smiled and it was one so similar to the video that was still playing on loop. He seemed to recognise the muffled sound coming from the blanket at the same time you remembered it was there and fished it out. “You’ve seen it.”

“Once or twice,” you lied. “I see why you’re not afraid anymore. That’s one hell of a right hook.”

“Oh no I am definitely still afraid of Kimi,” he corrected as he rolled on his side to face you. “But I am done watching you date assholes when I know exactly how you deserve to be treated. I want to give you the world, if you’ll let me.”

[freshxsturniolo]

WISDOM TEETH - chris sturniolo / triplets x reader

REQUEST - anon : Just saying that I would die for a Chris x reader wisdom teeth fic where reader gets her wisdom teeth out and the boys take care of her 🥹 or really any protective Chris taking care of reader.

"you good, babe?" chris asks, his hand coming to your thigh and his thumbs running small circles around your leg. you look down at his hand before putting your own under his, wrapping your fingers together and then placing your other hand on top before looking towards your boyfriend. nick is in the passenger seat singing along to both of yours favourite songs from the new billie eilish album, something you know he had done to calm your nerves as matt drives you to the dentist. you've been feeling sick for the last few days at the prospect of having your wisdom teeth finally removed, only braving booking yourself the appointment after nick had told you it was nothing to fear after his own, but you were still nervous on the lead up. it was currently 10am and you were officially 12 hours completely fasted, so your dry mouth wasn't helping. all you were dreaming of was your favourite iced coffee, which matt had promised to drive you too as soon as you were done.

you give your boyfriends hand a squeeze as he moves slightly closer to you, and you lean over to rest your head on his shoulder, not being able to find the words to speak. chris understands, of course, and plants a kiss on your head as you drive the rest of the way in silence, listening to the three triplets who chat and sing away.

when you finally pull up you let out a sigh before nick springs into action, his energetic energy easing you at once.

“okay, let’s go! this will be over and done in an hour” he says as he opens the door to get out of the car, you laugh at his words as you finally remove your head from chris' shoulder, but as you move to get out of the car his hand comes up to your cheek, turning your head back to look towards him. you smile as your eyes meet his, his hair still a little damp from the shower he took before you set off, and you lean forward to give him a soft kiss, which he accepts gratefully as he kisses you back. but as you pull away, your door is flung open and nick stands waiting for you to get out of the car. you let out a laugh as you remove yourself from chris, swinging your legs out of the car and stepping to the side. you expect to take the hands of your boyfriend, but theres no time before nick hooks his arm around yours and pulls you in the direction of the entrance.

"come on. i cant wait to see you high from the local anaesthesia" he chuckles, and you give his shoulder a playful shrug with you're own. you can hear matt and chris talking behind you as you enter the building, nick dragging you across to the front desk, greeted by a woman not much older than yourself. she smiles at you as she asks your name and when you give her your full name, she scrolls through her computer a second.

"ah, yes! its this way" she says, stepping from behind the desk and walking down the hallway behind her. "im not sure the dentist will allow all of your friends in, though" she says whilst looking back at you, and you give her a laugh.

"oh im not letting them see me whilst this happens" you joke, and nick lets out a joking shocked gasp at the side of you, his arm still wrapped with yours. the receptionist laughs at you both as she comes to a stop to a small waiting room and tells you all to sit and wait, and you'd be called when it was time.

matt starts wondering around the waiting room, looking at the posters and photos on the wall, whilst nick sits to your left and chris comes to your right.

"do you really not want any of us in there with you?" he asks.

"babe, you aint seeing me with my mouth forced open for the next half an hour whilst i lay there with no recollection of whats going on. its bad enough im about to be high as a kite" you say, and a laugh escapes his lips.

"let me come in whilst you get put under, at least." he says, grabbing your hand now, and you have to admit having him there whilst you get prodded with needles would be a huge comfort.

it takes no more than a few second for the dentist to emerge from the room to your right, calling your name with a smile on your face. you give him a small wave as you stand up, chris immediately standing with you.

"is he okay to come in. just for a bit, before we start?" you ask, and the dentist holds his hand out for you to shake as you reach him.

"of course! they all can, if you want. i'll just need them to leave when you undergo the procedure" he says, moving now to give chris' hand a shake.

"oh, thats more than fine. i dont want them seeing that" you say, stepping into the room. the dentist lets out a laugh as chris steps beside him and into the room with you, and you turn to see nick and matt looking at you with a hopeful glint in their eyes. you roll your eyes as you look at them, the dentist irrupting into laughter again as you raise your hand for them to come with you.

"they way you all are so desperate to see me in this state is unbelievable" you say, stepping deeper into the room so the two brothers can join you and your boyfriend.

"you saw me!" nick squeals.

"yeah, when you were home!" you say back.

"theres a video of me on the internet for the whole world to see, you'll be grateful is just us 3" he says, and you give him an eye roll again. matt chuckling behind him as he finally steps into the room.

"okay, pop yourself on here" your dentist says, tapping the large chair as he sits down at his computer. chris comes to your other side, hand on your shoulder in a comforting rub as chris and matt stand down near your feet. you give them all a small smile as the dentist starts to explain the procedure. you were only have two teeth removed so he predicted it would take around 20 minutes complete, but said to prepare for at least an hour to allow the anaesthesia to kick in and then wear off again enough for you to leave.

he puts on gloves now as he gets out the equipment needed to pop a cannula into your arm, which would give you the anaesthesia and then an IV drip afterwards to help bring you back to normality a little quicker, and as he wipes at your arm ready to stick in the needle you turn your head towards your boyfriend.

"talk to me, please" you say, eyes closed as you feel the tip of the needle on your skin.

"you're good, baby. so good. an hours time we can go and get you that coffee. maybe some ice cream." he says, his hand coming to your and grasping hold of it, running circles across your skin. you nod, before looking back at matt and chris who are staring at you already.

"can we go get ice cream, matt?" you ask, distracting yourself some more as you feel the needle go into your arm, chris notices' you flinch and gives your hand a squeeze.

"hell yeah we can. we can go anywhere you wanna" he smiles.

"ice cream and then bed, you're going to be so tired" nick says now, and the dentist lets out a chuckle at the side of you, you look towards him just as he's finishing up putting the cannula in your arm.

"he's right" he says, looking towards you. "the anaesthesia usually makes people very tired once it wears off." he confirms.

"bed and movies it is" chris says now, and the dentist looks up at him with a smile.

"boyfriend?" he says, and you watch as chris' smile doubles.

"yeah" he nods, looking back down at you with a doting smile which you reciprocate.

"you live together?" he asks, and chris nods.

"plenty of rest and painkillers over the next few days. dont let her do anything too crazy. soft foods. ice cream is good" he laughs, and chris gives him a nod. "coffee after this may send her a little crazy though" he says now, and you whip your head around to look at him as he pulls out the anaesthesia.

"you ready?" he says. "this wont hurt, but its gonna take about 10 minutes to kick in" he says, and you nod ask you turn your head away, not wanting to see the liquid flow into your arm. as you do so, chris brings his free hand to your face and rubs gently at your cheek.

"dont you dare record me when im out if it" you whisper, gaining a laugh from all 3 of the triplets.

"okay, i'll leave you too it for a sec. i'll leave this door open a while as you may start to feel a little warm. i'll come check on you in 5 minutes." he says, and you all say thank you in unison.

as the dentist leaves the room, chris perches himself on the edge of the large chair you're sat on. "how you feeling, baby?" he says, and you give him a smile.

"okay for now. he's lovely, isn't he" you say, nodding your head to the door in the direction the dentist just left. chris smiles.

"see, i told you nothing to be worried about." he says.

you're distracted by nick and matt who are laughing at something between themselves and you spend the next few minutes listening in as all three triplets start chatting amongst themselves. but then you feel it. it hits you almost like a ton of bricks and you let out a yawn before looking towards matt, who's furtherest away from you as you try and make out his features. when you hear all the triplets stop talking, you almost snap back into reality, but you can tell you don't feel your usual self.

"you good, kid?" matt says, and you see a smirk playing on his lips before a chuckle escapes nick. you snap your head to him immediately, before a laugh escapes your boyfriend too.

"fuck sake," you say. "this is why i didn't want you guys in here"

but your words are mumbled and the triplets can't help but laugh again, this time causing you to laugh with them. you let out a sigh as you rest your head back on the head rest, reaching out for chris' hand.

"im so tired" you whisper, and you slowly start to drift off just after you feel chris plant a kiss to the top of your head.

_____

you let out a groan, your throat feeling dry and your mouth feeling numb as you let your eyes adjust to the brightness of the light in the room. looking around, your eyes catch the dentist just at the same time as he spins around to look at you.

"ah, you're awake!" he says with a smile.

"what time is it?" you ask.

"10.45 exactly" he says with a smile as he looks down at his watch, "i told you it wouldn't take long at all." he says.

you bring your hands up to your eyes, rubbing at them vagariously before bringing your hand to your mouth.

"i can't feel my tongue" you say, and the dentist laughs.

"thats very normal. the feeling will come back within half an hour i should imagine"

you continue patting at your lip, unaware you're even doing it, when you open your eyes wide.

"chris" you say, and the dentist lets out another laugh.

"he's outside. do you want him?" he says, standing up and walking to the door.

"please" you mumble, all of a sudden feeling emotional. the procedure, the anxiety you had been feeling in the lead up to this morning, the anaesthesia working through your body, you had an overwhelming urge to cry.

"the other two as well? or just chris?" he asks. you don't even feel as the tear comes down to your face, but you feel the lump in your throat.

"just chris" you manage to choke out, and he nods in understanding.

the dentist leaves you alone for a short moment, shutting the door behind him. you're unaware that he's letting all three triplets know you've come over emotional, which he assures them is completely normal and will likely wear off after speaking to chris who you had asked for, and matt and nick wait patiently as chris opens back up the door.

"baby" he says, rushing straight over to your side. the tears are flowing now, but the minute you see his face you let out a laugh of happiness. you look towards the dentist as he laughs with you.

"you did so good, y/n" he says to you, and you nod your head as you look back to your boyfriend, who gives you a smile.

"don't cry, princess. its done. its over. you did so so well." he says, grabbing your face in his hands. you can't feel a thing, so you bring your hands up to rest against his, the warmth of his hands underneath yours bringing immediate comfort.

"please don't tell me you saw me with my mouth forced open like that" you say, and chris chuckles.

"no, babe. i didn't."

"thank fuck. you'd never come near me again" you say, the dentist sniggering behind you as he types away at his computer.

"i promise you, i absolutely would." chris says with a smile as he places a kiss on your forehead, moving his hands away from your face.

"don't flirt with me" you say now, snuffling away the last of your tears and using your hands to wipe away at the tears you couldn't even feel running down your face.

"you're my girlfriend. if i can't flirt with you who can i flirt with?" he says, reaching out his hand across you, when you look to the side you realise the dentist is passing him a tissue. as chris grabs hold of it, you try to grab it off him, but he pulls away and gives you a stern look before wiping at your cheeks.

"no one. absolutely no one" you say.

"well then, shut up princess" he smirks.

you sit in silence for the next few minutes before the dentist stands up again, looking at you both.

"how you feeling, y/n?" he says, and you smile.

"good!" to which he chuckles.

"give it 5 more minutes and im happy for you to leave. im sure chris here will take good care of you."

"you bet" chris chimes, and you give him a smile.

"you can tell matt and nick to come in" you say now, and the dentist nods as he goes to open the door, summoning them both in, but your eyes widen when you see matt pushing nick through with a wheelchair.

"am i hallucinating?" you say, looking around the room, a deep cackle coming from your dentist.

"you are not" he proceeds to say. "i imagine my lovely receptionist bought this to them for you."

"for me?!" you almost squeal.

"you carriage awaits" nick chimes, arms open wide as he gets out of the wheelchair.

"not a fucking chance. i've had my teeth removed i've not broken my hip" you say, scrunching up your nose. all 4 of the men in the room let out a deep laugh, chris holding your shoulder to steady himself. "im so serious" you continue, and you swing your legs off the chair you're sat in, moving forward to stand up.

"wooooahh" matt chimes, in front of you and holding your shoulders within a second before you feel warm hands on your waist from behind. matt and chris holding you in place so you can't move any further.

"i dont think so, kid" matt says, giving you a stern look as you look up at him, giving him your biggest dead eye, which only makes him laugh as you feel chris' hands pulling you backwards.

you roll your eyes as you sit yourself back down, and you realise how stupid of a move it was you just made, hands coming to your head as you feel a huge wave of nausea push over you.

"im gonna be sick" you say, feeling sensation in your mouth for the first time, and before you know it a paper sick bowl is shoved under your nose. you lean forward instantly, chris and matts hand coming behind your back both rubbing at it to ease you.

"this is very normal" you hear the dentist say as you keep your eyes closed, willing the feeling to pass. "dont let her do anything vigorous. straight to bed until at least this evening" he says, and you let out a sigh as you lean your head back.

"i told you" matt says, and you open one to look at him, genuine concern on his face.

"are you mad at me?" you ask now, that overwhelming feeling to cry hitting you again. what on earth do they put in these drugs?

matt only chuckles. "no, just chill" he says, and you look up at your boyfriend.

"are you mad at me?" you ask, extenuating the 'you', a warm smile spreading over his face.

"only if you dont let me take care of you" he says.

you groan again, closing your eyes.

"you're so cute." you whisper, and you hear a soft laugh escape him. you stay laid back for the next few minutes, allowing the nausea feeling to ware off as the IV drip finishes flowing into your system, when the dentist announces you can leave if you feel ready. you open your eyes and give him a nod before he passes matt an after care pack, explaining to them whats inside and how to help me over the next few days.

"you ready?" nick says from behind you, but it takes only a second for him to emerge with the wheelchair. you give him an eye as he gives you a cheeky grin, but you accept defeat you need it. you swing your legs off the side, the dentist removing the cannula in your arm, before matt and nick both reach out their hands for you to take. you grab hold of them, slowly standing yourself up, taking a deep breath as you do so.

"im good" you say to no one in particular, and matt and nick guide you over, helping you turn around to sit down. as you do so, your eyes catch chris', who you can tell is trying not to laugh. pointing your finger, he slaps his hands over his mouth.

"dont even start. boy" you say, the room irrupting into laughter once again.

you say your thank yous to the dentist, who gives your hand a shake and opens the door for you to leave, before nick spins you around and starts to push you out and down the hall way. once the receptionist from earlier sees you, she gives you a smile before coming out from her desk to follow you out the car so she can take the wheelchair once you're done.

when the fresh air hits you, you let out a sigh of relief, chris running off in front to get ready to help you into the car not to far away, but your eyes widen and your hands grip the arm rests as you start to feel nick run with him.

"nick!" you squeal, but a laugh escapes your lips before chris turns around to look at you both.

"nick!" he echoes you. "shes just nearly threw up in there."

"oh, fuck" nick says, coming to a dead stop.

"im okay" you say through your laughter, realising the giddy stage of the effects of the drugs you'd been pumped with kicking in. "im so okay" you say again, and nick laughs from behind you.

when you reach the car, door open, chris comes in front of you, arms out for you to hold onto.

"im good, chris, i promsise" you say, but he gives you an eye.

"let me look after you, babe."

"if you wish" you whisper, but inside you're grateful as you hold onto his hands, nick sliding the wheelchair from under you as you stand up.

"its my job" he says now, placing your hands on his shoulders as he placing his hands on your hips and guides you into the back seat. when you're in, and his hands are no longer on yours, you quickly grab at them.

"thank you" you whisper, and he leans forward to place a kiss to your forehead, no words needed. he hated when you thanked him for anything, his motto was that he would always take care of you no matter what. his hands slip from yours as he shuts the door at the same time as matt gets into the driver seat in front of you, immediately turning on the ignition and then turning around to you, holding out his phone.

"your song choices the whole ride home" he smiles, chris opening the door and climbing in at the side of you.

"we did that on the way here" you say, remembering the entire sing song from nick. matt laughs.

"and we can do it again."

you smile as you take the phone from him, opening up his spotify.

"you still want that coffee?" he says now, and as you look up at him, chris leans forward.

"she was told no coffee"

you hold out your arm to push him back into his seat.

"actually," you start. "i was told coffee might make me crazy."

chris gives you an eye before looking back towards matt, which you do the same. "coffee, please."

matt chuckles as he spins back around, nick now jumping in at the side of him.

you lean back, scrolling back on matts phone to find one of your favourite songs, a cheer from nick as it starts to play and matt starts to drive off to your favourite coffee shop. placing the phone back in your lap, you take a look over at your boyfriend and a smile immediately comes to your face as you notice he's already looking at you.

"you okay?" you ask, and he chuckles.

"you're the most stubborn woman i've ever met" he says.

"and you love me for it"

he grabs your hand immediately. "damn right i do"

you smile as you lean back, rubbing small circles around chris' hand with your thumb and you stay in silence again as you drive your way to the coffee shop.

but before you know it, hands are on your shoulder, softly shaking you. you sit up in an instant, forgetting where you are and everything that just happened as you let your eyes adjust. the headache is immediate. the pain in your cheeks is almost unbearable. you let out a wince as you see chris at your door.

"we're home, baby" he whispers, and you look outside to see the inside of the triplets garage.

"my coffee" you say, but you close your eyes and hold your hands to your cheek immediately. "fuck. im in so much pain, chris."

"i know, y/n. i know. come on, lets get you inside."

chris grabs hold of your hand as you slide out of the car, his free hand coming around your back and holding your hip to guide you. when you step out far enough, his foot kicks the door shut, not wanting to let go of you.

"did i fall asleep?" you ask, eyes adjusting to your surroundings as you make your way to the door that would lead you into the house.

"yes, but we got your coffee." he chuckles.

"my saviours" you say, and he only chuckles deeper. making your way into the house and up the stairs, a smile illuminates your face as you see matt setting up blankets on the couch, nick scrolling through netflix as you notice your favourite show ready to be played. chris guides you over to the couch, helping you sit down before you swing your legs up, laying back on the pillows matt had already prepared. when chris' hand finally leave you, they immediately come to the blankets at your feet and he covers you up.

"thank you" you whisper, as he leans forward to plant another kiss on your forehand. you close your eyes, feeling comfortable and grateful for the most attentive boyfriend and friends, before matt appears, opening your eyes to see him holding two painkillers and your beloved coffee.

"here you go, kid" he says, passing them to you. you smile as you sit yourself up, taking the painkillers one at a time, a pleasurable hum leaving your lips as the coffee hits your system.

"thank you. so much." you say.

"anything for you" matt says, walking off into the direction of the kitchen.

nick presses play on your favourite show, and you get yourself comfortable again before chris appears again, a can of soda in his hand. he takes a sip before placing it on the table as you open up the blanket, summoning him to get underneath with you.

he chuckles as he slides in, and you shuffle up to give him more room as his hand comes behind your head, pulling you into his chest.

you stay like that for hours, sipping on your coffee, watching your favourite show, drifting in and out of sleep, all whilst the triplets wait on your every move.

AHHHH I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS I HOPE ITS OKAY POOKIES!xxx

[demonlorddiva]

Obey Me! Brothers When Your On Your Period

Gonna keep the gn for the most part so anyone who gets this can feel included!! We’re all suffering together and I just want comfort 😭✌️p.s this is very me coded and I’m very much a crybaby and overreact to everything when I’m on my period so bare with me. My asks are open so if you want me to delve deeper on certain characters let me know!

Lucifer

Is informed of the menstrual cycle reading up on humans before you came to the devildom… well at least some of them

Makes sure you have the proper supplies you need already stocked in your room

Does NOT understand the emotional part

When Lucifers giving you one of his famous lectures, the pain begins and your just trying to stare at the floor

Lucifer: “are you even listening to me?”

You: “yes”

Lucifer: “I expect more from you as our human exchange student you know?”

At that moment you just put your face in your hands and start sobbing, too overwhelmed with the emotions and the pain

He’s taken aback for sure. He’s always expecting you to get mad at him, talk back, get angry, something other than this

He’s immediately by your side apologizing and making sure your okay

When you explain to him the situation he understands and lets you lay down with no other words

In the future when your on your cycle, he’s very gentle with you

The second he finds out your hurting, he immediately try’s to help in any way he can

Weather it’s getting you painkillers, a heating pad, anything you need

If you need a quiet place to be while your meds kick in he will let you lay down on the couch in his office while he rubs your back

Mammon

Has NO IDEA what a period is

But being your first man he notices the changes in you during that time

In a moment of pain you tell him what’s going on and have to explain to him about it

“Yer bleeding.. and ya do that ONCE A MONTH??? WHY???”

After a while he’s in tune of when it happens (mostly) and what you need

Always keeps pads/tampons on him in case you ask

If your cramping, all bets are off. No one is aloud to bother you or ask you for anything. Your going straight to his room or yours so he can take care of you.

“Leave MC alone! Cant ya see they’re in pain?!?”

If your craving snacks he will raid beels snack stash to get you what you need

Doesn’t mean it but when your upset and not on your period asks “what ya pmsing??”

he just wants to know

He can’t handle it if your emotional tho it gets him worked up too (even tho he tries to hide it)

“Don’t cry ya baby, you’re fine. The great mammons here ya know? It’s okay”

Leviathan

Figured it out through anime (what else is new)

If you tell him he might get a little wiggy and not know what to do

He’s trying his best let him live

Tell him what you need and he will do it for you literally anything

If your in pain he thinks your dying and panics a bit tell him you’ll be okay and you just need comfort

If you come to him teary eyed asking him to hang out he will put on a slice of life anime or something fun and cuddle with you in his bathtub bed

All the plushies and pillows are there so your warm and cozy

Keeps medication in his room on the off chance you need it

Satan

Oh this boy KNOWS about the pms

Read up on every book imaginable

If you get angry or frustrated during this time he completely understands

Your in pain! Who wouldn’t be upset

Definitely wants to fix the situation immediately but that can get overwhelming at times

“What do you need? Medicine? Heating pad? Water? You know you should stay hydrated.”

He’s just trying to help!

But sometimes you just need comfort

When you come to him, you just have to explain that you just need someone to be with you and to relax and it clicks

He will bring you to his room while he lays down and reads with you

If the pain gets to bad he will rub your head or back until you relax more

DEF yells at his brothers if they even think of bothering you

Asmo

I have a HC that asmo knows when your on your cycle before even you do so imma run with that

You don’t understand why he’s being so overly nice to you all of the sudden

He drags you into your room and you don’t get anything until the pain starts

“I just thought you could could use some extra asmo loving right now!”

It seems like he can read your mind on how your feeling

If your aggravated or frustrated he will let you rant and rave

If your sad and crying he will hold you while you let it all out

If your feeling self conscious he will tell you your gorgeous and amazing while he massages your scalp

Self care is in order, even if it’s just a warm bath he prepares for you with all the salts and oils to make you feel so relaxed, you can’t help but feel so cared for

Beel

We love this man but he doesn’t know anything about humans 😭 but he’s so willing to learn if it’s for you

Your pmsing all day at RAD and your very excited to have your snack that you have in the kitchen

After school, you immediately walk into the kitchen to find beel.

You open the cabinet for your snack, finding it gone

“Oh that? Sorry I was hungry”

You immediately start sobbing

He legit doesn’t know what to do

He normally promises to buy you snacks later and you are okay with it

He’s so guilty and so sorry

When you come to your senses and calm down you explain to him what’s going on

Your in pain?? Where does it hurt? How can he help??

Once he gets a grasp on it, every month he’s got you set

All your favorite snacks and sweets are bought for you to enjoy

If you don’t come down for dinner cause your ‘not hungry’ he’s worried

Will figure out your favorite meals you like for this time and make them for you

If you need a cuddle while your in pain he’s so warm and so cozy

Belphegor

He knows about humans and knows about periods but doesn’t know everything

And he’s a little late to the game with you

The other boys have gotten used to how you are during this time of the month and he’s new to it

You two are walking home and he’s upset with you

What could you do? You NEEDED him for a project you were working on for class so you woke him up from his hiding spot to pitch in

And he was upset and ranting

Not knowing the pain and emotional state you were in

You try to hold your tongue for as long as you can as you walk in front of him

Bel: “this is so so stupid, why do I have to do this project anyways?”

You: “I have to do this project too you know? Stop complaining so we can get this over with” you say with an irritated tone, just trying to get home.

Bel: “what, you on your period or something human? Lighten up”

Maybe it was the cramps irritated your body, making your back ache and your head hurt. Or maybe it was the hormones making your emotions run rampant. But you stop in your tracks, making Belphegor stop too

He can’t see your face, but he hears you let a sob out, wiping your eyes before you made a sprint to the house of lamentation 

Belphie doesn’t normally run, but he runs after you, missing you before you run to your room and shut the door behind you

Mammon sees the commotion, and stops him before he can reach your room to ask what happened

When Belphegor tells him, he’s pissed and lets him have it and explains the situation

When he realizes he’s so upset with himself

He shouldn’t have let his frustrations out on you during such a hard time

After a bit in your room, you hear a soft knock at your door

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were hurting”

You spent the rest of the evening cuddling

Finishes his and your part of the project to get some stress off of you

If he felt you twinge with the slightest bit of pain he would hold you that much tighter

After that, if he found out how you were feeling it was immediate nap time, he hates to see you hurting

Will massage your back to get you to fall asleep

Gets a bit too worried when your pain gets too bad and will ask Satan for help if needed

Welp here ya go! Belphegor isn’t even my favorite character and I got SO deep with him so you belphie Stans EAT UP